Guts
Philantropiques

The Onrush Of Eternity by log(m) & Laraaji

It’s hard not to notice such an unforgettable sleeve, and if the music it protects is half as memorable as the artwork, you know you just have to hear it. We don’t think you’ll be disappointed because yes, this is the majestic 1971 album Un Muñeco De Madera, courtesy of the shadowy Sola, and it sounds exactly as you’d want it to. Originally released on RCA in Mexico, it’s kaleidoscopic Acapulcan-funk.The album’s endless grooves are propelled by softly rocking, quasi-library funk breaks. Vocally, Sola is in step with the 60s French pop-chanteuse style, but of course her lyrics are delivered in sensuous Spanish. Her voice is beautiful. Pillowy soft and tender, it can suddenly explode in mystical anger. These are ten tracks of moody, mysterious vibes that stir the spirit and sooth the soul.The LP was written, arranged and directed by prolific Spanish composer Manuel Alejandro, the man behind an incredible number of now classic Latin love songs from the 60s, 70s and 80s. As for Sola herself, next to nothing is known about the Mexican singer except the occasional whisper heard in only the darkest corners of the annals of music history. It’s said that upon growing disillusioned with the music industry she ended up in a convent of Carmelite Sisters. Fitting perhaps, given that Un Muñeco De Madera is a spiritual wonder of a record.

An unexpected slice of psychedelic Caribbean jazz, with acoustic piano, steel drum and tripped-out conga solos. The soundtrack of that crazy dream where you hang out with Charles Mingus, Herbie Hancock and Mongo Santamaría, sipping up the juice of a freshly squeezed watermelon, under the palm trees of a beautiful beach in Port of Spain.Building on the success of his Fumaca Preta and Conjunto Papa Upa projects, and a stint playing percussion for Altin Gun, Alex Figueira leads his “one-man funk band” motto into uncharted territory. Constantly looking for ways to expand his sonic palette and musical abilities, he takes on the self-imposed challenge of creating a more danceable and decidedly Caribbean approach to jazz. The result, for those familiar with his output, delivers on all fronts.“Juicy” is groovy, catchy, trippy and leaves you wondering what exactly it is you're listening to. Drop this song at the beginning or end of any session and watch people come to you with a mixture of awe and joy, wondering which record this is. It will equally please casual dancers, obsessive vinyl heads and anybody looking for music that defies classification.The flip side showcases once again Figueira’s irreverent production style. Imagine Jamaican melodica icon Augustus Pablo, calypso jazz godfather Ciryl Diaz and Brazilian legend Jackson do Pandeiro hanging around barely lit bars of questionable reputation in an unknown city, randomly placed in the extensive Kingston - Salvador da Bahia axis. They meet a group of lifelong skateboarders and receive a stoic sounding piece of advice that lifts their moods significantly: “to learn, you have to fall”. Words repeated incessantly since the dawn of time are delivered here, most likely for the very first time, over a swinging mix of melancholic calypso jazz, traditional forró, roots rockers reggae and guaguancó.The unlikely mix of Latin American genres gets an unexpected Afro-Cuban twist towards the end and Figueira takes over the mic to speak directly to the listener. “You thought it was instrumental, right? Haha none of that”. Alex explains, “I was here mixing this song and when this part came I thought, what this needs is a little chorus”, emphasizing that it must be a “very tasty” one.Lastly, he explains the origin of what he is about to sing, revisiting his childhood in Caracas “when I was a kid, the oldest skaters, those who did all the tricks, used to tell us, “to learn, you have to fall””, before the chorus break out, raising the song’s spiciness to its maximum heat reminding you how essential it is to “learn from your mistakes”.