RED PLANET: TAKE TIME TO GET TO KNOW ARBOREA

Somewhere between electro-acoustic and folk, and between forest and ocean, emerges the music of Arborea, a husband-and-wife duo from Maine.

Arborea: Shanti and Buck Curran (courtesy the artists)

Since releasing their first album Wayfaring Summer in 2006, Buck and Shanti Curran have toured regularly across the United States and Europe, absorbing sounds and experiences along the way that filter into their music.

Red Planet (Strange Attractors Audio House, 2011), Arborea’s most recent album, conjures images of barren landscapes and misty forests; of sunny afternoons and contemplative hours; and the happy, although swift, passage of time.

The minor key and atmospheric electric guitar of tracks like “Phantasmagoria in Two” and “Wolves” lends a touch of mystery to the album, which is balanced by the lighter sounds of “Spain” and “A Little Time.”

Buck and Shanti both skillfully play a large number of instruments—guitar, banjo, and harmonium to name only a few—and Red Planet features a handful of instrumental tracks, such as “Fossil Sea.” Shanti sings on most of the songs though, in a warm, sweet-sounding voice at times tinged with plaintiveness.

Arborea’s music is captivating and unconventional in a way that keeps you wanting to experience more, and it’s well worth setting aside some time to listen to one of their albums.

Already this spring, the duo has performed at SXSW and on NPR for a Tiny Desk Concert. They took time out of their busy schedule, which includes touring and homeschooling their two children, to catch up with Apsara in an e-mail interview.

Arborea’s music has been dubbed as “psych folk,” “indie folk,” etc. How would you describe it?

We’ve been called “avant folk,” “indie folk,” “psych folk,” “dream folk,” “free folk,” “folk rock”…but it’s not strictly folk. With elements of rock, blues, and Eastern modal music, you might describe it more as “soundscapes.” More often than not, our music is created as if it were a soundtrack for the landscapes and environments we’re moving through or interacting with, so it’s really impossible to say it’s just one thing. A lot of people associate us with forests and mountains, but we’re equally inspired by the power of the ocean and the rugged coast of Maine, as well as countries we often visit: Ireland and Wales, Italy, Spain, and Portugal.

Your first album Wayfaring Summer came out in 2006, and you recently released your fourth album Red Planet. In what ways has your music evolved over this span of time?

Our music has evolved quite a bit over the past seven years. We’ve gotten so much stronger and intuitive as a duo because we’ve dedicated everything we have to playing music and spend most of our time each year touring throughout the US, UK, and Europe. We heard a term recently in an old interview with Marc Bolan (T. Rex), in which he talked about the reality of life as an artist and touring, and how you don’t make a lot of money. But you do it because you “live your environment”—and that’s exactly what we do.

Red Planet features renditions of “Black is the Colour” and “Careless Love” alongside your own compositions. How did you approach interpreting these traditional songs, which have been performed by musicians from many different genres?

“Careless Love” is actually two distinct traditional songs. One version is a folk song about pregnancy, and the other is a blues song about frivolous love (Bessie Smith recorded a notable version in 1925). It’s origin though is an anonymous poem. Shanti randomly discovered the short poem in an old literature book and at the time we didn’t know about the other versions. We took words from the poem, then composed the song with our own rhythm, melody, and song structure. Our song is linked closer to the folk song, with the references to young love and pregnancy, and wearing the apron high and low.

“Black is the Colour” is our own arrangement of a version that’s on the 1987 Martin Simpson and Jessica Radcliffe album True Dare or Promise. That song was passed down to Jessica from her mother, and most likely the source of the version that’s best known comes from the American composer and collector of traditional ballads John Jacob Niles. It’s a song with Scottish origins, brought to the Appalachians by immigrants from Scotland. The River Clyde in Glasgow is referenced in the lyrics and shows direct lineage to Scotland. We also have a version of “This Little Light of Mine” that we recorded for an Odetta tribute. Interpreting traditional songs can be a really fluid process and a lot of fun, because you have a solid reference point from which to start. Our approach is quite simple because the framework of the song is established. We can then improvise with all the existing parts: varying the melody, removing words, and adding new ones. One thing that’s of great importance to us is making sure that there’s plenty of space in the recording so the melody can shine through. That’s how we try to produce all of our music though, not just traditional songs.

This month, you performed a lovely, three-song Tiny Desk Concert at the NPR headquarters. What was this experience like?

