The Singles Jukebox

A delirious piece of baile funk, brought to us by Frank…

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[6.40]

Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: A peek behind the curtain: sometimes when I write a blurb for The Singles Jukebox, I get excited to read what everyone else has to write about a certain song. I’ve learned a lot about music from the people that have submitted reviews to this website, and while sometimes I don’t agree with their critical takeaways on certain songs, I’m thankful for their perspectives in helping me become a better listener. So I’m going to throw my hands up and admit I don’t know what to intelligently write about this harmonica-jumpscare pop-funk concoction that wouldn’t make me look like a dunce and let the folk at TSJ take it away. (Okay one point: I prefer my baile a little more ragged, a little distorted, sounding a little like a deep fried meme.)
[6]

Will Adams: wtf
[7]

Katherine St Asaph: I’m not sure about this new Zach Bryan project.
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Kayla Beardslee: I love when sounds are assembled together to form a song.
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Nortey Dowuona: The drums underneath this are kinda soft at first. They rest, slowly pulling as the song begins with a simple loop of yelps spread thin across the mix. The bass drums are spread so thick underneath the mix you might forget they’re there. A sharp snare roll with a growing sweeping effect transitions us into the next part. Then the guitar arrives and the bass drum becomes bouncy, more punchy and pronounced. The snare, however, is a perfunctory accent meant to end the loop and allow the song to resolve, especially once the kick is sent into a roll that slowly speeds up, then smooths out with the snare.
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Frank Kogan: Dueling harmonicas, one doing the exhales and the other the inhales, and that’s all just a sneaky moody build-up to when the guitar snakes its way in and the song rides the tension, and the vocalist snorts out words gratingly. And in the wild roiling experiment and cacophony of baile funk, where every song element seems in collision with every other, and styles crash into other styles, this jittery, tense thing probably counts as easy listening.
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Micha Cavaseno: I don’t think I’m going to truly understand baile, which I recognize is my own failure and nothing to do with the music. But I’m gonna be damned if I don’t acknowledge that this song sounds drunker than I think any human being is capable of managing within sane jurisdiction, right down to how much MC Tarapi here sounds more herniated than anything close to melodic. And that’s a rarified gift all the same!
[6]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Let’s give it up for drugs. They’ve shaped entire musical genres, and in the case of baile funk (and its numerous regional variations), it’s those brazen high-pitched tones that deserve more praise, as if producers decided to take notes from Sachiko M’s sine-tone records. These sounds are known as “tuin,” and complement the whirring when you’re at a party and take “lolo,” or lança-perfume (a mix of, uh, ether and chloroform). They keep you awake in this lounging-on-your-porch country howler, with its shouts and harmonicas and guitars providing the barest elements needed to have an excuse to go crazy. And “Hoje Tem Rodeio” feels a lot like stumbling around in a drunken stupor at 11AM, doing all you can to keep the party going.
[6]

Crystal Leww: The high-pitched, almost neighing whistle in this makes me feel like I am being wrangled like a horse, but honestly, if where I’m being wrangled to is as fun as “Hoje Tem Redeio, Baile De Favela,” then I can’t really be mad.
[6]

Oliver Maier: I don’t like resorting to hyperbole in my writing but I think whoever put that high-pitched noise in there should go to hell.
[3]

Brad Shoup: It took me a few spins before I realized that the guitar in the middle section was twanging complete musical sentences. This slinks in a way that American country used to, before Nashville foresook swamp-pop entirely. Another point for including a harmonica lick with the same cadence as the hook in “Lizard, Lizard”.
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Jessica Doyle: Remember how the big prom scene in Pretty in Pink opens soundtracked to OMD’s “If You Leave” and then it turned out what was actually heard on set was Simple Minds’ “Don’t You Forget About Me”? I am not convinced that anyone being filmed in the video was actually dancing to “Hoje Tem Rodeo.” I would like to see a crowd dancing to it one day: I suspect the result would be a lot less pretty, more anarchic and shouty. Listening to it alone, I’m in the wrong space, surrounded by dead air. To get the score up to its proper place I’ll throw in a bunch of bonus points for the accessorizing: Jiraya Uai’s earrings, of course, but also the shofar (yeah, I know it’s not actually a shofar, indulge me), and the dancers’ skeptical faces, and Mario.
[7]

Ian Mathers: With hindsight, it’s kind of amazing how quickly I was sold on just the intro alone; I thought all we were getting was that combo of harmonica gulps and looped voices, MC Tarapi chanting on top. Even when the build starts I thought we’d just get a drop and then back to the same sound, and I was fine with that. Instead, about 70 seconds in Tarapi suddenly busts out an oddly compelling singing voice with a whole new melody, and this nagging, not-really-country guitar line that seems intent on reminding you that the instrument is essentially just a set of plucked wires starts up. And then the beat actually comes in! That’s not even mentioning what the harmonica winds up getting into, or the whistling. I find myself just happily along for the ride every time, on the rare track like this that actually earns a nearly five minute runtime.
[10]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: If this ended at the “Hey!” roughly 2:46 in I’d love it. Everything after is duplicative of earlier pleasures — the genuine twang of that guitar line, the harmonica’s surprising harmony with the baile funk beat, the clear glee from everyone involved that this fusion works at all. After the first go through, though, these joys wane — not enough to capsize the song, but enough to make me want to listen to the edit instead.
[6]

Michelle Myers: Let me tell you what this reminds me of. The other day, I heard what sounded like a freight train running down the street outside my window. I removed my noise-canceling headphones and opened the blinds to see a line of semi-truck cabs stretching back miles, each adorned with an image of the Virgen de Guadalupe and blasting its horn nonstop. It was a procession of pilgrim truckers en route to a shrine in the suburbs. I put in some earplugs, and let the horns drone on. It was beautiful, and so is this.
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