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Atlantic Forest Atlantic Forest.  Alex Malheiros first pressing or reissue. Vinyl and CDs Collection. Milestone Records. 1984
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Carlos Drummond de Andrade
Carlos Drummond de Andrade
O Salto de Sete Quedas
Saltos del Guairá
In 1982 Alex Malheiros denounced of the destruction of nature conducted by the military regime in Brazil who believed in progress with the aim of forests.
“Seven falls we passed by, and did not know, ah, did not know love them, and all seven were killed, and all seven vanish into thin air, seven ghosts, seven crimes of live batting life than ever More reborn”
Carlos Drummond de Andrade
Cascades
Azymuth Album - Vinyl - Milestone Records - 1982
Cascade Of The Seven Waterfalls (Salto Das Sete Quedas) 4:46
A Bossa é Nossa
Alex Malheiros is one of the musicians who play in the “Beco das Garrafas” when movement “Bossa Nova” appeared in Rio de Janeiro, today it keeps alive its tradition composing and performing the purest bossa.
“Bossa Nova”
T he   Seven   Falls   also   called   Salto   Guaira   Salto   (in   Spanish:   Saltos   del   Guaira)   was   the   world's   largest   waterfall   by   volume   of   water,   until   its   demise   with   the   formation   of   the lake   of   he   dam   of   Itaipu   Dam.   However   remnants   of   them   appear   when   the   water   level   of   the   plant   is   baixo.Nos   November   and   December   2012   and   in   January   2013   a   small part   of   one   of   the   jumps   and   much   of   the   stones   appeared   on   the   river.   Despite   its   name,   it   consisted   of   19   main   waterfalls   and   was   classified   into   seven   groups   of   falls.   World record   volume   of   water,   the   Seven   Falls   were   the   main   tourist   attraction   of   Guaira,   a   city   that   at   the   time,   came   to   have   60,000   inhabitants,   rivaling   in   importance   with   the   falls from   Foz   do   Iguaçu.   At   the   time,   Guaira   was   one   of   the   most   visited   by   foreign   Brazilian   destinations.   Currently,   the   population   of   the   former   Spanish   royal   city   is   less   than   30 thousand   inhabitants.   was   military   government   at   the   time   of   construction,   they   accept   not   be   contained   and   did   as   they   pleased,   it   is   speculated   that   the   flooding   of   7   falls was   purposeful   why   the   area   between      Guaira   and   Salto   del   Guaira   was   an   area   of   territorial   dispute   between   Brazil   and   Paraguay   and   the   widening   of   the   river   where   they were   the   7   falls   was   defined   a   well-defined   natural   boundary   that   ended   the   dispute   further   also   speculated   that   the   7   falls   rivaled   the   Iguaçu   falls   which   meant   he   had   more people   interested   in   ending   this   wonder,   Itaipu   was   necessary   for   Brazil   but   could   have   saved   seven   falls,   Guaira   today   would   be   like   Foz   do   Iguaçu   in   relation   to   tourism, instead   when   the   falls   disappeared   the   city   has   shrunk   significantly   and   lost   many   investments   while   mouth   has   grown   exponentially   because   of   Itaipu   and   the   Iguaçu   Falls, Guaira withered and just was not worse than received and receives RoyalTS Itaipu.
