I definitely could have included a few more albums that earned a B- or even B, but here I mostly focused on the 2022 releases that really merited a mention before I wrap the year up. (Sorry BK and Brisa Flow. You did good. Really.) That means it’s time to sit down and start thinking about how to rank these as well as work on my 2022 playlist. If I had quit in December when most people do their year-end lists, I would have missed two of the A- records below. Patience is a virtue.
André Abujamra, Amor – With 29 2022 releases totaling six hours and 43 minutes, longtime musician, comedian, etc., Abujamra has a work ethic that would put a Protestant to shame. A handful were singles. Most were EPs. Many seem to be soundtracks for works extant or in his mind. All of it’s pretty inconsistent despite enough material to make one great album. So we have to settle for this 26-minute art piece that melds rock sonics, samba, electronic influences and jokes where he maintains good across the whole thing. (But check his tracks on my 2022 playlist that would have shined on the album that never was.) Listen and, er, buy? here. Grade: B+
Akira Presidente, Boombapkilla and Omertá – From zero to, well hero would be a bit much. But Akira has gone from actively bad to consistently good. He doesn’t match the two (Fa7her and Nandi) that turned his career around here, and I’m suspecting he never will. But over these two EPs he rises above mere competence with more tales of street life. Production is the difference maker. Mad Gui goes for horror moods on Boombapkilla, while CHF aims for RZA’s Tical grime on Omertá. Of course one of those is easier to pull off than the other, so guess which works slightly better? Listen here. Grades: Boombapkilla, B; Omertá, B-
Anelis Assumpção, Sal – She’ll never equal dear old dad. In part because he’s some kind of genius, but also because she, like so many other Brazilian musicians, is making music in his wake so that her art’s cultural impact can only be heard through his. But not only does she refuse to coast on her cultural privilege, her efforts to master craft have continued to improve her output. Never has her funk-reggae-samba stew cooked so well. You can still identify the constituent parts, but, like a well-made dish, the flavors play together, not separately. On her fourth album, she teams with female collaborators (Josyara, Iara Rennó, Jadsa, Céu, among others) and token male or two, with husband Curumin being the prime exception. She covers her late sister. She honors her late father by doing her own thing that grows from his. She and her fellow singers ponder female existence in a Brazil where hope, for some, is growing anew. And “Clitórias” ends up being about something very different than you expect. Taurina might be a more consistent, smoother album, but with the dense funk here she’s never been better. Listen here. Grade: A-
Tim Bernardes, Mil Coisas Invisíveis – He’ll never be my thing, but both here on the last O Terno record, Bernardes has shown a level of skill I simply cannot deny. So if soft alt-MPB with shades of Glen Campbell is your thing, you might love this. Listen here. Grade: B
Brasileiro Garantido, Churros Recheado – Big, stoopid, fun. Producer Gabriel Guerra makes music as unsubtle and tasty as the foods he names his albums after. This confection is pure ’80s in sound without sounding hopelessly dated because when you pull off that big, stoopid, fun thing it’s as irresistible as junk food. Jerky beats. Vocal samples. Hooks. Who can say no? Listen and buy here. Grade: B
Alaíde Costa, O Que Meus Calos Dizem Sobre Mim – Easily one of the most acclaimed Brazilian albums of 2022, but I confess this one was a struggle. Costa’s recording career began in 1959 with an album rooted as much in the pre-bossa Brazilian pop as it was in the new trends, and the stateliness of that older style is very much present here. I removed it once from my listening list, but felt compelled to give it another shot by its repeated mention on year-end lists from Brazil, whereupon it came alive. Overseen by rapper Emicida and Marcus Preto, who rope in a who’s who of talents to write and play, the album’s a slow burn of unfolding melodies and rich arrangements, all of which support Costa’s remarkably undiminished voice that has a presence befitting an 86-year-old who need not prove anything to anyone. The slight roughness around the edges only adds mortality that fits the terrific title, “What My Calluses Say About Me”. (I haven’t been able to find lyrics, so I can only say reviews report they live up to the title.) Gorgeous and reflective. Never maudlin or nostalgic. This is music that tells you something about aging well. Listen here. Grade: A-
