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In 1966 'I Love You' was included in a self-titled album that is now known as the I Love You album, which was pressed and printed in Stockholm, Sweden (Decca LK 4843). The now famous album cover shows the band standing in a high-school sports hall in the suburb of Solna.

• Was highly successful in 2008, her debut year, winning ten major awards. G.E.M released her first EP featuring the award-winning song 'Where Did You Go.' Won the gold new female singer award from CRHK Ultimate 903 (903專業推介 sponsored by Manhattan ID 信用.
• How wonderful it is to know this! When you receive Christ (Mt 10:40, 18:5, Jn 1:12, 13, Col 2:6-note), you can sigh a huge sigh of relief and simply thank God that this is a settled issue. But this peace is more than merely the absence of enmity (Ep 2:15, 16-note).
• David Robert Jones OAL (8 January 1947 – 10 January 2016), known professionally as David Bowie (/ ˈ b oʊ i / BOH-ee), was an English singer-songwriter and actor. A leading figure in the music industry, Bowie is regarded as one of the most influential musicians of the 20th century. He was acclaimed by critics and musicians, particularly for his innovative work during the 1970s.

This month's collection of fifteen contemporary Brazilian releases has been compiled from an almighty pool of potential albums; March and early April has proved phenomenally fertile soil. From pioneering dub to uproarious rock, angular funk and Eastern electronics, this Brazilian Wax round-up is one of the most far-reaching yet, full of corners of vivid colour to get lost in.

Albums

Highlight

Sophia Chablau E Uma Enorme Perda De Tempo – Sophia Chablau E Uma Enorme Perda De Tempo [Selo RISCO]

With a cartoonish yelp for a battle cry, Sophia Chablau summons her guitar-wielding cavalry on 'Pop Cabecinha', the uproarious opener from long-awaited debut Sophia Chablau E Uma Enorme Perda De Tempo – in English, 'Sophia Chablau and an Enormous Waste of Time'. Rather than a comment on the last year spent locked up in São Paulo's tower blocks, the 'Enormous Waste of Time' in question is her band: Téo Serson (bass), Theo Ceccato (drums), and Vicente Tassara (guitar/keyboards) who, supercharged on the short scrappy opener, thrum and twang their way into an almighty furore.

Chablau, in a conversational alto, makes light work of the opener's choppy guitars and delightfully uncompressed drums (an early indication of album-producer Ana Frango Elétrico's adroitness behind the control desk). Floating over bellicose blues, she shares her producer's youthful breeziness, lending the piece pointed focus and counterbalancing the thrashing accompaniment. Clocking in under two minutes, it's an arresting introduction to a young band who, after Lírio Ferreira featured their debut single 'Idas e Vindas do Amor' in his 2019 Acqua Movie, have been ever-so-quietly billed as next-big-thing.

And the album opener justifies such billing. The band sound fresh and new – crafting a riotous sound that the likes of Ana Frango have leaned towards but not committed to hell-for-leather before. Certainly, if we were to locate the quartet within a historical dialogue between Anglophone and Brazilian music (something that's customarily traced from bossa nova's affair with U.S. jazz, and through the tropicalistas love-in with Swinging Sixties psychedelia), then Sophia's band is Brazil's first echo of noughties indie. And not since The Libertines crashed and burned-out in the early-2000s leaving a wake of unwashed knaves brandishing beaten-up Stratocasters has a band harnessed such fresh-faced scallywaggery.

It's Chablau and co.'s scrappiness that makes them so singularly seductive. Even when the band do away with the early chaos on 'Se Você' and 'Fora Do Meu Quarto', bubblings of feedback and the odd bum-note uplift fairly ponderous moments. On the former, a plodding walk-on-the-wild-side chord progression drags its knuckles, but the big-room echo of Chablau's singing, which cuts through a shiny veneer of feedback, sustains the short second track. The latter – a far better song – is sumptuous and sun-blushed. Indeed, though slow, 'Fore Do Meu Quarto' rediscovers the momentum of album opener: Chablau seems content to dwell on each melodic idea here, pulling plush motifs apart like candyfloss until the piece is light and floaty. In a speak-sing tone, she reels off lines that flit between two pedal notes which then resolve to happy-sad major sevenths. Matched with the bagginess of her accompanying band, the piece has that kind of irresistible tired sound so inextricable from Velvet Underground ballads.

'Deus Lindo' re-finds the fuzz of the opener but, lacking the sharp song-writing, falls flat. Male vocals search for the right notes during the track's introduction. But it's no surprise he can't find them, because there's no real vocal melody there at all. A blunt-edged sword, 'Deus Lindo' packs a punch purely in its boisterousness and any momentum is lost as a sloppy drum solo brings the jam-track to an end.

But the second half of the young quartet's debut record overturns early bathos. 'Hello' is a cute yet cutting meditation on the neo-colonial dominance of the English language. 'Perhaps I don't want to let you understand me/ I don't want to speak another language/ Portuguese is a very pretty língua/ But I think my tongue is like a criatura', Chablau croons over a creative-commons bossanova pattern. The humour is patent: using such an internationally recognised Brazilian sound – a type of music that, worldwide, is treated more like a cultural signifier than a complex and pioneering music – the piece toys with the beauty and bastardisation of Brazilian culture presented for (and received by) the Anglophone world. Among the humour is some of the album's most thoughtful arranging: a couple coquettish vocal hooks and syrupy backing vocals. And the following 'Debaixo Do Pano', which swings from boom-bap-for-kids-TV to horn-washed bridge sections, is equally playful.

Eliding two staples of Brazilian culture on 'Debaixo Do Pano' – the 'trio elétrico' and 'frango asado' – the effervescent track becomes a testament to the fourpiece's producer Ana Frango Elétrico, whose acrylic baroque-pop writing is an unmistakable influence. Indeed, the colour and kiddish cleverness of their producer's Mormaço Queima is spattered all over the São Paulo quartet's debut – particularly on album highlight 'Moças E Aeromoças', which twists and turns from stumble-funk cross-rhythms towards twinkly-key verses and raucous blues-heavy choruses.

