A Beginner’s Guide to Brazilian Music: Current Albums

Quarantine, voluntary or otherwise, offers a time to find new adventures in confined spaces. I offered some suggestions on exploring Brazilian music through classic albums here, but this blog is mainly devoted to newer stuff, so of course I’m going to make suggestions there, too. Where the classic albums were pretty obvious, this list is more idiosyncratic because current music isn’t canonical (yet), plus I actually know it better than the classic stuff and feel freer to range off the beaten path. That I limited it to only three Clube da Encruza related albums is a testament to my willpower. So ten current albums in historical order (and, yes, I really should have a Sepultura album, but I don’t know them well enough to pick):

Suba, São Paulo Confessions (1999) – Mitar Subotic was Serbian ex-pat who became a producing phenom in Brazil where he merged his adopted homeland’s musics with international dance trends. Those dance music trends sound somewhat dated here on his final album, but it’s still an intoxicating mix of old and new, as well as a harbinger of the international community rediscovering Brazilian music this millennium. Tragically he died a few days after the release of this album when his studio caught fire and he tried to rescue recordings before they were destroyed. If you like try: Bebel Gilberto, Tanto Tempo; Smoke City, Flying Away, Céu, Céu.

Tribalistas, Tribalistas (2002)– The rare supergroup that works, Tribalistas brought together the talents of Marisa Monte, Carlinhos Brown and Arnaldo Antunes. As wonderful as the last two are, the real star is Monte, who might be the finest Brazilian musician since the country’s ’60s/’70s heyday. Light and playful in the best Brazilian tradition, strong melodies are swept along by mellifluous percussion that grounds music that threatens to float away. At the center is Monte’s clear, seductive voice oozing smarts and warmth. Tops is “Já Sei Namorar”, which is in the competition for the best song of the ’00s. As in worldwide, not just Brazil. If you like try: Tribalistas, Tribalistas (2017); Marisa Monte, Verde, Anil, Amarelo, Cor de Rosa e Carvão (called Rose and Charcoal in English-language markets), Marisa Monte, Barulhinho Bom.

DonaZica, Composição (2003) – Formed by Anelis Assumpção (daughter of Itamar), Iara Rennó (daughter of Carlos Rennó and Alzira Espíndola) and Andreia Dias (daughter of overly strict evangelical Christians), DonaZica was an all too brief blazing glory of Brazilian music. Their debut is a riot of pleasure, confidence and fun, with dense, ear-tickling arrangements and playful, tag-team vocals as they decorate samba with all kinds of modern touches. All three women went on to notable solo careers, while many of the instrumentalists—notably guitarist Gustavo Ruiz in his work with his sister Tulipa—made a mark, too. One of the best four or five Brazilian albums I’ve heard this millennium. If you like try: Iara Rennó, Macunaíma Ópera Tupi; Anelis Assumpção, Taurina.

Karol Conká, Batuk Freak (2013) – As with rock music, hip hop was not a natural graft onto Brazilian styles, but a culture as deeply musical as Brazil did figure out how to cannibalize it for domestic use. Frenetic and funky, Nave’s production provides an ideal environment for Conká’s charismatic rapping. His harsh samples and sounds create the kind of deep dive your ears can get lost in as hooks, bleeps and blaps are pushed to the point of annoyance without actually getting there. Yet the dazzling production never overwhelms Conká, who remains the star. If you like try: Lurdez da Luz, Gano Pelo Bang; Black Alien, O Ano do Macaco – Babylon by Gus, Vol. 1.

Elza Soares, A Mulher do Fim do Mundo (2015) – A famed MPB singer with a made-for-dramatization biography, Soares had basically been retired for a decade before the then-septuagenarian made this shocking, brilliant comeback album. Teaming with São Paulo’s Clube da Encruza collective (see the next two entries), she released this striking avant-samba album unlike anything in her more commercially friendly catalog. Combining punky metallic guitar with carnival rhythms run through a blender, the music abrades and cleanses, while Soares’ voice, its technical virtuosity worn down by age, gasps, yelps and groans with life. If you like try: Elza Soares, Deus é Mulher; Juçara Marçal, Encarnado.

