Tag: Jovem Guarda

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Eduardo Araújo – A Onde É Boogaloo (1969) [Tim Maia]

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A ONDA É BOOGALOO
Eduardo Araújo  (1969)
1969 Odeon (MOFB 3584)

1 Longe de você (The same old song)
(Robinson, Vrs. Tim Maia)
2 Tenho que ter todo seu amor (Got to have a hundred)
(Wilson Pickett, Vrs. Tim Maia)
3 Boogaloo na Broadway (Boogaloo down Broadway)
(J.James, Vrs. Tim Maia)
4 Rua maluca (Funky street)
(Simms, A.Conley, Vrs. Tim Maia)
5 Pressentimento
(Chil Deberto, Eduardo Araújo)
6 Dançando boogaloo (Gota a thing going)
(W.King, Vrs. Tim Maia)
7 Você
(Tim Maia)
8 Baby, baby sim baby (Since you’ve been gone) (Sweet sweet baby)
(Franklin, White, Vrs. Tim Maia)
9 Embrulhe esta marmita
(Chil Deberto, Eduardo Araújo)
10 Vamos recomeçar (Come back baby)
(Ray Charles, Vrs. Tim Maia)
11 Melhor que se dane
(Chil Deberto, Eduardo Araújo)
12 A mulher (Cold sweat)
(J. Brown, Ellis, Vrs. Tim Maia)

I sought out this album because it is a footnote — albeit an important one – in the career of Tim Maia. It marks a turning point in Tim’s story, and features some musicians that Tim would incorporate into his own band in the coming years. After years of struggling, having formed The Sputniks (where he famously fired Roberto Carlos), having moved to New York City, having been deported from the US, having returned to Brazil – everything started coming together for him in 1969. After quite some time trying to get his old friend-nemesis-former-bandmate Roberto Carlos to record one of his songs, O Rei finally aquiesced and recorded “Não vou ficar” on his 1969 soul-influenced album, and Tim found some work arranging and producing new material for another old friend of the “Clube do Rock”, Eduardo Araújo. This gave Maia some badly-needed cash and also name-recognition: Araújo would even score a hit with the song “Você”, leading Tim to return the favor by recording one of Araújo’s compositions in 1971. And indeed while Araújo also wrote songs (two of them are here, with a writing partner by the super-cool name of Chil Deberto, which sounds unintentionally cooler in English than in Portuguese..), the album is dominated by Tim Maia’s arrangments (which he shares with Walter Arouca Barros and José Ferreira Godinho Filho). And one really loud organ in the mix. Tim arranged and wrote new lyrics for a whole mess of North American soul classics, reflecting his time ‘at the source’, living the good old U.S.A. The results are actually better than I expected when I first heard about this album. Songs by Smokey Robinson, Wilson Pickett, James Brown, Aretha Franklin and Ray Charles are given new treatments. It’s not all gold but it makes for interesting listening. The most intriguing of these are the ones where Maia choses to slow the original tunes down, making them sound heavier — “99 and 1/2” from Wilson Picket, “(Baby Baby) Since You’ve Been Gone” from Aretha Franklin, and James Brown’s “Cold Sweat” highlight both Tim’s ambition and his budding genius. It’s also worth pointing out the evolution of his recording technique – you can hear an inkling of the drum sound he was working towards in these tunes, but he hasn’t quite gotten it to his satisfaction yet. Of the backing band – Waldir on trumpet and Capacete on bass – would become parts of Tim’s early band.

It is a bit unjust that this album was reissued at a time when a huge chunk of Tim’s own catalog was still out of print – fact that has only been rectified within the last year. And, with all due respect, I’m not particularly interested in seeking out any of Araújo’s other albums, although if I come across more of the early titles I probably will out of curiosity. In a rather odd twist, he is now busy making BRAZILIAN COUNTRY ROCK and RAISING HORSES!

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partial credits:

“Os Bons”
Waldir – trumpet and arrangments
Casé – alto sax
Garôto – vibraphone
Mauro – trumpet
Zezinho – piano and organ
Capacete – bass guitar

mp3 icon

password: vibes

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Roberto Carlos – Roberto Carlos (1969)

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Roberto Carlos – “Roberto Carlos”
Released December 1969 on CBS (1-37645)
Reissue on CD mid-1990s

1. As flores do jardim da nossa casa (3:11)
2. Aceito seu coração (3:40)
3. Nada vai me convencer (2:50)
4. Do outro lado da cidade (3:42)
5. Quero ter você perto de mim (3:07)
6. O diamante cor-de-rosa (3:19)
7. Não vou ficar (3:00)
8. As curvas da estrada de Santos (3:33)
9. Sua estupidez (4:55)
10. Oh! meu imenso amor (2:05)
11. Não adianta (3:49)
12. Nada tenho a perder (2:48)

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This album deserves a better write up than I can give it. The cause for this situation is that I have listened to it twice today and I am all broken up, emocionado.