Single and album-closer 'Delícia / Luxúria', too, bursts with such restless creative energy. A pulse-racing ska stomp, layered with clever counter-melodies redolent of Nights Out-era Metronomy, 'Delícia / Luxúria' is clearly the song most tended-to on the album. Chablau's vocals skim the surface of the revved-up accompaniment, carving out her own angular path towards each pre-chorus, giving the ear plenty melodic paths to follow. It's only one of two songs on the album that surpass three minutes, too, and at the song's crashing climax your left wondering why, earlier on the album, the quartet couldn't cut some fluff and let the more sinewy songs flex their muscles. But, then again, the young Paulistas' debut is all the more charming for its scrawniness.

Highlight

Lucas Santtana – 3 Sessions in a Greenhouse [Mais Um Discos]

UK station for contemporary Brazil, Mais Um Records will be reissuing Lucas Santtana's lost classic 3 Sessions In A Greenhouse as part of its fifteenth anniversary celebration this May. Featuring eccentric innovator Tom Zé and mangue bit pioneer Gilmar Bola 8, Santtana considers this unheeded yet urgent exploration in acid-washed dub the most decisive part of his process of 'discover[ing] what I am and what I wanted to do in music.' And, indeed, the shapeshifting fusion of dub, dance, rap, samba and mangue bit sounds instantly imperative – a key piece in the puzzle for fans of the trailblazing Bahian multi-instrumentalist.

The powerful collection, though, is set in motion by the bombastic but ultimately underwhelming 'Awô Dub' – a minor-key strut with dubbed-out horns and webs of delay fx. Awash with crash cymbals and echoing guitar licks, the piece builds and puffs its chest out, but reticent to stray from the melody-line, it feels bloated at just short of six minutes.

Better is 'Tijolo A Tijolo, Dinheiro A Dinheiro', which deftly balances a sharp cavaquinho and samba shuffle with wriggling reggae bass. The counterpoint struck between the reggae swagger and the more harmonically complex samba makes 'Tijolo' a full-bodied joy. Rhythmically exciting, melodically rich and full of dynamic instrumentation, it fires on all cylinders with guitars and horns vying for attention above progressively frantic drums. And Santtana's lyrics, which leap from the commercialisation (and corruption) of samba to Brazil's balance of payments are barbed and brilliant.

'Pela Orla Dos Velhos Tempos', the itchy-feet rework of Nação Zumbi's trippy Y2K cut featuring original member Gilmar Bola 8 on vocals, is better still. Jump-started into a slice of club-ready acid-house, Santtana nimbly balances Afro-Brazilian vocal lines and Madchester flounce to create one of the most exhilarating floor-fillers this side of 1990's Haçienda. Trickling drums and cuíca squeaks keep the piece sprightly while the heavy bass and shadowy dub effects add persuasive weight to the album highlight. Elsewhere, 'Lycra-Limão' ambles with a reggae bounce and is charming enough. And 'Deixe O Sol Bater', taking stock in Highlife grooves, is a more interesting instrumental than the stoned opener.

Late in the proceedings, single 'Ogodô Ano 2000' is a zesty Tom Zé rearrangement featuring its ingenious author on vocals. Zé's distinguishable squeak makes light work of the rootsy accompaniment, playing with the piece's syncopation and accenting a wicked backbeat. But the following spaced-out 'Natureza Espera' takes pole-position as best feature-track due to its incongruous collaboration with American journalist Phylis Huber, who reads an extract from Virginia Woolf's The Waves – which, being my favourite English novel, is a personal pièce de resistance.

The variegated collection comes to a close with a slack rendition of the Arto Lindsay co-written tune 'Into Shade'. Doing the no-wave pacesetter justice, the distorted guitarwork and clattering horns are dexterously mixed by German dub master Stefan Betke (AKA Pole), who's mastering gives the album a Black Ark burnishing that Scratch himself would be proud of. But the digital bonus track 'Faixa Amarela' – a perfectly harmless piece of dubbed-up rock-reggae – could be done away with.

Indeed, this album's best when it sticks to the noisy studio setting of live-mixed roots reggae, without overdoing the predictable horn-lines or pedestrian syncopation. Nevertheless, with a vocal melody fitting of candombleterreiros, on 'Faixa Amarela', Santtana manages to give one last demonstration of how much sweeter reggae can be with a dose of samba stirred in.

Highlight

Jadsa – Olho De Vidro [Balaclava Records]

A lot of noise has been made about Bahian native Jadsa Castrosince the release of her shadowy 2020 EP TAXIDERMIA Vol.1. The beguiling collection, that leapfrogged North-Eastern rhythms and religion before landing in São Paulo's electronic cityscape, was a revelatory and hybrid music which electrified as much as it eschewed classification. Created alongside João Meirelles of BainaSystem, it was a four-track EP that, while rooted in the musical tradition of their home-state, intrigued for its reframing of Bahia's contemporary musical landscape. Currently an outpost for the gaudier end of party music (such as axé and pagode), Jadsa sought to escape her native Salvador to find greater musical freedom in the South, wherefrom she began developing her own bewitching sound.

Beyond musical freedom, though, moving to São Paulo in 2018 meant, for Jadsa, moving to the city of Itamar Assumpção: the torchbearer of the innovative ‘80s arts movement vanguardista paulista, whose angular and undefinable rock-reggae became a wellspring of inspiration for the young Bahian. Indeed, on debut full-length Olho De Vidro, the twenty-six-year-old guitarist and vocalist, makes no effort to disguise her indebtedness to the trailblazing Paulista.

