Albare Plays Jobim

My latest Vinyl Anachronist music review is now live at Part-Time Audiophile. You can read it here.

Frank Colon's Latin Lounge

My latest Vinyl Anachronist music review is now live at Part-Time Audiophile. You can read it here.

Carlos Barbosa-Lima's Delicado

My latest Vinyl Anachronist music review, of Carlos Barbosa-Lima's Delicado, is now live at Part-Time Audiophile. You can read it here.

Benji & Rita

My latest Vinyl Anachronist music review, of Benji & Rita, is now live at Part-Time Audiophile. You can read it here.

Rebecca Hass' Florescer

St. Paul, Minnesota, isn't known for being a hotbed of Brazilian music--or maybe it is since I know very little about the place--but pianist Rebecca Hass is doing something very special up there with the recording of her debut album, Florescer. Haas describes herself as "addicted to Brazilian rhythms" and she reached out to me after reading my review of Alexandra Jackson's new album a couple of weeks ago. At first she seems like someone new to the game, a young pianist and composer who's trying to get a foothold in the industry through Kickstarter, email blasts and whatever works in this day and age, but she's actually been performing for quite some time--she's been playing with the percussion group Batucada do Norte for a dozen years.

Florescer, which is Brazilian for bloom, instantly reveals those ties to percussion and South American rhythms. Hass originally conceived these compositions as solo piano works, but she enlisted the help of her friend Tim O'Keefe, who is an expert on all types of hand-drumming techniques. That's what you get with Florescer--Hass' piano, which is strong, steady and even a bit muscular, paired with O'Keefe's exotic drums. O'Keefe is just as steady--his style is measured and seems so coupled to Hass' dynamics that they chug along like a machine with two engines.

As a result, the music here is unusually focused--the first song, "Maracatu do Manitim," is angular in the way it takes modern Brazilian themes and sets them on their side, deconstructing the rhythms and laying them out so the listener can see how they're built. She's also fond of the lower registers of the piano in many of her songs, which gives the proceedings a certain weight that is not necessarily common to the genre. When she speeds up the momentum, such as "Baiao da Bicicleta," that's when the parts fit back together seamlessly. There's even a tango, "Naquele Tempo," which indeed uses a slightly slower tempo than usual to once again reveal some of the genre's secrets.

Florescer does have that "square one" feeling that comes from getting out there and taking a chance--I think Hass might benefit from a larger ensemble around her in future recordings, but that requires time and perhaps more hard work. This album shows that this pianist/composer has unusual ideas about Brazilian music, and she isn't content to just play it the same way as everyone else. This is a snapshot of an artist at the beginning of a long and exciting journey, and I'm happy that she reached out.

You can download Florescer at her website.

Alexandra Jackson's Legacy & Alchemy

Yesterday it snowed here in Upstate New York for the first time this year, and this morning it was only 25 degrees when I walked my schnauzer Lucy. It's a perfect day, in other words, for a big fat chunk of Brazilian jazz. Alexandra Jackson, who is originally from Atlanta, has spent her life diving deep into Brazilian music after earning a degree in Jazz Studies at the University of Miami. She's also fond of American jazz and soul, including sub-genres such as Neo Soul and London Soul Jazz. All of the music she loves is represented on this 2-CD set, but it's the Brazilian themes that flows gently through Legacy & Alchemy and brings the sun out to warm the frozen ground.

This was a huge project for Jackson--she recorded these tracks in Atlanta, Rio de Janeiro, Los Angeles, New York City, London and Chicago with more than 150 musicians. While she's known for her prowess as a singer and songwriter, she really wanted to pay tribute to her favorite performers such as Antonio Carlos Jobim, Gilberto Gil, Oscar Castro-Neves, Caetano Veloso, Carlinhos Brown and many more. She also wanted to throw in other jazz and pop influences, everyone from Lionel Richie ("Our Time Now") to Curtis King. Here's something interesting--she's also integrated performances from Miles Davis and Al Jarreau, along with Jobim and Castro-Neves, all sadly gone, into these songs. What's even more poignant is that Legacy & Alchemy includes the last two recordings from Rod Temperton, the producer who also wrote "Thriller," and the final two performances of Samba singer Dona Ivone Lara.

The title of this album becomes clearer when you consider the scope of the project--legacy, of course, refers to all the great performers, past and present, who guided this album. The alchemy comes from mixing all of these styles into one and having it come out as a unique whole. As I mentioned before, the Brazilian influences are the strongest and most constant--a few tracks such as "Our Time Now" stray from the formula--but there is a very modern and polished approach to this album that might be a product of the pop, jazz and acid jazz influences. With 150 musicians participating, not all at once of course, there is a tendency for bigness here. Jackson enlists the help of large ensembles, such as The Bossa Nova Noites Orquestra, to accomplish this. It's not quite Brazilian big band jazz, but it is lavish at times.

