Karma – Karma (1972) {O Terço, Arthur Verocai)

Released originally on RCA-Victor 1972 (103.0046)
This reissue Selo Cultural 2010

01. Do Zero Adiante
02. Blusa de Linho
03. Você Pode Ir Além
04. Epílogo
05. Tributo ao Sorriso
06. O Jogo
07. Omissão
08. Venha Pisar na Grama
09. Transe Uma
10. Cara e Coroa Continue reading

Sidney Miller – Línguas de Fogo (1974)


Sidney Miller
1974 Som Livre 403.6037
Reissued 2005 under direction of Charles Gavin
Remastered by Luigi Hoffer

1 Cicatrizes
2 Um dia qualquer
3 Línguas de fogo
4 Dos anjos
5 Alô
6 Pala palavra
7 No quarto das moças
8 Sombrasileiro
9 Espera
10 Alento
11 Dois toques

This record is as compelling and enigmatic as Sidney Miller himself. The only other thing I have by him is one song a soundtrack record for the 3rd Festival da Músical Popular Brasileira from 1967, in which he sings his “A Estrada e o Violeiro” with Nara Leão, a song for which he won an award for the lyrics. Miller was somewhat set up to be “the next Chico Buarque”, with his compositions being lauded by the likes of Nara who recorded a ton of his songs on her “Vento de Maio” (1967) album. Miller would release his own album on Elenco that year on the strength of the single “A Estrada e o Violeiro”. That album is something of a rarity to track down, but not as hard as his second LP, the quasi-Tropicalista-post-bossa-nova album “Do Guarani ao Guaraná” which had some heavy friends on it like Paulinho da Viola and Jards Macalé. Released in `68, that would be his last album for the next six years. He would spend the following years doing some arranging for Nara Leão’s famous (and also famously rare) “Coisas do Mundo” album, and composing for theatre and cinema, some songs of which became hits on Trilhas Sonoras (soundtracks) to telenovelas. And then in 1974, he puts out this completely weird album.

The record is dreamy, hazy, psychedlicized, progressive MPB that evokes early Lô Borges, or Beto Guedes, or the first Nelson Angelo/Joyce album. In fact it sounds like a ‘lost’ album from the whle Mineiro bunch surrounding the Clube de Esquina, but is actually out on a whole other trip once you start listening closer. The arrangements are all great, balancing his relaxed, almost sedated vocal lines against taught double-tracked flute harmonies or funky electric piano or keyboards or fuzzy electric guitars that sometimes sound like it was plugged straight into the mixing board and using the input as an overdrive. His voice is gorgeous, and while his lyrics may not be as Buarqueian as some of his earliest champions may have been hoping for, they are sophisticated, resonant, and beguiling. This album is very deserving of that tag of “lost masterpiece” that gets thrown around a little too freely these days. Because this really is an exceptional work of music supported by great audio mixing, smart lyrics, and solid experimental folk-rock arrangements that occasionally goes off on some crazy guitar jams. I love everything on this album with the exception of ‘Dos anjos’.

This was the last album Sidney Miller would ever make. He worked for the arts foundation known as FUNARTE for a few years, had plans to make another record, but died at the age of 30 from an apparent cardiac arrest. Rumors were that he had committed suicide. Not sure what to make of that. The melancholic beauty here is stunning, and hints at a soul that had a lot more to say to us.

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password: vibes

Burnier e Cartier – Fotos Pra Capa do LP (1976)

Burnier & Cartier
“Fotos para capa do LP”
Released 1976 on EMI/ODEON

1 Minha mãe não sabe de mim (Claudio Cartier, Octávio Burnier, Wrigg)
2 D. João (Octávio Burnier, Reinaldo Pimenta)
3 Recreio (Octávio Burnier, Wrigg)
4 Elogio da loucura (Octávio Burnier, Wrigg, Strunck)
5 À beira de nada (Octávio Burnier, Wrigg)
6 Catarina Canguru (Claudio Cartier, Paulo Azevedo)
7 Dia ferido (Claudio Cartier, Octávio Burnier)
8 Lenda das amazonas (Octávio Burnier, Wrigg)
9 Ecoline (Claudio Cartier)
10 Sítio azul (Claudio Cartier)
11 Pedra pintada (Octávio Burnier)