We had such a great time! Bob Boilen and all of the crew at NPR are really down to earth and professional, so it made for a relaxing, fun experience. We homeschool our kids, and they were on tour with us and also got to see the NPR headquarters. After our session, NPR let us keep our van in their garage, so we took an amazing family walk around Washington, DC, and eventually ended up at the Air and Space Museum.

Arborea on NPR Music

THE SOUND OF SECRET NAMES: A STRONG FIRST ALBUM FROM TWANG DARKLY

Appalachian Mountain dulcimer doesn’t always take center stage in American folk music, let alone in a rock band. But in the band Twang Darkly, it gets the spotlight.

The Sound of Secret Names (Mar. 2012), the first studio album by Shreveport-based rock trio Twang Darkly, breaks out of the standard mountain dulcimer folk repertoire with songs that could just change the way we view this unassuming Appalachian string instrument.

Twang Darkly founder Michael Futreal, a North Carolina native and multi-instrumentalist who Apsara featured last August, bought his first dulcimer in college and hasn’t looked back since. After experimenting with “Appalachian rock” on several of his own albums, The Sound of Secret Names firmly establishes Futreal as an innovator of this genre, and especially of the dulcimer.

Futreal and bandmates Troy Messina (percussion) and Joel Boultinghouse (upright bass and electric guitar) have released an all-instrumental album of beautiful folk rock, gritty roadhouse rockabilly, and harmonica-fueled blues. Twang Darkly specializes in improvisation, and although the album was recorded in Futreal’s home studio, several of the songs are first-takes.

The Sound of Secret Names features acoustic and electric dulcimer, harmonica, flute, and banjo. It draws inspiration from Bruce Springsteen, Mark Knopfler, Jethro Tull, and Tom Waits, as well as surf rock, spaghetti western and 1970s television soundtracks, and a whole host of other musical influences.

But this isn’t a crazy quilt of sounds. Futreal, Messina, and Boultinghouse have created something that’s both entirely original and rooted in musical traditions from Appalachia and the American southeast. We look forward to future releases from Twang Darkly, and hope to see them at SXSW next year.

Apsara spoke to Futreal recently to get the story behind this intriguingly named album.

Twang Darkly: Troy Messina (L), Joel Boultinghouse, and Michael Futreal (courtesy the artist)

How has Twang Darkly evolved as a band since Live from Wire Mountain (Feb. 2011), your first set of recordings?

In one simple respect, on a technical level, I’ve built a recording setup that is appropriate to capturing a band live in multiple tracks, allowing for a proper studio mixing approach without diminishing our live mojo. My previous studio setup, as employed on Devil’s Stomping Ground for instance, was entirely geared towards me working alone to layer together different instruments. I did some overdubs on this album working in that way, but the primary essence of each track was born from a live take on which we played together in some combination.

Our primary power as a band is the resonance that allows us to improvise together upon a loosely structured “song” idea. Though I’m the primary “writer” of our material, what happens when we perform together is emergent and it’s always beyond what I imagine for any particular piece.

We’ve played a lot of shows together since we captured Live from Wire Mountain as a kind of field recording, and the accumulation of that experience puts us all very much more on the same wavelength. We have a feel for how to work together that lets us do things that surprise us all and approach new ideas very fluidly and rapidly. We took advantage of that in the recording process to capture some stuff that was very fresh. For instance, two of the songs, “From Flatlands Starlings Rise” and “The Beautiful Years Roll,” were first-takes on the same day that I introduced those pieces to the band. Similarly, Joel doesn’t even remember recording “Pastime with Good Company.” But if I start a song, he just starts playing along and we ride it where it leads—that’s what happened with that one.

What’s behind the name: The Sound of Secret Names?

The idea of “secret names” appeals to me primarily through the folkloric notion of something’s true name holding a magical power over that thing—a power to conjure or to hold, for instance. A good literary exploration of this idea is found very prominently in Ursula LeGuin’s Earthsea books, of which I’m very fond, but it’s an idea I’ve run across many times from a wide variety of sources ranging from Tolkien to Springsteen.

The given titles to instrumental pieces hold a power of suggestion over how people experience listening, but I also like to think that these pieces all have other secret names that will vary from listener to listener. For example, what to me paints an impression of how it felt to behold a particular desert landscape at a certain point in my emotional history will, for another, call upon other scenes and feelings appropriate to their own imagination and memory. The song they hear will have a different secret name than the song I hear. They may not even know the name they would choose, as they may not be accustomed to navigating such impressions or making such choices. But if they feel the music, then that name is there, if perhaps just out of their grasp.

