Excerpt from article by Vanessa Rato (Jornal Público, June 2004) It was 1982 in Los Angeles, three high school classmates in their teens were trying their hand at a minor specialty of petty crime: Dine 'n' Dash.They started by chance. One day, after a particularly long surfing session, they ended up eating together at a Chinese buffet where, in the end, no one seemed interested in receiving the bill. Twenty minutes later, they decided to leave without paying. Unexpectedly, no one followed them.
It could have been the beginning of a spiral toward the abyss of a juvenile detention center. And indeed it was, but only for one of them. Turns out, that would be another story. The point: three weeks after the Chinese buffet, always shaking sand from their feet and with water roaring in their ears, the group was repeating the feat of eating out for free daily and with honed technique. Until, at Bob's Big Boy, they crossed paths with a girl named "Rita." On the run. It's not easy to escape a waitress who's a former long-distance runner, especially when she's the kind of woman a teenager would actually prefer to be caught by—for the one whose trail is important here, it was the end of a career in crime, but, in compensation, the beginning of a love-until-something-does-us-part story and a step toward a career in the arts.More than two decades have passed. It's with this snapshot of memory (in the first person and with plenty of what the British would call "guillotine humor") that "Recorded in Rio" begins, the fourth album by Ithaka (Ithaka Darin Pappas)—15 tracks of old-school hip-hop with forays into soul and an all-flavor mix of electro, blues, jazz, reggae, and Latin ambiances (Brazil and also Mexico) with a soundtrack echoing spoken word. Apparently, there's nothing to hide—it's the motto "live it, write it, rap it": "The artists I admire aren't even, perhaps, the ones with the best results. I'm interested in the process, so I like people who aren't afraid to expose themselves. The average person is so afraid to show themselves that we can know them for years without really knowing who they are," says "Fish Daddy" Ithaka Darin Pappas himself.To illustrate the idea, he doesn't give an example, he mentions a true idol: "Look at Bukowski. You might think: that's shit! But it's his shit. It's absolutely honest work. That's the most important thing." (Absolutely reliable aside: in 1996 someone gave the writer's widow the song "Umbilibus" from the album "Flowers and the Color of Paint"; she liked it so much that when she learned Ithaka was a fan, she sent him a package with several books and a precious blue shirt still covered in wine stains - he never washed it, "so as not to lose his soul" and still wears it from time to time). in Portugal. It's 9:45 a.m. in mainland Portugal, eight hours earlier in California, meaning 2:45 a.m.—late for those who wake up at 7 a.m. to catch the empty beaches and the best waves. But that's not why, on the other end of the line, Ithaka drawls and slurs his words. He speaks like this, inwardly, as if mulling over what he's saying, with a coolness tempered by West Hollywood, Korea Town, the beaches of South Bay, and basically any hidden corner of the planet that comes to mind.The term "globe-trotter" would be a good shortcut to describe his global wanderings, if it weren't for the fact that it suits him so poorly. Because, unlike those who allow themselves to be catapulted from place to place, with self-propelled engines on the verge of implosion, Ithaka likes to linger in the places he passes through. That's how he ended up staying in Lisbon for almost six years. For those who have forgotten: he arrived in 1992 and left only in 1998. In between, he released two albums, "Flowers and the Color of Paint" (1995) and "Stellafly" (1997), considered by some to be "the most powerful and consistent" national recordings of those years. Musically, among many other collaborations, he is also the lyricist & vocalist of the highly internationalized "So Get Up". Track List: 0:01 - Same Room Blues 1:49 - Dine n Dash 5:39 - Who's Your Daddy? 9:14 - The Bus Song 2004 (feat. BNegão) 13:44 - Technically A Failure 18:09 - Who's The Enemy? (feat. Gabriel O Pensador) 23:16 - Work Related 26:46 - I Ride (Original Mix) 31:34 - Marta De La Vallarta 35:58 - Brother Barstow 38:46 - Like A Bottle Of Baccardi 42:50 - Muerto Escondido (feat. Thalma de Freitas) 47:44 - Stingray Shuffle 49:59 - Sleeping In The Shade 54:59 - In Portugal (feat. Thalma de Freitas)
