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Artist: Vasco Martins Reviews:
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Vasco Martins, an immensely talented keyboardist and guitarist who lives off the west coast of Africa on the island of Cabo Verde, has released an ultra-ambitious and impossible to categorize double-CD called Lunarlo Perpetuo. I asked a student at the university where I work (who knows some Portuguese) what the translation of this phrase is. She said it was "Eternal Moon," so I hope that's either correct or pretty close to it. The liner notes of the CD detail that the real "Lunarlo Perpetuo" is "an old book about moon, ocean, mountains, planets, natural medecin (sic), astrology, plants...This book is always use (sic) by capevedeans agriculturist." I suppose a parallel for Americans would be the Farmer's Almanac, except where the latter is more "folksy" I suspect the Cabo Verdean Lunarlo Perpetuo is more metaphysical and spiritual, which the music illustrates with its textures and moods. Since the album is subtitled Music for Concerts, I will assume that the two long tracks are either improvisatory in nature or approximations of live concerts (perhaps in the same way that Steve Roach's On This Planet is, essentially, a studio version of his live appearances). There are no crowd noises on either track so if these were played literally live, there must have been no one in attendance. While the back of the CD booklet shows Vasco playing both his keyboards and his guitar surrounded by the outdoors (in the mountains and by the shore), I also didn't hear the sound of wind or waves. However, the music itself certainly sounds improvised and at least somewhat spontaneous. As for the music, all I can say is that if you play this CD a number of times, it will most certainly grow on you. It definitely did just that in my case. In fact, by the third or fourth listen, I came to the point where I didn't want to play it in the background any longer; instead I wanted to give both discs my compete and undivided attention. These two pieces of music reveal Vasco to be a master at loosely-structured musical tone poems, both with his assortment of keyboards (disc one) and his guitars (disc two). Lunarlo Perpetuo is an extremely mature and sophisticated work, yet also one filled with drama and passion. I like it a lot and my enjoyment grows with every listen! The first disc, which is almost one hour long, is titled "Part I, Electronic Keyboards," and it is a multi-hued musical portrait, featuring minimal aspects and also sweeping dramatic sections as well. Sometimes, the main melody line keyboard has a distinct instrument-like sound (a balalaika perhaps?). Underlying gentle and warm washes of strings lend an air of romance or mystery to the music. Yet, despite the presence of this subtle world music feel at times (since the balalaika is considered to be a Mediterranean instrument usually), this is not world fusion music. In spirit, it's closer to ambient or EM or new age music, maybe along the lines of the more ambient recorded work of someone like Frank Van Bogaert or Vangelis. While there are "time cues" on the first disc, there is no mention of song titles in the liner notes. This is one single piece of music and the cues are probably there for the sake of radio programming, I would guess. The music moves from understated melodic stretches to more dramatic crescendo-accented sections, such as at the two-plus minute mark of the second "cut." In this way, the first disc has a wave-like feel, as it ebbs and flows from the softer to the louder, from the more minimal to the more fully developed. For instance, time cue 3 begins in a spacy vein with washes of ambience, ethereal twinkling textures, and some mysterious synth effects. Intensity builds amidst thundering lower register synth chords, sounding like sustained lower piano notes. Soft bell chimes in the background balance this aspect nicely. The music segues into time cue 4 which features swirling layers of EM that morph into lovely soaring synth strings, caressing the air in a fluid dance. Cue 5 is more abstract with bell-trees, strange percussive effects (sounding like rapid clicking) and reverse tape-loops (?). Cue 7 opens with more spacy textures (heavily reverbed EM tones) and fuzzed synth notes, before once again yielding to a more accessible melodic strain (this time on piano-like keyboards) and the re-emergence of the balalaika-like element. Cue 9 may evoke some Vangelis comparisons (it did for me) as synth strings and plucked string keyboards paint a softly romantic mood. Cue 10 introduces male synth-choruses to superb