A Certain Smile, A Certain Sadness

Who recalls rain lamps like Mona here? I certainly do. I remember vividly a store in Tyrone Square Mall, right 'round the bend from JC Penney, that sold these and other tacky things like bowls of alabaster fruit and rattan furniture.  

When I was five, I waddled into that store and reached right up and touched the magic slime that dripped down the strand of fiber and created that eerily hypnotic effect of a Goddess bathed in a soothing rain. "Don't you touch that!" the nasty saleslady screamed at me, running over as if I had just attempted to steal her baby. 

She was too late; I had already totally touched that rain lamp. It was worth it, too. I had wanted to know what that crap dripping down around this lady was for SO long... I still remember the smell of that oil. Not unpleasant, not overpowering, just sort of hippie-ish. It was delightful. 

For years and years and years I tried to recreate in my head the feeling I got when looking at that rain lamp. I don't really know if I could ever put into words what that feeling was / is, but I do know a few people who had been searching for that elusive feeling as well - a mysterious sense of ease brought about by exotic music of times past. We found it together in a man named Walter Wanderley.

Walter Wanderley (12 May 1932 - 4 September 1986) was an organist and pianist, born in Recife, Brazil and best known for his lounge and bossa nova music.

Already famous in his native country by the late 1950's, he became an internationally renown star through his collaboration with the singer Astrud Gilberto and her husband, João Gilberto. During 1966-67, he recorded three notable albums on the Verve label with the Walter Wanderley Trio (consisting of Walter, Claudio Slon (drums) and Jose Marino (bass). These albums, "Rainforest", "Cheganca" (complete with gatefold sleeve) and Astrud Gilberto's "A Certain Smile, A Certain Sadness" were produced in the United States by Creed Taylor, who initially brought the Trio to the U.S. to record. Wanderley's U.S. recording of "Summer Samba" reached #26 on the Billboard charts in the summer of 1966.

(from Wikipedia.)

His style was like no other's. I was introduced to him through a Verve Bossa Nova compilation. The song - "Summer Samba." Astrud Gilberto was singing and Mr. Wanderley and his trio were providing the music.

Now, if you've ever heard this version - and I know a lot of you have - your first impression may be what mine was at the age of 20. "Holy shit, this music is cheesy," I said to myself. But I didn't turn it off. Instead, I wanted to get more - and right away. It started out with A Certain Smile, A Certain Sadness, his collaboration with Astrud Gilberto. "Portuguese Washerwoman" is my favorite from that album. I could listen to it forever, I tell you. Forever.

After that one, I found what for YEARS I mistakenly thought was his only solo release - Rain Forest. It's all instrumental. It's all electronic organ. And it is all awesome. I cannot tell you the times this album has dragged me and others out of deep depression. You think I'm joking? Get a copy of that shit, put it on and tell me that you don't feel at least 78% better than you did just moments earlier. I told you so.

Meanwhile, last year I was scrounging through that record store Bleecker Bob's, avoiding its surly and bossy owner and fingering through the Bossa Nova vinyl, when I saw a Walter Wanderley lp - one I didn't have. Batucada was its name, and you're god damn right I snatched that shit up...

I ran home SCREAMING, expecting to be transformed yet again by Mr. Wanderley's magic fingers. Of course, the album was pure genius. I sent emails to my fellow Wanderley enthusiast friends. "Oh my Christ, you'll never believe what I just found," I typed. They were all, naturally, overjoyed by this discovery! And who wouldn't be!

It wouldn't end there - a quick search of our friend the internet revealed an entire catalog of albums I had never even dreamed existed. I attempted to get them all. I don't know if I did, but the ones I found - including Samba!, Kee-Ka-Roo, Cheganca, Moondreams, and When It Was Done certainly and impressively built upon what I had already considered to be a masterwork of Bossa Nova organ playing.

Most of these albums are out of print. They're available in used record stores, on eBay and other places. Some are going for a LOT of money. They're worth it, of course, but if you want to find out what Mr. Wanderley's like, you can listen to this'n here and hear for yourself:

Walter Wanderley: When It Was Done



Tracklist:
1. Open Your Arms (And Let Me Walk Right In)
2. Surfboard
3. Baiao Da Garoa
4. Reach Our For Me
5. Ole, Ole, Ola
6. Ponteio
7. When It Was Done
8. On My Mind
9. Just My Love And I
10. Capoeira
11. Truth In Peace

Would you just look at that album cover? That just about says it all. Amazing. I hope y'all enjoy it.

And if you're wondering why I'm putting all this music up - well, it's Christmas, y'all.