Here is a nice and warm record that I first heard about through the blogosphere, through our friend JThyme’s blog I do believe, who in turn got turned on to them via Loronix if I’m not mistaken. Burnier & Cartier were a duo from Rio de Janeiro who recorded three albums between 1974 and 1978 and then seem to have dropped out of music. Octávio Bonfá Burnier (son of Luiz Bonfá) and Claudio Cartier had actually been composing together since 1968, and their first album, for RCA-Victor in 1974, featured musicians like Novelli, Bebeto, Paulo Mouro, and Chico Batera. As far as I can tell, none of this people played on THIS album.

The duo were signed to Odeon records at the recommendation of Milton Nascimento, and thus we see a couple former collaborators of Milton on the album — drummer Paulinho Braga and Luiz Alves on bass, both of whom would record a whole bunch of people (many of them very famous) during the 1970s and beyond.

Before I even knew this, the album reminded me a bit of the Clube da Esquina collective, but still different enough to have its own identity. All the songs have two acoustic guitars as the base of their arrangement, and their sound blends jazz-rock, mellow psychedelia, classical music, folk-rock, and some artsy, progressive baroque string arrangements. Um, I guess this might make them “fusion”? I dunno. Don’t be frightened. But in fact the last ten minutes of the album (composed of three overlapping tracks) is entirely instrumental (which has a certain Egberto Gismonti quality to it, although probably less adventurous).

In spite of having a name like a French-Canadian fur-trapping company, and looking like a Brazilian version of Seals & Crofts, these guys made some incredibly intriguing music. Although completely accessible, there is something tenaciously un-commercial about their sound that perhaps explains why these albums are very hard to find. I am not certain if the first one is on CD (I found a copy a long time ago on a well-known blog). THIS title is one of the shoddier reissues on the 100 Anos de Odeon series, in terms of packaging — the good news is that the sound is actually very warm and nice. But not only is the album title not listed on the CD tray (leading it to be replicated in lots of published discographies as simply ‘Burnier & Cartier’ which is partly why I left it like this in the folder name), but the back tray card actually states that the album was released in 1968 (in the booklet, it is correctly stated to be from 1976). So much for giving such a beautiful album the care and attention it deserves when all a label like EMI cares about is its bottom-line. Good to know they were paying attention…

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Academia da Berlinda – Academia da Berlinda (2007)


The conjoined-twin-cities of Recife/Olinda in Brasil boast one of the diverse music scenes in a country full of musical diversity. The bad part is that you only have to be there about ten minutes before you have half a dozen hipsters in plaid pants and oversized sunglasses harangue you with the facts about how great and diverse their scene is. If you had to chose one commonality to highlight as a collective characteristic, it would be the ability of most of these artists to draw on various strands of regional ‘roots’ music and reinvent them, rescuing them from the staid museum-preservations of “folklore” and incorporating them as a vital component of the cultural life of Pernambuco and Brazil. However, such artistic vanguards are (as they have always been in most places) the concern of the upper middle class; In spite of the working-class background of a figure like Chico Science, you would be hard-pressed to find a pedreiro (bricklayer, mason) attending a Mundo Livre show.