That's okay. Jackson clearly wanted to do something substantial in this tribute, and she's succeeded. The liner notes state that 2018 is the 60th anniversary of Bossa Nova, last year was the 100th anniversary of Samba, and just the year before that we celebrated Rio at the Summer Olympic Games. Over the last year I've reviewed a lot of Brazilian jazz, but we all know that this isn't some ephemeral trend. The music of Brazil has been with us for many decades, long before even Gilberto/Getz. We listen to it because it's warm and sunny. It's the perfect tonic for getting through another winter.

Flavio Lira's Coffee Gold Sugar Cane

With a title like Coffee Gold Sugar Cane, I keep thinking that bassist Flavio Lira has forgotten to include something about Cuban cigars. That's just me, of course, since he's included everything else in his new album--most notably a fusion of Brazilian, Colombian and Cuban jazz styles which are wrapped up in a sleek, modern veneer. Lira has been living and playing in New York City and Boston for many years, but his Brazilian roots are obvious in this album and it's clear that he's paying tribute to all of the wonderful music that has influenced him throughout his life.

As a bassist, it's interesting to see how Lira propels his arrangements into such an exciting overall sound. I've heard similar albums that are led by drummers or horn players, and it's remarkably clear who's leading the band. Lira is a fantastic bassist, quick and always searching for the most musical note, but his arrangements include such a diverse cast of performers that you suddenly realize it's not all about him. Just look at the diverse instrumentation in this mix of originals and standards: pandeiro, caxixi, cajon, kanjira, tantan, repique de mao, surdo, cavaco and bambo leguero jump right in with all types of electronic keyboards, horns, woodwinds and vibes. You'd expect a lot of percussion with this type of jazz, but it's obvious Lira wants to introduce you to all these exotic sounds and love them as much as he does.

If it seems like this album might be a little busy, it's not. Everyone isn't playing at the same time, after all. Lira is judicious in the way he populates each arrangement, and that results in a very warm yet focused sound. Yes, that also means he's able to freely explore all these genres and bring a multitude of different flavors to the table. He succeeds because he's so in tune with the folk traditions of each type of jazz, even if he's placing them in contemporary contexts.

What really makes Coffee Gold Sugar Cane stand out from other Latin and Caribbean jazz albums is the supreme sense of love that seems to flow through the tracks. These jazz genres are usually happy affairs, full of joy and a vivacious sense of celebration. You can imagine everyone smiling as they play. But Lira is doing something beyond that--he's sharing the ideas and memories that make him happy, and he's gathered his best friends, people who are a big part of his life outside the studios and stages, and he's suddenly turned to you and invited you to join. If you decide to bring some Cuban cigars along for the others, that's up to you.

Sergio Pereira's Nu Brasil

Have you read my article in Part-Time Audiophile yet, the one about Zoho Records? As soon as that article went live, I received a couple of releases from Zoho that should have been included since they're so fantastic; they capture the essence of this unique label that tends to focus on South American jazz musicians. This release right here, from Brazilian guitarist Sergio Pereira, doesn't quite have the complex and innovative approach of the other releases mentioned in that article. Rather, it captures that essence of Brazilian jazz, that smooth and lush feel that marks the best of that specific and popular genre.

That's not a bad thing, of course. If you've fallen in love with something obvious, say Getz/Gilberto, you'll feel right at home with Nu Brasil. That title alone suggests a new direction, but it's more of a precise summary of what makes this type of jazz so popular. (Actually, nu in Portuguese means "naked," which is a more accurate description of these ten original compositions.) We're talking, of course, about beauty and a breezy motif that implies that life in Brazil is full of celebration, love and yes, just a hint of unbridled sex appeal. "There's a certain something inherent in the music of Brazil," the liner notes explain, "that goes well beyond the notes and speaks more of the soul of a culture." That description is deliciously apt and indicates, as usual, that the folks at Zoho know and feel and understand the music they are releasing. They seem to understand this more than just about any other contemporary jazz label.

Pereira fits the typical profile of a Zoho artist. At 59, he's been playing Brazilian jazz for most of his life--even though he left Rio many years ago for the lights and the freedom of the New York City jazz scene. His guitar is soft yet intricate, full of so many flavors that instantly transport you to the Southern hemisphere. He surrounds himself with many of Brazil's most famous musicians, including a trio of vocalists (Paula Santoro, Sergio Santos and Viktoria Pilatovic) who know how to take that gentle ease of Astrud Gilberto and build on that appeal by making these songs less about the people of that country and more about the experiences you might have while living there.

Top that off with Zoho's welcome dedication to sound quality, and you have a release that redefines what it means to feel alive, and how music helps to accomplish that joy. Brazilian ensembles often create a rich and fluid sound through a large contingent of performers--it's far more intimate than a big band orchestra where every musician is adding a specific ingredient to the recipe. Pereira's compositions and arrangements lean toward the impressionistic, resulting in a sound that envelops you with warmth, vivaciousness and a miraculous gift of seduction.

