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.

2019, Part Four

Daymé Arocena, Sonocardiogram – Perhaps the most acclaimed Cuban musician of the ’10s, Arocena has establish herself as an ambitious innovator who preserves the national traditions she loves not by repeating them, but by bringing them alive in new ways. Her mix of classical Cuban sounds, jazz, and African and Latin musics sizzles. On this fourth album, she goes for broke with an everything-including-the-kitchen-sink approach. Tracks brazenly shift and keep the listener off balance. The dizzying skills of the players threaten to spin out of control at times, but it’s never virtuosity for its own sake. The trick twists and turns reinforce a sonic strategy that recalls Latin and Brazilian psychedelia, where the buzz of sounds invokes a colorful dream state. And, of course, Arocena’s big voice is at the heart of it. Despite classical training, she’s never stiff or uptight; her voice is used to put across emotions and words, not show off her pipes. Although she’s not R&B relaxed, she still brings life to music that could easily crawl up its own chops to simply admire itself. It’s like the best of ’70s R&B, fusion jazz, psychedelic prog and Latin music are thrown together a simmered into the a damn near perfect stew that isn’t the slightest bit retro or old-fashined. Listen and buy here. Grade: A-

Leonardo V. Boccia, Homenagem (1984, reissued 2019) – Italian grad student studying in cold war, and just plain cold, Berlin opens a book, sees a picture of Salvador, Bahia, and glimpses his future. After finishing school, Boccia traveled to Brazil a few times and eventually landed a teaching gig at the Federal University of Bahia. Thereupon he began to interact with local and national music scenes before releasing a quickly forgotten album in 1984, whereupon he doubled down on the academic career that continues to this day. (You can read a terrific, in depth version of that story at Sounds and Colours.) Boccia favors a minimalist sound with samba/bossa tinged guitar, some singing—usually a soprano-on-steroids female voice—with some synth colorings. The synths sound dated, and the instrumentals focusing on them fall flat, but that guitar and those voices hit a high and clean pleasure point that’s one of the gifts of Brazilian music if you’ve got a taste for that kind of thing. Tops is “Auaná Flori” where the sprightly guitar and vocal acrobatics draw you into ecstasy. Nothing else comes matches that euphoria, but several other tracks get in the neighborhood. An obscurity justly rescued from history’s dustbin. Listen and buy here. Grade: B

Djonga, Ladrão – Third and, to my ears, best of the Belo Horizonte rapper’s albums. Lyrics—racism, street injustice, Robin Hooding cultural thieves, honoring grandmom—scan nicely on browser translation, even if the full impact remains frustratingly obscured behind a language barrier. But more than on his previous albums, the music gets across even without knowing the words. The production, mainly by Coyote Beatz, provides enough ear tickles to keep the non-Portuguese hearer focused. Polyrhythms pop and roll around the main boom bap beat. Samples hook you in or lull you into nodding along. Djonga (née Gustavo Pereira Marques) has a solid flow that engagingly rides the rhythms. He’s clearly the kind of talent I’d like more if I understood the words, but, even when I don’t he’s good enough here to keep my ears from wandering. Listen here. Grade: B

