Review Summary: Os segredos talhados por Sumé
I just want to preface this review by stating that I am very much underqualified to write about Paêbirú in any sort of meaningful way. For one, and most notably, I am not Brazilian. Nor can I speak Portuguese. Nor am I sure I fully understand the context in which this album was produced. Nor do I know much about its reputation as a rare album. But being the proud, ill-informed man I am, I’m more than willing to brute force my way through this review by gushing about Paêbirú on the most superficial level possible. I hope that’s fine. If it’s not, please provide me with the contact info of a music historian that specializes in Brazilian psychedelic folk from the 1970s and I’ll give this the proper write-up it probably deserves.
Lula Côrtes and Zé Ramalho were not exactly on the cutting edge when they began recording Paêbirú in late 1974. The tropicália movement of the 1960s had long since passed. But its spirit lived on for years after its supposed demise. Especially for one Lula Côrtes. While tropicália had its roots in the psychedelic pop rock of the day, Côrtes was interested in a new, yet familiar sound. A blend of Brazil’s traditional folk music with a hazier psych sound. Zé Ramalho, on the other hand, was on a much different wavelength by comparison. Influenced more by the Beatles and others of that ilk, Ramalho had an ear for melody and a voice not unlike those heard on Brazilian pop radio at the time.
One was interested in traditional Brazilian folk, another wanted to write rock n’ roll. You’d think getting these two together and having them produce a concept album would be a recipe for disaster. But defying all odds, the duo’s individual talents and desires meshed for a double LP that would become legendary in the realm of Brazilian music.
Paêbirú is, by many definitions, a journey. A physical journey across Brazil’s vast musical landscapes to find the Ingá Stone, a psychedelic journey through the use of hallucinogens, and a spiritual journey referencing the “hero-transformer” Sumé. Hell, the name of the album translates to ‘the Path of the Sun Mountain,’ seemingly a reference to some sort of trip. Though, as much as I’d like to go into detail into each of these elements, I’ll refrain for your sake and mine. All you need to really know going into this album is that its moods and themes are perfectly in tune with the music. There truly is no better combination than ancient mythology, an affinity with nature, and psychedelic folk.
At just under an hour, Paêbirú isn’t the longest double LP out there. But what it does in that hour is more than most other artists could ever achieve. Across 14 tracks, Côrtes and Ramalho go from freaky psych folk (“Culto À Terra,” “Marácas De Fogo”), to progressive rock (“Nas Paredes Da Pedra Encantada”), pastoral acoustic (“Beira Mar”), to standard tropicália (“Pedra Templo Animal”). The duo’s conflicting ideals helped to reign in the album’s sound, without the need to sacrifice experimentation for melody (or vice versa).
While the album can be overwhelming at times, with instruments of all kinds swirling around the mix, it gives it a very nomadic, free-wheeling feel. Like you are following two guitar-toting missionaries on their journey across Brazil. A bit of a romanization of actual events, sure, but it does fit. It’s an album that you have to experience for yourself to truly understand. Even now, long after the mythos of its rarity has faded through various reissues, it still manages to pervade minds with its stunning beauty. A journey unlike any you’ve ever been on.