Melbreeze's Animazonia

For me, Brazilian jazz is one of those musical genres that has a rather narrow definition. There are very specific traits to the music, the rhythms and the way vocals are employed, that make something true Brazilian jazz or make it something else that's just sort of Brazilian. Sure, you can slyly add Brazilian influences to another type of music and make it a hybrid, but then it becomes something else...right? I'm asking because I'm not so sure anymore. I've listened to a lot of contemporary Brazilian jazz lately, and everyone is trying to bring something new to the game. In some cases, such as Antonio Adolfo, the result is a purer form of jazz that is merely informed by Brazilian traditions. But Melbreeze's new album, Animazonia, liberties are taken. Unusual elements are introduced that are like nothing I've heard from Brazil, and yet this is clearly an album of Brazilian music. It's as obvious as can be.

Melbreeze was born in Turkey, and she grew up with music that featured both Greek and Roman origins. She pursued ballet for a big chunk of her life, raised a family and then realized that her "love for music...never wavered and she dreamed that one day she could do they kind of music she wanted." Animazonia is a realization of those dreams. This is her ninth album, and she's already established a strong presence with her music and with her visual arts, usually combined as one, but this is the album where she "shares all her thoughts and feelings that she kept hidden inside for years."

This sounds like an ambitious project, and it is. Her approach is exotic, but not in the normal Brazilian way. Her versions of such Brazilian jazz standards as "Quiet Nights," "One Note Samba" and "Desafinado" are faithful at their core but embellished with unusual touches that circumvent the term "hybrid" and become something altogether new. She's not afraid to introduce other cultures into her arrangements, such as the steady tambla and sitar in "How Insensitive" or lush interludes enhanced by synthesizers and programming. Her voice is husky and filled with experience and maturity, a very different approach than someone like Astrud Gilberto would take. It's almost as if she's an old-fashioned torch singer who spent a few years in Rio and came back with a vision of blending the two worlds into one.

The answer is yes, this is still Brazilian jazz, but perhaps for a new generation of fans. Purists might balk at her adventurous choices, but there's plenty of excitement in the way she pins down those old traditions and fleshes them out with modern techniques. At times she brushes up against pop, but there's an inherent respect in every note that reminds me of Sade and how she assembled old ideas into something that sounded fresh. If I could, I would grab the nearest Brazilian and ask "Well, what do you think of this?" They might hem and haw a little bit, but I suspect they'd like Animazonia a lot, and that there's plenty of room for this kind of innovation in their world.

Roger Davidson Quartet's Music From the Heart

Roger Davidson is a pretty old-fashioned guy, as far as contemporary jazz goes. His arrangements are light, fun and filled with sort of a capricious jet-set feel from the 1960s. On his new album, Music From the Heart, he takes on an unusual challenge--he comes up with no less than 15 new "Brazilian" compositions, songs that sound like they've already been classics since baby boomers were babies. This is romantic stuff, sambas, bossa novas, chorinhos and more, all designed to feel like a wonderful night on the town in Rio. There are no jagged edges in this music. It's all about enjoying beauty, adventure and a bit of mischief, the kind of qualities that were cherished when your parents were young and on the prowl.

Davidson is masterful on the piano in that same lush and tropical tradition that spawned "Bali Hai" and "Lujon," albeit on a much more intimate scale--there's no huge string orchestra in the background. Instead, Davidson is accompanied by Hendrik Meurkens who has become quite a familiar name to me over the last few months. I reviewed Roger Davidson's last album with Meurkens, Prayer for Tomorrow, just a year ago. Hendrik, who is considered one of contemporary jazz's finest harmonica and vibraphone players, is also featured on a couple of upcoming discs I have in the review pile. I have to be honest and say that the harmonica is not my favorite musical instrument for jazz since it makes everything sound too folksy and less urbane. (I made a similar comment in the older review.) But I friggin' love the vibraphone and the marimba and every other struck idiophone you can roll in front of me. That's a purely subjective observation, so don't take me word for it, so let's just say that Meurkens' vibes send me to the moon.

As I also mentioned in the review for Prayer for Tomorrow, Davidson was originally set to be a classical pianist. Once he started playing jazz, there was no going back. That's why his keyboard style has the aforementioned lushness to it, that emotional sprint that floats atop wave after wave of sentiment. Without Meurkens acting as co-star, Davidson's basically playing as a tight trio with drummer Adriano Santos and bassist Eduardo Belo (which explains why Prayer for Tomorrow was performed by the Roger Davidson Trio). It's apparent the change came from Meurkens becoming a permanent addition to the ensemble, but it still doesn't obscure the fact that as a trio, this ensemble creates a rich panorama of sound. That's Davidson at the piano making that happen. As I said, he has a big sound that defines everything he does.

Prayer for Tomorrow had outstanding sound quality, and Music From the Heart might surpass that. Jazz trios and quartets usually do a great job of fleshing out all the musicians' physical positions on the stage or in the studio, but with both the piano and vibraphone playing there's always those delicate blooming notes bouncing off each other and remaining intact and distinct. Only an excellent recording can keep these two from blending into a single wave of decaying tones, and that happens here. In a way, that's old-fashioned as well since so much jazz in the '60s still sounds fantastic. I think you'll need to be a little old-fashioned in order to really dig this music and place it in its proper context, since it might not appeal to jazz fans who are searching for the next breakthrough, but I'm someone who like music to transport me to a different time and place. This one gets it done with an incredible amount of class.