Romulo Fróes, Rei Vadio: A Canções de Nelson Cavaquinho (2016) – Connecting past with present is how a tradition stays alive, and tribute albums are a key way Brazilian musicians both honor the past while not being trapped by it. But few of such albums both honor and reinvent with the chutzpah of this triumph. Fróes, as one of the leaders of the Clube da Encruza collective, had been revitalizing samba for more than a decade. Like his compatriots, he loved Brazil’s traditions, but knew the world had changed. No gentle, lounge-worthy performances for him. Samba was music of the poor, the dispossessed, the street. Samba was a means of transgression as surely as the odd sounds of free jazz or punk guitar distortions that he tinged his music with. Back-to-back Fróes’ versions with Cavaquinho’s and the genius of both shines through. Fróes doesn’t just cover them, but deconstructs and reworks to show their continued vitality. A monumental record, as daring and successful as anything I put on that classic album list. If you like try: Romulo Fróes, Barulho Feio; Romulo Fróes & César Lacerda, O Meu Nome É Qualquer Um; Rodrigo Campos, Bahia Fantástica.

Metá Metá, MM3 (2016) – Kiko Dinucci, Thiago França and Juçara Marçal, with crucial support from Marcelo Cabral and Sérgio Machado, work up some of the finest racket in Brazilian music. Dinucci’s punk-metal samba guitar, França’s wailing sax, Marçal’s moaning roar atop Cabral’s and Machado’s rumbling rhythms steamrolls the listener. Over three superb albums, a solid live set and a pretty damn good dance score, Metá Metá has carved out a path combining rock energy with samba and Afro-Brazilian styles that has little parallel (or at least successful parallel) in Brazilian music. Where so much manguebit was stiff and conservative, Metá Metá is fluid and dynamic. On their most adventurous album, Dinucci paints the background with waves of distorted riffs while França and Marçal hold center stage and the rhythm section propels everything along. If you like try: Metá Metá, Metá Metá; Metá Metá, Metal Metal; Kiko Dinucci, Cortes Curtos; Passo Torto, Thiago França.

Carne Doce, Tônus (2018) – Brazil has certainly figured out rock better than America figured out samba, but that doesn’t mean the country’s musical culture has produced much that rivals the anglophone world’s output. Much Brazilian rock that I’ve heard tends to fall into the competent more than the inspired, but Goiânia’s Carne Doce is a definite exception. Drawing upon classic rock’s chops approach, the band works up a ferocious if smartly subtle virtuosity that shows off their instrumental prowess without ignoring the songs. Indeed, over three albums, the songwriting just gets better as the chops are even more smartly deployed to get the tunes across. As they get quieter with each album, their music smolders more, and vocalist Salma Jô matures into a pretty ace singer. While sounding nothing like them, the band reminds me of classic Fleetwood Mac in their ability to mix instrumental dexterity with quality songwriting. If you like try: Carne Doce, Princesa.

Dona Onete, Flor da Lua (2018) – Upon retirement from an academic career, Onete pursued her first love—singing—that her first husband had forbidden her from taking up. A regular gig at a local club turned into a recording deal, in which the septuagenarian adapted regional carimbó styles (from Northern Brazil) by spicing up the normally staid lyrics with love and lust. This live set draws from her first two albums and lets her soak up the adoration of an enthusiastic crowd as a crack band livens up the already lively arrangements. She’s having a blast. You will, too. If you like, try: Feitiço Caboclo, Banzeiro.

Baco Exu do Blues, Bluesman (2018) – This Bahian rapper emerged seemingly from nowhere—he had been around a few years—to produce the titanic Esú only to follow it up a year later with this even better album. Baco is one of the few Brazilian artists where not knowing Portuguese really frustrates, because even with lousy browser translation, his brilliance shines through as he wrestles with black identity in a nation whose racist legacy rivals the United States. But even as the full impact of the words evade, the music, developed with a host of producers, gets across, and his volcanic flow—explosive and liquid—pours out emotion that can’t be trapped behind a language barrier. Drawing deeply on Brazilian musics, he fashions a hip hop that sounds of its place rather than an import from abroad. If you like try: Baco Exu do Blues, Esú; Baco Exu do Blues, Não tem Bacanal na Quarentena; Leo Gandelman ft. Baco Exu do Blues, Hip Hop Machine #6.