Two songs on the album feature very beautiful, very organic-sounding flute—what type were you playing?

On “Her Secret Name,” I’m playing a bamboo renaissance flute that my parents gave me back in my college days. I actually learned to play that thing in a place at North Carolina State University called the “Free Expression Tunnel,” a pedestrian tunnel under the railroad tracks that bisect the campus. I used to go down there at nights and play as people painted (it was the place on campus where graffiti was officially sanctioned), enjoying the wonderful echoes that made even the simplest bits of music into magic.

On “Spirit Defenders of Nikwasi,” I’m playing a Native American-style double flute. It actually has two pipes, one of which serves as a drone as you play through the divided mouthpiece. That flute, which is made of aromatic cedar, was built by a fellow named Odell Borg out in Arizona. I adore that flute—the drone set against the other pipe’s scale makes it the wind equivalent of a dulcimer to my way of thinking, so it’s a natural fit to my particular musical brain. I’d only had it a short time when we recorded that song, but that conceptual mapping makes it a natural instrument for me.

HEART LIKE FEATHERS: ROBERT DEEBLE DISCUSSES HIS NEWEST ALBUM

Life hasn’t always followed the exact course Seattle sing-songwriter Robert Deeble has thought it would. It’s even been painful sometimes, and required taking a long break to focus on family and self. But it’s led Deeble to deeper understandings about what it means to be human, and about change. After several years away, Deeble decided in 2011 to return to the studio and turn this wisdom into the album Heart Like Feathers, which releases on Feb. 7.

As with his earlier recordings, Deeble’s latest full-length album lulls listeners into a beautiful world of gentle, lazy-sounding guitar, and vivid lyrics that are honest and sometimes even slightly haunting. There’s sadness in many of the songs, but it’s ultimately a triumphant story about finding one’s self and cherishing relationships. Featuring Deeble and the contribution of many of his longtime friends, Heart Like Feathers sensitively captures the shades of life’s pain and joy.

Deeble spoke with Apsara about the album, his life and music, and about his enduring friendship with Emily Dickinson.

You’re originally from Long Beach, but have lived in Seattle for several years. How have these two places influenced your music, and as a musician do you identify more with one?

I never felt at home in California, although I have a soft spot for San Francisco and Long Beach. Rainy dock towns better match my personality and also my heritage (my family traces back to Wales). I think I was alluding to this in the “Boy with the California Sun” (Thirteen Stories).

The new album’s title refers to Emily Dickinson’s famous poem “Hope is the Thing with Feathers,” and the poetess even appears in a song on Thirteen Stories. What is the significance of your latest album title, and has Emily Dickinson had a larger influence on your music?

Emily just sort of came along for the ride in my career. We met in the song the “Secret Life of Emily Dickinson” (Thirteen Stories) after I was introduced to her in a poem by William Carlos Williams.

From there Emily and I learned a bit about each other, and grew to appreciate each other over the years. Her phrase “Hope is the thing with feathers” is one I probably conjured subconsciously in the title of the record. I had been writing what would become the title track when I fell into the phrase “Heart Like Feathers,” which perfectly described what I was trying to say. The song is about the battle between the head and the heart, with the heart gradually getting free. It was later as I read a review by Image Journal of the record that I realized the similarity to Emily’s poem, so it is nice to know she is still hanging out with me.

Robert Deeble (Xeandra Wescott)

What are some of the most important elements from the past six years listeners can find in the songs on Heart Like Feathers?

It is a very human record yet one that tips its hat to the spiritual, but always in an earthly manner—not in a dissociated way. The material covers a lot of very real struggles from depression, marital issues, fear, and anxiety, with some slivers of light that finds its way into those dark places.

Was This Bar Has No One Left, your previous shorter release, part of the creative process leading up to your new album?

Yes, that really is the preface to Heart Like Feathers. In my mind it was supposed to be one record, but then it started as an EP which was supposed to move into a full length—life does not work the way we plan. The EP came out and I traveled extensively supporting it, but I felt things beginning to slip in my life. It started with my label but soon afterwards my life seemed to show the cracks of potential collapse. I think I started to see my life as a reflection of my art instead my art as a reflection of my life. I needed to take some time off and reboot. I found myself shutting down, retiring a band, and stopping writing for awhile.