Trecho do artigo "Agora Recorded In Rio"
Vanessa Rato (Jornal Público, Junho 2004) __________________________________________________ Estava-se em 1982. Entretanto, em Los Angeles, três colegas de liceu em plena adolescência testavam a mão numa especialidade menor do pequeno crime, o "Dine'n'Dash". Começaram por acaso. Um dia, depois de uma sessão particularmente longa de "surf", acabaram a comer juntos num "buffet" chinês onde, no fim, ninguém parecia interessado em receber a conta. Vinte minutos de espera mais tarde, a opção foi sair sem pagar. Inesperadamente, ninguém os seguiu. Poderia ter sido o princípio de uma espiral em direcção ao abismo de uma casa de correcção juvenil. E na verdade foi, mas apenas para um deles. Acontece que isso seria outra história. O que interessa: três semanas depois do "buffet" chinês, sempre a sacudir areia dos pés e com água a estalar nos ouvidos, o grupo estava a repetir a proeza de almoçar fora de graça a ritmo diário e com técnica apurada. Até que no Bob's Big Boy se cruzaram com uma rapariga chamada "Rita". em fuga. Não é fácil escapar a uma empregada de mesa que é ex-corredora de fundo, sobretudo quando ela é do tipo de mulher por quem, na verdade, um adolescente prefere mesmo deixar-se apanhar - para aquele a quem importa aqui seguir o rasto, foi o fim de uma carreira no crime, mas, em compensação, o princípio de uma história de amor-até-que-qualquer-coisa-nos-separe e um passo na direcção de um percurso nas artes. Passaram-se mais de duas décadas. É com este recorte de memória (na primeira pessoa e com muito daquilo a que os britânicos chamariam "humor de guilhotina") que arranca "Recorded in Rio", o quarto álbum do Ithaka (Ithaka Darin Pappas) - 15 faixas de hip-hop "old school" com incursões pela soul e um "todos-sabores" electro, blues, jazz, reggae e ambiências latinas (Brasil em fantasma, mas também México) com eco de banda sonora sobre "spoken word". Aparentemente, não há nada a esconder - é o lema "live it, write it, rap it": "Os artistas que eu admiro não são sequer, se calhar, os que têm melhores resultados. Interessam-me os processos, por isso gosto de pessoas que não têm medo de se expor. A pessoa média tem tanto medo de se mostrar que a podemos conhecer durante anos sem realmente saber quem é", diz o próprio "Fish Daddy" Ithaka Darin Pappas. Para ilustrar a ideia, não dá um exemplo, faz menção a um verdadeiro ídolo: "Veja-se o Bukowski. Pode-se pensar: é uma merda! Mas é a merda dele. É um trabalho absolutamente honesto. Isso é o mais importante." (Aparte absolutamente fiável: em 1996 alguém deu a ouvir o tema "Umbilibus" de "Flowers and the Color of Paint" à viúva do escritor; ela gostou tanto que ao saber que Ithaka era um fã lhe mandou um pacote com vários livros e uma preciosa camisa azul ainda cheia de nódoas de vinho - ele nunca a lavou, "para não perder a alma" e continua a vesti-la de vez em quando). in Portugal. São 9h45 em Portugal continental, oito horas menos na California, ou seja, 2h45 - tarde para quem acorda às 7h para apanhar as praias vazias e as melhores ondas. Mas não é por isso que, do outro lado da linha, Ithaka arrasta a voz e enrola as palavras. Ele fala assim, para dentro, como quem rumina o que diz, numa "coolness" temperada entre West Hollywood, Korea Town, as praias de South Bay e, basicamente, qualquer canto recôndito do planeta que venha à memória. O termo "globe-trotter" seria um bom atalho para falar das suas deambulações mundiais, não fosse dar-se o caso de lhe ficar tão mal. É que, contrariamente àqueles que se deixam catapultar de lugar em lugar, com motor de auto-propulsão à beira da implosão, Pappas gosta de se demorar nos sítios por onde passa. Foi assim que acabou por ficar por Lisboa quase seis anos. Para os mais esquecidos: a chegada foi em 1992 e a partida só em 98, pelo meio ficaram dois álbuns, "Flowers and the Color of Paint" (1995) e "Stellafly" (97), considerado por alguns como "o mais poderoso e consistente" registo nacional desse ano. Em termos musicais, entre muitas outras colaborações, ficou ainda a letra e vocalista do internacionalizadíssimo "So Get Up" para os USL.
