When the term “Brazilian jazz” arises, one might think of bossa nova, or Sergio Mendes (its most popular purveyor), and stop there. But there’s a world beyond those sunny instrumentals and bright vocals, where artists like Hermeto Pascoal, João Donato and Leny Andrade show that Brazilian jazz can be funky, soulful and esoteric. This type of jazz had deeper resonance beyond the oceanfront views it conjured.
The origins of Brazilian jazz are often traced to the late 1950s, to the advent of bossa nova by the composers Donato and Antônio Carlos Jobim. Blending samba (a style of music born out of the Afro-Brazilian communities in Rio de Janeiro and Bahia) with American jazz, bossa nova — which means “new wave” — reached its apex in 1964 when “The Girl From Ipanema,” sung by the Brazilian vocalist Astrud Gilberto, hit the U.S. singles chart, and won the Grammy for record of the year in 1965. Yet before the song’s success, American composers like Quincy Jones, Herbie Mann and Dave Brubeck recorded bossa nova albums, which stoked the curiosity of U.S. listeners.
Thanks to the contributors below, a mix of musicians, writers and scholars, we get to hear Brazilian jazz beyond the gravitational pull of bossa nova and samba, from its height in the ’60s to the present day. And while you’ll see familiar names pop up more than once, they’re often in conversation with others from the broad space of the genre. Traces of bossa nova and samba emerge, but these selections also take fusion, ambient and psychedelia into account. You can find a playlist at the end of the article, and be sure to leave your own favorites in the comments.
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Jeff Caltabiano, writer and historian
São Paulo Underground, “Jagoda’s Dream”
Brazil, a country rich with Indigenous musical traditions, has had an ongoing dialogue with the (North) American jazz tradition since the 1950s. That dialogue has broadened well beyond the breezy straightjacket of bossa nova. The visionary American composer and cornetist Rob Mazurek spent eight years living in Brazil, and has been in musical conversation with the São Paulo-born musicians M. Takara and Guilherme Granado for two decades, with the group São Paulo Underground. Takara and Granado go back even further, having met as teenagers in the city’s punk scene. Granado’s hazy keyboards open up “Jagoda’s Dream,” from the band’s third album, “Três Cabeças Loucuras” (“Three crazy heads”), from 2011. The song was written for their friend’s daughter, with a melody and harmony by Mazurek and an infectious cavaquinho rhythm pattern by Takara. The cavaquinho, a miniature guitar with a bright sound, is prominent throughout. During the recording, Takara played cavaquinho with his hands while playing the drums with his feet. Richard Ribeiro played second drums. The song is a firecracker that represents São Paulo’s creative music scene and its hybrid of sounds. A chorus of voices takes us out, wordlessly repeating the rhythm pattern, about to wake from Jagoda’s magnificent dream.
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Joyce Moreno, singer and composer
Tenório Jr., “Embalo”
In the early 1960s, bossa nova was at its peak in Brazil and was also growing worldwide. Some Brazilian musicians who were fluent with both bossa nova and jazz began to organize themselves into instrumental groups, mostly trios, but adding horns on occasion. They created music — samba-jazz they called it — with inventive improvisation, sultry rhythms and creative harmonies. One of the most brilliant pianists to emerge from the samba-jazz movement was Tenório Jr. In 1964, at 23, he recorded his one and only album as a leader, “Embalo,” which is now widely acknowledged a classic of the genre. On the title track, a composition by Tenório arranged by the alto saxophonist Paulo Moura, Tenório’s solo is a gorgeous example of the heights that made-in-Brazil jazz could achieve. Unfortunately, that recording is the only taste of Tenório’s genius we still have. In Buenos Aires in 1976, while on tour as a sideman for the Brazilian poet Vinicius de Moraes, Tenório mysteriously “disappeared” in Argentina on the eve of that country’s military coup (a story told in the excellent animated film “They Shot the Piano Player” by the Spanish filmmakers Fernando Trueba and Javier Mariscal). Tenório’s music, however, lives on forever.
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Marcos Valle, musician
Moacir Santos, “Coisa No. 2”
Moacir Santos was an extraordinary artist, a masterful arranger, orchestrator and composer with a deep understanding of many instruments. He possessed a remarkable technical command of the orchestra while infusing his work with the rich heritage of Black Brazilian roots. What set him apart from the rest was his special touch. One of Moacir’s most celebrated compositions is “Coisa No. 2,” a piece, set in a ¾ tempo, with a strong Black Brazilian influence, carried by the drums and bass. It’s easy to imagine people dancing to this music in the streets. The horn timbres exemplify his style. The improvisations, too. Moacir’s influence extended far beyond his own compositions: He established a school of arrangement that inspired countless aspiring musicians to follow in his footsteps. Everyone wanted to work with Moacir, and I was fortunate to have him arrange some of my songs for other artists.