I will admit it. As an ignorant outsider, I didn’t “get” the obsession with Roberto Carlos at first. He seemed like an uglier Brazilian version of Julio Iglesias (as my friend Celia put it… I added the ugly part). Really, an analogy to Elvis Presley might be apt as well: both are known as the “King” and both starred in a lot of silly films aimed at teenagers, even if Roberto’s films were modeled more on The Beatles cinematic misadventures.

But then I discovered the records from this period in question which have since become very precious to me. By the late 60s, Roberto Carlos had come a long way from ‘Splish Splash’, which is a fun record, actually, but utterly derivative. In the 1970s he would become the king of romantic ballads in Brazil, but here we are in December of 1969 on the cusp of change… wait, wait, what do we have here, that music journalist cliché of the “transitional album”?? Well, maybe or maybe not. But the fact is that the songwriting and performances on this record are a lot more mature than the early burst of Jovem Guarda albums, and yet they haven’t arrived at the rather drippy sentimentalism and over-production that would start to characterize his work as he continued at his unending (até hoje) labor of selling tons of records and selling out huge stadiums where women of all ages through their undergarments on stage.

This album has more than a few of the best songs of the guy’s career, and particularly some of the best writing from Roberto and his brother Erasmo. The opening cut “As Flores do Jardim de Nossa Casa” is a masterpiece, and an example of one of the facets of pop music that have always intrigued me the most: if you put these lyrics down on a piece of paper, of flowers dying from the absence of your lost love, they might come across to many people as complete drivel. But put those same words to this melody and this more-than-perfect arrangement and orchestration and they become pure fucking poetry. The first time I ever heard this song was the moment I finally “got” Roberto Carlos. This is it. This is why they call him O Rei.

With the exception of the ungainly and irritating “Oh! meu imenso amor”, everything else here is wonderful. The record is dominated by its ballads but never manages to feel “slow” by grace of Roberto’s ability to hold an audience. The song “Quero ter você perto de mim” begins with him singing a capella for half of the first verse before each instrument comes in slowly, one at a time, building Roberto’s melancholic castle of saudades. Listening to it, I can imagine the musicians, engineers, producers all huddled around the control room listening to an earlier take of the song where they all begin together, and Roberto abruptly interrupting the playback. “No. Stop the tape. This isn’t the way this song should sound. Let’s go back and do it one more time. Like this…” Of course this is a total fantasy of an idle mind since I have now listened to this album THREE times today while going about my daily business. But, you know, it *could* have happened that way.

This tune is followed by an oddly cathartic slow instrumental tune, written by Erasmo and Roberto but sounding like it was found discarded in Ennio Morricone’s front lawn. Its beautiful and lyrical and wordless. And, in an example of perfect album sequencing, it is followed by heavy funk of “Não Vou Ficar,” written by none other than Tim Maia and here injected with all the pent-up energy of a person who’s suffered all the heartbreaks detailed in the last six songs. We even get Roberto giving a few soul-music “ahh! uhhh!” shouts during a brief drum-and-bass break. (The song “Nada Vai Me Convencer”, from earlier in the record, is oddly reminiscent of this tune but without half of its charm.) As I said in the post on Tim Maia’s 1971 record, people fight about whose version is better. They are both damn good, I can’t say any longer. I am biased differently today, because I have listened to this record THREE TIMES. Oh, and Tim basically had to threaten Roberto with a kidnapping to convince him to finally answer his calls and record one of his songs. Perhaps a bit of magoãs after being fired from the Sputniks…

“As curvas da estrada de Santos” finds a middle ground between the slower melancholic tunes and the “I’ve had enough of you” swagger of ‘Não vou ficar’, but definitely lean toward the latter. A Ciéncia de Cornologia começa aqui, minha gente, nesse disco.

Next is “Sua estupidez” which surely ranks pretty high in the list of ‘greatest songs ever written.’ It has something of the spirit of Dylan’s “Idiot Wind” (to come five years later, obviously) but much less acidic and bitter, simpler and more direct and tender in its message. Nothing I can say about it would do anything than detract from that simplicity. Just listen to it. If you don’t understand the lyrics, the music should still grab you.

The song probably should have gone at the end of the album. At least, I don’t have anything left to say about the rest the remaining three songs after listening to “Sua estupidez”. I already mentioned that I find “Oh! meu imenso amor” abrasive. “Não adianta” is actually a really great tune, that oddly enough opens with the same chord progression as “Everybody’s Talkin'” of Fred Neil/Harry Nilsson fame. Then the closer, “Nada Tenho a Perder” pulls back a notch on the quality/intensity level, perfectly fine song but nothing too special about it. Maybe it was intentional, this sort of running-out-steam rather than going-out-with-a-bang. Because it sort of makes you want to play the album over again. Like, three or four more times.

If nothing else, this album is proof that Roberto Carlos had moved from the art of making hit singles, to the art of the Long Playing record, or LP. I have recently decided that is what this blog has its roots in — the pleasures found in the almost-lost art of listening to the LP…

(LINKS REMOVED)

the key to your dreams is found in the commentaries. if you read them and leave them, the blog fairy will bless you.