Excerpt from article by Vanessa Rato (Público, June 2004) It was 1982 in Los Angeles, three high school classmates in their teens were trying their hand at a minor specialty of petty crime: Dine 'n' Dash.They started by chance. One day, after a particularly long surfing session, they ended up eating together at a Chinese buffet where, in the end, no one seemed interested in receiving the bill. Twenty minutes later, they decided to leave without paying. Unexpectedly, no one followed them.
It could have been the beginning of a spiral toward the abyss of a juvenile detention center. And indeed it was, but only for one of them. Turns out, that would be another story. The point: three weeks after the Chinese buffet, always shaking sand from their feet and with water roaring in their ears, the group was repeating the feat of eating out for free daily and with honed technique. Until, at Bob's Big Boy, they crossed paths with a girl named "Rita." On the run. It's not easy to escape a waitress who's a former long-distance runner, especially when she's the kind of woman a teenager would actually prefer to be caught by—for the one whose trail is important here, it was the end of a career in crime, but, in compensation, the beginning of a love-until-something-does-us-part story and a step toward a career in the arts.More than two decades have passed. It's with this snapshot of memory (in the first person and with plenty of what the British would call "guillotine humor") that "Recorded in Rio" begins, the fourth album by Ithaka (Ithaka Darin Pappas)—15 tracks of old-school hip-hop with forays into soul and an all-flavor mix of electro, blues, jazz, reggae, and Latin ambiances (Brazil and also Mexico) with a soundtrack echoing spoken word. Apparently, there's nothing to hide—it's the motto "live it, write it, rap it": "The artists I admire aren't even, perhaps, the ones with the best results. I'm interested in the process, so I like people who aren't afraid to expose themselves. The average person is so afraid to show themselves that we can know them for years without really knowing who they are," says "Fish Daddy" Ithaka Darin Pappas himself.To illustrate the idea, he doesn't give an example, he mentions a true idol: "Look at Bukowski. You might think: that's shit! But it's his shit. It's absolutely honest work. That's the most important thing." (Absolutely reliable aside: in 1996 someone gave the writer's widow the song "Umbilibus" from the album "Flowers and the Color of Paint"; she liked it so much that when she learned Ithaka was a fan, she sent him a package with several books and a precious blue shirt still covered in wine stains - he never washed it, "so as not to lose his soul" and still wears it from time to time). in Portugal. It's 9:45 a.m. in mainland Portugal, eight hours earlier in California, meaning 2:45 a.m.—late for those who wake up at 7 a.m. to catch the empty beaches and the best waves. But that's not why, on the other end of the line, Ithaka drawls and slurs his words. He speaks like this, inwardly, as if mulling over what he's saying, with a coolness tempered by West Hollywood, Korea Town, the beaches of South Bay, and basically any hidden corner of the planet that comes to mind.The term "globe-trotter" would be a good shortcut to describe his global wanderings, if it weren't for the fact that it suits him so poorly. Because, unlike those who allow themselves to be catapulted from place to place, with self-propelled engines on the verge of implosion, Ithaka likes to linger in the places he passes through. That's how he ended up staying in Lisbon for almost six years. For those who have forgotten: he arrived in 1992 and left only in 1998. In between, he released two albums, "Flowers and the Color of Paint" (1995) and "Stellafly" (1997), considered by some to be "the most powerful and consistent" national recordings of those years. Musically, among many other collaborations, he is also the lyricist & vocalist of the highly internationalized "So Get Up". 
