The Devil & the Diamond

Back with a pared-down sound and a Buddhist-inspired spiritual bent, Brooklyn fusionists Matuto have ditched the surf guitar that marked out some of the most arresting tracks on last year’s debut. In its place is a tighter, less immediate sound that takes the bulk of its influence from American folk, country and bluegrass, often with a jazz framework and plenty of percussion. While the spit ‘n’ sawdust of forró still courses through accordionist Rob Curto’s fingers, the more overt Brazilian influences have likewise been subsumed into a style that’s far subtler overall.

There are still plenty of ruminative treatises dominated by guitar and accordion interplay. There’s even a casting-out-of-demons by berimbau, with an ambitious White Stripes-go-jazz arrangement. But there’s nothing quite as compelling as last year’s Blind Willie Johnson interpretation. On ‘Tears’, there’s a surprisingly effective flirtation with afoxé, wherein Curto lets fly with a righteous energy on the melodic line and Clay Ross’ guitar digs and sweats out the rhythm. Along with the keening ‘The Way I Love You, it’s one of the few moments on the entire album where there’s a real synergy between the disconsolate croon of the vocals and the thrust of the music. Elsewhere, the singing is often oblique and impenetrable in its melancholy, a mood perhaps more suited to an indie band than to folk insurrectionists. An accomplished and distinctive follow-up nevertheless.