Airto Moreira
Free

Among the main performers of the emerging early '70s Fusion is a formidable musician, often (and unjustly) remembered only because of his significant and valuable collaborations; considering the artist in question as a mere "session-man" would be a highly reductive and limiting operation, as well as disrespectful, taking into account the decisive role he played in introducing rhythms and sounds to the American Jazz universe that were entirely unknown to a large part of the English-speaking audience, as well as indicative of certain distinctly "ethno-oriented" directions that much Fusion of the decade (and even the next) would follow.

Percussionist and "noise-maker" (as some critics, not coincidentally, like to define him) of undeniable quality and charisma, the Brazilian Airto Moreira is above all an encyclopedic expert (and philological and obsessive devotee) of the rhythmic "patterns" used in genres like Samba, Bossa Nova, and Afro-Cuban influenced music, providing in his solo works a masterful and coherent example of the synthesis of varied, heterogeneous experiences among which he maneuvers with utmost ease, at times also showing himself capable of speaking the language of the most extreme, most "total" improvisation. Moreover, with an approach I would not hesitate to describe as genuinely "artisanal," since, alongside the canonical instruments of Brazilian (and Latin American in general) percussion tradition, Moreira is simultaneously accustomed to employing unusual and bizarre "self-made" instruments, often created by assembling various everyday objects, further confirming a voracious, insatiable spirit of research: undoubtedly the most appreciated quality by the artists who, over the years, have wanted him in their employ: from undisputed "gurus" of Fusion, enthusiasts of the pioneering sounds of new Electric Jazz, such as Weather Report and Chick Corea of Return To Forever, to the Santana of "Borboletta", up to reaching exceptional exponents of certain "cultured" American songwriting (above all, Paul Simon: listen to the well-known "Me & Julio Down By The Schoolyard", from the debut solo album of the New Yorker, and you won't struggle to recognize Airto's peculiar percussive touch).

Originally from Itaiópolis in the state of Santa Catarina (but a Paulista by adoption), born in 1941, Moreira was already a celebrity in the Jazz aristocracy when, in 1973, he recorded this "Free," a jewel in a discography rich and always constant in quality of the offer. In truth, my choice could very well have involved other very significant albums of his which I consider all those produced in the first half of the Seventies, the period of greatest creativity for Airto. I chose "Free" because of: the value of the musicians involved, a decisive parameter when I evaluate a record (especially if in the Jazz-Rock or Fusion field), and the historical relevance of the album in the evolution of a specific language of percussive improvisation, here illustrated in the astonishing development of the "title-track"; improvisation in which Moreira shows himself to be an agile and eclectic experimenter. In the evocative "free-form" imposed by the leader one recognizes the (obvious) influences of electric Miles Davis, but above all, one feels the exotic atmospheres of an indigenous, wild, pre-colonial Brazil; jazz stylistics and the spirit of Amazonian tribal dances coexist in a vital, vibrant chaos of sound collisions and moments of ethereal, dreamy relaxation. That aesthetic of stylistic syncretism that "Bitches Brew" had made the founding principle of the "new form" of music, opening a singular dialogue between the millennial African heritage and the pulsations of Western metropolises, finds here new vigor, new actualization in the context of the kaleidoscopic range of percussive styles of the South American tradition (a varied but not scholastic repertoire to freely draw from). It stands out, in analogy with the immortal Davisian masterpiece, the technique of timbral multiplication obtained by overlaying electric bass and double bass, creating an alienating effect of rhythmic "poly-dimensionality," further accentuated (with certain disorienting results) by Moreira's percussive variety (pandeiro, surdo, and congas are certainly, among those used by Airto, the best known to average listeners, but represent only a small part of the various "sound resources" exploited by the percussionist on the album in question). And it stands out, again in analogy with "Bitches Brew," the presence of multiple contrasting moods coexisting in the same piece, despite the formal sharing of harmonic frameworks typical of Samba and its related subgenres.

Indeed, it is a typically Samba theme that is presented by Chick Corea's electric piano at the introduction of the initial, majestic "Return To Forever," a free reinterpretation of the eponymous group's flagship song (featured in the debut album of Corea and his associates in which, just a year before, Airto himself had participated); Airto and his wife, the excellent vocalist Flora Purim, accompany with seductive vocal lines the sounds of Joe Farrell's flute, here also playing the sax; it is Farrell himself who performs the first solo through whirlwind evolutions, before leaving room for Chick Corea's piano, who in what (let's not forget) is HIS piece cannot look bad, showcasing introverted and inspired phrasings as per his norm. The development of the piece stops and then resumes, after a section of mere whispered winds and percussion, even more sustained rhythmically, and again with Corea taking the lion's share, resting on the turbulent support of Airto; already foreshadowed but worth emphasizing again, the co-presence of Ron Carter's double bass and Stanley Clarke's electric bass.

It is instead Jay Berliner's acoustic guitar that opens the equally valuable "Flora's Song," a personal dedication from the percussionist to his wife (one of many dedications, in truth, considering the rest of his career). The pace of this second composition is more relaxed, with beautiful lines proposed by the abrasive guitar and the precise, always contextual interventions of a masterful Keith Jarrett at the piano, able to give the piece a decidedly more jazzy vein, compared to the pervasive ethnicity of the initial track (though still present here, albeit more diluted). Tackling the substantial monotonicity of this singular "song" is (on flute) another famed wind player like Hubert Laws, destined for a brilliant solo career. Between slowdowns and sudden accelerations, highlighted by Moreira's "bells," the piece unfolds until the end.

The second part of the album is introduced by the ten minutes of the previously mentioned percussive improvisation of "Free" (naturally, the title is an entire program, in this case): an imaginary sound journey through the atmospheres of the Amazonian rainforest, punctuated by tribal cries worthy of initiation rites and sustained by the genius of an irrepressible Moreira. We catch our breath with the delightful harmonic lines of the sweet (and flute-centered) "Lucky Southern" (special guest George Benson on guitar): captivating and suggestive, the melody of this brief interlude, before the close reserved for the more experimental "Creek"; in this, Joe Farrell is heard more interested in expressing the "moods" of his soprano sax, carving out extensive solo spaces well supported by Ron Carter's double bass and, once again, Chick Corea's (classical) piano, the owner in turn of a perfectly calibrated and varied solo.

Five stars for a Masterpiece of '70s Fusion. An unmissable opportunity to come into contact with the sensitivity of a percussion "master," as well as with genuine virtuosos of the instrument. An essential listen.