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Tim Maia – Tim Maia (1972) {Polydor} REPOST

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This is a repost from an old entry made in 2008, by request. In the first few months I was not posting FLACs at all and this em pee tree set is also higher quality. Unfortunately there is nothing I can do about the ugly art scans since my copy is currently locked in my vault in the Kayman Islands.

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I heard a rumor that there is a Tim Maia boxset in the works. That will be a welcome thing since most of his classic discography is stupidly out of print. However I will make you a bet (‘o que você quer apostar?’) about one thing: They will fuck up the sound. I know a lot of you don’t give a flying rats ass about mastering techniques and audio engineering but I will give you a little experiment to try at home with the kids. Put this album on, this original Polydor/Polygram pressing from the early 90s, and crank it up REALLY LOUD. Tim would have liked that. Notice anything? Notice how everything is still crisp and clear and doesn’t distort? Notice how the music has something called *dynamic range*, valleys and peaks? Take a good look and note the number or notch on your volume knob or fader and keep track of it. Now put in any CD mastered in the last ten years — new album, reissue of an old album, doesn’t matter so long as it was issued in the last 10 years or so. Put the volume to the same place as this Tim Maia album. Notice anything? Sounds like shit, doesn’t it? End of lesson.

This pressing sounds unfuckingbelievably good. It even sounds good on an iPod.

This isn’t just audio psychobabble either, because the PRODUCTION on this album is really amazing. If you had any doubt that the studios in São Paulo and Rio during the late 60s and early 70s were producing albums that sounded just as good or better than anything coming out of England or the United States, just listen to this early Tim Maia stuff. The whole LP is consistent production-wise but the track ‘Pelo amor de Deus’ has to be singled out here. They double-tracked the drums to make them sound even heavier on a album that has a pretty heavy drum sound to begin with. And in the last verse, Tim’s vocals is pulled down in the mix and drenched with plate reverb, making it seem like he is being carried away from us down a long dark hallway while the drums get LOUDER. (I don’t think they actually *do* get louder, rather it’s an aural illusionist’s trick by making Tim magically disappear… No mean feat, being a big guy and all that.)

As much cult-status as the Racional records have on account of being, a) mind-blowing and fantastic, b) extremely rare until finally reissued only a few years ago, circulating mostly as a bootleg, and c) freakishly weird and messed up (in a good way, like UFO cults and Scientology before it went all Hollywood) — those records really require an appreciation of his earlier work to get their full effect, in my unhumble opinion.

The opening cut “Idade” blisters with 60s soul tones and just enough Jovem Guarda swagger to make this still unappealing to many a navel-gazing Tropicalista fan of 1972. You can see him ripping through it in the video above. (Too bad there’s no shots of the band on this, as they actually are playing live and not faking it). The second track is even more wonderfully alienated, singing in ENGLISH and a lot more Motown than MPB. And damn perfect English too, demonstrating Tim’s long devotion to playing his anglophone soul and rock record collection until the grooves were so thin you could see through the vinyl. Wonderful flute solo by Isidoro Longano followed by a short sax solo from Antonio Arruda here. For the last minute or so the band just rocks the arrangement. Did I mention Tim produced this album himself? The arrangements are very well thought-out on every track, and since they are uncredited I will also assume Tim had a hand in those until I get around to reading Nelson Motta’s biography. The next track, “O que você quer apostar?” is as a gritty a funk soul number as anything Wilson Pickett could kick out up in the northern hemisphere, with nice lyrics for a mulher mentirosa. “Canário do reino” is another baião-flavored forró and I’m pretty sure Tim is trying to capitalize on the success of the hit he had by covering João do Vale’s “Coroné Antonio Bento” a year or so earlier. This track doesn’t work nearly as well as that one, and while it’s still good it’s also the weakest cut we’ve heard thus far. “Já era tempo de você” is the happiest swinging-big-band-with-a-small-band song of disenchantment I can think of, a friendly way to tell someone they already had their chance and you’ve moved on with your life.

Back to English again with “Where Is My Other Half” with Tim singing plaintively over gently strummed acoustic guitar (steel string and not nylon, I might add) and then the band kicks in with heavy drums for the end as Tim wonders over and over again why she left him. I think Tim is following a formula here he learned from his U.S. soul records – the first half is the uptempo dance party, the second half is for dimming the lights and making out with your lady (or man). “O que me importa” is Tim and company being as soulful as they can be, this time with vibraphone, again blowing me away with their ability to arrange all the instrumentation and capture it all so well in the mix. It also sets a template for basically every song Hyldon would write.. “Lamento” is quite honestly kind of tedious and sounds an awful lot like “Where Is My Other Half”. Unfortunately this cut is followed by an attempt at a blues number, “Sofre,” that reminds me why the blues is a quintessentially North American black art form. In fact I am suffering listening to it right now as I write this. It just kind of falls flat, but I’ll give Tim credit for asserting his blackness. Most other Brazilian acts attempting blues at this time were prog-rockers with wanky guitar solos that went on far too long. It is also interesting to note that Tim would later reuse the formula of the opening rap a decade later with the huge hit song “Me dê motivo”, including opening it up with “é engraçado” (it’s funny..), and oddly enough the vocal line from “Lamento” also reappears in that tune. A good way for Tim to recycle some of his good ideas that didn’t quite work the first time around, and “Me dê motivo” is a much better song than either of these. “Razão de sambar” is a minute and half of jazz-samba. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD the next song is amazing — “Pelo amor de deus”, well, I already ranted on about it but let me reiterate again how great it is. “These are the songs,” is a piece of Latin lounge, in English again, that is a nice way to end the album and assert his unique musical identity. Elis Regina would later record a lame version of this song with Tim guesting on vocals.