Favorite Brazilian and Latin Albums of 2019

As much as a pain as it felt at the time, I preferred it when year-end lists didn’t print until February or March. Gave you time to suss through late-year releases and hear meditate a bit before compiling your own list. These days publications are putting out lists before a year even ends. So, although the new cycle has left 2019 behind, I’m finally ready to put out a list of what I liked most last year. And, hey, it’s my 100th post. So that’s fun.

My two favorite Brazilian albums on the list below are actually 2018 releases. So, yeah, it was a down year.  What’s more, there’s not a single full A, much less A+, record in the bunch. But that’s not to say these are not great, or at least pretty great, records. If nothing sounded ear-shattering or life-altering, well I feel lucky to get one or two of those from worldwide in any year.* So I’ll happily make do with the thoroughly enjoyable pleasures of Brazilian albums that have held up to dozens of listens each, many of which didn’t just make good sounds, but upped the political content for dangerous times in a homeland under rightwing siege.

Plus, it might be the most sonically diverse list I’ve assembled: hip hop, jazz rap, northeast meets central Africa, Krautrock revivalism, neo-samba, alt-rock. Three years into this project I continue to be surprised how deep and varied Brazil’s musical culture is, and how much American and Western engagement just nips the tip of the iceberg.

There is one notable gap, however. For the first time since 2010, not a single Clube da Encruza record made my year-end top ten. Douglas Germano is something of an affiliate member, but it’s not quite the same. It wasn’t because of bad product, but rather a lack of options: the Clube members and their side projects were quiet in the studio even as they maintained relentless touring schedules. I would have loved to see that Metá Metá/Passo Torto show, or Romulo Fróes tour interpreting Caetano Veloso’s Transa. But I don’t live in Brazil. The good news is, spoiler alert, one of them has already released a fine album this year.

And Latin music? I had plans of deeper engagement this past year, but life upsets plans, so I didn’t dig in as much as I wanted to. I still found several 2019 albums that made my ears perk up, so I’ll do a list there, too. As usual, I tend to feel the Brazilian stuff more because I devote so much more time to it, but for a change of pace, these albums more than merely serve the purpose. (I haven’t reviewed the Rodrigo y Gabriela one yet. Consider that a preview of coming attractions.)

*If you are interested, those two albums this year were James Brandon Lewis’ An Unruly Manifesto—my favorite jazz album of the decade—and Billy Woods’ and Kenny Segal’s Hiding Places, where creepy ssounds and lyrical detail keep drawing me in further. Billie Eilish wasn’t far behind. Don’t underestimate her.

Favorite Brazilian Albums 2019

1. Dona Onete, Flor da Lua (2018) (A-)
2. Ana Frango Eletríco, Mormaço Qeuima (2018) (A-)
3. Douglas Germano, Escumalha (A-)
4. BaianaSystem, O Futuro Não Demora (A-)
5. Rincon Sapiência, Mundo Manicongo: Dramas, Danças e Afroreps (A-)
6. Ana Frango Eletríco, Little Electric Chicken Heart (A-)
7. Karina Buhr, Desmanche (A-)
8. Leo Gandelman & Baco Exu do Blues, Hip Hop Machine Series #6 (A-)
9. Ema Stoned, Yantra and Makoto Kawabata, Phenomena (A-)
10. Siba, Coruja Muda (B+)

Honorable Mentions (alphabetical):

• Akira Presidente, Nandi (B+)
• DEAFKIDS, Metaprogamação (B+)
• Leo Gandleman & BNegão, Hip Hop Machine Series #7 (B+)
• MC Tha, Rito de Passé (B+)
• Dona Onete, Rebujo (B+)
• Juliana Perdigão, Folhuda (B+)
• Thiago Pethit, Mal dos Trópicos (Queda & Ascenção de Orfeu da Consolação) (B+)
• Tássia Reis, Próspera (B+)
  
• Tribalistas, Tribalistas Ao Vivo (B+)

If I included compilations, two fine, recent ones that would make the list are Levanta Poeira: Afro-Brazilian Music & Rhythms 1976-2016 in the top ten and Jambú (E Os Míticos Sons da Amazônia), in the honorable mentions.

