The other white album

João Gilberto: Aguas de Março / Falsa Baiana
From João Gilberto, 1973, Polygram Brazil

Supposedly, Miles Davis once claimed João Gilberto would sound good reading the newspaper. Or maybe it was the phone book. Truth or legend, Miles was right.

It seems silly to post about João, co-creator of the bossa nova, a musician so legendary that even those who come here seeking fiddles and banjos might have a CD of his sitting around, probably something from the classic sessions with Antonio Carlos Jobim and Stan Getz, which launched the bossa nova craze.

But this record, recorded more than a decade later, is on a different level. This self-titled release, appropriately known as Gilberto’s “White Album,” is one of those rare classics that transcends genre and time to become Essential Music. It belongs in the collection of Brazilian music obsessives and indie rockers alike. (But the Brazil freaks already have it, right?)

Besides a mercifully restrained percussionist, it’s just João and his guitar, voz e violão. His two instruments seem to originate from the same place, possessing a deep resonance with a bright edge. They dance with each other in that extraordinary way, perfectly described in another apocryphal quote, this time by Jobim himself: “João Gilberto,” he said, “pulls his guitar in one direction while singing in another.”

This isn’t bossa nova and it isn’t samba; it’s Brazilian music distilled as only João could, straightforward, playful and mesmerizing. It's also extremely quiet, but turn the levels way up and you can hear every squeak of finger on nylon string, every intake of breath between lines.

So crank up the speakers and listen to João reinvent the classic Jobim tune “Aguas de Março” by singing nearly a full measure ahead of his guitar. Then check out the other track. Then buy the album.

Click here to buy the album from Amazon