Even with the weak points on this record, it is still thoroughly essential listening. Valeu, Tim!

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LINKS REMOVED BY CORPORATE SCUMBAGS who are going to sell you a shitty
compilation made for gringos in October.  Hey, where do you think most
of your buyers will have heard this music for the first time??  Blogs,
maybe?  Fuck you AmeriKKKa.

No comments

Tim Maia – Tim Maia (1972)

  By

This is an old post disguised as a new post (as you surmise from the verb tense used related to the box set). It was written in May. I have not written anything new for it. Except that last sentence where I wrote that I wasn’t going to write anything new — and this one too. Otherwise this is the same post, with a difference in that it actually has a purpose now at the bottom of the page. By request.

I heard a rumor that there is a Tim Maia boxset in the works. That will be a welcome thing since most of his classic discography is stupidly out of print. However I will make you a bet (‘o que você quer apostar?’) about one thing: They will fuck up the sound. I know a lot of you don’t give a flying rats ass about mastering techniques and audio engineering but I will give you a little experiment to try at home with the kids. Put this album on, this original Polydor/Polygram pressing from the early 90s, and crank it up REALLY LOUD. Tim would have liked that. Notice anything? Notice how everything is still crisp and clear and doesn’t distort? Notice how the music has something called *dynamic range*, valleys and peaks? Take a good look and note the number or notch on your volume knob or fader and keep track of it. Now put in any CD mastered in the last ten years — new album, reissue of an old album, doesn’t matter so long as it was issued in the last 10 years or so. Put the volume to the same place as this Tim Maia album. Notice anything? Sounds like shit, doesn’t it? End of lesson.

This pressing sounds unfuckingbelievably good. It even sounds good on an iPod.

This isn’t just audio psychobabble either, because the PRODUCTION on this album is really amazing. If you had any doubt that the studios in São Paulo and Rio during the late 60s and early 70s were producing albums that sounded just as good or better than anything coming out of England or the United States, just listen to this early Tim Maia stuff. The whole LP is consistent production-wise but the track ‘Pelo amor de Deus’ has to be singled out here. They double-tracked the drums to make them sound even heavier on a album that has a pretty heavy drum sound to begin with. And in the last verse, Tim’s vocals is pulled down in the mix and drenched with plate reverb, making it seem like he is being carried away from us down a long dark hallway while the drums get LOUDER. (I don’t think they actually *do* get louder, rather it’s an aural illusionist’s trick by making Tim magically disappear… No mean feat, being a big guy and all that.)

As much cult-status as the Racional records have on account of being, a) mind-blowing and fantastic, b) extremely rare until finally reissued only a few years ago, circulating mostly as a bootleg, and c) freakishly weird and messed up (in a good way, like UFO cults and Scientology before it went all Hollywood) — those records really require an appreciation of his earlier work to get their full effect, in my unhumble opinion.

The opening cut “Idade” blisters with 60s soul tones and just enough Jovem Guarda swagger to make this still unappealing to many a navel-gazing Tropicalista fan of 1972. You can see him ripping through it in the video above. (Too bad there’s no shots of the band on this, as they actually are playing live and not faking it). The second track is even more wonderfully alienated, singing in ENGLISH and a lot more Motown than MPB. And damn perfect English too, demonstrating Tim’s long devotion to playing his anglophone soul and rock record collection until the grooves were so thin you could see through the vinyl. Wonderful flute solo by Isidoro Longano followed by a short sax solo from Antonio Arruda here. For the last minute or so the band just rocks the arrangement. Did I mention Tim produced this album himself? The arrangements are very well thought-out on every track, and since they are uncredited I will also assume Tim had a hand in those until I get around to reading Nelson Motta’s biography. The next track, “O que você quer apostar?” is as a gritty a funk soul number as anything Wilson Pickett could kick out up in the northern hemisphere, with nice lyrics for a mulher mentirosa. “Canário do reino” is another baião-flavored forró and I’m pretty sure Tim is trying to capitalize on the success of the hit he had by covering João do Vale’s “Coroné Antonio Bento” a year or so earlier. This track doesn’t work nearly as well as that one, and while it’s still good it’s also the weakest cut we’ve heard thus far. “Já era tempo de você” is the happiest swinging-big-band-with-a-small-band song of disenchantment I can think of, a friendly way to tell someone they already had their chance and you’ve moved on with your life.