Favorite Latin Albums 2018

1. iLe, Almadura (A-)
2. Los Wembler’s de Iquitos, Vision del Ayahuasca (A-)
3. La Yegros, Suelta (A-)
4. Daymé Arocena, Sonocardiogram (A-)
5. Las Yumbeñas, Yumbotopía (A-)
6. Rodrigo y Gabriela, Mettavolution (A-)
7. Yapunto, Yapunto (B+)
8. Fumaça Preta, Pepas (B+)
9. Femina, Perlas & Conchas (B+)
10. Nicola Cruz, Siku (B+)

Honorable Mentions (alphabetical):

• Canalón de Timbiquí, De Mar y Río (B+)
• Newen Afrobeat, Curiche (B+)

Oh, and I’m not quite done with the year yet. Expect something 2019 related around March 1.

Favorite “But This List Goes to 11” Brazilian Artists of the 2010s

Truth be told, I only got into the game about two thirds of the way through the decade. Elza Soares’ A Mulher do Fim do Mundo and Fabiano do Nascimento’s Dança dos Tempos made a splash stateside in 2015-2016. Jason Gubbels’ review of Romulo Fróes’ Por Elas Sem Elas sent me down an algorithmed rabbit hole and turned my ears southward for the rest of the decade as I discovered a ferment in Brazilian music as potent as it was in the late ‘60s/early ‘70s. Some 500 reviews later—most of them from this decade—I don’t regret the ear time devoted there. I haven’t been as excited or broadly engaged in new music since probably the early ‘90s.

Below is the first of three summarizing projects I’ll do before decade’s end. These are the artists whose work has powered Brazilian music and tickled my ears.

1. Clube da Encruza – The plan was to include them separately. They—Metá Metá, Romulo Fróes, Rodrigo Campos—have done enough to earn their own to earn separate slots on this list. Heck, after practically flipping a coin to settle it, I had Fróes first and Metá Metá second on the draft. (Campos was sixth.) But as I wrote the entries, I kept cross referencing. Praising one meant including the others. Loose though this collective is—looser than the Mekons or P-Funk—it’s still a unit of some kind. Where would I put those Passo Torto collaborations if I separated the entries? How could I squeeze Marcelo Cabral’s critical background contributions in? Together and separately, Fróes, Campos, Cabral, Kiko Dinucci, Juçara Marçal, Thiago França and Sérgio Machado have made some of the finest music on the planet this decade. They’ve made the definitive Brazilian music of the decade in my opinion. The vast scope of their work—I count 52 (!) releases plus at least 27 significant contributions to recordings outside the collective—guarantees them a page in the history of Brazilian music in the ’10s, but the quality in the midst of that quantity is the truly astounding achievement. Contrary to some narratives, Brazilian music didn’t dry up after the mid-70s. But it’s also true that I haven’t heard an overall energy in Brazilian music this intoxicating since that time. It’s impossible to imagine summing up Brazil’s musical 2010s without giving the bulk of attention to the Clube.

From Fróes’ despairing arty sambas to Campos’ slick, twisted funky ones to Meta Meta’s explosive Afro-Brazilian punky ones, the collective drew inspiration from Oswald Andrade’s cultural cannibalism to make some of the most compelling Brazilian music since the tropicálistas drew from the same well of “antropofagia”. Their radicalized regurgitation of DIY’s arty anarchism within Brazilian musics looked backward and forward simultaneously as they demonstrated that samba and its cousins still had a place in a living musical culture. Neither retro nor cut off from the past, the Clube imagined how a century’s worth of recorded musical traditions could be reheard in a world where Elvis Presley and James Brown and the Velvet Underground and Ornette Coleman had reworked expectations. Not that the Clube sounded like any of those, but they lived in a Brazil, a world, where those American influences couldn’t be ignored. So they paid attention while remembering Nelson Cavaquinho, Cartola, Itamar Assumpção, Elza Soares and a host of their Brazilian predecessors. Soares is particularly instructive because their work with her has added a brilliant coda to an already legendary career. Soares wasn’t the only artist drawn into their orbit: Juliana Perdigão, Jards Macale, Lurdez da Luz, Criolo, Alessandra Leão, and others have made notable albums in league with at least some of the Clube members.

