Just more music for “in between seasons”. What else can you say to describe the latter-day work of, sadly, now defunct, Portuguese sophisticated pop group, Ban? As I put on their Mundo de Aventuras it’s not hard to have your mind race back to more naive times when certain love songs spoke to youthful measures one can never truly quantify. It’s times like these we need songs just like these. We’ve heard some of these ideas in the music of Paddy McAloon’s Prefab Sprout, the Go-Betweens, and others, but to hear those twists of pop sweetness coming from such a group as you’ll meet here, now remains strikingly refreshing.
It was in 1981, in the backstreets of Porto, when a young group of very unskilled teens led by singer João Loureiro got caught up in the first wave of New Wave. Together with drummer Paulo Faro, guitarist João Ferraz, and bassist Francisco Monteiro, they christened themselves Bananas and took off in the direction of countless other ska and punk groups. Just two years later they’d switch styles, catch the Manchester post-punk bug, and dub themselves, “Ban” to better suit the darker, alternative, cold wave scene they were in.
Most groups — especially from continental Europe — rightfully, would get lost in the dated scene of that era but Ban took a turn for the better thereafter. “Fourth world” musician and sometime Mler Ife Dada member, Nuno Rebelo, spurred them to give a try at making more accessible music. The introduction of second lead, Ana Deus, now gave them an interesting dynamic they could explore — feminine and masculine voice trying to come together through a wider gamut of styles and influences far removed from the dour rock of their recent past. And much like the aforementioned Go-Betweens it was that turn of focus from purposely effusive rock into something far more simpler and universal that would begin their best phase.
Beginning with 1988’s Surrealizar, Ban began to take inspiration from heavier doses of soul, dance and hip-hop music. Ana Deus, specifically, brought into the group a much more urbane, smooth taste that allowed their first singles released in this period to experience airplay outside the pirate radio stations they were mostly heard in. Slight hits like “Irreal Social” from Surrealizar grew to unlikely ones as 1989’s “Suave” from Música Concreta saw them playing to large crowds at home. Somehow, this group that once thought of themselves as musical neophytes began to quietly release some of the most diverse, catchy, pop gems from all of that era’s pop scene and certainly in Portugal they were at the forefront at a different kind of alternative scene.
This idea of a new “alternative” is what informs what I think is their peak vision: 1990’s Mundo de Aventuras. Luxurious as their sublime deep cut “Faz De Conta” was in Música Concreta, this was spirited “spirit” music of the angular type — think jangle pop and balearic-tinged UK soul — trying to find its sea legs in the burgeoning new decade when anything, seemingly, was possible.
Adult themes were explored in spacious, easygoing ways, and from summer to early autumn, the group decamped to Paço D’Arcos (in between jaunts at the beach) creating their least “rock”-oriented release. Sensuality, sophistication, and a far more wistful, jazzier approach, led them to freewheel their way through glorious songs meant for everyone’s hazier hours. Even keeled sunshine hints of dream pop and neo-psychedelia color these songs, as well.
Throw a stone at the tracklist and I wager any song you’ll land on tells you all the story of the album (and led you to a “should have been its own highlight” with any other group). Heck, I’ll throw three of them at Mundo De Aventuras and land on “Segredo”, “Pequeno Amor ” and “Num Barco Branco”.
On “Segredo” we have something that rivals anything on 1990’s other masterpiece of sophisticated pop, Jordan: The Comeback. However, rather than build any kind of elaborate pretense here to get at a certain soul, the soul Ban captures is gracefully decked all in front of you. While Música Concreta struggled at points to build on the interplay of Jõao and Ana, here (as in the rest of the album) the welcome softness of the latter allows the former to work her modal magic. “Rosa Flor” one track earlier serves as a floaty reminder of what kind of mood they can add to the rest of the band’s increasingly dreamy accompaniments.
“Pequeno Amor” treats us to the UK soul-leaning side of this group that finally got out of its own way to roll onward. Once again, as a group, they went further than anyone else expected. Then with the roll of the tape once, once again, as a group they find crevices like “Num Barco Branco” to take seemingly foreign influences — bossanova and Felt-style jangle rock — to put together, with more grace and sophistication, in a way that completely erases whatever their black and white beginnings.
A palette of hues, leaving us in a glorious haze of culture meld, few realized than that Ban always looked better dazzling us in vivid technicolor ’til the end.