Forro In the Dark Return to a Cozy, Familiar Haunt
As thorny and almost perversely challenging as John Zorn’s compositions can be, sometimes people forget what a hookmeister the guy is. He can write a catchy tune with anybody, referencing the better part of a century worth of jazz, classical, rock and film noir soundtracks. And somewhere inside, there still beats the irrepressibly tuneful heart of the surf rock bassist that he once was. Forro in the Dark, who add surfy touches to their often sepulchral Brazilian rainforest nocturnes, had the good sense a couple of years ago to put out an album of John Zorn covers, which makes more sense than it might seem considering the composer’s fondness for Brazilian sounds. And for those who might have missed Forro in the Dark‘s long series of Barbes gigs around that time – or their fantastically tight, fun, sadly abbreviated set a couple of years ago at Lincoln Center Out of Doors – they’re playing tomorrow night, September 4 at 8 at Manhattan Inn in Greenpoint. It’s a pass-the-tip-jar situation, a good thing because this bar is expensive.
Uluwati, a coyly modulating rainforest take on Lee Hazlewood spaghetti western surf, opens the album. The band’s swirling arrangement, with Jorge Continentino’s flutes multitracked over Guilherme Monteiro’s guitar and Mauro Refosco’s percussion, gives the song an epic feel far greater than the sum of its its relatively limited parts.
Novato artfully blends Vitor Gonçalvez’s dancing accordion with similarly gentle, kinetic guitar and flute. The group does most of Forro Zinho as a droll, slinky LA lowrider theme of sorts, bassist Rea Mochiach bubbling just beneath the surface – and then they take it abruptly toward Jethro Tull territory before Monteiro reins it in.
The band scampers and struts through Life Is Only Real Then When I Am with Monteiro and Continentino each channeling classic Spy vs. Spy furtiveness. Guest pianist Marcos Valle’s reverberating Wurlitzer and Sofia Rei’s deadpan, blithe vocalese help take the the trippy surrealism of Shaolin Bossa to redline. Sunset Surfer, with its playfully nicked riffage and mashup of grittily hypnotic postpunk rhythm and twinkling tropical lounge sonics, is even trippier.
The percussive, high-voltage Zavebe makes psychedelic rock out of what sounds like a centuries-old cantorial theme, in the same vein as the Sway Machinery, Continentino growling away on baritone sax while Monteiro blasts and burns and pans the speakers. While Ode to Delphi also has a percussive, hypnotic groove, it’s basically a glimmering one-chord jam with more than a little Grateful Dead in it, Rei’s dynamic vocalese rising and falling overhead.
With its hobbity rhythms, distorted guitar and dancing flute, Number 2 raises the question as to whether Zorn was a big Tull fan as a kid (likely answer: not really, and that any resemblance before the big free jazz freakout in the middle is probably a coincidence). The group makes an unexpected mashup out of forro and the Ramones with Annabel and then segues into The Quiet Surf. a return to balmy, surrealistic tropicalia. You can’t find this anywhere on the internet, but you can presumably pick up a copy from the band at shows.