SÉRGIO MENDES — Sergio Mendes & Brasil '66 : Stillness (review)

SÉRGIO MENDES — Sergio Mendes & Brasil '66 : Stillness album cover

Album · 1970 · Bossa Nova

1.5/5 · 2011-07-14
Chicapah

In the wide open decade of the 60s when all restrictions on what popular music should sound like came tumbling down like the walls of Jericho any enterprising musician that had a novel or exotic slant to offer was given fair consideration by the public. In North America anything that sported a rhythm imported from regions south of the border was especially welcome and artists like Sergio Mendes from Brazil were quick to seize upon that opportunity while the door leading to mass acceptance was standing open. Mentored in his home country during the early stages of his career by Antonio Carlos Jobim, Sergio was invited to play keyboards on recordings by the likes of Herbie Mann and Cannonball Adderley before he made the bold move and relocated to the U.S. in 1964. Soon after that he formed his own combo, wisely put two pretty female singers out in front and began to find success by producing Bossa Nova versions of well-known hit singles. Their sexy rendition of Burt Bacharach and Hal David’s “The Look of Love” rose to #4 on the Billboard Hot 100 and their imaginative take on the Beatles’ “Fool on the Hill” topped out at #6, making Sergio Mendes and Brazil ’66 a hot commodity on the airwaves and a regular act on every variety television show of that era. But, after a few years, the fickle populace eventually lost interest in their unwavering shtick as the 70s loomed dead ahead and “Stillness” turned out to be the last album they would record under that self-dating moniker.

The disc opens with a mysterious atmosphere that leads to the title song, a sort of airy, floating combination of folk and jazz. Lani Hall’s voice is enticing due to her delicate tone and silky smoothness but the tune itself is rather weak and pretentious. “Righteous Life” is next and it’s a soft rock number that’s quite pedestrian and the group’s overall performance on the track is rather uninspired. There’s only so much they could do with two chords, though, so I won’t be too rough on them. They attach an up-tempo Latin beat to Joni Mitchell’s perky “Chelsea Morning” and it keeps it from sounding like just another sped-up folk ditty. Unfortunately, Lani and her compatriot Karen Philipp approach it as if they were doing standard studio work for union scale wages and it comes off lacking any amount of sincerity. “Cancao Do Nosso Amor (Far Away Today)” is a lush Brazilian ballad in which Mendes warbles the lyrics softly in his native tongue. It’s nicely done but it only makes me nod off. The first song that comes down the pike with anything resembling spirit is the instrumental “Viramundo.” The energetic drum and percussion track is uplifting and takes you on a fun ride. Lani and Karen’s unison vocals also go a long way in stimulating the otherwise repetitive chord progression.

“Lost in Paradise” is another fluffy pop/rock ditty possessing a South American jazz flavor but the only use I can think of for the cut is in the role of barely-audible dinner music. The principal reason for my purchasing this round slab of black vinyl in the first place follows, their cover of Stephen Still’s “For What It’s Worth.” I must have heard it on the radio because none of my musically hip friends would’ve recommended a record by this bunch if they were in their usual snobbish frame of mind. Yet even today it remains one of the more interesting versions of this iconic tune you’ll ever chance to hear. It’s a case of the ensemble’s eclectic instrumentation and foreign point of view adding a cool vibe to its very simple but catchy melody line. (I’m willing to bet that Mr. Stills likes it a lot.) “Sometimes in Winter” is an overly sappy ballad that, to the band’s credit, contains a few mild surprises in the arrangement but not enough to make it stand out. “Celebration of the Sunrise” is an engaging Brazilian jazz instrumental that has a lot of potential but, at only 1:45 in duration, it doesn’t last long enough to matter much. The album ends with a short, bookend reprise of “Stillness” that is entirely too predictable and old hat to be effective.

Despite repeated attempts at making magic happen again with many different chart-topping songs (“Scarborough Fair” and “Wichita Lineman” are good examples), their routine of injecting a Bossa Nova attitude into instantly-recognizable hits finally went stale and out of style and Sergio Mendes and Brazil ’66 were out of business as the 70s started up. In retrospect they played a significant role in the ascendancy of the genre called light jazz and AOR programming in general and Sergio went on to build a respectable career for himself as one of the most popular Brazilian artists to ever migrate north of the equator. I admire anyone who achieves his goals and realizes his dreams as Mendes did but if you’re looking for exciting Latin jazz or hot Bossa Nova to sink your teeth into this isn’t necessarily where you want to look.