Back to English again with “Where Is My Other Half” with Tim singing plaintively over gently strummed acoustic guitar (steel string and not nylon, I might add) and then the band kicks in with heavy drums for the end as Tim wonders over and over again why she left him. I think Tim is following a formula here he learned from his U.S. soul records – the first half is the uptempo dance party, the second half is for dimming the lights and making out with your lady (or man). “O que me importa” is Tim and company being as soulful as they can be, this time with vibraphone, again blowing me away with their ability to arrange all the instrumentation and capture it all so well in the mix. It also sets a template for basically every song Hyldon would write.. “Lamento” is quite honestly kind of tedious and sounds an awful lot like “Where Is My Other Half”. Unfortunately this cut is followed by an attempt at a blues number, “Sofre,” that reminds me why the blues is a quintessentially North American black art form. In fact I am suffering listening to it right now as I write this. It just kind of falls flat, but I’ll give Tim credit for asserting his blackness. Most other Brazilian acts attempting blues at this time were prog-rockers with wanky guitar solos that went on far too long. It is also interesting to note that Tim would later reuse the formula of the opening rap a decade later with the huge hit song “Me dê motivo”, including opening it up with “é engraçado” (it’s funny..), and oddly enough the vocal line from “Lamento” also reappears in that tune. A good way for Tim to recycle some of his good ideas that didn’t quite work the first time around, and “Me dê motivo” is a much better song than either of these. “Razão de sambar” is a minute and half of jazz-samba. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD the next song is amazing — “Pelo amor de deus”, well, I already ranted on about it but let me reiterate again how great it is. “These are the songs,” is a piece of Latin lounge, in English again, that is a nice way to end the album and assert his unique musical identity. Elis Regina would later record a lame version of this song with Tim guesting on vocals.

Even with the weak points on this record, it is still thoroughly essential listening. Valeu, Tim!

Photobucket

LINKS REMOVED BY CORPORATE SCUMBAGS who are going to sell you a shitty
compilation made for gringos in October.  Hey, where do you think most
of your buyers will have heard this music for the first time??  Blogs,
maybe?  Fuck you AmeriKKKa.

13 Comments

Ronnie Von – A Máquina Voadora (1970)

  By

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Ronnie Von
“A Máquina Voadora”
Released 1970 on Polydor (LPNG 44.050)
This pressing, Discos Mariposa, Argentina, 2006

01. Máquina Voadora
02. Baby de Tal
03. Verão nos Chama
04. Seu Olhar no Meu
05. Imagem
06. Continentes e Civilizações
07. Viva o Chopp Escuro
08. Enseada
09. Tema de Alessandra
10. Águas de Sempre
11. Cidade
12. Você de Azul

I have to admit it. If I were around in Brazil in the 1960s, I would have hated Ronnie Von with a passion. A former air-cadet pretty-boy (Top Gun, anyone?) who then went on to work at the Brazilian stock-market… A guy who would have been selling designer jeans in magazines if he had not eventually become interested in the idea of playing or singing music. He began cultivating this interest in 1964 because of a Brazilian Beatles’ cover band, and by 1966 was being presented on TV as a jovem guarda singer. I’m not kidding, it would have been very very hard for me to take this guy seriously. Ah and those hypnotic come-hither green eyes of his, how could I resist those?? Pretty easily, actually. As a friend of mine here put it, she always found Ronnie Von a bit too “mocinha”, which I discovered is probably the best translation of ‘pretty boy’, or at least of an effeminately macho heterosexual. He was also nicknamed “The Small Prince”, which sounds much better in Portuguese. Sort of.

In truth Ronnie is known more for his work as a TV presenter than a singer, being thrust into the spotlight rather quickly with those good looks and bad haircut (featured in one shot in the booklet and in this vintage clip on Youtube). He hosted a ton of different TV specials, introducing musical artists and interviewing guests. And here is where I begin to like Ronnie’s story, although I know nothing about his media personality. You see, as the 1960s drew to a close, he psychedelized himself. Rather convenient of him, you might be justifiably thinking to yourself. But how can you not like a guy who hosted a TV special in 1968 that is listed simply as “Ronnie Von and The Robot (In Which Ronnie Talks With a Robot).”

Ok, so now I’m all ears.

He made three long players in this period that are worth hearing, and this one is by far the best. In fact, I like it quite a lot. It’s got some pretty heady stuff on it to please any obsessive psychedelic-rock collector, while still retaining enough jovem guarda sensibility to never take itself too seriously (“Verão nos chama” and especially “Viva o chopp escuro”). The album has decent orchestral arrangements that don’t try too hard to sound like Rogério Duprat. The title track is a monster of a bad-ass song, in my opinion. In 1968 Brazil it would have come off as totally derivative of The Beatles simply by way of its production, but in the rest of the world at that time that was full of much more rock derivative of The Beatles, it wouldn’t sound that way at all. And in fact the song owes more to Taiguara and Roberto Carlos then to McCartney or Lennon. “Seu olhar no meu” has a lot of Donovan in it (another pretty-boy, come to think of it), which is completely alright by me as I happen to really like Donovan. And while some people may find his spoken poem “introduction” on “Continentes e civilações” a bit overdone (I put “introduction” in scare quotes because it lasts for a full two minutes), I find it highly entertaining when the crescendo kicks in and… well, goes nowhere really, that’s basically the end of it. The two songs apparently written for his daughter, “Tema de Alessandra” and “Você de azul”, are both really nice, even beautiful. Like other parts of the record, the production strikes gold with a delicate balance of strategic use of strummy acoustic guitars, bombastic organ chords, some noodling on a recorder or okarina flute, and fuzzy fuzzy electric guitar lines. Whatever dude, I find this album charming and I hope you do to.