All of which was done while receiving little attention outside Brazil. Some English language coverage of Soares—notably Sounds and Colours—gave the Clube and samba sujo (dirty samba) its due, but elsewhere they were rarely acknowledged or noted as mere sidekicks for some of the artists they collaborated with. Even in Brazil they remained somewhat marginal figures outside of critical and artistic circles. Metá Metá’s monthly streams on Spotify edged past 80,000 as the decade ended, but Campos remained stuck around 20,000 while Fróes was down around 7,000. Yet pay attention to who follows them on Twitter and it’s a who’s who of Brazilian music and music journalism. Track down year-end lists from Brazilian music critics, and their albums keep appearing. To explain VU’s impact on popular music, Brian Eno claimed that while only 10,000 people bought The Velvet Underground and Nico, they all went on to form bands. Perhaps something similar is the case here.

Already the productions and guest appearances Clube members make across Brazilian music demonstrate their impact. Without their collaborations, Brazilian music would have sounded very different this decade. The Clube aren’t the only heroes of Brazilian music in the ‘10s, but they sit at the center of a scene that made São Paulo and its musicians as interesting as swinging London or ‘70s NYC punk. Which is why I can’t separate them into their distinct recording units in the end. Fróes, Campos, Dinucci, Marçal, França, Cabral, Machado, Metá Metá, Passo Torto, Sambanzo, A Espetacular Charanga do França, MarginalS, and all the other spinoffs are a collective movement and moment worth noting in a time when niche marketing and philosophical preferences have made monocultures and metanarratives passe. The Clube reminds us that scenes can bind together and create futures for cultures even in an age when capitalism’s radical individualism pushes us to be islands of consumption unto ourselves. No contemporary music I heard this decade anywhere compelled me to dig deeper. In a way, this blog is a love letter to the Clube and the musical culture it’s inspired this decade. So I guess this entry and their ranking in this list is just my way of saying thanks for all the music.

Five fab tracks: Metá Metá, “Logun”; Romulo Fróes, “Barulho Feio”; Rodrigo Campos, “Funatsu”; Passo Torto, “A Música da Mulher Morta”; Juçara Marçal, “Damião”.

2. Baco Exu do Blues – Baco didn’t come out of nowhere in 2017. He’d been around for a few years, and showed some promise. But the startling brilliance of Esú, followed a year later by the even better Bluesman, has made the Bahian rapper’s career rise seem meteoric. And all the praise is earned. With a dense rapping style that favors explosive emotion over verbal technique, he addresses racism and black experience in Brazil with a directness and insight that inspires and unsettles. He finds producers able to express both his blackness and his Brazilianness. His pace is breathtaking: nearly an album a year for three years plus half a dozen or so non-album singles. He’s said he wants to be Brazil’s Kanye West, but he should aim higher. If he keeps this up level of quality and insight up we’re talking Brazil’s Public Enemy.

Fab five tracks: “Capitães de Areia”, “Imortais e Fatais”, “Banho do Sol”, “Girassóis de Van Gogh”, “Kanye West da Bahia”

3. Elza Soares – She was already a legend. Her long career and compelling biography lifted her to the top ranks of Brazil’s popular singers. By the ‘10s she’d been in semi-retirement for several years. Then, she sang a song on Cacá Machado’s 2013 album Eslavosamba, which celebrated the burgeoning São Paulo scene. Next thing you know she’s working with the Clube da Encruza on two startling, avant-garde samba albums that sounded like nothing she’d ever done. A Mulher do Fim do Mundo (The Woman at the End of the World), is probably the most internationally acclaimed Brazilian album of the decade. After a solid followup, Deus é Mulher, with the Clube, she showed she was still in charge of her career, broke with those musicians and released a funk album this year that included a collaboration with BaianaSystem. While Soares’ voice is shot, her charisma and smarts remain intact even as she turned 80 in 2017. Compare her three albums this decade and you can hear how she adapts to the style she is singing and imprints her persona on the music to make it her own. She’s already planning another album for 2020.

Fab five tracks: Cacá Machado, “Sim”; Elza Soares, “Benedita”; Metá Metá, “Okuta Yangi No. 2”; Elza Soares, “Banho”; Elza Soares, “Libertação”

4. Carne Doce – Goiânia’s Carne Doce was Brazil’s best straight rock band of the ‘10s. Not that they rocked out that much. Bassist Anderson Maia and drummer Richardo Machado were a rhythm section capable of laying back while remaining intense. Guitarists Macloys Aquino and João Victor Santana showed off fluid chops while rarely one-upping the songs. And while singer Salma Jô’s voice might be an acquired taste, her charisma is indisputable. Over three albums they honed their songwriting skills and while developing the kind of deep, rewarding instrumental interplay rock bands did in the ‘70s before the cult of musical technique ruined the fun. Smart. Sexy. Songful. Not a bad combination.