A great deal of the artists in these cities have been basking in the stardust glow of the comet known as Chico Science, who died tragically in an auto accident in the late 90s at the age of 30, and at the peak of his creative success. His name was synomous with the Mangue Beat (or Bit) scene that also included the plastic arts, cinema, and literature, and whose musical component would include truly original talents like Mundo Livre S/A (some of the time), Mestre Abrosia, Comadre Fulozinha and others. Unfortunately, when movements in popular music begin to issue “manifestos” to the press and the world, you know they have begun to take themselves a bit too seriously for their own good. In the wake of that initial burst of innovation and creativity surrounding Chico Science and his coconspirators, “the scene” ends up devolving into the fate of most such ‘local’ scenes — a perpetual circle-jerk of musical inbreeding where nobody is inclined to call each other out when they’ve slipped into mediocrity, and where “Six Degrees of Chico Science” seems to be a popular parlor game. Although the contemporary scene there may still be more interesting than the majority of Brazilian cities, that in itself does not say much, and in a substantive way were are talking about “Big Fish in a Small Pond.” The spectrum runs from scenester veterans Mundo Livre, who hit the mark about 50% of the time with some brilliant songs in between bombastic turns of pseudo-post-punk (sounding more like angsty 90’s grunge) and the overbearing pretentious lyrics of their frontman Fred 04; to Nação Zumbi sans Chico Science, for whom I could cut some slack to since they have to walk in that giant’s shadow, but have yet to make any records that I find all that interesting; to the disappointing and often outright unlistenable solo albums from all the principle artists that comprised Comadre Fulozinha, albums that either leave no more permanent impression than a passing breeze, or else make you want to smash your radio into tiny bits like the recent record from indie starlet Karina Buhr. (Edit: I have to try and be nicer – the albums from Alessandra Leão and Isaar are at least listenable, they just don’t do anything for me personally and I don’t find them compelling. The album from Karina Buhr however is just terrible, leading me to wonder “Why would anybody actually listen to this?” In fact I have conducted semi-scientific tests with this record on people who live in Recife: unlike some albums that tend to ‘grow on you’ with repeated listenings, unveiling their charms slowly, Karina Buhr’s album is actually the REVERSE of this process — On first listen is seems kind of bad but possibly worth your time; as you listen to it more, it just gets worse and worse as you realize it’s true mediocrity. I personally can’t make it through the whole record — this test was conducted scientifically on willing participants who claim to enjoy the Recife music scene. I swear.)

There are groups that work better as concepts than actually listenable music, like the now-defunct Cordel de Fogo Encantado who had brilliant lyrics but godawful music; to the empty iconoclasm of DJ Dolores’ electronic globalisms; and then there are a smattering of dull, pedestrian acts like “Otto,” “Eddie” (a band, not a person, whose music is about as interesting as their name), Original Olinda Style, or Orchestra Contemporania de Olinda, and some other Olinda-centric acts, nearly all of whom share musicians and a proclivity for the redundant.

