I saw a samba competition at a music school that was associated with Gilberto Gil a few years ago, groups preparing for Carnaval performing in front of Gil and a panel of instructors (or maybe judges?). It was complete sensory overload, with people supporting different performers filling the room and singing/dancing along with the performers, calling/answering/joining the sounds from the stage from all directions in a venue that was just so unbelievably packed. And hot. And sweaty. It was one of the most gorgeous displays of complete chaos, with the surrounding blocks completely stuffed with humanity and everything just felt like you could fill up forever in that very moment. Gil was up on a balcony, the reverence displayed for him was impossible to ignore, even through the madness and my inability to understand pretty much anything that anyone said, you could see performers address him and all energy would shift in his direction while he just humbly smiled. It was really fucking cool, and I would totally do it again. 1984's Realce is...well, it's not that experience. You're not going to get Frevo Rasgado when you listen (you should check Frevo Rasgado when you're done here - I'm relatively new to this record but I'm digging it pretty hard), but the homogenization of styles into a kind of universal '80s schmatlz is nonetheless familiar and honestly kinda comfortable.
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