Latin | Brazil Vinyl 533 Items

Emotional Rescue is delighted to debut a first. Rather than a straight reissue of an (obscure) classic or a collection of music by an artist or label, here presented is a compilation of various artists centered around a sound and movement reggae-tinged music and how it influenced and spread from the Caribbean and diaspora.

Drawn from the off kilter digging of archivist, DJ and collector Bruno (perfectliv.es), Nowhere Like Here is not a follow up, but a sideways accompaniment, to his recent and already cult like 'Perfect Motion' collection of left field pop and new wave, recently self-released with Flo Dill (nts).

This is a special release to celebrate the label's 10th year and beyond, offering a treasure trove of lo-fi and often pop inspired reggae cuts, mixing heartfelt Lovers Rocks style paeans and quirky private press oddities, all guaranteed to 'make-a-move and tap', these are, in the main ridiculously rare or impossible to find alternative bombs, that are just as sound system rocking and massive bass line quaking showcases of the enduring legacy of this Jamaican music phenomenon. As with much of the early 80s period, the music community was in the throes of a Do-It-Yourself cultural renaissance as small labels, where crazy limited, one off White Labels Onlys came and went. Songs like Avalanche 's 'Your Love is Such a Good Thing 'or Warp Speed's 'Take It To The Night' were part of the claiming the means of production in to their own hands, pressing up the records and self-distributing. This raw, naive exuberance can be heard in the songs themselves. This is not reggae or Lovers as known, but something more expressive. Musical, simply produced, but with intelligible and uplifting optimism that is just superlatively catchy.

While Paul Thompson's 'Can I Take You Home' and Ras Ibuna's 'Black Beauty' are more straight-ahead Lover's style cuts, there is the parallel dance pop private pressing vibrations of the two Keith Robinson songs and Majority's 'Caroline' included all part of a thread; a joining the dots that Nowhere Like Here is at its most basic, a warmth the whole album exudes.

This is not a Lovers Rock Hits of some, but a left-of-center versioning, spread across Double Pack and cut loud for DJ play, fitting the ethos of Emotional Rescue by presenting something most will not have heard before and all the better for it.

Without a pandemic, you’d now be listening to an album wholly recorded in Cuba with local musicians. Back in 2020, everything was organised, so that in May 2021 we could get started. Yet, the sanitary measures proved to be a fierce adversary, so rather than giving up entirely we decamped to Dakar in October the same year – a compromise that ended up being a positive event in itself.
Cuba has a long African history. Under mass enslavement and the Transatlantic trade, Africans were forced from their homelands, against their will, taking their music along with them. Merging throughout the centuries, taking on European influences, led to the birth of a distinctive Afro-Cuban musical tradition. Highly percussive, brass-based, simmering, full of danceable rhythms. The spirit etched into thousands of recordings, forever turning towards Africa. The departure point here is not to keep things the same. Rather, a return to the source enacts a loop – much the same as those providing the foundations for hip-hop beats.
The flame when it’s re-lit illuminates everything. Thanks to the Senegalese musicians in Dakar, the Cubans who crossed the Atlantic to join us and my usual family of musicians, this music – a cross-section of covers and original compositions - exists as a homage to Afro-Cuban music. Made in Africa, in Senegal. Three worlds, three languages, three colours. Recorded over 17 days, non-stop, germinating the seed born in Cuba at the end of 2020 so that the most beautiful fruits might be cultivated in Dakar, 2022.
When the world doesn’t seem big enough, we look up to the sky where even the blackness is lit up, where those I loved who are now gone shine as stars, shining as brightly as all the others. Each time I think I’m not going to make it; I recall the star of my mother. Then the path becomes clear.
Pandemic, visa problems, cultural clashes, bank transfers that didn’t go through, a fractured foot – this project sometimes felt like a series of accumulated challenges. The only thing linking us, a shared love for the music, each of us invoking our personal star and all that we have overcome.
In this way, the music is born as a call to our stars.

Classic Brazilian soul funk from 1976 in the same vein as Tim Maia, Jorge Ben or Carlos Dafé's recordings from that period. All four tracks are stunning and feature dramatic vocals, fat drum beats and sophisticated arrangements, following the tradition of the best funk music coming from the States in the '70s. First time reissue.

Tony Bizarro was a Brazilian songwriter, producer and singer who worked with most of the greatest soul and funk artists in Brazil. Boogie and disco music were making headway and soon became popular in the Brazilian market. His own discography comprises just one solo album, released at the peak of his career, a bunch of compactos and some later LPs that did not get any bigger than his best-known hit 'Estou Livre'. This 1976 EP has been a long-time dancefloor weapon for DJs in the same vein as Tim Maia, Jorge Ben or Carlos Dafé's recordings from the same period. All four tracks are stunning! The opening song 'Que Se Faz Da Vida' is a downtempo funk joint with some dramatic vocals by Tony Bizarro, fat drum beats and Isaac-Hayesque wah-wah sounds that could have easily been included in the soundtrack of a blaxploitation movie_ The strings and sophisticated arrangements featured on the flipside elevate this record to the top of the best Brazilian funk ever recorded in the '70s. Very hard to find, especially in good condition, this record now gets a proper reissue for the first time.