On the eerie title track – which starts with a delectably angular vocal harmony, before tumbling into a restless reggae-rock stagger – the sonic similarities between the Paulista and Bahian are clear. Shrill gang chants and wiry guitars buoy Jadsa's whispered and snapped vocals. And, as if the listener hadn't sufficiently understood her gratitude to Assumpção, she reels off the lyrics to Assumpção's hit 'Nego Dito' during the track's breakdown. Dropping and inserting clipped syllables, Jadsa plays with the plasticity of each word much like Assumpção might, rolling them around in her mouth before spitting out chewed parts.

It's a vocal style she maintains throughout the album, building internal rhymes and structural counter-meanings like a concrete poet. Case in point: the way Jadsa sings the line 'Quero você perto e a cores' ('I want you near and in colour') on the elastic 'Sem Edição'. In front of whispered backing vocals, Jadsa plays with the idea of nearness, beginning with 'Quero', before adding a word each time the line repeats until the whole sentence unravels, close and crisp.

As Jadsa, later in the song, sings about 'Listening to Gal/ Fatal' while her backing singers whisper the sentence 'me nome e Gal', another of her influences is made patent: Gal Costa. However, besides her bite, Jadsa's music shares little with the Bahian tropicalista. Rather, as evinced by 'Mangostão' (which also name-checks Costa alongside Ava Rocha and Bahian group ÀTTØØXXÁ), Jadsa has more in common with Tom Zé. On 'Mangostão', 'Jimmy, Renda-Se' is the point of reference, borrowing the 1970 anthem's chord progression and swagger. Like a skulking rework, though, of Zé's abstruse anthem (the lyrics of which are, incidentally, also informed by concrete poetry), Jadsa forges a darker, spectral space which casts a shadow of Ava Rocha's ethereal masterpiece Trança.

Indeed, Olho De Vidro often feels like a silhouette of Trança; they share an uncanny grasp of melody, eking out earworms from dusky corners, slicing through the darkness with silver-tongued hooks. Both albums threaten to lose focus in their awesomely immersive atmospheres, but by flitting between styles and tussling with rhythms rooted in samba, reggae, rock or rap, they both fashion an avant-garde, inimitable sound that engages the listener for the duration. Jadsa's Olho is less abrasive than Rocha's Trança. Jadsa deals in silence (as all masters of rhythm must). The Bahian, on Olho, rarely raises her voice – much of the album is delivered in a menacing whisper. But the bewitching web of sound she creates often raises hairs.

Domenico Lancellotti – Raio [Banana And Louie Records]

Carioca multi-instrumentalist Domenico Lancellotti has hardly been one to tread water over his 30-year career. After striking up friendships in his experimental nineties band Mulheres Q Dizem Sim, Lancellotti has been best known since as long-time collaborator of Alexandre Kassin and Moreno Veloso, with whom he's recorded as frontman and member of supporting troupe '+2'. However, the indefatigable guitarist, percussionist and drummer has just as often frequented the studios and stages of MPB royalty. He has played alongside Moreno's father Caetano Veloso, as well as tropicalista comrades Gilberto Gil and Gal Costa, plus Quarteto Em Cy, Orquestra Imperial, Os Ritmistas and many others. So, when deeming Raio 'a record about permanent transformation', the Rio native may just as well have been talking about his extensive and assorted work experience as much as his 2019 move to Portugal, proceeding trips to London (to record with Nina Miranda and play at Worldwide FM) and his attendance at Huni Kuin native rituals located between the border of Brazil and Peru.

For the carioca of Italian heritage, a fidgety and unflagging work ethic makes him one of Brazil's most interesting and in-demand players. But this restlessness doesn't shine through on Raio. Indeed, an endearing cosiness– a trait that makes Raio endlessly listenable – endures for the album's thirty-five minutes. The mood is set on springy single 'Vai a Serpente' which, following a brief intro incongruously evocative of Elton John's 'Bennie and the Jets', sways with the gentle groove of João Donato's seventies work. The dialogue between Lancellotti's guitar and vocal lines is informal and easy – a charming trait that continues throughout the album.

The following 'Snake Way' continues the peaceful mood. Proving a proficiency for pop writing, Lancellotti's second song (an early stand-out track), is a breezy duet which, turning on a major-to-dominant-seven melody line, utterly delights. Above a charmingly uncompressed accompaniment, Nina Miranda's breathy soprano glides, recalling the flower-pop airiness of Astrud Gilberto's September 17 1969 or Margo Guryan's Take A Picture. But it's the male-female setting that sets Lancelotti's compositions soaring. Equally silky 'Mushroom Room' is further proof – the wispy and weightlessness of the duet is evocative of Jamie & Nair's 1974 crate-digger classic.

Both of these duets precede sumptuous lounge-funk cuts that make Donato comparisons inescapable. Particularly 'Margem Do Ceu' which, with just enough bounce, turns a soft and sweet cut into something swaggering and soulful. And there's a real Velvet Underground softness elsewhere on Lancellotti's latest album. 'Confusão', lilting like a lullaby, could be certainly sung by Nico. The simple piece doesn't move much, but between the songwriting and its informal performance the piece lifts into something altogether bigger than the sum of its parts. And so does 'Onda Do Mar', with Lancellotti leaning on major sevenths, lending warmth to the quiet number. These pieces feel bigger than their bare bones because both melodies are lovely: instantly singable. And this is where Lancellotti's experience glows: there's a timelessness about each track on Raio. The stellar song-writing lends the album an easy familiarity. But for all its cosiness, the soporific full-lengthis too damn catchy and clever to dose off to.

Paola Kirst & Lorenzo Flach – Vertigem [Pedra Redonda]

There's that breathing sound that can be soft or sensual and then there's the menacing, laboured breathiness that begins Paola Kirst's debut (visual) album Vertigem, which sets a tense, spine-tingling atmosphere. The barbed delivery of the ensuing solo alto on opener 'A Fúria' is equally spine-tingling. But, this time, it's its dramatic beauty, not its menace that pricks the ears and sends shivers: a commanding opening to an album which showcases its authorial musician partaking in breath-taking vocal acrobatics.

