It’s a gorgeous sunny evening. British Summer Time is about to end. I was feeling kind of empty, brittle, and, frankly, shitty. I’ve pulled up, parked facing the sunset. And I’m listening to Arthur Verocai’s sublime 1972 recording.
I find it astonishing that albums like this, and Shuggie Otis’ Inspiration Infornation, have taken so many years to find their audience. But I’m glad they have resurfaced.
I just read a nice piece from 2022, in the Guardian online, interviewing Verocai about his late-blooming music career. Read it here.
Track seven, Na Boca Do Sol, just finished. I don’t know Portuguese, despite a lifetime listening to Brazilian music. So I translated the lyrics. And – no surprise, frankly – they’re beautifully poetic.
Now it’s Velho Parente. Every single track is brilliant. What an album!
I’m not a massive fan of much modern music. And sometimes I hate rap/hip hop, for stealing from truly great artists. I’ll be honest, the hip-hop crowd being into Arthur was something I’ve blissfully ignored, up till now.
I still don’t know what I might make of that connection. But I have to confess I love the above MF Doom piece – called Orris Foot Powder(!?) – because it simply takes Verocai’s magic, and bathes in it.