Between snatches of harried breath and taxed adrenal glands, our frail mortality begs us to slow down. Distressing headlines, leaning towers of obligations, and the holes that fast living leaves in our memories as it eats away at our sanity can leave us craving reminders that life is more than a series of frantically checked boxes.
London-based Brazilian artist Marcelo Frota, MOMO., has crafted a listening experience in his new album, Tum Tum Tum, that acts as a buffer from the frenzy. Rhythmically confident and seasoned with grace, MOMO.’s eighth collection invites us into intimate moments and quiet reflections. Across its measured 25 minutes, Tum Tum Tum weaves a dream of sun-splashed Brazilian warmth through samba, sultry trombone, and threads of Tropicália. MOMO.’s deft hand at sonic culture-blending is owed partly to his well-traveled life; he’s called six countries home between the continents of North and South America, Africa, and Europe.
Pinches, and often generous heaps, of each location’s flavor Tum Tum Tum‘s eight vibrant tracks. Swaggering opener “Egum Eo” celebrates lineage Yoruba-style, taking its title and chant-like refrain from the Yoruba word for “ancestors”. “Egum Eo” is a lively and reverent, playful groover that sounds like a hot day spent basking in the equatorial sun—you want to move your body and explore, but you’re in no rush.
The day bleeds red and pink in follow-on “Vermelho e Rosa”, one of the finest tracks on the album. In an interview with Atwood Magazine, Marcelo Frota explains that he “wanted to use colors—black, yellow, red, and pink—to paint a picture of a vibrant, rain-cleansed day of play and celebration. It’s a very optimistic track, focusing on the simple beauty of kids playing and stars descending as a new day is born.”
Frota captures this delicate observation with restraint and tenderness. Melancholy nestles into the chorus, adding streaks of soft blue to the artist’s imagined bright infant day. Apart from the slight wistfulness in Frota’s sonorous tones, “Vermelho e Rosa” is a glowing, balmy piece—precisely the color palette Frota envisioned, like a painting in musical form.
Subjects shift in “Dream of Samba”. The unhurried, jazz-inflected piece sees Frota confess that when he was a child, he “wanted to be a big star”, but as an adult, “I have a super band and cry.” It’s the first track performed in English, as the bulk of the record is sung in Portuguese. Frota’s honest lyrics fold seamlessly into the piece’s bossa nova backdrop. “Dream of Samba” is a genuine glimpse at the collision between youth-born hopes and adulthood-shaped realities.
Subsequent tracks, like the sensual “Morena” and shuffling “Dente d’Ouro”, expand MOMO.’s commentary into the realms of romance and vulnerable hearts wearing tough fronts. The latter is especially interesting because its slinky, shifting rhythm and psychedelia-tinged guitars expertly convey the protagonist’s internal conflict, as if he were guarding a potentially embarrassing or destabilizing secret. Sonically and subject-wise, “Dente d’Ouro” may be Tum Tum Tum‘s most interesting offering.
English reappears on the bilingual beauty that is “Canto de Aldeia”, or “song of the village”, courtesy of Brazilian singer-songwriter Nina Miranda. Her soaring, flute-like notes recall a girlhood rooted in the great outdoors, belonging to nature and to others: “She comes alive in the sun / She brings to life everyone / Chuva fauna e flora / The sun brings a daughter / Filho e filha / Leonora na brisa.”
”Canto de Aldeia” may be instantly familiar to anyone who grew up playing outside. There is an exhilaration to natural landscapes that cityscapes don’t provide; the two lifestyles are very different, even if a person prefers one to the other. Maybe, though, like Miranda, we are all a bit “city girl”, “boy of the world”, and “everything”.
Despite its sweet violin swells and guitars, the romantic “Tudo Que Se Tem” (roughly translated as “Everything That One Has”) doesn’t always distinguish itself as a love song. Portions of it flicker with sensuality, but the track often sounds similar to others on the album and blends into the mix. Intentional? Perhaps. Tum Tum Tum is built on subtlety, to its credit. Regardless, as the collection’s dedicated song about lovers, “Tudo Que Se Tem” features large swathes that sound emotionally interchangeable with other feelings explored on the record.
Closer “Tranquilo” is a pleasant piece but lacks the distinction to stamp itself upon one’s mind. Its existential lyrics touch on finding God in life’s mundane moments. They ring true but are left unsupported by a comparatively sparse melody. Again, subtlety is the scaffolding of Tum Tum Tum, and while that normally serves the album well, here it seems to hold the emotional payoff at arm’s length. Intentional? Perhaps.
Restraint is a virtue in a world that thrives on excess. When a person feels particularly frayed by its ceaseless tides of activity—the state in which MOMO.’s collection found me—music such as that on Tum Tum Tum is a welcome soft reset. It beckons listeners to pause and consider the beautiful small moments that compose a lifetime.
Perhaps the highest compliment I can give this album is that it encourages further exploration of the world of Brazilian music. MOMO. delivers the sort of intelligent, thoughtfully produced songwriting that honors multiple cultures and might do the soul a service in these chaotic times.