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Charlotte Dos Santos, singer and composer
Leny Andrade, “Estamos Aí”
I discovered Leny Andrade in my first year at the Berklee College of Music when I was looking through Brazilian samba arrangements at the library for my class. We had to write a samba; I was deep into Tom Jobim and Gilberto Gil when I somehow came across her music on my playlist. Her voice jumped out at me. Rightfully called “The First Lady of Brazilian Jazz,” she towered in the subgenre, not only because she was a woman, but because of her steady, raspy voice and intricate phrasing. Her vocal scats over the II-V-I bossa chords were unusual, and they instantly reminded me of a Brazilian Ella Fitzgerald. If you, like me, have a passion for oscillating string arrangements and wind instruments dancing on top, “Estamos Aí” is for you. This track fuses samba, bossa nova and jazz, and Andrade’s mastery of improvisation is rare. This album is one that I come back to again and again, and even if she is not as widely talked about, Andrade has helped elevate Brazilian music and inspired generations of musicians (like myself!) to explore the rich interplay between Brazil’s cultural heritage and contemporary jazz.
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Mark de Clive-Lowe, pianist, producer and D.J.
César Camargo Mariano, “Poluição”
The composer, pianist and producer César Camargo Mariano has created some stunning records with his early Som Três unit and with his creative and life partner Elis Regina. However, his 1977 album “São Paulo • Brasil” stands as a timeless masterpiece of Brazilian jazz-fusion and remains one of my all-time favorites. Blending the funk of Headhunters-era Herbie Hancock with the melodic sensibilities of George Duke, Mariano’s work is deeply rooted in Brazil’s rich rhythmic and folkloric traditions. The track “Poluição” opens with a brooding groove before weaving through subtle harmonic shifts and shimmering guitar ad-libs. It evolves into a vibrant interplay of mid-tempo sambas, with Mariano’s Rhodes piano sparkling at the forefront. The album’s seamless fusion of jazz, funk, rock and traditional Brazilian styles caught me completely off guard when I first heard it on tour in Melbourne almost 25 years ago — and it continues to inspire me. Mariano’s harmonic inventiveness, lush keys and synth textures, and suite-like arrangements make this a quintessential body of work. Each listen reveals new surprises, reaffirming its place as a landmark in Brazilian jazz and beyond.
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Lívia Mattos, musician
Letieres Leite & Orkestra Rumpilezz, “Floresta Azul”
From my hometown, Salvador-Bahia, I bring the Orkestra Rumpilezz, created by the maestro Letieres Leite. It is a big band that is peculiar in its sonic, aesthetic and political approach to the Afro-Bahian percussive universe that comes from the sacred music of the candomblés. The musicality of everything that doesn’t fit into the score, but overflows in the terreiros (shrines) and streets of Salvador, can be felt in its complexity, flavor, rigor, creative freedom and the invisible that enters and passes through. The sauntering “Floresta Azul” transports us to a connection with ourselves and with nature, in the sense of feeling part of it. The main theme comes from a song to Oxóssi, an orisha (spirit) of the forests, and the entire composition is based on aguerê, a rhythm linked to this entity. I’d like to highlight the relationship between the bass of the wind and the rum (bass drum), the spacing and the construction of the arrangement, which reverberates with the sacred ritual of entering a forest, its abundance of wisdom, as well as the need to protect oneself and listen to one’s surroundings. I invite the reader on this journey.
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Amaro Freitas, pianist and bandleader
Hermeto Pascoal, “Tacho”
This is a very exciting song. The freedom of improvisation and the use of voice with keyboard brings a new freshness to Brazilian music. It’s a powerful reference on how to work regional music together with mixed time elements, which is not so common in most Brazilian music. This song is a real lesson. Brazilian rhythms are very binary: samba, maracatu, coco and ciranda are all in binary or quaternary measures. Hermeto proposes working with mixed rhythms, so in “Tacho,” we can see the sum of two measures, in thirds and quarters, generating a new rhythmic cycle that in total results in a measure in sevenths. This is brilliant and totally contemporary. At the same time that he brings the DNA of Brazilian music with his voice and musical notes, he also contributes to the renewal.
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Milena Casado, musician
Antônio Carlos Jobim, “Luiza”
Among Antônio Carlos Jobim’s incredible music catalog, “Luiza” is a piece that moved me from the first time I heard it on his album “Passarim,” released in 1987. This piece has such a beautiful melody, rich harmony and arrangement, creating a constant motion that alternates tension and resolution. Jobim’s lyrics are reflective and poetic, exploring themes of love and longing. I especially love the way he sings it. His voice and interpretation — in rubato — give the piece an introspective quality that feels like a personal conversation. There is something special about the way he navigates these emotions. He brings us with him on this journey. I also admire how Jobim can balance emotional depth with technical nuances. Another beautiful recording of this piece can be found on his album with Edu Lobo, “Edu and Tom,” released in 1981.