Amidst all this inbreeding of mediocrity, you would probably expect any new-born progency to be cross-eyed and genetically-challenged. This is NOT the case with Academia de Berlinda, who for my money are above and beyond all of the aforementioned acts, even though they are comprised of musicians who have participated or continue to play with a bunch of them. Perhaps because they began essentially as a sideproject from all the musician’s “main gigs”, they didn’t seem to take themselves too seriously and have been creating music that is engaging, well-written, and fun as hell. The first time I heard them, I had a similar reaction to my first encounters with Stereolab — it sounds good and it’s very catchy, but mostly I felt like I was listening to a band whose biggest asset was that they owned extensive and very hip record collections. In the case of Academia de Berlinda I was confronted with cumbia, Peruvian ‘chicha’, Cuban salsa (there is even a track named ‘Bela Vista’ in honor of a proletariat neighborhood that hosts a ‘Cuban night’ of music and dance frequented by the cultural elite), African hybrids, rock and roll, Brazilian brêga, carimbó from Pará… But contrary to Stereolab, who in spite of their many albums and impecable taste in plundering sources just never really moved me much, I found something different with Academia de Berlinda — an excitement and passion they bring to their work that manages to overcome the lurking sense of irony and kitsch. There is definitely some hipster-irony going on here, which may or may not include the laconic and somewhat off-pitch vocal delivery, but also a clear sense that they believe in what they are doing. It is often said of bands that produce highly-danceable music that you have to experience them live to get the full effect. The Academia’s live performances are certainly well worth it and often transcendent in their ability to work a room, although they have a Tim Maia-like propensity to hit the stage remarkably late.. But what is more amazing is that this excitement managed to actually get translated to a recording. A great of deal of the Recife/Olinda music suffers from over-production, an over-ripeness that comes from too much fussiness and not enough spontaneaty in the recording studio (a criticism I also level at contemporary Brazilian music in general). But this album has a very ‘live,’ raw, and very analog sound to it, while still taking advantages of the studio. When I used to work occasionally as a DJ either at parties or on the radio, I would usually try and play a tune off this album (Cumbia de Lutador and Ivete being my favorites to spin) — and I invariablly receied positive feedback and questions: somebody coming up to me (or calling me up, when I was on the radio) asking, “Who the hell is this? Where can I find it?” And I really have to say that, even in the case of Chico Science and Nação Zumbi, I haven’t received that type of reaction from playing much ‘contemporary’ Brazilian music to a non-Brazilian audience. Perhaps it is the ability of Academia de Berlinda to blur genres without being pedantic about it, to push boundaries in a subtle way that never sacrificies substance to style. But something about this music resonnates with people, whether it’s in the crowds that flock to hear them play in cramped bars or in spacious open-air venues during Carnaval, or in someone listening on the low-wattage radio waves in Detroit. In general terms of cultural production, Brazil has often had a historical tendency to refuse to see itself as part of Latin America, often preferring to distance itself from the contributions of its neighbors (even when appreciating or appropriating them) in favor of turning inward and reflecting on its own endless complexities. Brazil’s own hugeness – geographically, culturally, intellectually – has in some ways hampered its ability to stand in solidarity with The Americas and earmarked it as an imperial power to its neighbors. Academia de Berlinda is certainly not the first to break out of this pattern (fellow Recifense Nana Vasconcelos standing an an important remarkable exceptions and innovator in this regard), but it is nonetheless refreshing to hear a group of young, seasoned musicians break out with such a rich, textured work as is found on this this album, a record that draws upon so much without ever being gratuitous in their eclecticism. Oh, except for the final track, which is a pointless remix of the opening eponymous song – but I will forgive them for that, since superfulous, gratuitous and usually boring remixes are a sign of the times.

Another cool thing about this band is their embracing of digital distribution. This album was available on their website for a long time. The post here is audio extracted from an actual physical CD, with art scans taken from the original packing (except, oddly enough, the cover, which seems to have been deleted from my computer before I stored the disc in my bunker in the Kayman Islands). Academia de Berlinda may just be one of the most under-achieving bands in all of this overly-busy music scene, another thing I find sort of charming about them. Founding in 2004, finally put out a record in 2007, and are releasing their second album in 2011. Apparently it is already available online, but I have yet to listen to it — In truth, I wanted to write down my thoughts about this album, before complicating it by listening to their follow-up. As has been said by others and elsewhere, a group’s second album adds a dynamic self-reflexivity that begins to play with the identity of “who” a band or an artist is. When they only have one record out, it is pretty easy to say “who they are” — that one record is generally a fair representation of that identity. With subsequent releases, that identity becomes complicated and multifaceted. I don’t particularly expect their new record to depart from this winning formula overmuch — at least, I hope that they do not. In the mean time, I hope some people who wouldn’t otherwise have encountered this album benefit from this post, and enjoy this band as much as I have.

in 320kbs em pé tré


Arnaldo Baptista – Loki? (1974)

1 Será que eu vou virar bolor?
2 Uma pessoa só (Mutantes)
3 Não estou nem aí
4 Vou me afundar na lingerie
5 Honky tonky (Patrulha do Espaço)
6 Cê tá pensando que eu sou loki?
7 Desculpe
8 Navegar de novo
9 Te amo podes crer
10 É fácil

All songs by Arnaldo Baptista except “Uma pessoa só” by Mutantes.