The opening ninety-second aria heralds an ever-more rousing successor 'Epiderme'. Awash with a sheen of feedback and amid whirring guitar loops (courtesy of album collaborator Lorenzo Flach), Kirst engages in such vocal gymnastics redolent of Negro Leo's stirring singing on last year's Desejo De Lacrar. Growling and caterwauling her way through the five minutes of ominous soundscaping, Kirst leaps from operatic high pedals to screeched psychedelic warbling evocative of Gal Costa's 'The Empty Boat', with vocal loops and warping effects.

Following the resounding thuds of a kick drum, a more reserved Kirst sings in Spanish on the following 'La Garza Fênix'. Slowly segueing into beatboxed loops, Kirst builds layers atop each other which meld into a rapturous wash of sound. The layered vocal lines form a parallel-thirds base for the sung verse melody. And, only at this point, do you realise how sparse Kirst's textures are: just (tuned) drums, beatboxing, percussive effects and voice. Indeed, it's astounding how much compelling, captivating music the Rio Grande Do Sul artist pulls out of so little. Nevertheless, instrumental backing is called upon on the following highlight: 'Passada' is comparatively full, with a legato grand piano adding a luxurious layer. It's a gloriously moving piece, written by Alessandra Leão and Arthur da Faria, that pirouettes and waltzes with a grace further augmented by gleaming guitar effects that billow like satin curtains in a warm breeze.

But, the following vocals-only intermission 'Vertigem Coletiva' (which enlists proficient vocalist Mau.Criado) and 'A Outra Cabeça (Que Ódio)' continue the barren textures. Just vocals and guitar, 'Que Ódio' builds atop finicky guitar plucks towards a galvanising chorus in which the two raucous musicians battle for space. Octave pedals, delay and ample distortion work to shoot the piece to a higher stratosphere. And the duo stay soaring on album closer 'Crendice + Ossada', in which Kirst swaps her snarl for something far more shadowy.

Mbé – Rocinha [QTV]

Mbé is a Yoruba word that means 'to be' or 'to exist'; 'Rocinha' is the largest favela in Brazil, located in Rio De Janeiro's South Zone. Together, artist and album name, give indication as to what is heard over the twenty-four minutes of QTV label's latest experimental release: the sounds of Rocinha merely existing. I use the passive verb 'hear', rather than the active 'listen' here to describe experiencing this album because Rocinha is less a stage for music performance, and more a space into which seeps the diurnal and undoctored sounds of peripheral black Rio experience. Indeed, these sounds, while heard day-to-day, don't come from a space in which they are paid much attention to. The album's liner notes recognises that these ambient sounds of daily life are typically considered extraneous – superfluous to music. But, here, such field-recording snapshots of sound are tools for transportation. Rather than 'dirtying' ('sujando') the music, these sounds become the music. On Rocinha, through a quiet and intricate 24 minutes, we are given an unobtrusive ear into the communities, the animals and the nature that we can't grasp through traditional instrumentation.

Not that this album isn't musical. The Metá Metá vocalist Juçara Marçal, whose entrancing alto features throughout the album, compliments the field-recordings that serve as the basis for each track. On 'Ceremônia', layers of ethereal vocals blend and shapeshift between bell-ringings and gentle white noise of daily life. Later, with a Medieval pedal note underpinning bullhorned protest cries, 'A Caminho De Palmares' builds with percussive rattlings and birdsong towards the album's only lyric: 'Sem palavras/ Só um sentimento, sem perguntas/ Só uma luz, sem sequência/ Só um ser sem jornada/ Só uma dança' ('Without words/ Just a feeling, no questions/ Only a light, without a sequence/ Only a being without a journey/ Just one dance').

The sentiment is clear – doing away with narrative, with teleology, with (chord) progression, this album is as honest and real as music can be. With scarce real singing and hardly any obvious instrumentation, this album lives and breathes and simply exists. The effect is such that final track 'Mistura Baiana' – the album's only actual piece of instrumental (and melodious) music – seems equally un(man)made. As if merely overheard rather than intentionally recorded, the piece sounds alive, natural and, therefore, enchanting.

Singles & EPs

Matheus Santiago – INI [Índigo Azul]

What INI lacks in unpolished charm, it makes up for in the kind of slick presentation that gives even the most run-of-the-mill pop songs generous sums of gusto. Matheus Santiago's three new tunes, though, are anything but run-of-the-mill. Led by his crisp tenor and even crisper violão work, the three songs that make up this collection are playful, effortlessly catchy and just sharp enough to counteract Santiago's sweetness. What's more, each tune on INI counterbalances lightweight and elastic performance with heavy introspective themes. The EP, the title of which translates from Tupi to 'hammock' seeks to look inwards and deal with dream-states and the subconscious. As such, the body, movement and dance are all themes Santiago's brand of samba is concerned with. Citing Angolan semba music (samba's namesake if not total musical forefather) as major influence, you can hear the vivid treble-heavy guitar sound native to much West African music throughout the EP. You can also hear – showcased best on the blithe 'Prece Do Corpo' – Santiago's intention to make danceable music. The syncopated lilt of this xylophone and violão duet lends itself to (gentle) gyrating. And, pleasingly, when the infectious rhythms subside on closer 'Bem Perto Aqui', it's replaced instead with intricate baroque-pop instrumentation, with harp flourishes, the gentle whirr of slide guitar and, eventually, featherweight glockenspiel that more than satisfies.