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Ronnie, looking fabulous and not ‘mocinha’ at all, in fact.

The preparation of this post must have been cursed by haunted television personalities of ages past or whatnot. First I put together a folder with all the artwork crooked and barely usable and failed to notice this until all the other work had been done, including hosting the file. Alas, easy enough to fix and only slightly time-consuming. Then I discovered that I somehow missed a page or two of the booklet giving Ronnie’s bio, and one of the badly-translated pages in English. More importantly, I missed a shirtless photo of Ronnie. I am not fixing it again, but alas, I found the entire text of the booklet online to give you here. But no sexy chest, sorry.
—————————–

RONNIE VON – Biografia

Nascido em Niterói sob o signo de câncer, em 17 de julho de 1944, nos primeiros minutos de uma Segunda-feira.

Teve uma infância tranquila, fazendo muitas molecagens como era comum nas crianças da sua idade.

Em 1960 prestou exame para a Escola Preparatória de Cadetes do Ar de Barbacena, tinha 15 anos, entrou em 72º lugar, entre 4000 candidatos e 240 aprovados. Aos 17 anos de idade fez seu primeiro vôo sozinho num Folker T-21, um dos dias mais emocionantes de sua vida. Foi um bom piloto, mas fez um montão de molecagens, coisas da juventude.

Mas ser piloto não era o seu destino, então saiu da escola da Aeronáutica e foi para a faculdade de Economia onde passou a estudar a noite e durante o dia a trabalhar com seu tio que administrava empresas que operavam no mercado de capitais. Tempos depois casou-se com Aretusa, mãe de seus dois primeiros filhos e montou uma distribuidora de valores, começando a operar no mercado paralelo. Não obteve muito sucesso e teve que vender seu carro, presente de casamento de seu pai, e outros bens para honrar seus compromissos.

Em 1964 começou a interessar-se pelos Beatles, que tornaram-se seus grandes ídolos, iniciando assim o seu interesse pela música.

Em 1965, muito amigo de Eli Barra, um dos integrantes do grupo Brazilian Beatles (grupo “cover” dos Beatles), foi apresentado ao produtor Glauco Pereira, que sentindo o talento e as grandes possibilidades do rapaz, contratou-o imediatamente.

Sua estréia deu-se no programa BRAZILIAN BEATLES CLUB (1965), na antiga TV EXCELSIOR do RJ, onde cantou a música mais bonita da época – YOU’VE GOT TO HIDE YOUR LOVE AWAY, de Lennon e McCartney, tema do filme HELP, surgindo a seguir o seu contrato com a Philips, lançando seu 1º compacto com a música “MEU BEM”, versão feita pelo próprio Ronnie com o auxílio de seu pai, da música GIRL.

Agnaldo Rayol, em seu programa CORTE RAYOL SHOW, foi a grande chance que Ronnie procurava para vencer em SP, onde recebeu a consagração de ídolo (seus olhos verdes e tristes, conquistaram os corações das garotas).

A partir de MEU BEM, abriram-se as portas para um novo ídolo do iê iê iê.

Passando pelo programa de Hebe Camargo, tornou-se o “Pequeno Príncipe”(1966), um título que perdura até hoje.

Outubro de 1966, com o sucesso de MEU BEM, Ronnie ganha um programa exclusivo na TV Record: “O PEQUENO MUNDO DE RONNIE VON”.

No mesmo ano de 1966 surge o 1º LP, e os shows começam a aparecer por todo o país. Depois de MEU BEM, um novo sucesso: – A CATEDRAL.

Em 1967 Ronnie Von grava “A PRAÇA”, música de Carlos Imperial, com a qual vendeu muitos discos, mostrando um cantor mais versátil, menos “Beatles”, mas igualmente romântico. O estouro desta música mudou muito a vida de Ronnie, todas as cidades queriam conhecer o cantor de “A Praça”.

Com o final do “PEQUENO MUNDO”, Ronnie viaja para a Disneylândia onde passa 17 dias e aprende muitas coisas no bairro dos Hippys, voltando psicodélico.

Com o seu retorno vieram outros programas:

-RONNIE & RONALDO (TV RECORD – NOV/67)

-Na rádio Jovem Pan, “O mundo colorido de Ronnie Von” (67 / 68)

-RONNIE VON ESPECIAL (TV RECORD 1968)

-RONNIE VON E O ROBOT (onde Ronnie conversa com um Robot) (1968)

-RONNIE E OS ALEGRES COMPANHEIROS (com Renato Aragão) (1968 / 69)

Ronnie participou também de um dos Festivais da Record, defendendo a música “UMA DÚZIA DE ROSAS”, de Carlos Imperial.