Recording in 16-tracks at Eldorado Studio (SP)
Produced by: Menescal/Mazola
Audio technician: Marcus Vinicius
Album cover by Aldo Luis, photo by Leila

Featuring: Dinho, Liminha, Rogério Duprat, Rita Lee, Rafa, and Arnaldo Baptista

The world of popular music is full of mythic figures whose eccentric reputations unfairly obscure and overshadow their actual contributions. Arnaldo Baptista is one such figure. In my younger days when I had just discovered them and was gripped by Os Mutantes “fever” (Mutant Mania?), I sought out this record with high expectations, knowing only that it was Arnaldo’s “nervous breakdown album” after which he took a long, um, “rest” and a break from the public eye. I admit I was slightly put off by the fugly album jacket design but I kept hope alive.

I brought it home full of eagerness, put it on the stereo expecting “The Madcap Laughs” and instead I got “The Madman Across the Water.” This is not a slam or a dis, as I will defend early Elton John and challenge anyone who wants to argue about it to a duel. Not a duel to the death with pistols or sabres, mind you, but maybe with a fencing foil. But still, Sir Elton doesn’t even rank in the realm of ‘loony’ tortured souls. So I was rather shocked to find myself listening to a subdued album of piano-driven rock music (hell, there isn’t any guitar on the whole record until the very end), rather than the Brazilian equivalent of “Oar,” “Easter Everywhere” or the aforementioned “Madcap.” What “Loki?” offers us is a piece of reflective pop music, a fragmented narrative of a life in the midst of post-psychedelic fragmentation of identity and doubt, of struggling with the ambiguities of celebrity and modernity, a “concept album” whose concept continually eludes the listener. For sure, the album is peppered with oddball, beguiling lyrics in praise of fruits and vegetables (“xuxu beleza, tomate maravilha”), lingerie, or an unexplained aversion to Alice Cooper, and his vocal delivery occasionally bursts into an odd Screamin’ Jay Hawkins warble, but for the most part Baptista’s stream-of-consciousness tales bring us a mix of the quotidian and the transcendent moments that made up a life lived to the limits of mental, spiritual, and physical exhaustion. For my money Baptista was the driving force behind Mutantes — I have never been terribly impressed with Rita Lee’s solo work, even the first two albums that Baptista produced. For me, those records are listenable largely by way of Arnaldo’s involvement; In fact her record “Hoje é o primeiro dia do resto da sua vida” is sort of a counterpart to this one.

But “Loki?” is far more tranquil and pensive; it’s occasional prog-rock flourishes never become cloying or annoying. Some of the songs flow one into the other in true rock-opera fashion. Mileage may vary, however, for the non-Portuguese speaker, as the music here is very much driven by the lyrics. Some of the tunes are self-referential to themselves; in other words, conjuring phrases and images already dealt with in other places on the album. I particular love his occasional use of an English lyric thrown in seemingly at random that matches perfectly the rest of what is going on musically and discursively. There are metaphysical musings – We are all one and the same person, I am the Alpha and Omega, and so on. “Uma Pessoa Só” is graced by the lush arrangements of Rogério Duprat, cradling Baptista’s explorations into the inner cosmos. And then there are moments of raw, confessional tenderness and intimacy — “Desculpe” and “Te amo podes crer” are both too plaintive and profound, too human and eternal, to suffer any hackneyed translations at my hands. My favorite song in the whole bunch is “Navegar de novo” which mixes reminiscence of going to the cinema with his girl, lamenting that the car he bought six months ago is already out of fashion, the tough impersonality of São Paulo; with musings about humanity, the speed of light, the conquest of space, of Brazil as being still a child, and, um, urban planning (I think..) Rita Lee sings backup on “Não estou nem aí.” The album ends with two minutes of an open-tuning 12-string solo guitar piece whose only lyrics, “I love myself like I love you. It’s easy. It’s easy,” his hushed voice mixed into the left channel as if he is whispering in your ear, before he ends the tune banging out guitar chords that rock out more than anything else on the record, giving way to a heavily-flanged fade out. The end. Like one of his more obvious anglophone parallels, one Roger Barrett, the album leaves me with the persistent feeling that there was (is) much more to the man than the “loony” tales and stories, the idiosyncratic behavior, the health problems. Don’t let the legend and the myth distract you from what this album is – a beautiful swan-song.