Leila Maria, Ubuntu – Three decades into a mainstream, upscale MPB career, Maria takes a left turn. Or, really, an eastward one toward Africa. With producer/drummer Guilherme Kastrup on board she recruits fellow Portuguese speakers from three continents to run through a bunch of Djavan songs that are more Afro than Brazilian, and she’s never been more engaging. Especially on the early songs ignited by Zola Star’s guitar, this music levitates while remaining funky. The star is Maria’s voice which centers everything, but what she surrounds it with lifts the whole fantastically. Listen here. Grade: B+
Lívia Mattos, Apneia – Circus performer turned accordionist, Mattos debuted with a solid, straightforward album in 2017, but on this sophomore set she explores how avant her instrument and songs can get. Lawrence Welk may have tamed the accordion for generations of Americans, but Latin musicians have long displayed how wild and percussive the instrument can be. Mattos decides to push that even further if she can. (Spoiler alert: she can.) Merging rhythm and melody, Mattos moans and pounds and wheezes and slams as she switches from raucous to haunting and back. Like Alessandra Leão, with whom she collaborates on one song here, Mattos draws deeply from tradition only to transmute it into something else. Call it forró-futurism. What she’s done less well is create an album qua album. The amazing parts don’t quite cohere into a fully compelling whole. Track running order isn’t optimized. The reprises/vignettes should have been excised. (I’d go 1-2-7-8-11-9-6-4-3 for a better package.) But what’s good is so good—title track is song of the year—that I’ve learned mostly to hear past those problems. Definitely an artist to watch. Listen here. Grade: B
Isadora Melo, Anagrama – Singer/actress from Pernambuco, Melo’s second album pushes beyond the traditionalism of her earlier music. Incorporating the more angular sounds of alt-samba, she adds edge to several of her songs that makes the most of the rhythms and arrangements. When she slows it down on the last two, she falls back toward ordinary. But the start is really strong. Listen here. Grade: B
Fabiano do Nascimento, Rio Bonito – Nascimento has maintained a steady output of good work since his terrific debut, but mostly he’s just reworked his ideas rather than push forward. Here he does the latter. Working with longtime Hermeto Pascoal collaborator Itiberê Zwarg, Nascimento’s guitar still holds the center, but it’s surrounded by sounds that do more than provide background. The string arrangements (Rogério Duprat with a dash of Bernard Hermann), in particular, add a depth and color not on his earlier albums. Only two of the ten tracks go past three minutes (and they are the weakest tracks), so you get stunning miniatures where Nascimento and the band explore an idea or melody and then move on. Listen and buy here. Grade: B+
Russo Passapusso, Antônio Carlos & Jocáfi, Alto de Maravilha – BaianaSystem frontman takes a break from his main gig with the famous ’70s duo. You notice the missing musical articulation his regular bandmates bring, and however much he idolizes the duo, listen to their EP from last year and realize he’s doing them the favor. But Passapusso is on some kind of roll, and Carlos and Jocáfi sound thrilled to be invited along. The sound is lighter, more playful than his norm, and the fun fits the mood of a Brazil lifting out of semi-fascist darkness. Plus, with or without BaianaSystem, he knows how to get funky, and on “Pitanga” and “Ponta Pólen”, you might just wonder how much he needs them. Listen here. Grade: B+
