- UFO
- Smog Alado
- Miragem
- Pássaro De Luz
- Caño
- Último Entardecer
- Controvérsia
- Depois Do Fim
Vision of the Infinite
When Depois do Fim (“After the End”) emerged from Brazil in 1983, it felt like a time capsule from an alternate musical universe - one where progressive rock had not faded into nostalgia but evolved into something luminous, spiritual, and defiantly alive. While much of the world had turned toward the pulse of synths and the polish of pop, Bacamarte reached instead for the eternal. Their music seemed to rise from ancient soil, glimmering with both mysticism and intellect, a reminder that art could still sound vast, courageous, and deeply human.
At its heart, Depois do Fim is an odyssey of contrasts - organic yet celestial, complex yet melodic, rooted in Brazil yet reaching toward the cosmos. The musicianship is impeccable, not as a display of virtuosity but as an act of devotion. Guitars soar and shimmer like sunlight on stone; keyboards ripple like waves across a mythic ocean; and through it all, Jane Duboc’s crystalline voice carries the listener like a spirit guide through realms of wonder and revelation.
What distinguishes Bacamarte from their European prog counterparts is their emotional clarity. Where others built labyrinths, Bacamarte built landscapes - vivid, breathing spaces where intellect meets intuition. There’s a sense of renewal here, as if the band were reclaiming the grand ambitions of the 1970s and infusing them with a distinctly Brazilian soul. The rhythms flow with a natural grace, the harmonies bloom with color, and the atmosphere feels both sacred and earthly.
The album’s title - After the End - feels prophetic. It suggests rebirth, art rising from ashes, beauty surviving the collapse of certainty. Listening to it today, one senses not a relic of a vanished genre, but a blueprint for transcendence. Bacamarte captured the timeless paradox of prog at its best: that the future lies not ahead of us, but within the depths of imagination.
Depois do Fim is more than a masterpiece of Brazilian progressive rock - it’s a reminder that even in endings, there are beginnings. It whispers that after every fall, music still finds a way to dream.
At its heart, Depois do Fim is an odyssey of contrasts - organic yet celestial, complex yet melodic, rooted in Brazil yet reaching toward the cosmos. The musicianship is impeccable, not as a display of virtuosity but as an act of devotion. Guitars soar and shimmer like sunlight on stone; keyboards ripple like waves across a mythic ocean; and through it all, Jane Duboc’s crystalline voice carries the listener like a spirit guide through realms of wonder and revelation.
What distinguishes Bacamarte from their European prog counterparts is their emotional clarity. Where others built labyrinths, Bacamarte built landscapes - vivid, breathing spaces where intellect meets intuition. There’s a sense of renewal here, as if the band were reclaiming the grand ambitions of the 1970s and infusing them with a distinctly Brazilian soul. The rhythms flow with a natural grace, the harmonies bloom with color, and the atmosphere feels both sacred and earthly.
The album’s title - After the End - feels prophetic. It suggests rebirth, art rising from ashes, beauty surviving the collapse of certainty. Listening to it today, one senses not a relic of a vanished genre, but a blueprint for transcendence. Bacamarte captured the timeless paradox of prog at its best: that the future lies not ahead of us, but within the depths of imagination.
Depois do Fim is more than a masterpiece of Brazilian progressive rock - it’s a reminder that even in endings, there are beginnings. It whispers that after every fall, music still finds a way to dream.
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My personal view:
Depois Do Fim is the first studio album by Brazilian prog rock band Bacamarte. Their sound is an attractive folk inspired symphonic prog, topped off by the beautiful voice of Jane Duboc, singing in Portuguese. The title song, the instrumental UFO, and the 10 minutes epic Último Entardecer are the prog highlights of this album, but the least prog song is actually one of the best: Pássaro de Luz, a short ballad gorgeously sung by Jane Duboc, supported on guitar by the band's leader Mario Neto. In my opinion this is a candidate for the title "the best prog album of the decade".