Additional info contributed by blog friend CK:

I love this album, which I bought back in the days of vinyl records. I’d
like to comment on the so-called Rita albums produced by Arnaldo. The
story that I’ve heard is that her first album, Build Up, was not
originally Rita Lees idea. Os Mutantes went into a forced recess due to
her husband Arnaldo deciding on an adventurous vacation with a friend
traveling by motorcycle from São Paulo to New York. Hitting into some
difficulties along the way (I think he made it to Panama), Arnaldo gave
up on the idea and returned to São Paulo to find Rita midway into an
album. So it was agreed that he can produce some of the remaining
recordings. So yes, he did have a hand in it, but its not like he was
the mastermind behind the helm of the whole thing.

Regarding her
so called second album, ‘Hoje É O Primeiro Dia Do Resto Da Sua Vida’,
the story of this album is quite well known. Mutantes informed their
record company that they have enough material for, and intend to,
release a double album. The record company explained that Mutantes did
not sell enough to warrant a double album. The compromise was to have
the second album out as a Rita Lee album, because she was always the
bands main pull or main attraction in minds of the populous. Arnaldo was
the musical genius, Sergio the guitar wiz kid, but it was Rita’s charm
and charisma that made Mutantes television friendly. So, this is really a
Rita’s album at all although it is officially credited to her.

Loki the album, one of the important things to know about the album is
that it was recorded after Rita and Arnaldo split up. Almost all the
songs are directed to Rita in one way or another. Será Que Eu Vou Virar
Bolar questions his musical future without her (venho me apegando ao
passado e em ter você ao meu lado // trans.: I’ve been getting attached
to the past and with you by my side). Uma Pessoa Só is a rerecording of a
Mutantes composition form their 1973 album O A E O Z (The A And The Z),
that was shelved until the nineties. In Não Estou Nem Aí he shows
himself unwilling to deal with the pressures in his life; rather get
high every morning (Não estou nem aí pra morte, nem aí pra sorte/ Eu
quero mais é decolar toda manhã). Rita Lee and Lucy Turnbull, who at
that time were working as a duo called ‘Cilibrina do Eden’, sing
background vocals on this and the following Vou Me Afundar Na Lingerie.
Arnaldo jokingly tuants them (or maybe it’s a shout-out?) on Cê Tá
Pensando Que Eu Sou Loki? (Cilibrina pra cá / Cilibrina pra lá / Eu sou
velho mas gosto de viajar). Descuple is an obvious open letter to Rita
Lee that warranted her to write and record her answer Agora Só Falta
Você on her 1975 album Fruito Proibido. Certainly not the answer Arnaldo
was hoping for. Desculpe is heart breaking in it’s vocal
interpretation, and has Limninha and Dinho giving us pure Mutantes power
in its execution, with only brother Sergio absent. Te Amo Podes Crer
follows Navegar de Novo, both stream of conscience type lyrics, and
follows the pattern of woes for the person identified as ‘you’ that left
and doesn’t want to return. Its a sad record thematically, but
beautiful in it’s playing. The Last song É Facil, Arnaldo amazes me as
how good a guitar player he really is, although he hardly plays the
instrument, up to that point in his carrer.

NOTE #1: There is noticeable noise / digital drop-outs beginning at the 1 minute and 20 second mark on the track “Uma pessoa só”. You may only notice them if you use headphones or a accurate speakers for playback. I compared two different CD copies of this first pressing, and the noise is in the exact same place. Quite likely damaged master tapes. I recently came across a new remaster of this album released on by the Universal group. I have not heard it and am not too inspired to pick it up, since the first pressings on Philips typically sound better than the newer remasters.

NOTE #2: There is a documentary about Arnaldo Baptista also called “Loki.” To my chagrin and consternation I still have not managed to see it. I am sure it has some lovely anecdotes about this album. Hopefully nothing that will make my commentaries look silly (or sillier..).


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password: vibes

Ronnie Von – A Máquina Voadora (1970)


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.

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:


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


-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.

in 320kbs em pé tré