For fans of artists like Jorge Ben and João Gilberto, there’s just something about a nylon-string guitar and the Portuguese language that’s hard to resist. Brazilian multi-instrumentalist Rodrigo Amarante brings some of both with his debut solo record, but manages to mix in indie flavor and more.
Amarante may not be a household name, but he’s collaborated with Devendra Banhart for years and has received accolades with his bands Little Joy (with Strokes drummer Fabrizio Moretti) and Los Hermanos. He holds down most all the singing and instruments throughout Cavalo, but both Banhart and Moretti make appearances here (as does Kristin Wiig, interestingly, who contributes vocals on three tracks).
From crooning the gorgeous and unhurried opener “Nada Em Vão,” Amarante wastes no time jumping into the catchy, Strokes-flavored “Hourglass.” A few tracks later, “Irene” is simply a man and his guitar playing a delicate ballad that conjures an instant daydream of sitting in a Rio café in the late ’60s after a lazy beach day. That’s until you get to the ’70s-kissed funky samba of “Manau,” which would probably get just about any dance party started. Cavalo is a diverse and entertaining listen indeed.
Rich Osweiler / Premier Guitar
Besides the upper-middle-class frat-punks-in-rap-clothing shtick of the Beastie Boys and emissary/producer Rick Rubin, who both gained a legitimate, earned respect in the rap community, there were very few white kids in rap's first decade who spoke the poetry of the street with compassion and veneration for the form. That is, until The Cactus Album. Matching MC Serch's bombastic, goofy good nature and Prime Minister Pete Nice's gritty, English-trained wordsmithery (sounding like a young Don in training), 3rd Bass' debut album is revelatory in its way. For one, it is full of great songs, alternately upbeat rollers ("Sons of 3rd Bass"), casual-but-sincere disses ("The Gas Face"), razor-sharp street didacticism ("Triple Stage Darkness," "Wordz of Wizdom"), and sweaty city anthems ("Brooklyn Queens," "Steppin' to the A.M.," odes to day and night, respectively), with A-plus production by heavyweights Prince Paul and Bomb Squad, as well as the surprising, overshadowing work of Sam Sever. The duo may not have come from the streets, but their hearts were there, and it shows. The album embodies New York life. Not every single idea plays out successfully -- Serch's Tom Waits impression on "Flippin' Off the Wall..." is on the wrong side of the taste line, and "Desert Boots" is a puzzling Western-themed insertion -- but they are at least interesting stretches that add to the dense, layered texture of the album. The Cactus Album was also important because it proved to the hip-hop heads that white kids could play along without appropriating or bastardizing the culture. It may not have completely integrated rap, but it was a precursor to a culture that became more inclusive and widespread after its arrival.
Stanton Swihart / AllMusic