Dora Morelenbaum – Japão [Self-Released]

Dora Morelenbaum's voice is exquisite on 'Japão'. And it's no surprise, her being the daughter of the astoundingly accomplished vocalist Paula Morelenbaum (and cellist Jacques Morelenbaum). Superbly controlled, crisp and sprightly, she sounds as full and floaty on 'Japão' as Joana Queiroz's complementary clarinet does. With an accompaniment leaning on the pentatonics and parallels fifths evocative of the eponymous nation's music, Morelenbaum, over her brief yet beautiful single, weaves together two musical languages she identifies with: Brazil's and Japan's. Why Japan? When Morelenbaum Jr. was five, her parents collaborated with Yellow Magic Orchestra keyboardist and songwriter Ryuichi Sakamoto. Morelenbaum looks back on this time when she 'didn't know how to speak Japanese, nor he Portuguese, but [remembers their] communication being totally fluent'. What Sakamoto and Morelenbaum share goes beyond their encounter at the turn of the century. Indeed, beyond familial connections, both make music that's delightfully airy.

pennarafa – Azul, Rosa E Vermelho [Self-Released]

Audiovisual artist and Applegate member strikes a charmingly off-kilter balance on 'Azul, Rosa E Vermelho'. With a liquescent quiver, Rafael Penna's shape-shifting single – his first of 2021 – lollops towards stonewashed choruses through psychedelic backing vocals, angular bass turnarounds and harmonic-minor deviations. Staying amorphous for it duration, the piece keeps a sci-fi sheen through which layers of horns, synths and triggered drums oscillate, luring the listener into a twilight zone of squelchy synth-pop.

Matheus Souto – Sedução Vegetal [Self-Released]

Matheus Souto's 'Sedução Vegetal' sways with the insouciance of a beach-bound bohemian. Flouncing with unflapped swagger, this syrupy slice of samba-rock, which leans on two chugging seventh chords, swings along amiably, fluttering with muted trumpet, saxophone twirls and wah-wah brass. Souto's vocals, which sit propped atop the backbeat are fittingly laidback – so are the falsetto 'oohs' and 'aahs'. But for some reason, despite the breeziness of the Floripa-based artist's latest single, 'Sedução Vegetal' compels movement. It's a tune for those sunny days spread out on the sand, when all you can proffer is a slight bob of the head, even though it deserves a full-on boogie.

Overdrive Saravá, André Prando – João Do Amor Divino [Editora Moleque]

Overdrive Saravá's latest single 'João Do Amor Divino' is a difficult one to corral. A sinewy beast that throws its weight between headbanging rock and sparse harmonies, the cuíca– and shaker-led piece snarls like its vocalist does. But its bark is deceptively harder-hitting than its bite. As the groove kicks in, rather than going hellbent towards rock (as is expected), there's a more slack-jaw funk rhythm that both galvanises and soothes in equal measure. The chorus, meanwhile, leans on a triplet delivery that introduces a cross-rhythm not native to rock music, per se. The track turns and twirls like fusion music that finds its sonic resting place somewhere near Nação Zumbi. Indeed, the breadth of the song is very impressive: when the piece unravels late on to crunchy harmonies and ad-percussion rustling, the spectre of a pepped-up rock song seems long gone. But, suitably unpredictable, the outro returns to seethe with fuzzed-up guitar that hisses and spits in augmented fourths.

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Tróa! – Geleia [Self-Released]

Carioca duo Troá! maintain a sure-footed swagger on 'Geleia'. Between Carolina Mathias's squelchy bass and Manuella Terra's jittery drums, an organic neo-soul stumble starts building. Like an old car speeding up, it takes its time getting into gear, but it's the natural in-and-out-of-time swing of the piece that proves to be so charming. In her distinctive baritone, Mathias croons, allowing special guest JOCA to warm up slowly. Polyrhythms weave between the rapper's muttered lines and Mathias' vocal melody and small production treats (courtesy of Glau Tavares) twinkle and wink adding a playful shimmer.

Electronic & Club Music

Alucas do Trópico Sul – TRÓPICO SUL [Self-Released]

Alucas do Trópico Sul is one of many producers that have been prolific to the point of mania since the pandemic hit. His sixth release over the last year TRÓPICO SUL is not his first to pique interest – last October's sutil was a bass-heavy thrill-ride. But it's certainly the most beguiling EP he's dropped so far.

This frenzied four-track, born out of 'reflections on [his] position in the geopolitics of our world', is a culture-clash of acoustic instrumentation native to his corner of south Brazil and urban electronics that prompt heart palpitations. Opening idea 'atravessando dimensões' loops from wooden flute flutters and acoustic guitar scratches into a triplet stumble that implies a baggy trap beat. Meanwhile, the denser 'sonho e delírio na américa do sul' which follows, suggests a similar trap swing which is then sidestepped when percussion, like a machine gun emptying its round, enters in double-time. The restless and irregular beats is enough of a treat, but, amid the digital instrumentation, bursts of nylon-string tango guitar add extra flavour.

Acoustic guitar, again, interrupts a pulsating four-to-the-floor on the appropriately titled 'tango da vingança' ('revenge tango'). With atonal strings crescendoing towards a beautifully evocative piano-and-string interlude, there's ample activity for the ADHD listener. And when a full-on tango sample is deemed not enough entertainment, a layer of bellicose beats are graffitied over the top to pull the piece to even more outrageous heights.

'I was born here, I grew up here, and I have never had the chance to leave here,' explains the producer in his EP's liner notes. But Alucas do Trópico Sul spins a web of sound which spreads so staggeringly far and wide, that this EP more than satisfies as an escape from one's own 'here'.