Em 25/06/1968 Ronnie recebe o título de CIDADÃO PAULISTANO na Câmara Municipal de SP das mãos da vereadora Ana Lamberga Zeglio, onde Ronnie fez um breve discurso destacando a frase: -“HÁ MAIS ALMAS DO QUE TERRAS PARA CULTIVAR”.

Mais tarde recebe também o título de “Comendador” em BIRITIBA MIRÍM, onde inaugura a Avenida e Escola RONNIE VON.

Saindo da TV Record, Ronnie apresentou o programa “ASSIM CAMINHA A JUVENTUDE”, na antiga TV EXCELSIOR (1969 / 1970).

Em fevereiro de 1969, Ronnie inicia também um programa na rádio Nacional de SP, e lança mais um LP.

O pequeno Príncipe cresceu, cortou seus cabelos longos….tornou-se um “grande Príncipe”.

Entre um disco e outro Ronnie se dedica a outras atividades: empresário, produtor de modas, participa de filmes e novelas, entre elas “A Menina do Veleiro Azul” (1969).

Em 02/01/1970, nasce sua primeira filha, Alessandra, e Ronnie lança mais um LP contendo uma música em sua homenagem: – “TEMA DE ALESSANDRA”. No mesmo ano, em 02/12/1970, nasce Ronaldo, seu segundo filho com Aretusa.

Em 1977 ocorre uma nova reviravolta em sua carreira, Ronnie grava a música “TRANQUEI A VIDA”, pela RCA, e devido ao grande sucesso alcançado, regrava esta música em vários idiomas e passa a fazer muito sucesso também fora do Brasil.

Nesse mesmo ano Ronnie começa a participar de um programa de competição musical, o “QUAL É A MÚSICA”, onde torna-se o grande destaque do programa, devido aos seus conhecimentos e incrível memória.

Ainda em 1977, Ronnie faz mais uma novela: CINDERELA 77 (TV TUPI), onde vive um Príncipe motoqueiro.

Com o final da novela, surge mais um programa: RONNIE VON ESPECIAL (1977/78), desta vez pela TV TUPI.

No ano de 1979, Ronnie grava seu 2º LP pela RCA e logo depois, assina contrato com uma nova gravadora, a SOM LIVRE.

Nesse mesmo ano de 1979 Ronnie é pego de surpresa por uma grave doença, POLIONEURITE NEURO RADICULAR, que o deixa impossibilitado de andar e de cama por vários meses. Mas a vontade das pessoas de vê-lo curado era tanta, que através de orações e promessas, deu a ele forças para se recuperar.

E finalmente, depois de uma terrível luta contra a doença, Ronnie volta a cantar e promete: – “Só saio do Palco se me abaterem a tiros, e mesmo assim vou lutar muito para que isso não aconteça.”

Surge então em 1981 o LP “SINAL DOS TEMPOS”, onde Ronnie canta músicas com mensagens profundas, onde fala das mudanças e também do seu recaminho.

Nesse mesmo ano de 1981, Ronnie faz uma participação especial na novela O AMOR É NOSSO (TV GLOBO).

Em 1983 Ronnie aparece com força total, através da música “CACHOEIRA”, e novamente vem ocupar os primeiros lugares das paradas de sucesso.

Em 1984, Ronnie casa-se com a atriz Bia Seidl e muda-se para o Rio de Janeiro, mas mostrando que é um bom cidadão paulistano, um ano depois, retorna a SP, a terra que lhe adotou como filho.

Ainda em 84 Ronnie participa de um dos capítulos da novela “A GATA COMEU” (TV GLOBO), onde Bia Seidl é uma das protagonistas.

Em 1986, após ter protagonizado um filme em Buenos Aires/Argentina, entitulado TAXI UNO, Ronnie, no clima romântico de Buenos Aires, descobre o verdadeiro amor de sua vida, sua amiga de infância, Cristina, que esperou por ele durante muitos anos, e que havia ido até lá apenas para acompanhá-lo a uma exposição de arte.

Ainda em 1986 Ronnie grava o tema de abertura da novela SINHÁ MOÇA (TV GLOBO), – “Sinhaninha”.

Para comemorar os seus 20 anos de carreira artística, Ronnnie inicia em 18/11/1986 uma temporada de shows no ESPAÇO ELIS ARTE & RESTAURANTE.

Em 1987 Ronnie lança mais um LP, desta vez pela gravadora 3M, entitulado Vida e Volta.

Em 06/06/1987, nasce Leonardo, seu 3º filho, o primeiro com sua atual esposa Cristina.

Nesse mesmo ano de 87 Ronnie participa do Filme “A FILHA DOS TRAPALHÕES”, ao lado de Myrian Rios, Renato Aragão, Dedé Santana, Mussum e Zacarias.

Em 11/12/1988, Ronnie, emocionado, leva sua filha Alessandra ao altar.