Planet Hemp, Jardineiros – Twenty-two years after their last album, Brazil’s famous rap-rockers, who have reunited periodically since breaking up in 2001, release new material. Marcelo D2 and BNegão are joined by longtime members Formigão and Pedro Garcia (but not Black Alien who only does a guest appearance). Political sloganeering and pro-pot discourse abound as it did the first time around. But the big difference is the recordings just sound better. Like a lot of late ’90s rap-rock, the early stuff sounds thin. With two decades of record-making experience, they come back and make maybe the best album of their career, certainly the best sounding one. Which means even if the music is a bit dated they mostly get away with it because they are smarter about how they make music now. Who says pot addles the mind? Listen here. Grade: B
Dulce Quental, Sob o Signo do Amor – Longtime, savvy opportunist allies with hot young commodities Jonas and Pedro Sá to take yet another career turn. Good thing the key word in that first sentence is “savvy”. Nothing here rises to the best of the young crowd making beautiful noises on the Rio scene, but Quental, once again, acquits herself well as she rides trends where contemporaries might be happy coasting. Listen here. Grade: B-
Rachel Reis, Meu Esquema – Debut album from Bahian singer. Reis is a straightforward vocalist. Without falling into anonymity she gets the job done. What pushes this album over the top is the songs/music. Northeasterner that she is, the rhythms are dense. Bahian that she is, they are also light and fluid. Everything may not be a drum, but most of the instruments pretend they are as everything sinuously flows. She’s also pop enough to keep things short and sweet. Only three songs pass the three-minute mark, which means even as everything is upbeat, bright and open, there’s an intensity that charges almost every song. Listen here. Grade: A-
Victória dos Santos, Lata Orí – Singer/percussionist from São Paulo. Has worked with Rodrigo Campos, Ava Rocha, Ana Frango Elétrico and Aláfia. I can find barely anything about her online. But the album says plenty. Modernist Afro-Brazilian excursions with deep polyrhythms over which her voice glides. Wish I knew more, but my ears don’t mind the ignorance at all. Listen here. Grade: B+
Celso Sim, O Herói das Estrelas & a Anja Astronauta – Packing up and disappearing to Portugal after 2017’s excellent O Amor Entrou Como um Raio, Sim went quiet for five years. Here he returns in a Brazilian rock mode with a sound closer to David Byrne (if Byrne had a natural feel for Brazilian musics) than the majestic classicism of the previous album. He’s still nerdy and arty, and this time he adds funky, so he’s all the things that make this peripatetic artist endearing. He just does his thing until he decides to wander somewhere else geographically or artistically. Listen here. Grade: B+
Celso Sim and João Camarero, Divina Dádiva Dívida – On his second release of the year, Sim teams with guitarist Camarero for a voice/acoustic guitar tribute to Elizabeth Cardoso. Released on national samba day in Brazil, the 16 tracks present quieter, more delicate versions of the showier tunes Cardoso recorded herself. Sim’s precise singing style doesn’t even match Cardoso well. But the tribute album tradition is about connecting present generations of musicians with Brazil’s past, not mimicking them, and Sim and Camarero do that well. Sometimes Camarero’s guitarwork gets too busy or Sim a shade too precious in his singing, but mostly they turn in a lovely, understated samba record. Listen here. Grade: B+
Various Artists, Benito 80: Novo Samba Sempre Novo – Tribute albums are as common in Brazil as remixes are in hip hop, and like remixes it’s often easier to focus on the appeal of the original, but this celebration of Benito di Paulo in his 80th year stands out. Organized by son Rodrigo Vellozo and Romulo Fróes, the album brings together talents across several generations of Brazilian musicians to celebrate and reinterpret Paulo. I confess, I barely know the original stuff, but the re-presentation here charges my ears in a way Paulo—prone to over-emoting and the schlocky arrangements that haunted ’80s MPB—does not. Clearing away those excesses of the era, you are left with good songs. Vellozo and Fróes provide a coherence of vision that brings the disparate talents together. If my ears are right, they’ve also enlisted several of Fróes’ Clube da Encruza collaborators who help keep a consistent instrumental tone across the album as well. A child doing Dad right on his 80th? That’s a pretty great birthday gift. Listen here. Grade: A-
Brazil Beat 