Tim Bernandes’ sophomore album drops beside us with an opener educing golden festival evenings and the passing sight of brown-bottled beer. The Brazilian eccentric plays with melody in a child-like, Paul McCartney-inspired, joy—there is simply so little to dislike about the way these tracks are constructed. The psychedelia that slinks around the album is purely natural, capturing the feeling of sinking into a sun-blushed siesta before a night out on the town. Bernandes’ voice lilts and rises like the greats of his country; when he reaches low into a hushed quiet, he seemingly stops the earth from spinning. When he goes high, the earth twirls.
A favourite: ‘Velha Amiga’
‘Mil Coisas Invisíveis’ is out now via Psychic Hotline.