The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com Arts Monday, November 18, 2019 — 5A Hailing from the metropolis of São Paulo, the Brazilian Tropicália band Os Mutantes’s (which translates to “The Mutants”) 1968 self-titled album somehow sounds as if The Beatles moved to South America and took even more psychedelics. One of the most creative groups to ever come out of the country with a rich musical history rivaling any others, their success was brief at the time they were active, but their name has seen somewhat of a resurgence decades later. The group’s origins lie in the relationship that developed between Rita Lee Jones and Arnaldo Baptista when they were both teenagers in the mid-1960s. Along with Arnaldo’s younger brother Sérgio, they formed Os Mutantes in 1965, and within a couple years, they found themselves in the middle of one of Brazil’s burgeoning musical movements. Spearheaded by the singer Caetano Veloso as well as others such as Gilberto Gil and Nara Leão, the Tropicália movement was born. At the time, Brazil was under the rule of a brutal military dictatorship which heavily espoused conservative/traditionalist views. Tropicália emerged as a countercultural movement that was at its core musical, but encompassed much more. Veloso, Gil and the other early collaborators wished to infuse the traditional samba and Bossa Nova forms with influences from psychedelic rock. Ironically, the music, epitomized by the 1968 collaboration album/manifesto Tropicália: Ou Panis et Circensis (Tropicalism, or bread and circuses), seemed to anger both sides of the political spectrum. According to the band’s current label Luaka Bop, the right-wing dictatorship despised its inherent subversiveness, and the left viewed certain elements of it as representing a capitulation to the Anglophone world’s imperialism. The genre unfortunately would not live long, as its architects Veloso and Gil were imprisoned and eventually exiled by the end of the decade. While they continued to record and release music in England, the movement itself faltered without their presence and leadership. Groups including Os Mutantes and the Bahia based Novos Baianos carried the flag for a short period, yet the genre never again reached its early peak. Both the genre’s as well as Os Mutantes’s increase in popularity outside of Brazil stem from a compilation (titled Everything is Possible: The Best of Os Mutantes) released in 1999 by David Byrne on his label, the aforementioned Luaka Bop, as well as name drops by figures such as Kurt Cobain. Bands ever since such as of Montreal have cited the unhinged chaos on the band’s early records. Appearing both on “Everything is Possible” and the self-titled “A Minha Menina,” a cover of a song by compatriot Jorge Ben Jor, is as good a poster child as any of this chaos. The distinctive psychedelic fuzz present in the chorus is a result of an ad-hoc pedal “powered by a sewing machine” built by Arnaldo and Sérgio’s older brother. Will Hodgkinson of The Guardian notes that this, as well as other jury-rigged elements of their musical setup, were made necessary due to “the lack of decent musical equipment in 1960s Brazil.” “A Minha Menina,” as well as other notable cuts such as “Panis Et Circenses” impressively never collapse under their own weight, considering just how much is thrown onto these tracks. Just as with The Avalanches’s 2000 plunderphonics masterpiece Since I Left You, each new listen of an Os Mutantes track reveals a small detail previously unnoticed. Moreover, it’s impossible to tell whether certain elements were a product of lack of equipment or an act of irreverent genius. As with many of their influences such as Jimi Hendrix and Sly and the Family Stone, heavy drug use and internal dysfunction brought about a premature end, with the subsequent years not proving quite productive for the trio, including episodes such as Arnaldo trying to unsuccessfully escape from a psychiatric institution. However, the band reunited in the early 2000s and continue to display the timelessness of their groundbreaking ’60s output. Subversive strength WORLD MUSIC COLUMN SAYAN GHOSH Daily World Music Columnist “Pain and Glory,” directed by Pedro Almodóvar (“Julieta”), is one of those rare movies that feels like the culmination of its creator. Like Lynch’s “Eraserhead,” Gerwig’s “Lady Bird” and Cuarón’s “Roma,” it’s the film that its director was meant to make, perfectly blending their talents, personal aesthetic and life story to spectacular effect. Almodóvar incorporates aspects of his life into “Pain and Glory,” and the conflicts feel bracingly personal, like flipping through someone’s diary and learning dark, juicy secrets. Yet, beyond this he captures something deeper, something universally human. “Pain and Glory” deals with what we’re all afraid to admit, the existential questions that keep us up at night. The story of Salvador Mallo (Antonio Banderas, “The Laundromat”), an aging director living in Madrid coping with terrible health problems, will touch every viewer personally. One will wonder “how did they know this about me?” as they see aspects of their own lives play out on the screen. Be it lost love, family dysfunction, the terrible moments when one’s body turns against itself or a loss of purpose, “Pain and Glory” is unflinching about what makes life so difficult. Yet there’s also love, desire and creativity. It asks which one triumphs in the end: the pain or the glory of our lives? “Pain and Glory” begins with Salvador visiting Alberto (Asier Etxeandia, “The Silent War”), an estranged friend and actor in one of his most famous films. This meeting sends Salvador down a troubled, fascinating journey of recollection. Not much happens on a narrative level — “Pain and Glory” is more about characters than plot — yet there are soaring victories and crushing defeats all the same. Salvador needs to decide