Brazilian Girls
(Verve)
Everything about New York City’s eclectic Brazilian Girls is just a little extreme.
When they add in some chuffed chanson bit or ripples of tango tuning into their galloping lounge-n-house sounds they ladle it on thick. When they go for a reggae blend, everything smells as heavy and heady as the sweetest sinsemilla. Each of their densely layered, delightfully feline albums (hello, bugged out chanteuse Sabina Sciubba) are filled with theatrical spills and chills and the sort of foreign intrigue Hitchcock put strangers on a train for.
So calling an album New York City might make you think they’ve slimmed down their sound to some mean, lean ardor? Don’t bet on it. “Do you like my accent?” Sciubba asks on “St Petersburg” – the quietly thumping, occasionally whistling lead track of what seems like a B Girls’ travelogue of places real (the woozy Oktoberfest of “Berlin”) and imaginary (the distantly clanging sentimental space-jazz of “Strangeboy”). They go to a mumbling psychedelic place they haven’t gone to before, with a sort-of muffled electronic hum to everything, from the organ-ground “Ricardo” to the rumbling Twin Peaks-ish “Majo De Dios.”
The nicest thing about each twist of bossa nova, bongo or Miami bass snippets found within New York City is that producers Hector Castillo and Brazilian girls (with an occasional mix by Tchad Blake) have actually integrated all into Brazilian Girls’ quiet whole for their subtlest work yet. That’s worth the trip.
Standout Tracks: “Strangeboy,” “Internacional” A.D. AMOROSI