I spent the time during that hiatus rebuilding who I was at home more than who I was on the road. This included paying more attention to my marriage and the changes in myself as a man, and I eventually found a restorative way to reintegrate my artistry.

Who are some of the key individuals who lent their creativity and voices to Heart Like Feathers?

Well there are a lot of them starting with a new band. About three years ago, I gradually started writing and playing with some guys that I had built really good relationships with. All us are in committed relationships and most of us have children, which always makes a band more difficult but I like how it reflects who I am as a person. Naturally we all make significant sacrifices to be in a band together and yet we all totally respect how not to let it compete with the rest of our life. As I got older, I wanted to integrate the two and be with others who were in the same boat.

So for the band it is: Jeremy Summer (also part of the Whiskey Swillers) on bass; Jeremy Dybash (an original member of Velour 100) on drums; and Neal Vickers on guitar and strings. And then I flew Lili De La Mora, my backing vocalist, up from California to record the album.

Our producer was Dylan Magierek, who runs Badman Recording Co. Dylan had come to see several of my shows over the years when I was on tour. And I have always loved the kind of artists he associates with, so it seemed fitting to ask him to be a part of he project.

Then there is an amazing array of guests on the album. It meant a lot to me that so many folks would come out of the woodwork to celebrate a new album with me. Stephen Hodges, who plays percussion,was my musical mentor over the years. He currently drums for Mavis Staples and was known as Tom Waits’ drummer during the Rain Dogs years. Victoria Williams, one my favorite folk heroines, returned to join me on the song “Sunflower.” Ric Hordinksi (Monk), originally from Over the Rhine, had a big part in encouraging me to write and record this record and he offered up two guitar tracks for the album. Anna-Lynn Williams (Trespassers William) is an old pal from my California days and she did an amazing vocal with on the song “Undertow.” And lastly, we pulled a choir together with some great friends from over the years. Daniel G. Harmann, Kate Tucker, John Vecchiarelli, and Adam Selzer—just to name a few—are all some wonderful folks from my musical past that came together to sing on the last track.

Most of the sessions were filmed by two great film makers: Todd Zeller and Tommy Harrington. So we got a lot of great footage of the album, which we hope to feature on a limited edition CD.

“Sun Flower”

Here comes the bird to eat the worm, 
but he’s hiding ‘neath the corn
Big black cat hanging underneath the tree, 
waiting for the bird to meet

Sunflower, 
where did you go?
Sunflower,
did you know?

Humming bird never hurt no one,
troubadour strayed away from home
All of life under love and toil,
two hands digging in the soil

There’s a garden in our souls, we forget to water
all those storm clouds coming north
I guess we’ll get that shower
So rise up now… let’s shine

Sunflower
I miss you so
Sunflower did you know?

Desert storm across the plains
we dug a ditch to direct the rain
Bright red tractor in the mud
teach us to tinker with a flood

And I just got your weather report
I’m so sorry about it girl
All those dark clouds around your porch
I think they’re blowing over
Let’s rise up now and shine

LIGHTSWEETCRUDE: THE MANY SHADES OF “RAGA”

Raga? It’s one of the building blocks of Indian classical music, but it’s also one of the world’s hardest musical terms to define. In the simplest sense, “raga” means “color,” and consists of a collection of notes that musicians build a song around. Toronto-based lightsweetcrude’s debut album Listen to the Colour proves that “raga” doesn’t require a neat definition.

Lightsweetcrude plays with and creates new shades of traditional ragas on Listen to the Colour, which released in October 2011. Producer and keyboardist Jason Steidman envisioned the album, and brought together the ensemble’s team of talented artists. Before launching the project, Steidman studied Indian classical music for several years—even studying harmonium in order to learn the feel of the music.

“Ahir/Now”

Listen to the Colour draws on numerous other musical influences, including funk, jazz, and surf rock. On the track “Ahir/Now,” guitarist Fareed Haque weaves the fabric of the melody before the group launches fully into the song. Complete with handclaps and thumping piano and drums, “Ahir” evokes the spirit of Dick Dale’s famous “Misirlou.”

Now watch this clip of santour maestro Shivkumar Sharma perform raga Ahir Bhairav, with Zakir Hussain on tabla. “Ahir” is based on this very same raga, and listening to Sharma’s rendition it’s not hard to imagine the guitar layered over the santour.