effect. Not overdone - just right! The first disc concludes with a soaring slice of new age keyboards, drawing comparison to Constance Demby's best work, including (at times) reminiscent of Novus Magnificat. Disc two is much easier to describe, even though it also evolves over its forty-three minute duration. Featuring just electric "moon" guitar, which is, at times, heavily processed (through reverb and sustain), this disc could even find interest among fans of jazz guitar (not smooth jazz, but pure jazz instead). I make this claim not because the music itself is "jazzy," but due to the improvised and adventurous (but never too abstract) nature of the piece (which is titled "Part 2, Electric Moon Guitar and Effects"). Notes peal off into the horizon, chords echo and reverberate, and occasional ambient percussive effects (deeply echoed) break through into the foreground. What I especially liked about disc two was how well Vasco explored the use of silence at times. Also, he seems to hit just the right note (no pun intended) when it comes to making the guitar sound "traditional" versus more complex or ambient. I truly can't think of anyone to compare his work to, except perhaps Jon Durant. However, a lot of this disc is more deliberately improvisatory in sound and feel than Durant's work is. Part 2 (the whole disc) flits between emotionally lighter and friendly stretches to more mysterious and even somewhat dark patches. There are no time cues on this disc at all, so you'll have to content yourself with listening to the entire piece or else "learning" where your favorite sections are located. I found no overblown or abrasive spots on the disc. In fact, at times, this proved to be ideal "daydream" music since it can be amazingly non-intrusive and has some parts that are just so damn pretty to my ears! Whether bending a single note, sending it into outer space, casually throwing off some bluesy licks, flying his fingers across the fretboard in a prog-like fashion, or strumming out romantic chords, Vasco reveals himself to be a consummate player, rich with nuance and subtlety, and possessed of self-assurance even when playing in an experimental fashion. Lunarlo Perpetuo deserves to find a wide and appreciative audience. It's so deeply textured throughout its two discs that this review, which clocks in at around 1,000 words, does not do it justice. Despite the album being improvisatory in nature (especially disc two) it's immensely accessible for all but fans of highly structured musical forms. Yet it's also exciting and freshly original - I would be surprised if you've ever heard anything like it. Once again, this artist (as he did on Sublime Delight and Apeiron) has impressed me with his talent and his vision. Lunarlo Perpetuo merits (with ease) my highest recommendation!
Hailing from the island country of Cabo Verde (Cape Verde Islands), keyboardist Vasco Martins has followed-up his work, Sublime Delight, with a startlingly different recording, Apeiron. Combining warm and lush synthesizer shadings with mysterious tone poems and snatches of classic new age music, the album dances among these genres with ease. At times highly dramatic and, at other moments, closer to an ambient sensibility, Apeiron is an ambitious and thought-provoking recording from an artist who knows his way around modern day electronic music. Apeiron is, per the liner notes, a term which signifies "the indefinite, the original entity of the world, from which all substances in the universe were created." With a philosophical set-up like that, you'd be correct in assuming that most of this album will be filled with mystical and metaphysical musical elements. The CD begins with the plaintive sound of a conch shell being blown on "Desert Atmosphere," along with swirling synths, tribal percussion and wooden flute. The next song, "Cercling Mountains" has a strong ambient/spacemusic beginning, graced by synth strings that soar and dive over the same swirling bass undertones from the first cut. As the song evolves, evocative flute and percussive elements emerge and soon the song becomes a somber yet romantic piece, somewhat reminiscent of Chris Spheeris' more keyboard-oriented work. Throughout Apeiron, Vasco uses short duration cuts to segue between longer more complex songs. The third cut, "Ocean Spiral Movement," is only one-and-a-half minutes long but swoops and flows with a liquid sense as cascading synths merge and separate, mimicking the feel of colliding waves. Many of the song titles are in Portuguese ("Ceu Enevoado," "Arco do Nordeste," "Morna de Novembre,") and I wish I knew what the words meant but we can't have