There’s something lurking in the backstreets of São Paulo - half ritual, half block party, a procession of spirits that groove as much as they haunt. "Ghost Parades", the first solo release from Guilherme Granado’s Goat Unity project, is a mischievous, shape-shifting ride through dub-drenched loops, cosmic jazz textures, and beats that slink through the shadows like a second-line funeral marching straight into deep space.

Granado, best known for his work with Hurtmold and São Paulo Underground (alongside Rob Mazurek and Mauricio Takara), has long been a bridge between jazz, electronic beats, and psychedelic experimentation. Here, he takes the raw energy of live improvisation and bends it into hypnotic loops, crafting a sound that’s both loose and locked-in, free-flowing yet undeniably groove-centric. Imagine Sun Ra conducting a late-night beat session with J Dilla, or the Wu-Tang Clan making a record in a São Paulo candomblé house, and you’re getting close.

The album moves unpredictably, each track feeling like a new corridor in some surreal sonic mansion. "Cinco e Dez" sets the mood with slinky rhythms and an off-kilter sense of melody that feels both ancient and futuristic. "Noon and You Are Still Asleep" stretches out into a slow-burning trance, weaving celestial synths and dubby basslines into a dream state. The title track, "The Ghost Parades", is a brief but potent interlude - an invocation, a whispered spell. Meanwhile, "Na Ladeira, No Calor" practically sweats with its humid, percussive drive, and "Ghost Parade Number 2" closes things out with a spectral bounce, like echoes of a street party that refuses to fade.

Granado’s ability to fuse organic instrumentation with electronic textures makes "Ghost Parades" feel alive - breathing, shifting, improvising even as it loops. It’s music that invites movement, but also deep listening. The ghosts here don’t just haunt; they dance, they hum, they pull you into their hypnotic, polyrhythmic wake.

It’s a record for night drives, for candle-lit rooms filled with drifting smoke, for moments when time folds in on itself and past and future swirl together like ink in water. Granado doesn’t just guide us through this procession - he’s right in the middle of it, playing ringmaster to a spectral, groove-laden delirium.