“Raga Ahir Bhairav”

“A Call to You, Piloo”

On “A Call to You, Piloo,” Rez Abassi’s electric sitar bridges a combination of guitar, bass, drums, and organ with the more traditional classical instruments bansuri and tabla. It’s a mixture of jazz and funk, for sure, but it’s also built upon raga Piloo (Pilu), performed here with more “standard” classical form by sitarist Shahid Parvez Khan.

“Raga Piloo” 

Whether you’re a fan of classical Indian music or just curious about it, you’ll enjoy exploring the many shades of “raga” with lightsweetcrude.

FRESHMAN THEME: REM’S ‘AUTOMATIC FOR THE PEOPLE’

In keeping with our theme of “looking back, looking ahead,” an Apsara reader from Saint Louis shared REM’S Automatic for the People as a favorite album from a pivotal era of his life.

“This album was practically the theme for my freshman year in college, and I played it constantly. I think it was also a good album for that time in my life, when I was transitioning from one stage to another.”

Interestingly, this was an important album for me around this same time too.

It was sort of permanently on loan from my friend across the hallway, and I played “Man on the Moon” and the “Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight” endlessly—until I finally had to give it back.

“Man on the Moon”

Good memories–thanks for sharing!

ARMISTICE: NOSTALGIC, WESTERN-SOUNDING LO-FI POP

California's Mojave Desert (photo by Besdos)
California’s Mojave Desert (photo by Besdos)

Canadian musicians Béatrice Martin and Jay Malinowski offer up five tracks of vintage-sounding pop evocative of 1950s and 60s western music on their February 2011 release Armistice.

Through their instrumentization and lyrics, the songs on this album are filled with nostalgia for driving through the lonely desert, stopping at remote diners and gas stations. Song titles like “Jeb Rand” and “Neon Love” hint at what the album offers. Los Angeles-based punk band the Bronx—in the guise of “Mariachi El Bronx”—provides the instrumental backing to Martin and Malinowski’s low-fi vocals.

Short and sweet, “Armistice” is fun but definitely not kitsch. It brings a smile and a warm feeling, like listening to Patsy Cline on AM radio or catching the closing credits of Rawhide.

MUSIC IN EXILE: THE MANY VOICES OF TIBETAN ARTISTS ABROAD

Ranging from cries of protest to longing for home, the music of Tibetan exile artists creates a complex mosaic that becomes clearer in context.

An aerial view of the mountains outside of Lhasa.
An aerial view of the mountains outside of Lhasa.

Four years ago on a plane bound for Lhasa, I watched expectantly as the aircraft’s shadow passed over the verdant mountains surrounding the airport. I grew up picturing an idealized Tibet of snowcapped mountain peaks, shining bronze Buddha statues, and nomads on horseback. During my stay in Lhasa, I woke up every morning to a startlingly blue sky and fell asleep every night to the sounds of discordant singing drifting from the karaoke hall across the street from my hotel. Nothing I experienced between the open and close of my days there could be configured into a set of simple, congruent images.

The Dalai Lama’s visit to the United States this month led me to think about the complexities of my experiences in Tibet and of the Tibetan community living in exile, including its musicians. Approximately 140,000 Tibetans now live abroad, with the majority residing in India. The Dalai Lama and the Central Tibetan Administration, the exile government, have been based in the Dharamsala suburb of Mcleodganj since 1960. Over the decades since the Dalai Lama left Tibet, tension has existed between the exile administration and the Chinese government, which makes historical claims on Tibet and states that Chinese leadership has improved the quality of life there.

Rock resistance

JJI Exile Brothers perform with Chinese musician Xiao Bin at a Common Grounds Project event in Dharamsala, October 2009.
JJI Exile Brothers perform with Chinese musician Xiao Bin at a Common Grounds Project event in Dharamsala, October 2009.

For numerous artists born outside of Tibet, the experience of being without a country and the desire to reclaim Tibet from China are prominent messages in their music. Many of the songs by JJI Exile Brothers, one of the earliest Tibetan exile rock bands, deal with these two themes. Encouraged by their mother, who owns a restaurant in Mcleodganj, brothers Jamyang, Jigme, and Ingsel formed their band in 1998. The brothers cite musical influences ranging from Tibetan exile folk singer Techung to American blues legend Muddy Waters. Over the years, JJI Exile Brothers has maintained a strong following and has inspired many Tibetans with their message.