Five fab tracks: “Fruta Elétrica”, “Benzin”, “Princesa”, “Açaí”, “Nova Nova”

5. Daniel Ganjaman – Producer/musician Ganjaman (nee Daniel Sanchez Takara) has been behind much of the best music of the decade. Ganjaman co-founded the producer’s collective Instituto in the ‘00s before going on to establish his own career as a leading producer in Brazilian music. More importantly, he hosted the famous Seleta Coletiva music party at Studio SP. The parties began in 2006, but by 2009-10 they had grown into a massive interaction of Paulista artists that juiced collaborations that played out across dozens of records over this decade. Without those parties, SP’s 2010s would have been very different and less fertile. Ganjaman’s production career continued strongly, too. Two of his more notable jobs were producing all of Criolo’s albums of the ‘10s (with the Clube da Encruza’s Marcelo Cabral) and BaianaSystem’s two hit albums. He also guided the posthumous completion of a number of slain rapper Sabotage’s unfinished tracks on the acclaimed self-titled album.

Five fab tracks: Criolo, “Subirusdoistiozin”; Criolo, “Casa de Paelão”; Sabotage, “Respeito É Lei”; BaianaSystem, “Jah Jah Revolta, Pt. 2”; BaianaSystem, “CertoPeloCertoh”

6. Tulipa Ruiz – Her father was a member of Itamar Assumpção’s seminal backing band Isca de Polícia. Her brother was in the short-lived ’00s dynamo DonaZica. But in the ‘10s Ruiz emerged from a career of background work to establish herself as one of the top Brazilian singers of the decade. Teaming with her brother, she moved effortlessly from indie pop to Brazilian rock to dance music to samba, with each move extending her reach and deepening her art as good albums got better as the decade went on. Besides her own stuff, she appeared upon dozens of albums in support roles, prized by her fellow artists for her distinctive singing, most notably a squiggle swoop that squeezes out a high register, attention grabbing whoop at the end. Comfortable singing straight or adding a dash of zaniness to electrify the moment (she has to have some treasured B-52 albums stashed away), Ruiz never settled for rehash. Even when, on Tu, she reworked previous numbers, the do-overs were distinctive and often improvements upon tunes that were strong in the first place.

Five fab tracks: “Só Sei Dançar Com Você”; “Like This”; “Expirou”; “Pedrinho” (2018 version), “Elixir”

7. Dona Onete – Onete’s love of music translated initially into an academic career due in no small part to an unsupportive first husband who quashed her performing dreams, but upon retirement the septuagenarian (now octogenarian) began singing in local haunts, which ended up leading to the recording career she’d wanted as a young woman. Working on a variation of the northern carimbó style that emphasized romance and passion over traditional subjects in the genre, she established herself as a performer whose charisma and fun blew past any limitations presented by her aged voice. Even better, she had more than one album in her. Her sophomore release expanded her stylistic grasp and toughened her grooves. She followed that up with a live album that is her gift to history and dropped a solid third album this year. Love, sex and good music aren’t just for the kids.

Five fab tracks: “Jamburana”, “Banzeiro”, “Queimoso e Tremoso”, “Propesta Indecente (Live)”, “Tambor do Norte”

8. Tom Zé – Rising from decades of obscurity in the ‘90s thanks to David Byrne’s patronage, Zé went on to be arguably the dominant Brazilian artist of the ‘90s and ‘00s, and although he’s slowed slightly as he entered his 70s and now 80s, he still had a strong decade leading with two more winning additions (Tropicália Lixo Lógico and Vira Lata Na Via Láctea) to his classic catalog before closing it out with a couple of minor, but still enticing efforts. His collaborations with younger musicians and still edgy music showed that this isolated oddball made the future of Brazilian music in the ’70s even if no one knew it at the time. You figure he can’t have much left in the tank, but considering he’s topped in this list by two more octogenarians, you wonder what they have in the water down there in Brazil.