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Mejiwahn, producer
Egberto Gismonti, “Baião do Acordar”
I have come to deeply revere the creativity of Egberto Gismonti’s arrangements. His pieces often convey an uncanny sense of physical space within the music. It’s as if he is notating on a three-dimensional plane. An arrangement can dive or swell or shrink or fly. Gismonti’s six-and-a-half-minute masterpiece, “Baião do Acordar,” exemplifies his style, though some credit is surely due to the extraordinary cast of musicians and engineers who brought the album, “Corações Futuristas,” into existence. As is customary with Gismonti, this composition brings together so many of his apparent influences. It’s a true fusion of Brazilian rhythmic traditions, classical orchestra, avant-garde synthesis and American jazz.
The song opens with its first few bars played in reverse, suddenly meeting its sonic mirror image. Luiz Alves’s lilting bass bobs and sways as Gismonti’s staccato piano creeps in. The drummer Robertinho dances frenetically between the two, joining them to build the graceful polyrhythmic tension that persists throughout. This alluring tension rises and falls repeatedly, and at two specific moments, the listener will feel it break. The cascading euphoria is hard to describe, yet it keeps me coming back to these remarkable sounds.
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Maria Luiza de Barros, architect and curator
Letieres Leite Quinteto, “Patinete Rami Rami”
I have great esteem for maestros and composers, and Letieres Leite represents one of those inspirations for me, leaving a living legacy that reflects the zest of Brazilian jazz on many levels. “Patinete Rami Rami,” by Letieres Leite Quinteto, is part of the album “O Enigma Lexeu” (2019), the first by this longtime ensemble. Personally, this track evokes memories of new places, awakening a sense of playfulness and movement. I love anything that makes me feel this way — as if I were lightly walking down the street, with my heart full of courage, even without knowing what awaits me at the final destination.
Every mystery has its time, and I believe that the improvisation and composition of this track are the key points of the adventure, especially with Letieres’s mesmerizing flute. Moreover, the quintet’s entire approach broadens the understanding of jazz, challenging conventions and presenting its confluences around the world, particularly within Brazil’s rich rhythmic landscape. With a classic band format but carrying all the depth of his group Orkestra Rumpilezz, the quintet — made up of Leite, Luizinho do Jêje, Tito Oliveira, Ldson Galter and Marcelo Galter — guides us through the Bahian-Brazilian-jazzistic percussive universe with vibrant blaze.
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Alexandre Matias, journalist
Elis Regina and Hermeto Pascoal, “Asa Branca”/“Corcovado”/”Garota de Ipanema”
It is difficult to choose a single song to represent Brazilian jazz. It is like trying to reduce an entire artistic production to a few minutes of recording. So I landed on three songs that, when mixed into a superb medley improvised during an encore of a show, end up summarizing the richness of our jazz.
I am referring to the final 12 minutes of the performance that Elis Regina gave at the Montreux Jazz Festival in 1979. The greatest voice in Brazilian music — and one of the greatest in the world — recorded one of the best live albums alongside an incredible band formed by Hélio Delmiro (guitar), Luizão Maia (bass), Paulinho Braga (drums) and Chico Batera (percussion). Upon returning to the stage after the show ended, she reappears alongside the magician Hermeto Pascoal on the keyboard and walks through three symbols of Brazilian music: the northeastern anthem “Asa Branca,” the most emblematic song by our Robert Johnson, Luiz Gonzaga; and two bossa nova standards, “Corcovado” and the international “Garota de Ipanema,” in which the two travel freely between changes of tempo and movements that show the depth and complexity of the Brazilian musical soul. One of the high points of 20th-century music, regardless of geographical borders.
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Miles Mosley, bassist, composer and arranger
Pixinguinha, “Roxa”
Listen to the percussion — it’s hypnotic, compelling you to move. Hear the interplay between the trombone and vocals — a free-spirited exhalation of expression. What we call “jazz” in America is “choro” (“to cry”) in Brazil, and Pixinguinha is its cornerstone. I start you here with a modern-day recording of “Roxa,” one of his most beautiful and emphatic compositions. You can hear how the rhythms of choro will begin to evolve into samba, and how the call and response (similar to what we find in Dixieland) will later spill into the guitar playing of bossa and Brazilian popular music. It’s fascinating to me that, though separated by thousands of miles, both North American and Brazilian Black communities, freed from slavery but not oppression, fused European instruments with traditional African rhythms at nearly the same time in history. This improvisational art form became a sanctuary, a way to protect their souls while expressing them in plain sight. Exploring Brazilian jazz might lead you to Chico Buarque’s “Construção” or Leci Brandão’s “Pranto Colorido.” Yet, it all traces back to Pixinguinha, a kind soul who taught us how music bridges humanity and divinity.