Limited Edition for Record Store Day 2022.

We are true to the principles of the first "¡Naino!". Flamenco rumba fusion which in the hands of intrepid producers becomes Catalan Rumba under the influence of sounds coming from Cuba and Puerto Rico in the early 1960s, Rumba Pop under the umbrella of the British Invasion and American pop of the late 1960s, and Disco Rumba with the arrival funk and disco from the USA in the mid-1970s. Everything happens thanks to a flourishing record industry located mainly in Barcelona with labels such as Belter, Discophon or Vergara. After the death of the fascist, sanguinary dictator Paquito Franco in November 1975, the international record industry establishes in Madrid through major labels CBS, RCA, and a new fusion led by producer Jose Luis de Carlos and labeled as Gipsy Rock, Caño Roto or, in the Flamenco field, especially in couplets, Flamenco Pop. As Oriol Farràs pointed in the previous volume, rumba moved from tablaos to discotheques, understanding the concept of discotheque at that time with a slightly different meaning and less conditioned style-wise. The selection on offer here complements volume one. Starting with an A side packed with floor fillers, with Peret's "Chavi" as the top example of gypsy funk fusion under production of Josep María Bardagí and Josep "Rabbit Rumba" Cunill, and four examples of the answer to that sound as produced by Jose Luis de Carlos, showing the four cardinal points of this fusion success: Las Grecas, Los Chorbos, El Luis and Chango. De Carlos transforms the sound of Madrid's flamenco artists spicing it with soul, rock, glam, dub, funk, disco and gospel. These five opening tunes alone could feed a whole scholar course on the possibilities of rumba fusion and its incredible dance potential. Back to the record. There are not only examples of Afro-American flavored fusions. Progressive rock and Anglo-American psychedelia of the seventies are also influences represented here. They started a path that would later be known as "rock progresivo andalúz" (Andalusian progressive rock) with a crowded band scene and a hardcore hash impregnated following. But before reaching that point, here are some early efforts on side B. Synth-fueled rumba with Canterbury sound inspired electric guitars. A sound that, as it happened with rumba funk and flamenco pop, also had its moment of glory with the arrival of bands and solo artists such as Triana, Gualberto, Smash, Storm or Medina Azahara, or even the more blues-rock oriented Pata Negra.

If the first album from Venezuela’s Los Calvos, despite its greatness, could be considered to have a varied sound, then this second, and lamentably final, album found them creating a signature sound with the musicians given free rein and a stronger push to the dance floor, this is música bailable personified. The drum kit was instrumental to their image and sound; it was an instrumental unusual in salsa at the time. So much so that their own drummer Frank “Pavo” Hernandez had said disparagingly that “salsa with a drum kit is like pasta with avocado”. Kudos then to “Pavo”, along with fellow drummer Alfredo Padilla, who seamlessly integrated the instrument into the line-up, allowing its heavy hits to add energy and power to the group’s sound; just listen to the drum solo in “Suenan Los Cueros” and you will be in no doubt that it was a genius move. Vocal duties throughout are split evenly, five tracks a piece in fact, between Carlos “Carlín” Asicio Rodríguez and Carlos “Calaven” Yanes. It is Calaven who surprises the most, his mischievous delivery and ability to improvise and scat placing him in the higher echelons of vocalists, and not just within salsa. “José”, which is also a showcase for bandleader Ray Perez to free wheel on the piano, is a perfect example of Calaven’s ability to enliven any descarga (jam) with unexpected vocal turns; but then, even on the album’s original single “El Moño De Maria” he shows that with a few variations on the chorus, he can elevate any song. His partner in vocals, Carlín, is no slouch either, leading the driving “Tiene La Razón” with ease and showing that he can get down and dirty on the percussion-heavy “El Tumbeleco”, guiding the song through to its pulsating conclusion. Perez was one of Venezuela’s finest bandleaders, also helming the legendary Los Dementes, Los Kenya and others, and he brings a number of famous friends and allies to the party. Professional lucha fighter turned composer Gustavo “El Chiclayano” Seclén contributes the playful “El Marciano y Yo” (“The Martian and Me”), which allows Calaven plenty of opportunity to improvise, his imitations of intergalactic beings a wonderful thing, with what sounds like the rim of a wine glass being used to create Mars-esque special effects. You can also hear Perucho Torcatt, a regular collaborator of Ray Perez’s in Los Dementes, adding his voice throughout the album. ...Y Que Calvos! is not for the idle, it’s an album which does not allow you to sit down. Powerful, inventive and abundant of rhythm, it’s everything you could want from a salsa album, and a fitting way for Los Calvos to sign off their far-too short career. Perhaps now it will finally get its dues as a lost salsa classic.