how he will live out the rest of his days: Wasting away in his apartment and lamenting days gone by, or directing something new, even if it causes him physical agony. Almodóvar cuts from Banderas’s Salvador to his younger self (Asier Flores) and back again, paralleling past events with present ones. His formative experiences with his mother (Penélope Cruz, “Murder on The Orient Express”) and a family friend named Eduardo (César Vicente) are vital additions to the story, not the unneceary gimmicks that flackbacks tend to be. Wielding emotions like Hitchcock wielded plot, Almodóvar doles heartbreak, joy and mystery out slowly as layers of Salvador’s life are pulled back, letting it all build until astonishing truths are revealed. Most of the audience wept throughout the last hour of the film. The excellent performances convey Almodóvar’s confessional script perfectly, making it strikingly genuine, like it’s more than just a movie. Every conversation sears with emotion, from the hilariously witty to the brutally tragic. Relationships are given ample room to grow, yet when the credits roll, one will wish there was more time to send with these enthralling characters. “Pain and Glory” is shot with the colorful vision of an auteur and every scene pops, from stark white sheets on a lush, pastoral Spanish riverside to a chic modern Madrid apartment where Guggenheim-sought art hangs on the walls. It is rare to find a movie where everyone involved is on the top of their game. Almodóvar and the team behind “Pain and Glory” have created a stunning portrait of love, loss and, ultimately, humanity. It’s a masterpiece. ‘Pain and Glory’ is a masterful portrait of life and loss FILM REVIEW ANDREW WARRICK Daily Arts Writer Pain and Glory Sony Pictures State Theatre SONY PICTURES CLASSICS Over the past 12 years, Lady Antebellum has reigned over the sweetest slice of pop-country. Trio Hillary Scott, Charles Kelley and Dave Haywood have successfully cornered the Nashville market on heavenly harmonies and airy, mandolin-heavy instrumentals. Wholesome yet candy-coated, the resulting sound is like honey: consistently warm and shimmery. This is a soundscape that Ocean, the band’s latest release, leans further into. While sonically unsurprising, the album’s start is thematically unusual — it’s fearful. “What If I Never Get Over You” asks its title in earnest. “What if time doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do?” Scott questions, pushing back on the typical break-up song narrative that, for better or for worse, soon the ex will be forgotten. Instead, this song dares to dive into a worry that’s generally written off as melodramatic,and it does so thoughtfully. The political statement of the album, “You Can Do You” misses the mark. “You can lean left, you can lean right” Lady A allows, then concludes that “We could all use a drink.” While the intentions behind this track are forgivable — the need to unify a live crowd in 2019 — it feels like they’re trying too hard. With a beachy, bouncy backdrop the hook “You can do you, I’ma do me” just sounds out of touch. “What I’m Leaving For” brings the band back down to what it does best: capturing the smaller moments. “Got my bags packed, got my ticket / got my heartache to go with it” Scott sighs as she kisses her kids goodbye for work. Although Lady A didn’t write this song, it feels like a peek behind the scenes fans haven’t seen before and doubles as a reminder of the group members’ other jobs as parents. “Be Patient With My Love” is a different kind of reminder. “Mighta done it this time / mighta drank too much wine” Kelley admits. This level of honesty is unseen on the group’s previous work and made all the more raw because Kelley co-wrote it. “I’m coming back to the man that I was / so please don’t give up” he pleads over a chorus of contemplative strings. “Alright” is classic Lady Antebellum, sunny and surface-level. Reading the lyrics: “No lie, no lie, no lie, yeah / it’s alright, alright, alright, yeah” suggests that, if anything, this song should be a guilty pleasure. But it isn’t. The hook is so infectious and reassuring that you barely notice the lazy writing. Despite the band’s sunny magic, the best songs on Ocean sound suited for a wintery evening. “On a Night Like This” is a lovely, if somewhat plain, piano ballad. Scott and Kelley shine on their delivery of whimsical lyrics, namely “The days last sight turns to cool nights breeze / And this love hangs thick like these willow leaves.” “The Thing That Wrecks You” is, in fact, the song that wrecks you on this album. A collaboration with Little Big Town, another pop-country powerhouse, its members are given the chance to meet Kelley and Scott’s synergy and rise to the occasion. A song about an uneven relationship from the perspective of the person in power, it’s minute-long underwater-sounding outro is haunting. “You’re a deer in headlights / and I’m driving just as fast as I can” warns Little Big Town until both bands explode into the chorus. For the most part, Ocean is predictable. It all glitters, but some songs are fool’s gold. Tracks like “Pictures” and “Boots” merely take up space while “You Can Do You” actually does some damage. Still, other songs dig deeper than usual. The title track “Ocean,” a piano ballad, finds Scott vulnerable, begging an emotionally-distant lover to open up. Peeling back a layer while retaining their evergreen sound, Lady Antebellum retains their pop- country crown by delivering more of the same. Lady Antebellum delivers more of the same, but stays at the top ALBUM REVIEW KATIE BEEKMAN Daily Arts Writer WIKIMEDIA COMMONS Ocean Lady Antebellum BMLG Records One of the most creative groups to ever come out of the country with a rich musical history rivaling any others, their success was brief at the time they were active, but their name has seen somewhat of a resurgence decades later.