1981 private press Ricardo Uchôa “Indra”

Scored this beautiful little Brazilian art piece in a multi-level trade. Indra is a hard slice of music to describe, a very intimate and interior labor of love that only 1,100 copies were unleashed upon a mostly undeserving world. It’s 70’s Bossa-Tropicalia updated for a Billy Idol world, a dash of Tom Ze mixed with Caetano and Zé Eduardo Nazario. Music can be incredibly complex and multi-layered, or it can be as simple as a voice, guitar, and wood blocks, but the degree to which it achieves emotional nuance and resonance is exactly the same when determining ultimate success.

​This record SPEAKS to me. Lots of bands play makeup and wear guitars, literally and metaphorically, all stance and attitude and zeitgeist, and then other bands universally communicate. If you’re willing to individually listen, which is not much to ask, and the reward is monumental, a curling road that spools out forever, which is why we’re all here, in the nerd-obscurity of rare and unheard vinyl, and why it feels like such a gift. If you’re reading this far, you’re probably just like me: absolutely mystified that everyone isn’t obsessed with the neural library of sound, of our deep need for pattern recognition and the desire to break those patterns, only to re-form them in new ways. I seriously don’t know how people live without this - a steady diet of new music that transports me out of my own experience. It’s as necessary as food and oxygen and sleep and companionship and a sense of place and momentum. We are all lucky, friends, flowery sentences be damned, there’s just no other way to write it.