One of the newer Tibetan rock groups to follow in the tradition of JJI Exile Brothers is Melong Band, founded in Minneapolis in 2007. The group incorporates Himalayan regional instruments, such as the dranyen, a long-necked lute, into many of their songs. Revolt, their most recent album, was released this month in conjunction with the Dalai Lama’s visit. Tenzing Jigme, the band’s lead guitarist, has appeared on Soyala, Voice of America’s contemporary Tibetan music show, and is also the founder of the online Tibetan music radio station Bhodshey.

“Bhod Gyalo” by Melong Band

Voice of Tibet

Yungchen Lhamo singing at a Witness Focus for Change benefit event, November 2009.
Yungchen Lhamo singing at a Witness Focus for Change benefit event, November 2009.

Originally from Lhasa, singer Yungchen Lhamo has lived in exile since making an arduous trek across the Himalayas in 1989. Now based in New York, she is often called the “Voice of Tibet” and has gained significant recognition for her music, including signing on with Peter Gabriel’s Real World Records and collaborating with prominent artists such as Annie Lennox. While dealing with the hardships of exile, such as longing and displacement, Lhamo’s music is also filled with hope and encouragement for the younger generation of exiles. Lhamo is known for her solo a cappella performances, but on her last two albums has also experimented with different types of accompaniments ranging from kora to full orchestra. In 2004, she established the Yungchen Lhamo Charitable Foundation, which sponsors relief and education projects for Tibetans around the world.

It is worth noting the potential for confusion between Lhamo and Yangjin Lamu, a Tibetan singer also living in the United States. In February 2011, Lamu was awarded for her contribution to Paul Winter’s new age album Miho: Journey to the Mountain. Although she uses the Chinese transliteration of her Tibetan name, the media sometimes refers to Lamu as “Yungchen Lhamo,” including China’s central television agency in its English-language coverage of the 2011 Grammys. Lamu primarily sings a mixture of Buddhist chant and meditation music, and is popular in China and Taiwan. In addition to her music, she is the founder and president of the China Overseas Tibetan Association.

A complex mosaic

When asked about my trip to Tibet, I find that the stunning landscape is the one element that I describe consistently, followed by a narrative of my trip as jumbled as my experiences. Sadly, this beautiful plateau is at the heart of a tough sovereignty issue that impacts the Tibetans living there and those in exile. Images of Tibet’s pristine sky, mountains, and grasslands are frequently evoked in songs by exile musicians, but the perspective from which these artists sing often differs. Musicians born outside of Tibet describe a place that they have never seen, while artists like Yungchen Lhamo sing of a place that they hope to return to. Beyond rock and traditional music, Tibetan exile music is now also expanding into the realms of hip hop, folk rock, electronica, and other genres. These many voices of the Tibetan musical community form a complex mosaic that is complete only when viewed within the context of the different generations and life experiences of its artists.

“Happiness Is” by Yungchen Lhamo

Aerial photo by Sarah Lin Bhatia.

JJI Exile Brothers photo by Wen-Yan King.

Yungchen Lhamo photo by Kate Glicksberg.

LISTENING TO WHAT? RED HOT + RIO 2

After listening in early June to the “From Brazil with Love” episode of the excellent new NPR show Alt.Latino, I became hooked on the album Red Hot + Rio 2.

The three weeks’ wait for its June 28 release was well worth it. Now with thirty-three Tropicália-inspired songs loaded onto my MP3 player, I have a lot of music to enjoy and reflect upon during my daily train ride.

Red Hot + Rio 2 is the most recent compilation produced by the New York City-based nonprofit HIV/AIDS awareness and relief organization Red Hot. Here are two tracks that give just a small taste of the breadth of styles and artists on this expansive compilation.

“Um Girassol da Cor do Seu Cabelo” (“A Sunflower the Color of Your Hair”)

Inventive singer-songwriter Mia Doi Todd of Los Angeles and José González, an Argentine-Swedish folk musician, give new voice to this song by Lô Borges, a founder of the influential Clube da Esquina music collective.

“O Leãozinho” (“Little Lion”)

American indie-folk band Beirut produced this march-like rendition of a song originally by Brazilian artist Caetano Veloso, a noted Tropicálista. (This track is currently available for free download on the Red Hot website.)