Afrobeat Vinyl 520 Items

In 2019, whilst touring Japan, Barrio Lindo found himself moving away from the dance floor, instead getting lost in his headphones while listening to music that dismissed genre, oscillating between jazz, chamber orchestras and electronica. As a producer at the forefront of Latin America’s folktronica scene over the last 10 years, Agustín Rivaldo, to give Barrio Lindo his given name, has proven himself more than adept at crafting soundscapes that can transport listeners, full of detail and nuance, but they always had to pander to the club and its duty to keep revellers energised. The epiphany in Japan necessitated a change in direction, to make music that people could get lost in,and which also meant he could revert to his younger self, that guy in his twenties playing guitar with his friends, just for fun. So he booked a studio on the outskirts of Buenos Aires in early 2020 and invited some friends over; the idea was simple, let’s play some music and see where it takes us.
Espuma de Mar is the result, those initial sessions refined over the intervening years, new collaborators brought in where necessary, the production crafted in the same manner as his previous electronic-focused output, but the feel here, the ambience, is completely different. Like the espuma de mar, the sea foam that gives the album its name, this music has a fleeting quality, it arrives, imperfectly, and never stops transforming; it replenishes, it diminishes, it breathes.

The biggest difference between this album and Rivaldo’s previous works is the increased tension, and the sense of space; whereas beats and sequencers, as per their design, propel constant rhythm, here every note has intent, only played if necessary to the composition. This is felt on “Llegada”, a minimal groove soothed by kalimba thumb piano and fidgety synths while layers of trumpet take the lead until a surprisingly sombre piano motif brings the song to a close. The title track has a similar feel, whereby the music sounds improvised, each instrument free to roam, yet each note hits you in the stomach; here, we get an ominous opener, spare notes of trumpet, charango, snare drum and heavily-reverbed piano taking their turn until a rhythm begins to develop, albeit a rhythm that refuses to retain its form, flutes, synths, bass and detached vocals all playing their part as the song refuses to stand still.
Rivaldo has stated that it was the sounds of German-Senegalese group Mark Ernestus' Ndagga Rhythm Force and the UK-based project Hidden Orchestra that had the biggest impact on the album’s sound, and it is certainly possible to see the affect of the latter in the mixture of field recordings and percussive symphonic jazz. For this record, Rivaldo has worked with a small ensemble of Nicolás Lapíne on trumpet, Ignus and drums and Federico Estévez on percussion, as well as invitees such as flautist Mariana Iturri and violinist Alex Musatov. With Rivaldo himself adding guitar, synth, bass and piano, the effect is of a modern chamber orchestra and the drama that can bring. Opening track “Seguí” is a great example with its crashing piano chords and pulsating violin, and there’s no denying the euphoria of a track like “Oasis”, whose woozy trumpets can’t help but recall prime Beirut.
But there’s a reason Rivaldo is thought of so highly within the folktronica scene, and it’s for his attention to detail. No two tracks on the album are the same, it goes from the percussion-heavy “Migrante”, whose breakbeat and jerky synths show a love for hip-hop and 80s funk, to a beguiling track like “Azufre” that has a vaguely-Caribbean cadence until a tenor sax solo from Camila Nebbia takes it into more overtly-jazz territory. Then there’s a track like “Periferia” whose use of close- mic’d percussion makes it feel like the speaker is literally shaking with rhythm, alongside “Tac Tac Tac” that is full of warm, reverberant bass notes, albeit offset by hand claps and the only-discernible vocal on the album. With this in mind, it should be no surprise that Rivaldo is also a luthier, using some of the instruments he’s created on the album; there is a meticulous mind at work. Espuma de Mar is that rare beast, an example of an artist reinventing themselves, yet somehow sounding completely like they’ve always sounded. As Bandcamp once said in a feature on Barrio Lindo, his music is “carefully composed, revealing an underlying sense of wonder and joy”, and this continues on his latest, an album that is destined to provide someone else with an epiphany as they get lost in the music on their headphones, whether that be in Japan or elsewhere.

By the mid-1970s, the Southern African nation known as the Republic of Zambia had fallen on hard times. Though the country’s first president Kenneth Kaunda had thrown off the yoke of British colonialism, the new federation found itself under his self-imposed, autocratic rule. Conflict loomed on all sides of this landlocked nation. Kaunda protected Zambia from war, but his country descended into isolation and poverty. This is the environment in which the ’70s rock revolution that has come to be known as Zamrock flourished. Fuzz guitars were commonplace, as were driving rhythms as influenced by James Brown’s funk as Jimi Hendrix’s rock predominated. Musical themes, mainly sung in the country’s constitutional language, English, were often bleak. In present day Zambia, Zamrock markers were few. Only a small number of the original Zamrock godfathers that remained in the country survived through the late ’90s. Aids decimated this country, and uncontrollable inflation forced the Zambian rockers that could afford to flee into something resembling exile. This was not a likely scene to survive - but it did. Welcome To Zamrock!, presented in two volumes, is an overview of its most beloved ensembles, and a trace of its arc from its ascension, to its fall, to its resurgence.