Fio da Memória

Maita's 2010 debut, while pleasant enough, gave little indication of the innovative experimentation of this, its follow-up. Early last year I made the bold and, fortunately, accurate proclamation that I wouldn’t hear a better Brazilian album in 2016 than The Woman at the End of the World by Elza Soares. I’m now making the same claim for this exciting yet immensely subtle record in 2017. But although both have a forward-looking aesthetic they couldn’t be more different. Soares’ masterpiece was dense, angry and angular; Maita's is full of post-modern lullabies and dubby samba deconstructions swathed in cavernous, minimalist production. Opening number ‘Na Asa’ is built around little more than subterranean bleeps and bass pulses, bringing to mind the mesmeric work of the remarkable Argentinian singer-songwriter Juana Molina. Thereafter, other instruments gradually enter the fray, such as the almost Cramps-like distorted guitar on ‘Olé’ – which should sound out of place but doesn’t. One is reminded of a string of great Brazilian female innovators of the past two decades, from Cibelle (on Suba's seminal São Paulo Confessions) through to Isaar and, most recently, Céu. To be both deceptively commercial and coolly cutting-edge is no mean feat.