Sao Paulo Confessions (1999)

Suba was born in Serbia in 1961 and emigrated to Brazil in the 1990s, already a producer and purveyor of the downtempo, acid jazz, you-name-it style. Mellow and lulling, with lively and compelling strains and rhythms, I found I could go all day with the stuff. Sao Paulo Confessions, perhaps Suba’s best-known album, was released shortly before his death. He was working postproduction on the Bebel Gilberto album he produced, Tanto Tempo (reportedly the bestselling Brazilian album of all time outside Brazil), when the studio caught fire. He saved the Gilberto material but was overcome by smoke and died. I didn’t know any of this when I bought the CD from that little shop in Vancouver that used to be so good. At the time I was plunged into downtempo anthologies such as the Buddha Bar, Café del Mar, and Hotel Costes series, each of which ran to many albums. In fact, Sao Paulo Confessions now elicits nostalgia and a little sadness for those times, along with a constant buzzing sense of déjà vu—I feel sure I’ve heard many if not all of these tracks and/or guest artists on various anthology albums but I haven’t been able to track down any specifics. I’m not sure I can count that as a good thing but, well, “chill” is the first thing you would have to say about this concept album recounting Suba’s Sao Paulo adventures. Some might say soporific, but I’m into it. Maybe slow-burn? Does that sound right? Sao Paulo Confessions is one of those albums that get better for me as I go, establishing a mood and finding ways to elevate the intensity, rewarding multiple plays. Play it now and play it often. It wanders pleasantly afield for its first half and then goes up a notch with the seventh of 12 tracks, “Um Dia Comum (Em SP)” (in English, “A Normal Day [In Sao Paulo]”), which delivers a stirring, nicely done “portrait of a city” groove with musical effects and helpless forward momentum. With “Sereia” (“Mermaid”), featuring Cibelle, now we’re rockin’. “Samba Do Gringo Paulista” (“Paulista Gringo’s Samba”) has a nice sense of false live performance and the album finishes on “A Noite Sem Fim” (“The Endless Night”) at 7:02. You might prefer rounding off your Buddha Bar or Hotel Costes sets, but Suba’s last album is nonetheless a worthy addition to any downtempo collection. Available on streaming too.