from Lula Côrtes & Jarbas Mariz - Bom Shankar Bolenath (1988)

With this record, and the fellowship of Jarbas Mariz, Côrtes returned to his hippie roots (after a couple of more mainstreamish enterprises), but in a more mellow way, trying again (as one track title explicitly states) to find an 'east-west synthesis', which you could say they partly did (there still being significant oscillations on what are the dominant longitudes in each track), with their sort of sitar-sounding tricórdio and guitars (and on occasion the real thing) sometimes seemingly trying to roughly channel Popol Vuh's more guitar-centric period. However, everything works essentially at a surface level, as things can generally be easy on the ear (at least when the synths are kept at bay), but do not seem to hold (or seek) any deeper truths (perhaps (going full circle on the mystical experience) taking the very notion that they might exist, or be tenable, as the ultimate illusion). The only thing that comes closer to achieving a more substantive version of that desideratum is the meditative "Inverno I e II", whose very duration (even if, even then, it gets segmented in two parts) allows or forces them to try and reach for something more, and I appreciate the effort. 

Incidentally, its qualities and limitations also get highlighted by that track reminding me of Fausto's "Quando o Inverno Chegar" (which begins by being just a diaphanous subjective impression from someone with a connect-the-aesthetic-dots disorder, but is then obliquely reinforced by a circular synth arpeggio appearing halfway through Côrtes' track that mirrors a near identical one found in turn in the middle of Fausto's Quando às vezes ponho diante dos olhos. Uh.), even if it can't reach the soaring heights of Fausto's chilling depiction of (in his case, nuclear) winter: whereas Côrtes sits witnessing the changing of the seasons with the same equanimous indifference as he probably would the final transience of human existence, Fausto takes so mesmerizing a plunge in the fallout, that into the dread of Armageddon starts to seep the liminal anthropological curiosity of what a sight the end of all things might be (and how's that for a positive spin on the Doomsday Clock getting its handle(s) on the midnight hour?).

In the end, after not caring what his hippie fan base might think of his going all 1980's, Lula decided not to care what his 1980's fans might think of him going old school one more time; and even if the results weren't all they could be, I can certainly still applaud the attitude, along with the good 10 minutes of wintry music it still begot. All things remaining equal, better a flippant failure than a pandering success.

from Lula Côrtes - Rosa de sangue (1980)

That cover screams 'bad trip' but, as history changes, so do drugs, and the music some people make under their influence as well; which means that in this record, five years after the memorable Paêbiru, Lula's feral freakouts with Zé Ramalho over the barren landscape of Northeast Brazil were already a distant memory. Côrtes mysticism and DIY folk ethos could still produce some interesting (however disparate) results, from the more traditional sertanejo register of "Lua Viva" to the Indian-inspired "Bahjan - Oração para Shiva" or "Nordeste Oriental" (which anticipates the whole beatific vibe he would go for eight years later, on Bom Shankar Bolenajh), but a lot of the music material tends to reach for some lazy musical templates of its time (with some hard-rock and country-rock moments being an immediate turnoff) which at best contribute nothing to enhance his occasional moments of inspiration (particularly "Dos Inimigos" falls sloppily short of being a classic), and at worst actively work to undermine whatever persuasiveness his semi-spoken-word preachings might still hold. Basically, it's as if he had gone from a commune in the sertão to live out a caipira version of rumspringa, which was probably a whole lot of fun; but, given the way he was headed here, I'd say it was high time to turn back to Vishnu.

from Lydia Lunch - Queen of Siam (1980)

Diversity can be both a strength and a weakness in Lunch's solo debut. Considering both what the future would hold and her track record with the trashy Teenage Jesus & The Jerks, in this record she almost seems by contrast like a dewy-eyed girl in a world full of possibilities (as a result of (according to the statements of intentions later collected by Simon Reynolds on Rip It Up and Start Again) the producer wanting her to be "sex kittenish", and Lunch wanting to let "the sick little girl out to play"), as alongside the expected (but rather toned down) no-wave stylings of some tracks, you also get stuff like jazzy big-band arrangements (inspired by the music from the cartoons she was downing, of all things), or a tongue in cheek cover of "Spooky", of Dusty Springfield-fame (and more deservedly so, even if you can give Lydia credit for having a sense of humor), which means that, while there can be something in here for rather different people, the whole package might be a hard-sell for each single listener (it is for me, anyway). 

As Lunch has tended to rely on the kindness of strangers, friends, or acquaintances to put her artistic vision into music, the success of her endeavours can vary significantly, particularly when she steps out of her wheelhouse; and despite her dominatrix vibes on the cover, she doesn't quite feel in control on this one, as most of it tends to sound a bit flaccid, with everyone simply going through the moves, and her slurred voice just sort of plastered on top. The fact that it's the instrumental "A Cruise to the Moon" (something I could imagine Barry Adamson writing for the Lounge Lizards) that sounds more alive here (although, when she stayed more alert, as in "Atomic Bongos" and "Los Bandidos", things certainly improve) seems to suggest that all parties involved were indeed happier to finish off on their own. 

That's not to say I don't also have some reservations on the abjectionist aesthetic she would settle down for in the long run; but, as her musical mating abilities honed in on more suitable suitors along the way (with her (how apropos) "Shotgun Wedding" with Rowland S. Howard at the very top of that list for me), better things were definitely still to (giggity) come.