The drought has hit us hard here in Southern California. The lawns are festering with barren wastelands of reverse oasis. Even records are feeling the blues. A little relief this weekend with a dose of Brazilian ambiance. I have been hearing the echoes of Hermeto Pascoal for far too long now. I saw his bug eyed reflection in a small corner of Pepperland music Saturday afternoon and had to pick him up. I played a couple songs Sunday morning, which is how I like me tea, but didn’t get the complete immersion. It was though, enough to tip his hat of his brilliance. It was to my delight to see an earlier album at the vintage market late Sunday morning. The price was right, and you can’t leave chips on the table. I made it through side 2 and it is incredible. I am grateful, astonished and frankly a little confused. I am glad to share this experience with the world. As an added bonus, an Egberto Gismonti solo masterpiece for just pents. I discovered Egberto a few months, I call it the glory days. Egberto is a master pianist and self taught guitar phenom from the state of Rio De Janeiro. He has moments of perfection in every album I have, which can be jazz fusion to profound reflection. It is playing as I type, which has brought me to reconsider my candor. This music is incredible, clear, unpredictable, aspiring. I will leave you to decide. Of course I couldn’t forget the man behind the curtain, the true wizard of perception, Mr. Theostyle. I traded some of our hard earned treasures, for a jazzy rock extravaganza a few weeks ago. Patto, fellow Englishmen, hail from the sleepy hallows of London. They come at you with a plethora of scorching hot, melt your face rock and roll. A perfect soundtrack to Theostyles summer bliss visual tour soon to a town near you. Your eyes and ears can thank us later.