everything. Returning to the music, "Ceu Enevoado" has a rich and powerful sound, owing to piano and synth strings played in grandly romantic fashion. "Flor Amarela" is ambient and electronic as it begins with twinkling bell-like synths, high-end strings, and other keyboards. It wouldn't be a reach to call this romantic spacemusic, although cynics might say it's too "pretty," I suppose. "Arco do Nordeste" continues in a strong electronic music vein, with the addition of that conch shell from the opening cut. Synth washes lay underneath very spacy effect keyboards, and the shell's primal tones lend a deep sense of mystery to the song. What sound like synth pan-pipes (lower register) and synth strings take turns carrying the main melody later in the song, as bell-like tones tinkle in the background. This song is a highlight of the disc. Later cuts include the forceful percussion and high-pitched synth flute work of "Alauda Razae" (which sounds like it would fit on Sublime Delight). There is a gentleness to the melody line even while the drums and percussion pound out a dramatic rhythm. Apeiron concludes with "Morna de Novembro," another piece laced with spacier electronic music elements. The mood is reflective at first as the music combines echo-effect synths and gentle bell-like tones; but as the song continues, vibrant hand percussion, neo-classical harpsichord-like keyboards and synth strings turn the piece into a powerful closing statement. As Apeiron ends, I was left with a sense of longing. Maybe the point is that we will never find the "true" Apeiron, no matter where we search. While I didn't embrace this CD to the degree I did Sublime Delight, I must admit that I am impressed with Vasco's courage and conviction in flexing his musical muscles in such a dramatically different direction. Apeiron is a challenging and brave recording, filled with moments of beauty and inspiration. If your taste in electronic music runs more toward mainstream or adult contemporary accessibility, look elsewhere. While not strictly experimental, this is an album for thinking people who will appreciate its complexity and hear beauty in its moments of musical exploration.
Vasco Martins is a talented keyboardist from Cabo Verde, which is part of West Africa. His release, Sublime Delight, is just that, i.e. sublime and a delight. It should please fans of musicians like Vangelis, Yanni, Suzanne Ciani and maybe even David Arkentsone or Chris Spheeris (minus Chris' guitars). By my making that comparison, you can doubtless guess that the music on Sublime Delight is varied, dramatic, and filled with melody and warmth. Each of the song titles on the album follow the same format, i.e. "Delight Is In (or On) the (____fill in the blank)." Each song supplies a different final word. The first song, "Delight Is In The Rhythm" has a driving but subdued midtempo beat with the melody carried by piano with underlying synth washes. The music has a vague world fusion texture to it, but not overpowering. The second song opens with unobtrusive waves, and is appropriately titled "Delight Is On The Ocean." The song itself is a gentle, slow tempo synth driven piece, with a rhythm that matches the crest and trough of waves. Eventually, the song becomes fuller and with swelling synth strings (Yanni fans should really go for this cut). All ten songs have something to recommend them and they're all either markedly or subtly different. Vasco's strengths include his excellent sense of melody and composition, his judicious use of ambient sounds recorded in his village (I would guess), and the nearly pervasive sense of joy and good nature on the entire recording. Highlights include the romantic space-music-like "Delight Is On The Stars," the faintly world-fusion tribal sounding "Delight Is In The Life," and the lush synth strings of "Delight Is On The Night" (Vangelis' fans, this one's for you). Two things are worth mentioning about Vasco's recording technique. One, his songs can start very slowly. Sometimes, the ambient sounds (which include snippets of island dialogue) will go on for awhile before the music starts. Second is the dialogue and sounds themselves. I found myself enjoying these snippets of island life. It gave me the sense of being with Vasco in his surroundings. But, some may wish for more music instead. There's not a lot of recorded dialogue, but it's there. That cautionary note notwithstanding, I heartily recommend Sublime Delight to lovers of melodic keyboard music. This is a warm, friendly, and (at times) romantic recording that I found myself enjoying from the first listening. |
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