Happy 75th birthday, Gal Costa. I first heard this record in 98, in San Francisco, when I was making my way though Brazilian music for the first time. It was everything I loved about music in one record.
The sound of her voice was perfect—alternating between gentle and romantic and a wild, furious, passionate daredevil. Totally captivating. The melodies and harmonies of the songs blew me away, and the arrangements made me smile with shock—and still do.
I moved to New York, and then it was suddenly summer. I played this CD to death. On the discman and at home. This album hipped so many of my friends onto this music; it’s a perfect gateway drug.
This was also the first of the Tropicalia albums I heard that was not self-conscious. At least it didn’t sound that way. It was supposed to be beautiful, and to knock you on your ass almost at the same time. It wasn’t trying too hard to cram every madcap idea into 2 album sides.
If that link doesn’t work maybe this one will.