Forgotten Favorites: Os Mutantes

Some albums are just too good to let slip away beneath the sands of time, so each week Bill Melville pulls one out, dusts it off and offers it up for your renewed consideration ...

The idea of psychedelia taking its boldest steps in the Southern Hemisphere might be blasphemy to many classic rock fans, but the Brazilian trio Os Mutantes (Portuguese for The Mutants) took the genre in wild new directions on their 1968 self-titled debut.

Os Mutantes received little notice at the time, but revisiting their debut now opens up a whole new spectrum of psychedelic music. Imagine if the late-era Beatles threw a Brazilian beat into their music, and that at least gets you to Brazil. What Os Mutantes produce is still its own animal; the main trio of Arnaldo and Sergio Baptista and Rita Lee take the kitchen sink approach, tinker with sounds levels and walked away with an adventurous masterpiece.  

Opening with a brief horn fanfare, Panis Et Circenses takes a shocking sonic leap beyond most psychedelia. It clanks and clatters, with gentle Portuguese harmonies smoothing out some of the rough edges. The group took full advantage of the studio at the time, rooting out innovations, discordant noise and other features in similar vein to the lads from Liverpool.

The jaw-dropping opener is followed by A Minha Menina, which couldn't sound more different. A Brazilian samba rhythm jingles beneath intervals of fuzzy guitar and choppy acoustic guitar, while the harmonies occasionally recall doo-wop before breaking back into melodies rooted south of the Equator.

James Mercer from the Shins might have heard O Relogio - echoing vocals and organ go for a minimal intro. Eventually, it breaks into same party atmosphere as the opener, with traces of I Am the Walrus and the outro to Strawberry Fields Forever shining through. The organ-vocal combo returns on the coda, it entrancing and bewildering at the same time. How did these snippets of song get stitched together and never feel awkward.

Everything goes tribal on Adeus Maria Fulo, with a xylophone and manners of drum rumbling along. It's the rare song on this record which doesn't try to stuff too much into one space. Sometimes psychedelic albums try that on every track and overwhelm the senses. Os Mutantes pull back and take a breather, which better accentuates the craziness elsewhere. Unfortunately, they slow it down one track too long for Baby, which never really takes off. Maybe the exertion for those early tracks just wore out the trio.

They get back to business with swinging bass on Senhor F. Those little snippets of horn always come in at the proper moment, but vocals drive the song. The three principals possess a very different but exhilarating sense of harmony. A stuttering, distorted guitar spits out notes through Bat Macumba, with the Tropicalia beat at full speed lying beneath. Only three minutes long, this is one of those songs that could just as easily stretch out for 10 to 15 and never grow stale.

They reveal the true scope of the harmonies on Le Premier Bonheur De Jour, which at time rival the Mamas and the Papas for their beauty. A simple conga beat supports them as they glide and race through different movements. A warped flute rhythm opens Trem Fantasma, which takes the vocals as building blocks, adds a tambourine then layers on horns, a driving guitar riffs and some powerhouse drumming. 

While I hate to discount the discography of a band with so long a history, this debut staked out new ground and got comfortable where few American or English musicians dared to venture.

Got memories of your own from this hidden gem? Share them in the comments section below ...