Miss Carriage by Vox Humana: A Retro Electro Gem from Brazil
Released in 1993, Miss Carriage is one of those albums that sneaks up on you. It’s not perfect—far from it—but there’s something about its raw energy and quirky charm that sticks. Hailing from Brazil and released under Solo Records, this electro-heavy project by Vox Humana feels like a time capsule of early '90s experimentation. With credits ranging from Carmen Jorge’s ethereal vocals to Carlos Senff’s punchy drum work, the album has an eclectic mix of talent behind it. And let’s not forget Interestelar Alex, who not only contributed to the cover art but also lent his voice to the madness.
The standout tracks? Let me break it down for ya.
First off, “How To Fly” hits differently. The track kicks in with these lush synth pads that feel like floating through clouds, while Fabiana Ferreira’s vocals add this dreamy layer that pulls you in deeper. You can tell they weren’t trying too hard to be polished here—it’s all about vibe over perfection. What makes it memorable isn’t just the melody; it’s how effortlessly it blends nostalgia with futurism. Like, imagine cruising down a neon-lit highway in some sci-fi movie that never got made. Yeah, it’s kinda like that.
Then there’s “The Space Traveller,” which leans harder into the electro genre. This one’s got grit. Paulo De Tarso’s keyboard work shines, giving the track a pulsating rhythm that almost feels alive. There’s a moment midway where everything drops out except for a lone synth line—it’s simple, sure, but man, does it hit. It’s the kind of song that could soundtrack your next existential crisis or late-night stargazing session. Either way, it works.
One thing worth noting is the production quality—or lack thereof, depending on how you look at it. Some might call it lo-fi charm; others might say it sounds dated. Personally? I think it adds character. It’s messy in the best possible way, like flipping through old VHS tapes and finding hidden treasures.
Now, here’s the kicker: as much as Miss Carriage channels futuristic themes, it’s deeply rooted in its time and place. Listening to it now feels like eavesdropping on a conversation between past and future—a reminder that even when we aim for the stars, we’re still tethered to our roots. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it. Who knows?
Final thought? If you stumble across this album in a dusty record shop or buried deep in Spotify’s algorithm, give it a spin. Just don’t expect perfection. Sometimes, imperfection is exactly what makes art unforgettable. Oh, and if anyone finds Interestelar Alex, tell him we need more covers like this one. That guy had vision.
