Along comes Papangu’s second album release. I didn’t know anything about this band before the first one “Holoceno” (2021), other than the fact that they come from Brazil. “Holoceno” was a revelation. A sort of heavy and dark avant-garde romp with elements of black metal, prog and even jazz, and full of imagination and atmosphere, it’s one of those interesting and free-flowing albums that you can’t or don’t want to pin down to a genre. I was pleased that we now have a follow-up and even more pleased to have the chance to listen to it.
The album comprises nine songs, some broken down into sections. I can’t do justice unfortunately to their titles as my Portuguese isn’t up to the task. I do know however that the first and second songs “Acende A Luz” means “Turn on the Light”. After a quiet ditty which leads into the second part, the weird and wonderful world of Papangu appears with a strange concoction of jazz and death metal with a 70s organ sound thrown in. The vocals are flat as ever in contrast to the flowery keyboard work, which leads inexplicably into a lush prog-style guitar cascade sounding not unlike Canvas Solaris. “Boitatá” is another prog-jazzy affair. Its distorted and languid sound makes it sinister. Growls accompany the dogged riff. The colour comes from the flamboyant guitar work. Forward progress is pained. A flute intervenes to what has become something like a Brazilian psychedelic mantra.
“Oferanda no Alguidar” has a Latin rhythm. It’s very prog in style but as always left-field and more full of life and energy than others. It was never going to be easy but I was finding this a difficult album to relate to. A short jazzy piece is followed by the bright and Latin-orientated “Sol Raiar”. It sounds like a song for a quiet evening’s relaxation in the fading sunshine over a few drinks with friends, or at least I imagine it to be. “Maracutaia” is another curious hybrid of Latin-carnival, jazz and progressive – very mobile as you might imagine and dreamy. The whole thing threatens to descend into chaos towards the end. The rhythm is suddenly threatened but it’s still there. It’s delightfully Papangu. Ruínas” comes in six sections. “Valsa Fantasma” (Ghost Waltz) may or may not speak for itself but what I was hearing was smooth and subtly tinged test card music – nothing extreme as all but a silky, swanky progression. I could accuse this and much more on this album as middle-of-the-road but Papagu manage to bring life to what is rhythmic but potentially bland. Away we go again on “Rito de Coroacão” with the jazzy rhythm, the TV film score sound and the flat Latin-style vocals. The thing is that it doesn’t stand still and there is a vibrancy about it as there is throughout the album. There’s even an expansive epicness with the added colour of the flute as the album runs towards its conclusion. I have no idea what any of this is about but it’s a nice listen and a neatly constructed album, especially for one with different interacting elements.
“Strange but creative” is the way I’d capture “Lampião Rei”. It’s great that Papangu have brought native Brazilian influences and rhythms into their experimental progressive style. Not knowing any of the language nor Brazilian musical culture doesn’t help me to get closer to this, but once again I credit Papangu with musical innovation and an intriguing listen.
(8/10 Andrew Doherty)
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