JOHANNA – Heirloom Mask [problemas dos outros]

The shape-shifting electronic music that JOHANNA (aka Joana Yamaguchi) makes is informed by the intersection between her work – anthropology – and her sense of self – a São Paulo native of Japanese origin, living and working in Ho Chi Minh (Vietnam). From this starting point, she dialogues with cultural, national and class identities which, for her, melt together and permeate to inform one's already tenuous and ghost-like foothold on identity, time and space. Accordingly, the artist's debut release Heirloom Mask, is rooted in a spectral sound-world: one diaphanous layer imprinted upon another, each in turn evoking East Asia and Latin America. The amalgam of superimposed sounds build a map on Heirloom Mask and tie together disparate imagery: the General Midi after-school-cartoon sounds of 'Babar Vista', the Japanese Insen-scale jam of 'Senta e Chora, o Filme', the pentatonic twinkling of 'Cubatão Triads', which evokes East-Asian modality and the post-ironic style of Brazil's 40% Foda/Maneiríssimo label… Bubble-wrapped in an analogue synth sound that recalls Oneohtrix Point Never's soundtrack for Uncut Gems (Safdie Brothers), each track on Heirloom Mask fizzes and froths into a foamy lather of twinkling motifs that invoke a sense of steady pulse without percussive accompaniment. The outcome is a collection of almost singable pieces that maintain momentum while staying spacious and ambient.

Vuta – Myths of East [Bongosynth]

A curious marriage between Brazilian label and Belarusian producer, Vuta's Myths of East is an exceptional, camped-up three-track of eighties nostalgia. Above a jaunty disco beat fit with wood blocks and a shimmering snare, modular synths thrill and race on opener 'Sapini'. The jewel in the crown of this EP, it features a trancing vocal sample ornamented with Middle-East modal flourishes swaps in and out with Ata Kak-type synths. What's most impressive about the Belarusian's sound is his insistence to write proper songs: there's a compelling melody and lively structure on this opening track. Synth solos and percussion breaks add dynamism, while a full chordal accompaniment give Vuta's music a melodiousness most often missing from club dancefloors. The smoky follow-up 'Yegeno' features a sparkling synth solo and sets a field-recording mood with snapshots of children singing. And the chugging closer 'Birda' returns to another sumptuous Eastern vocal sample to carry the EP to a majestic conclusion.

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Music Copyright 101: How to copyright your music and compositions as an artist, songwriter, or producer

As an independent musician, you own your songs and recordings. It's YOUR intellectual property.

That might seem obvious, but it's worth repeating: YOU control the copyright to the songs you write and the recordings you create. Ownership of your music copyright gives you leverage, protection, and power when it comes to making money from your music catalog.

In this article we'll provide an overview of what music copyright is, how to copyright your music, and how you can use your copyright as a songwriter or artist to earn money.

What is music copyright?

Copyright signifies the ownership of intellectual property by a person or group.

Music copyright also grants certain exclusive rights to the owner(s), one of the most important being the right to earn money from that intellectual property. This is called 'exploiting' your copyright. We'll get into that more later.

Music copyright designates the ownership of a particular song or recording

If you create a recording yourself, or if you pay for studio time and session fees, you own that sound recording. If you work with a label, there's a good chance the label controls the copyright to the recording — at least for some set duration.

If you wrote a song by yourself, you alone own that composition. If you wrote a song with one or more people, you each own a portion of that song. You and your collaborators would then want to draft a document determining the splits (the percentage of the song each person owns), and register your copyright accordingly.

There are two types of music copyright

There are two types of music copyright:

1. The composition — which is the music and lyrics
2. The sound recording — which is a particular recorded version of that music and lyrics

Compositions are usually owned by songwriters and/or publishers. Sound recordings are usually owned by artists or labels.

When do you own your copyright?

In the strictest technical terms, you own your musical copyright the moment you capture the composition or recording in a fixed medium. This could be something as simple as writing the melody or lyrics on a piece of paper or humming into a recorder.

However, registering your copyrights with the U.S. Copyright Office entitles you to enhanced benefits. Most important of all, in a groundbreaking ruling, the Supreme Court has mandated that registration with the USCO is required before you can file a lawsuit and registering early can earn you $150,000 plus attorney fees per deliberate infringement – but only if you register early on.

Does the 'poor man's music copyright' actually count as proof?

The 'poor man's copyright' is a useless and ill-advised method for proving copyright. This is where a musician emails or sends a copy of the composition or recording to themselves via certified mail, leaving the package sealed with the date clearly marked on the outside.

The idea was that you would let the government do the work of dating the creation of the work with the federal postmark and that could provide you with enough leverage to file a lawsuit if your music was ever stolen or misused. However, this practice is now obsolete. In 2019, the Supreme Court ruled that you must register with the U.S. Copyright Office before you can file a lawsuit. The poor man's copyright does not grant you this right and and does not afford you nearly the same protections as an official copyright registration.

Why would I want to register my copyright?

When your content is stolen or misused, your first thought may be to take legal action. The first question you may be asked is, 'Did you register with the Copyright Office?' That's because when you register, you have the ultimate leverage.

According to updated regulations, you must register with the U.S. Copyright Office before you can file a lawsuit. Other types of registrations or mailing your music to yourself are not substitutes for USCO registration. Early registration can grant you a large payout – up to $150,000 per infringement PLUS your legal fees, but only if you register before your music is stolen or misused.

Casanova the story of my life pdf. Registering with the U.S. Copyright Office is one of the most important actions you can take and it's something that you should want to do shortly after or before your music is released.

A registered work is your only ticket into court and it will carry a lot more weight than a sealed package, a Soundcloud link, or beer-soaked napkin.

In the USA, you'd want to register your copyright with the US Copyright Office, part of the Library of Congress.

How to register a copyright for your songs

If you want to legally register a copyright for your music in the USA, you'll need to do that directly with the Copyright Office, or you can use Cosynd, a service that handles all the heavy lifting for you.

The advantage of using Cosynd is it's much more user-friendly than the numerous steps involved when you register directly with the Copyright Office. CD Baby partnered with Cosynd over other companies who offer similar services because their interface is easy to navigate, their process is quick, and they're efficient and professional every step of the way.

Compared to other services, Cosynd lets you register multiple songs on one application – some services only let you register one at a time. Most important of all, Cosynd is 80% less expensive compared to similar services.