Five fab tracks: “O Motorbói e Maria Clara”, “Aviso aos Passageiros”, “Banca de Jornal”, “Guga na Lavagem”; “Sexo”

9. BaianaSystem – The trio of Russo Passapusso, Roberto Barreto and Marcelo Seco plus whatever friends or collaborators decide to join them in the studio or onstage, emerged as dynamic heirs to Jorge Ben’s pioneering samba-funk. Their music looked to Africa, back to Brazil and then out to the African musica diaspora. Their politics excoriated right wingers while giving hope for everyone else. They teamed with Elza Soares for a great single in 2019. And reports say they’re one of the best live acts in Brazil. Their two albums this decade, plus a strong Passapusso solo effort, may not add up to much music quantitywise, but the quality is there. Maybe they’ll write a Brazilian “Stand Down Margaret” for Bolsonaro to start the next decade off right.

Five fab tracks: “Lucro (Descomprimindo)”, “Playsom”, “Barravenida, Pt. 2”, “Água”, “Sulamericano”

10. Juliana Perdigao – Beginning the decade as a member of Graveola, singer/clarinetist Juliana Perdigao participated in their solid sophomore album before breaking off into her solo career. Fusing Beatlesesque art-pop sensibilities with a love of her national musics, she proved both an adept cover artist—stealing songs from Romulo Fróes and Tulipa Ruiz—as well as a good songwriter. Her first album tended proggy, in a good way, but by the end of the decade she was writing tight, off-kilter songs that bent instruments to arrangements while still having the musical flourishes that keep the art in her pop.

Five fab tracks: “Recomeçaria”, “Céu Vermelho”, “Ó”, “Pierrô Lunático”, “Felino”

11. Criolo – Following an undistinguished debut album late last decade, Sao Paulo’s Criolo emerged as one of his nation’s most important rappers of the ‘10s. His 2011 release Nó Na Orelha, where he found decade-long partners with producers Daniel Ganjaman and Marcelo Cabral, is considered by many a landmark in Brazilian hip hop. Throughout the ‘00s Brazil’s hip hop scenes had shown more signs of moving past recycled North American funk beats toward a more distinctly national sound, so while Criolo may not have been the first to push the music in new directions, his ambition—embracing Africa, Jamaica, Latin America and Brazil—helped popularize new sounds in national hip hop. He deepened that sound on the follow-up, Convoque Seu Buda, and tied in more strongly to São Paulo’s vibrant scene before moving to an excellent straight samba album by the decade’s end.

Five fab tracks: “Sucrilhos”, “Pegue pra Ela”, “Fio de Prumo (Padê Onã)”, “Chuva Ácida”; “Dilúvio de Solidão”

2019, Part Two

Cotonete and Di Melo, Atemporal – With Immorível, Roberto Di Melo returned to the main stage of MPB that he’d abandoned for the margins after his 1975 debut album. Collecting songs from the nine albums he recorded in obscurity on a regional label, he burst back into the popular consciousness with perhaps his best album. Here he teams with French jazz funk band Cotonete, who previously worked with singer Simone Mazzer. The opening three tracks promise he may repeat the party of his previous triumph and peak with a thumping disco number, “A.E.I.O.U.” Then the band turns in two fusion jazz wrecks—one over nine minutes, the other over seven—where Di Melo barely appears and you figure out why he’s second billed on the album cover. A reprise of his 1975 hit “Kilariô”  resets things, and the album closes out with two good ones, especially the Gilberto Gil rip “Verso e Prosa”. But that 17-minute black hole at the center of the album really sucks the life out of the thing, so program yourself a nice little 30-minute samba funk album instead that would rate at least two notches higher. Listen and buy here. Grade: B-

Alessadra Leão, Macumbas e Catimbós – After three excellent EPs experimenting with São Paulo’s dirty samba scene, Leão turns back to her northeastern roots and her interests in Afro-Brazilian percussion traditions. Little more than hand percussion and voices, Leão’s preservationist and minimalist senses get in the way here. While there isn’t a bad track per se, 15 songs over 53 minutes of beats and voices lacking accoutrements to fill out the sound doesn’t exactly focus the ears or hold your attention. Five songs over 17 or 18 minutes, and maybe she could have pulled it off, but as is her latest release fails to rise above interesting.  Listen here. Grade: C

