Banana Sassaricando: Virginia Lane’s Forgotten Carnival Gem
Alright, let’s get one thing straight—Virginia Lane’s Banana Sassaricando ain’t your average record. Released way back in ‘51 under Todamérica, this Brazilian bombshell is a wild ride through Marcha Carnavalesca chaos. And yeah, I said “chaos,” but that’s what makes it stick. It’s raw, unpolished, and dripping with the kind of energy you only find in the sweaty alleys of Rio during carnival season.
First up, the track “Banana.” Holy crap, does this tune slap. Right off the bat, Astor e Seu Conjunto come swinging like they’ve got something to prove. The rhythm hits hard—percussion so sharp it feels like someone just smacked you upside the head (but in a good way). That horn section? Insane. They don’t mess around; they’re here to make noise, and damn if it doesn’t work. You can almost smell the street food and feel the confetti flying as this song marches forward. It’s not perfect—it’s messy as hell—but that’s why you remember it. No studio magic, no auto-tune nonsense. Just pure, untamed swagger.
Then there’s “Sassaricando,” which might be my favorite cut on the album. This track’s got sass for days, living up to its name without even trying. The melody bounces around like it’s mocking you, daring you not to move your feet. Lane’s vocals are bold and brassy, cutting through the mix like she owns the place. Honestly, it’s impossible NOT to picture her strutting down some makeshift parade route, owning every inch of pavement beneath her heels. There’s a moment halfway through where the band goes nuts, throwing out these crazy syncopated beats that sound like they could fall apart at any second—but they never do. It’s thrilling, reckless, and completely unforgettable.
Now, let’s talk about how this whole thing feels like a time capsule from another era. Back then, music wasn’t about being polished or safe—it was about making people FEEL something. And trust me, Banana Sassaricando delivers. Sure, it’s old-school, and yeah, maybe some folks will call it dated. But screw ‘em. This album’s got guts, and that’s rare these days.
Here’s the kicker, though: listening to this record now feels kinda bittersweet. Like catching an old black-and-white movie late at night when everyone else is asleep. It reminds you that music used to be more than just playlists and algorithms—it was alive. Hell, maybe THAT’S why albums like this don’t exist anymore. Or maybe we’re all just too busy doomscrolling to notice.
Anyway, go dig up a copy if you can. Just don’t blame me when you can’t stop humming “Banana” for three days straight.