Já na gravadora RGE, em 1989 Ronnie lança mais um LP, onde a música “Eu Amo Amar Você” e “Sinal de Vida” ganham grande destaque.

Março de 1991, Ronnie estréia um Talk show na TV RECORD que recebe o nome de SINAL DE VIDA, voltando a alegrar seus fãs com um programa semanal noturno.

1992 – Ronnie escreve seu primeiro livro: MÃE DE GRAVATA pela Editora Maltese. Uma autobiografia, cujo objetivo foi passar para os outros a experiência, a vivência, os acertos e os erros cometidos por ele.

A proposta desse livro era levar o conhecimento que adquiriu ao assumir a guarda de seus filhos, quando da sua separação, onde assumiu os dois papéis (pai e mãe), com êxito. Seus filhos aí estão, como um exemplo vivo de que o homem é capaz de educar e formar as crianças, mesmo com a ausência da mãe.

Em 1996, Ronnie lança seu primeiro CD pela gravadora PARADOXX MUSIC, intitulado “ESTRADA DA VIDA”.

Em 24/05/1999, Ronnie estréia pela CNT GAZETA o programa “MÃE DE GRAVATA”, um programa diário, dedicado em grande parte ao público feminino mas que acaba conquistando também o público masculino.

Em 05/03/2001 Ronnie é contratado pela TV MULHER onde continua a apresentar o programa “MÃE DE GRAVATA” e ganha o seu primeiro site na internet: www.maedegravata.com.br

Desde o dia 03/05/2004, Ronnie Von voltou a apresentar um programa na TV GAZETA intitulado “TODO SEU”, onde vem conquistando grande audiência, recebendo muitos elogios pela beleza do cenário, o bom gosto musical, pela sua simplicidade, e pela maneira carinhosa com que recebe a todos os convidados. Um momento de destaque do programa é o quadro “Visão Masculina” onde mulher não entra, e os homens debatem assuntos sobre as mulheres.

Este é apenas um resumo da carreira linda desse nosso ETERNO PRÍNCIPE RONNIE VON.

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Jorge Ben – "O Bidú" – silêncio no Brooklin (1967)

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O BIDU – SILÊNCIO NO BROOKLIN
1967 on United Artists (LP 70.006)
This pressing, Atoll Music, France

1 Amor de carnaval
2 Nascimento de um príncipe africano
3 Jovem samba
4 Rosa mais que nada
5 Canção de uma fã
6 Menina gata Augusta (Jorge Ben, Erasmo Carlos)
7 Toda colorida
8 Frases
9 Quanto mais te vejo (Jorge Ben, Yara Rossi)
10 Vou andando
11 Sou da pesada
12 Si manda

All songs by Jorge Ben unless otherwise noted.

This post is dedicated to the guy in Madison, Wisconsin, who requested but then found it elsewhere before I got around to making this post. He’s a cool guy and regular visitor to Flabbergasted Vibes, so he deserves a shout-out, especially because he doesn’t live in New York. You see, hoje em dia, there is a large population of hipsters living in Brooklyn, raising rents (if not quite raising hell) by running around in their skinny jeans and messenger bags and generally thinking they are the center of the universe. Well unfortunately this record is one more feather in their ironic caps. I would like to take pleasure from telling these people that this Jorge Ben album is NOT named after their new occupied territory. But the truth is actually somewhat worse – it is named after an entire neighborhood in São Paulo that was named after their hip occupied territory. The neighborhood was christened thus by the Canadian-owned São Paulo Tramway, Light and Power Company, which also – in an interesting reflection on Canada’s bizarre tendency towards self-effacement – named handfuls of streets after famous cities in the United States.

The only record Jorge Ben ever made for United Artists, this was left out of the recent Salve, Jorge! box set. Like many rarities by major artists, its reputation probably exceeds its actual quality. It’s not a bad album, but it’s also not a great one. Some of the tracks are trying a bit too hard for jovem guarda caché for my tastes. This isn’t a slag against jovem guarda, it’s just that I think Jorge Ben was in a transitional phase trying to figure out where he wanted to go next, and this record just kind of proves that he hadn’t found it yet. Or, possibly, that it was recorded in a hurry while trying to renegotiate his expired contract with Philips.

It most certainly has some gems on it – the first two tracks open up the record with plenty of energy, and I’m particularly fond of the celeste (although it could be a vibraphone, I prefer to believe its a celeste) on the “Nascimento de um principe africano”. The track “Toda colorida” belongs among the ranks of any of Ben’s best stuff from this period, as does “Frases”, which was reworked by Caetano Veloso and renamed “Olha o menino” on his 1977 ‘Bicho’ album. But aside from these tracks, there isn’t too much that stands out. “Rosa mais que nada” is, unsurprisingly, a rehash of ‘Mais que nada’, and while the final track ‘Si Manda’ may be an upbeat number to close out the album, it is also just a rehash of the first track “Amor de carnaval.” Still, any Jorge Ben from this period is essential, at least to us Jorge Ben fans, and others may of course feel differently about this record than I do.

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