Dona Onete, Flor da Lua (Live) (2018) – The eternal con of live albums is that they invite you to share an experience you likely missed, but then end up as mere souvenirs that register only for the people who were present. Every now and then, however, you get a good one that makes sharing music made for the moment than posterity sound like a great idea. Bill Withers’ expanded Live at Carnegie Hall, several PJ Harvey bootlegs I’ve got, the Allman Brothers Band At the Fillmore East: these transport you from whatever room you’re in to that electric moment of the performance. With a limber band that stretches out the songs with an extra minute or more of tricks that highlight the groove rather than derail the songs, Onete selects six from Banzeiro and four from Feitiço Caboclo (including “Jamburana”, of course) to demonstrate why the live performances she took up for fun in her 60s led to a recording career in her 70s. You can find videos of these performance online (it’s part of a DVD released in Brazil) and see how integral the band is to the performance. The two saxophonists bounce around like jesters stage providing visual acrobatics to match their playing, while Onete sits center stage commanding attention nonetheless as her nine-member backing band serves their queen ably. You don’t need the visuals to enjoy the music, but they help display why this album is no tepid recapitulation of studio version. Not that the two excellent and one very good studio albums are slack, but this is her gift to history. You can find the soundtrack on streaming services. Grade: A-

Dona Onete, Rebujo – To get three excellent albums out of a post-retirement career change from a septuagenarian singer whose voice has withered like everyone’s does is something of a miracle. So, of course, it’s not a surprise when the momentum sags a little. Initially I found Onete’s latest a significant disappointment. Where Banzeiro had expanded on Feitiço Caboclo and Flor da Lua made her claim to history, Rebujo feels like a mere remake of the debut without a “Jamburana” to send it into orbit. But a few spins in, and buoyed by the live album that I’d missed when released, I accepted she wasn’t just old, but reliable. Really the only thing missing compared to her first two studio albums is the killer cut. Here she knocks out 11 perfectly enjoyable songs without giving you the thrill her best work does. So, yeah, a drop off. But she started pretty far up there. Listen and buy here. Grade: B+

Tribalistas, Tribalistas Ao Vivo – When what may be the greatest supergroup of all time surprised everyone with a reunion 15 years after their one-off triumph, they succeeded enough to extend their myth and retire back to their solo careers. Instead, Maria Monte, Arnaldo Antunes and Carlinhos Brown took the band on tour, which they’d never done. Not lucky enough to make a show myself—I’ve seen Monte, and she’s terrific live—I figured the moment was lost to history, although some friends’ reports of the shows (good, not transcendent) left me not feeling too sad. This album does the opposite. While not surpassing the studio albums, it nonetheless puts a new spin on the band and gives you enough reason to pay attention live versions. Details and additions emerge in the arrangements that goose the performances. The songs, of course, are undeniable. Most interesting is the voices. On the studio efforts, Monte (rightly) dominates. She’s the best singer and artist of the talented trio. But here the voices are mixed more egalitarian, and it adds a different flavor. Instead of feeling like a Monte solo album, as the two studio albums can, it sounds much more like a group effort. And the audience singalongs smartly kept in the background capture the rapture that fans were feeling. The best versions here—soaring “Vilarejo”, silky “Fora da Memória”, the discordant horn charging “Ânima”—achieve the transcendence of great live music even though you aren’t there. A few of the tracks are flat, but mostly the performances here bring to life the legend that is the band. If they’re smart, they’ll retire the Tribalistas thing and let myth grow. But I confess, this album leaves me wanting more. Listen here. Grade: B+

Various Artists, Jambú (E Os Míticos Sons da Amazônia) – Label Analog Africa continues its occasional forays into Brazil’s northern and northeastern Afro-Brazilian musics. This disc focuses on Para (Dona Onete’s home state) with 18 tracks drawn from the 1970s scene in the state capital, Belém. Even further removed from samba or bossa nova than the music of the northeast, these songs may not even sound Brazilian to most listeners. The closest comparison is the intensely percussive frevo or the explosive sections in a rural maracatu. Basically, these songs are traditional styles beginning to transform into club music. The beats hit hard and fast, and the music beckons you onto the dancefloor. Sequenced for flow and effect, compilers Samy Ben Redjeb & Carlo Xavier create a sense of variety among music that works within some fairly narrow bounds. Plus, they dig up some real finds: Who are Pinduca? Janjão? Vieira e Seu Conjunto? You’ll be typing names into your the internet search engine of your choice as you listen. Listen and buy here. Grade: A-