Here are the things you'll need to register your copyright using Cosynd:

• The full legal names and country of citizenship/domicile of your co-authors
• The full legal name and addresses of the owners of your copyright
• The year of completion, date of of release (if released), and the nation of in which your copyrights were released.
• Audio files if you are registering your sound recordings. Audio files or lyric/chord sheets if you are registering just your compositions.

Cosynd asks you a series of questions to determine the best way for them to file your registrations on your behalf. You won't need to learn about the various application types ahead of time.

For more on how to register your copyright, head here.

If you're registering your music copyright directly with the U.S. Copyright Office by yourself, you'll want to file:

• Form PA for a composition
• Form SR for a sound recording

Be sure to read all of the Copyright Office's circulars on the applications types first – if your music is released, unreleased, or varied in authors there are different applications types that should be used (again, when you use Cosynd, they automatically determine the right type of application to use when filing your registration, so you don't have to think about this).

What about if you want to register both the sound recording and the composition? See below.

According to copyright.gov, you can use ONE form (SR) to register both the sound recording AND composition, as long as the author and owner are exactly the same for all songs listed on the application and the release information is the same.

Copyclip 2 9 9 – clipboard manager. Form SR must also be used if you wish to make one registration for both the sound recording and the underlying work (the musical composition, dramatic, or literary work). You may make a single registration only if the copyright author and claimant is the same for both the sound recording and the underlying work.

How old do I have to be to copyright my music?

There is no age requirement to copyright your music. However, while copyrights are governed by federal law, most copyright transactions are governed by state law. State music copyright law can differ from federal law in what minors can and cannot do with their copyright. This includes certain changes that can occur in some states when the individual who owns the copyright turns 18. CD Baby's Joel Andrew explains these rules in his copyright article.

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What options do I have if I want to file a lawsuit?

There are two places where you can file a lawsuit for infringement – in federal court and soon, in small claims court. To take advantage of either option, you must register with the Copyright Office first, generally before the infringement happens if you want to get the highest possible reward.

• Federal Court – You can file your lawsuit in federal court. If you do so, participation is mandatory for you and your infringer. Creators that can win their case in federal court could earn $750-$150,000 per infringement. Litigating a case in federal court from start to finish requires an attorney costs an average of six figures. A more affordable option via small claims court exists (see below).
  
• Small Claims Court – The Copyright Alternative in Small–Claims Enforcement Act of 2019 (the CASE Act) established a voluntary small claims court within the U.S. Copyright Office. It will be accessible to creators at the end of 2021. Small claims court is an easy, accessible, and affordable option for all copyright owners to file claims of infringement and other grievances and reduce legal expenses. A Copyright Claims Board (CCB) comprised of three judges will try cases virtually (copyright owners will not have to appear physically in person in a federal court). Creators can represent themselves and do not need to hire an attorney. Copyright owners could recover up to $30,000 per case, with a cap of $15,000 in statutory damages per work infringed. Guest blogger Jessica Sobhraj wrote this informative article about the implications of the CASE Act.

How do I make money from a sound recording?

When you own the rights to a sound recording, you control the 'master rights' and can grant a master license. Royalties that flow from the granting of a master license include streaming and download revenues associated with the recording, from platforms like Spotify, Amazon, Apple Music, Deezer, etc.

You also can grant permissions for sync licensing and sampling of your recording. (More on those topics below).

Outside of the United States, you're owed royalties when your track is played on the radio; inside the US you're owed royalties when your track is played on digital or satellite radio. (More on that below too).

Lastly, as the owner of a recording you can press and sell physical formats such as vinyl and CDs.

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How do I make money from my composition copyright?

Once you've registered your music copyright, it's time to exploit that copyright. Exploitation may have negative connotations in other parts of society, but in the music business it's how you earn money from the hard work you put in to writing your song.

Performance Royalties

As a songwriter, you have the right to collect publishing royalties for the usage of your song. One such revenue stream is performance royalties, owed to the songwriter and publisher whenever a song is:

• spun on the radio
• performed in public
• played in a restaurant, bar, etc.

As a songwriter, you'll want to register with an agency that collects performance royalties. Glyphs 2 5 1 – dependable and intuitive font editor. These agencies are called performing rights organizations (PROs).

We have three major PROs (and a few smaller ones) in the U.S.:

• BMI
• ASCAP
• SESAC

You can affiliate yourself as a songwriter with the first two directly, or by using our publishing administration service CD Baby Pro Publishing. With CD Baby Pro Publishing, we'll affiliate you with BMI or ASCAP (your choice), and register your songs with them. SESAC is invite only and represents far fewer songwriters. If you're outside the USA, see this list of international PROs and collection societies.

The job of these PROs is to monitor radio stations and venues for public use of your song. Any time your song is played in public it generates a performance royalty for the underlying composition, and as the songwriter for that composition, you're entitled to the performance royalty.

You can also earn performance royalties by playing your songs live. The venues should be paying fees to the PROs to cover these royalties, and each PRO gives you a way to register your live sets. When you're on tour make sure to log all of the venues you played and keep track of your set-lists so you can register those shows when you're home! A curious quirk about performance royalties is that they're only generated for songwriters and their publishers; the PROs do not pay any revenue to recording artists.

Mechanical Royalties

When your composition is reproduced in any medium you are owed a separate type of royalty called a mechanical royalty.

These are royalties that PROs like ASCAP and BMI do NOT collect.

You might have heard of mechanical royalties as they relate to the manufacturing of physical formats such as CD, vinyl, and cassettes. But digital formats also generate mechanicals. When someone streams your music on a service like Spotify or Apple Music, or when they buy a download from a store like iTunes, your composition is technically being recreated. Yes, even though — in the case of streaming — it's a temporary reproduction.

These mechanical royalties are reported by the streaming and download platforms to the royalty collection society in the country or territory where the stream or download happened.