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Elizabeth Steiner, harpist and arranger
João Donato, “Me Deixa”
João Donato was a masterful pianist and composer who created a sound all his own within Brazil’s rich musical landscape and beyond. His style is marked by close inner chromatic voicings — clean, precise and articulate, producing an elegant yet buoyant groove. This percussive harmony is highlighted throughout his earlier songs “Rio” and “Villa Grazia” (which would become the classic “Bananeira”) and develops further in his 1973 album “Quem é Quem.” Donato had just returned to live in Brazil after a stint in the United States and a divorce. In “Me Deixa,” Portuguese for “Leave Me,” the electric Rhodes piano lays a hazy foundation underneath a wild, bird-like metallic texture, possibly a flexatone. The horns come in and reinforce the mournful longing of the melody. I love the confidence you can hear in his hands and harmonic choices, honoring the Indigenous origins of much of Brazilian music — all while creating a fresh sound that still sounds inventive and experimental today.
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Rodrigo Brandão, spoken word artist and writer
Moacir Santos, “Nanã”
The arranger, composer, maestro and multi-instrumentalist Moacir Santos’s contribution to Brazilian music is parallel to that of Duke Ellington for U.S. jazz. A Black man from Pernambuco, in the historically impoverished Northeast section of the country, he relocated to Rio de Janeiro just in time to teach a whole new generation of musicians who would become icons, from the late, great Sergio Mendes to the Grammy-winning artist Eumir Deodato.
“Nanã” is Santos’s most legendary composition. Originally an instrumental piece, lyrics by Mário Telles were added later on. It’s hard to pick one favorite take of the song, since it was largely recorded by many great artists, from the early 1960s to nowadays. Also titled “Coisa No. 5,” as on Santos’s masterpiece album “Coisas,” the tune is a praise to Nanã, the most ancient female orisha from the Afro-Brazilian religion of candomblé. In the “Monologue” track that introduces his 1972 vocal version, included on “Maestro,” the first out of his three-album run for Blue Note Records, Moacir explains that when meditating by the water, he had a vision of such an entity. Deeply spiritual, “Nanã” is a true Afro-Brazilian jazz standard.
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Melissa Almaguer, tap dancer and improviser
Hermeto Pascoal, “Religiosidade”
Hermeto Pascoal is the perfect example of playfulness, freedom and self-taught genius. His unconventional approach to music and composition transcends any genre, creates boundless doors of possibilities and redefines what harmony sounds and feels like.
I was first introduced to Hermeto by one of my inspirations, Shabaka Hutchings. When I listened to “Religiosidade” (“religiousness”) from his album “Cerebro Magnético” (“magnetic brain”), released in 1980, my mind was blown. In only two minutes, this composition explores a vast array of dimensions. Like the album cover (that Hermeto created), “Religiosidade” is colorful, bright and dark; packed and spacious, and full of surprises. Each instrument seems to be telling a different story, creating a cacophony that can feel uncomfortable yet magical when unified. Perhaps like a dance of religions, a reconciliation of paradoxes where harmony is found by the embrace of (what seems like) opposites, different truths that are really identical in nature.
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Allen Thayer, journalist and D.J.
João Gilberto, “Águas de Março”
Back in college, when I first fell in love with Brazilian music, I would enthusiastically assert to anyone who got me started that “Águas de Março,” as performed by Elis Regina and Antônio Carlos Jobim, was my all-time favorite song. In the pre-internet age, it took me a few more years to secure a copy of João Gilberto’s 1973 album and revise this opinion. Released 15 years after launching the bossa nova revolution that merged samba with jazz, characterized by hushed vocals and an innovative guitar style, Gilberto’s “white album” perfected his deceptively simple style. Augmented only by featherweight percussion, “Águas de Março” hypnotizes with precise yet playful vocals that float over and under cascading guitar lines in an Escher-esque aural illusion of never-ending descent.
In 2001, a poll of more than 200 Brazilian journalists, musicians and artists chose the song as the all-time best Brazilian song. “Águas de Março” (“Waters of March”) has been covered dozens of times in pop, rock and jazz styles by musicians from around the world, but it’s Gilberto’s interpretation that best embodies “saudade” (a Portuguese word describing a sweet nostalgia tinged with melancholy), the secret ingredient in the bossa nova, Brazil’s greatest contribution to the jazz tradition.
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