Leo Gandelman, Hip Hop Machine Series (2019) – Gandelman is a prolific session and recording MPB jazz artist. Much of his music emerges from smooth jazz hell, but the tropical groove seems to keep things tolerable enough that I might find an interesting compilation if I worked through the albums he’s put out over 35 years. But his career isn’t the focus here. In 2019, he released ten collaborative EPs with Brazilian hip hop stars in his Hip Hop Machine Series. Focusing young and on the rise, Gandelman and the rappers remake their songs with a jazz backing band. While the end results are never bad, too often they sound more US3 than A Tribe Called Quest. The songs tend jazzy funk more than jazz-rap fusion, but most manage a cut or two to grab your attention. Luccas Carlos’ rough croon cuts nicely against the smooth grain of the music. Karol Conká’s charisma barely wins against sounds that could slip into the background. 1Kilo makes quality product. But the two that jump out are led by Baco Exu do Blues and BNegão. Young phenom Baco picks three tracks from his superb Bluesman and one from the nearly-as-good Esú. Gandleman and his band rise to the occasion to deconstruct the originals and build songs that don’t just pleasantly groove, but engage with and comment upon the originals, for instance the Coltrane quote that replaces the blues samples in “Bluesman”. Baco adjust his style to the different music, slowing down slightly from his normal volcanic, emotive rush. A genuine, and exciting, collaboration. The other clear winner is old pro BNegão whose experience working with bands—and whose songs often employ such—pays off as he knows his way around this kind of collaboration. Where so many of the others just ride the beat, BNegão jumps, bumps and grinds. Put all ten EPs in a play list and press shuffle, and there’s little you want to skip, but you’d also notice that only two of these many talented artists managed to make the whole project more than solid background music. I’m going to borrow a few terms from Robert Christgau to avoid having to suss out all the grades on the mediocre (or worse) ones. You can hear the whole series here.

Hip Hop Machine #3: 1Kilo, Grade: B-

Hip Hop Machine #6: Baco Exu do Blues, Grade: A-

Hip Hop Machine #7: BNegão, Grade: B+

Hip Hop Machine #9: Luccas Carlos, Grade: B-

Hip Hop Machine #10: Karol Conká, Grade: B-

Distinctions not Cost Effective – Hip Hop Machine #1: Haikaiss, Hip Hop Machine #5: Gabz, Hip Hop Machine #8: Delacruz

Meltdown – Hip Hop Machine #2: BK, Hip Hop Machine #4: 3030

Pitty, Matriz – Fifth studio album by Priscilla Novaes Leone, a.k.a. Pitty, one of the top commercial Brazilian rock musicians of this millennium. She started playing in punk bands, but by the time she broke as a solo artist, she was working in a hard rock vein with producer Rafael Ramos. The team continues to this very day, and they still work in that straight-down-the-middle style, which is not intended as any kind of back-handed compliment. While Pitty may not be the most adventurous songwriter or performer, she knows a solid riff when she hears one and gets the performative aspects of being a pop/rock star. This release seems a little more pop, a little more fun, and a little more consistent than earlier albums I’ve skimmed, but I’m intrigued enough to put her down on my future research list to find out. Listen here. Grade: B

Rincon Sapiência, Mundo Manicongo: Dramas, Danças e Afroreps – Fulfilling the promise of his debut, Sapiência turns to Africa musically and lyrically to highlight the challenging times faced by the racially, sexually and economically alienated in Brazil. Manicongo is a Portuguese corruption of a central African term for royalty. It’s also the name of one of Brazil’s most famous slaves: Francisco Manicongo, known not only for resisting slavery, but for rejecting gender norms by wearing women’s clothing and being openly gay. Throughout the album, Sapiência embraces a spiritual flow—bubbling rhythms, sinuous central African guitar, airy synths, light vocals—and invites the listeners to dance and celebrate: blackness, a right to live, a right to have, whatever Bolsonaro and his goons are trying to take from marginalized Brazilians. “Life is not a party, but I deserve it,” he declare on “Eu Mereço”, and if you have a problem with that, well, that’s your problem. In a context where oppression is more real than most Americans experience—violence against women, sexual and racial minorities, and indigenous people is sharply on the rise—it might seem like empty escapism. Surely we should march rather than dance? But right to dance—to enjoy life—is the point of the march. Listen here. Grade: A-

La Yegros, Suelta – Third album from Argentinian Mariana La Yegros, whom some call the queen of new cumbia. But cumbia is too narrow a designation for this ambitious artist. Traditional Latin, African and Caribbean sounds are slammed together with electrobeats and synths in a clash and with a busyness that sometimes risk overwhelming the songs, but momentum and La Yegros’ forceful singing blast past teetering threats to keep the album on pace. Subtle she’s not, and sometimes it’s a bit much, but mostly her chutzpah is nicely rock and roll with trickier beats. I confess to sometimes being wearied by the time I get to the end, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a lot of fun as I’m worn down. Listen here. Grade: A-