In the U.S. we have the Harry Fox Agency; but almost every country has a similar agency to collect mechanical royalties. The U.S. is unique in that mechanicals from downloads are bundled in with the revenue from the sound recording. So those will be paid to you through your music distributor. This does not apply to interactive streams though; in every country, mechanical royalties generated by interactive streaming are paid to collection societies.

Why can't you collect mechanical royalties on your own?

Technically you could, but it's very difficult and time-consuming.

Mechanical royalties are only payable to publishers, so you're not able to collect them as a songwriter. To make things more complicated, it's very difficult for most independent songwriters to register with Harry Fox as a publisher because you'd need to have a sizable catalog of songs. Luckily, CD Baby is here to act as your publishing administrator and make all this super simple. If you sign up for Pro Publishing we'll register your songs with collection societies worldwide and help you collect ALL your publishing royalties.

Streaming generates significant mechanical royalties, and you're about to earn even more.

CD Baby played a part in recent successful efforts to increase the mechanical royalty rate owed for interactive streaming. Streaming services are now required to increase their payouts to songwriters and publishers each year through 2022, when the rate will reach 15.1% of total revenue earned.

That's a 44% hike in the royalty rate.

This is a big win for songwriters, so it's more important than ever to professionalize your rights as a composer or lyricist.

What royalties am I owed as an artist?

If you're the recording artist on a song, there ARE royalties you can earn, but they're collected and paid differently from publishing royalties. Like we covered above, artists in the USA are not entitled to royalties from terrestrial radio airplay, but satellite radio and Internet radio is entirely different.

If your song is played on Pandora or on a satellite radio station, this generates a different type of royalty for the usage and creation of the sound recording — think of it as a digital performance royalty. This type of royalty is only owed to recording artists and sound-recording rights holders (ie. the record label). And unlike the multitude of PROs in the U.S., there's only one game in town for artists to register and collect those royalties: Soundexchange.

Register your songs with them and let the Pandora cash start to flow!

What if someone wants to record my song?

Thus far we've covered the use of your song in traditional, satellite and Internet radio airplay, but there's yet another way to exploit your copyright. Let's say your composition and sound recording is registered and your song is out there in the world, and someone hears it and falls in love. They happen to be a musician themselves and they want to record their own version of your song. Great! And they want to release a cover of your song legally. Even better!

The good news is this person has an easy avenue through which to obtain the rights to record their interpretation of your composition. Any original song that is commercially released is eligible to be licensed for the rate of 9.1 cents per copy. This is called a compulsory license, meaning that as long as this mystery person pays you that mechanical licensing fee (normally through the Harry Fox Agency), they have the legal right to record their interpretation, which is called a 'cover song' in the business.

That may or may not be more good news, but whether you approve or disapprove of a death metal cover of your acoustic love ballad, as long as they pay the compulsory fee the artist is protected. The same laws that protect you from copyright infringement also protect artists' creative vision, no matter how amazing or absurd. It's the circle of life via capitalism.

What if someone wants to use my actual recording?

Now, there are two more types of exploitation we haven't talked about, and they both relate to someone who wants to use your music in their own song. If someone wants to use your sound recording in their own track, that's called a sample. Unlike licensing for a cover song, this is something you have control over as the recording artist, songwriter, or label — because ALL samples, no matter how short or long, must be legally licensed.

The person seeking to use some portion of your recording in their own recording must contact you (or the rights holder to your audio if you signed an agreement with a label) to ask permission. The rights holder (YOU) can either approve or deny the use of your music in a sample. If you're an independent artist you'll have control over your sound recording copyright, and if you approve of this use you can negotiate the fee the other party would need to pay to secure the right to use your recording. If you hold the rights to both the composition and the sound recording you can grant permission for the use of both.

Sync licensing

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The second type of exploitation of your recording or composition happens when someone uses it in other media such as a movie or TV show. This is called sync licensing, since your music is synchronized with the visual medium.

Much like the case with sampling, the music supervisor with the production company who is seeking to use your song must contact the rights holder or license the song from a music library if you chose to add your song to one. If they contact you for this you can negotiate a fee with them. As in the case with clearing a sample, if you hold the rights to both the composition and the recording you can grant permission for both in one agreement, which is appealing to music supervisors who need to move fast to secure songs on a tight production schedule. If your music is included in a music library, that agency can negotiate the terms of the license on your behalf.

The upfront placement fee is one type of revenue generated from a sync deal. After that placement is secured and the show or movie is aired, you are owed performance royalties each time your song is played in that medium, provided the music supervisor files the cue sheets.

Sync rights kinda sorta apply to YouTube too!

Sync licensing also applies to YouTube videos of cover songs. So if a YouTuber records a cover of your song and wants to post the video, the mechanical license they acquired to distribute a recording of that song does not cover them for the video. They'll need to secure a sync license from you.

But let's be clear: MOST people on YouTube are not getting sync licenses for the music they use. That's why YouTube developed Content ID.When some YouTube sensation doesn't want to clear the sync rights with you directly, they can upload their video and allow YouTube to place a claim on their video via Content ID.

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And this doesn't just work for cover songs, but your recordings too. If someone put your track behind their wedding highlights video, you'll earn ad revenue.

If you opted in for Social Video Monetization with CD Baby we'll send your song to YouTube and add it into their Content ID database. That will automatically catch any use of your song in a video and monetize it accordingly. YouTube ads can add up to real revenue, so even if this person does not clear the sync license, you'll be earning money from their video.

Closing thoughts

Now that you know the WHAT, HOW, and WHY of music copyright, it's time to make some money from your hard work! Luckily, CD Baby has a number of services that can help you navigate the wide world of copyright we've discussed above:

• Cosynd — The easiest way to register your copyright.
• CD Baby Pro — Worldwide publishing administration and royalty collection.
• Sync licensing — We'll add your songs to our music library for possible placement on networks like HBO, FX, NBC, SHOWTIME, and many more.