“Seven Falls passed by me, and all seven faded away. Cease   the   noise   of   the   falls,   and   with   it   the   memory   of   the   Indians,   sprayed,   no   longer   arouses   the   chill   minimum.The   Spaniards   dead,   dead   to   the   pioneers,   the   deleted   fires   of Ciudad   Real   Guaira   will   join   the   seven   ghosts   water   murdered   by   the   hand   of   man,   the   master   of   the   planet.   Here   once   rumbled   voices   of   imaginative   nature,   fertile   in   theatrical performances   of   dreams   to   men   offered   without   a   contract.   A   beauty   in   itself,   fantastic   design   embodied   in   cachões   and   contour   of   air   bulcões   showed   itself   if   undressed, donated   in   free   intercourse   to   human   rapt   view.   All   architecture,   all   engineering   Egyptians   and   Assyrians   in   remote   will   dare   to   create   such   a   monument.   And   scraps   by ungrateful   intervention   technocrats.   Here   seven   visions   seven   sculptures   profile   liquid   dissolve   between   computerized   calculations   of   a   country   that   is   leaving   from   human   to become   cold   now,   that's   all.   Is   made   of   a   dam   movement,   the   bustle   makes   up   a   business   silence   of   hydroelectric   project.   We   will   offer   all   the   comfort   and   light   billed   generate power   at   the   expense   of   another   good   that   is   priceless   or   rescue,   impoverishing   life   in   the   fierce   illusion   enrich   it.Seven   herds   of   water,   seven   white   bulls,   billions   of   integrated white   bulls,   sinking   in   pond,   and   empty   that   way   will   take,   what   remains   but   the   nature   pain   without   gesture,   the   silent   censorship   and   the   curse   that   time   will   bringing?   Come strange   people,   come   Brazilian   brothers   of   all   looks,   come   see   and   store   no   longer   the   work   of   natural   art   today   postcard   color,   melancholic,   but   its   still   rorejante   spectrum   of iridescent   pearls   of   foam   and   rage,   passing,   circunvoando   between   suspension   bridges   destroyed   and   useless   tears   of   things,   without   waking   no   remorse,   no   guilt   and   confessed burning. ("We take responsibility! We are building the great Brazil!") And   patati   Patati   Patatá   ...   Seven   falls   we   passed   by,   and   did   not   know,   ah,   did   not   know   love   them,   and   all   seven   were   killed,   and   all   seven   vanish   into   thin   air,   seven   ghosts, seven crimes of live batting life than ever More reborn”
“Sete quedas por mim passaram,e todas sete se esvaíram. Cessa   o   estrondo   das   cachoeiras,   e   com   ele   a   memória   dos   índios,   pulverizada,   já   não   desperta   o   mínimo   arrepio.   Aos   mortos   espanhóis,   aos   mortos   bandeirantes,   aos apagados   fogos   de   Ciudad   Real   de   Guaira   vão   juntar-se   os   sete   fantasmas   das   águas   assassinadas   por   mão   do   homem,   dono   do   planeta.   Aqui   outrora   retumbaram   vozes   da natureza   imaginosa,   fértil   em   teatrais   encenações   de   sonhos   aos   homens   ofertadas   sem   contrato.   Uma   beleza-em-si,   fantástico   desenho   corporizado   em   cachões   e   bulcões   de aéreo   contorno   mostrava-se,   despia-se,   doava-se   em   livre   coito   à   humana   vista   extasiada.   Toda   a   arquitetura,   toda   a   engenharia   de   remotos   egípcios   e   assírios   em   vão   ousaria criar   tal   monumento.   E   desfaz-se   por   ingrata   intervenção   de   tecnocratas.   Aqui   sete   visões,   sete   esculturas   de   líquido   perfil   dissolvem-se   entre   cálculos   computadorizados   de um   país   que   vai   deixando   de   ser   humano   para   tornar-se   empresa   gélida,   mais   nada.   Faz-se   do   movimento   uma   represa,   da   agitação   faz-se   um   silêncio   empresarial,   de hidrelétrico   projeto.   Vamos   oferecer   todo   o   conforto   que   luz   e   força   tarifadas   geram   à   custa   de   outro   bem   que   não   tem   preço   nem   resgate,   empobrecendo   a   vida   na   feroz ilusão   de   enriquecê-la.   Sete   boiadas   de   água,   sete   touros   brancos,   de   bilhões   de   touros   brancos   integrados,   afundam-se   em   lagoa,   e   no   vazio   que   forma   alguma   ocupará,   que resta   senão   da   natureza   a   dor   sem   gesto,   a   calada   censura   e   a   maldição   que   o   tempo   irá   trazendo?   Vinde   povos   estranhos,   vinde   irmãos   brasileiros   de   todos   os   semblantes, vinde   ver   e   guardar   não   mais   a   obra   de   arte   natural   hoje   cartão-postal   a   cores,   melancólico,   mas   seu   espectro   ainda   rorejante   de   irisadas   pérolas   de   espuma   e   raiva,   passando, circunvoando, entre pontes pênseis destruídas e o inútil pranto das coisas, sem acordar nenhum remorso, nenhuma culpa ardente e confessada. (“Assumimos a responsabilidade! Estamos construindo o Brasil grande!”) E patati patati patatá... Sete quedas por nós passaram, e não soubemos, ah, não soubemos amá-las, e todas sete foram mortas, e todas sete somem no ar, sete fantasmas, sete crimes dos vivos golpeando a vida que nunca mais renascerá.”
BIOGRAPH
BIOGRAPH