Sylvia Telles - Sylvia (1958) Universal Japan CD UICY-79594

 

Like a lot of Americans, I was bitten by the bossa bug thanks to the Getz/Gilberto monster hit "Girl From Ipanema" and the rest of the Getz/Gilberto LP that brought the new Brazilian sound to the American mainstream. But unlike a lot of Americans, I didn't stop there, so besides consuming the other Brazilian artists who hit American shores in the "Ipanema" wake--Astrud Gilberto, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Walter Wanderley, Luiz Bonfa, etc., I dug deeper into lesser known Brazilian artists of that era and even backtracked into the pre-bossa world of 1950s Brazil. One of the bigger stars of that time was Sylvia Telles, who released her first 10" LP, Caricia, in 1957, and by 1959 was one of the early champions of the bossa music of Jobim with her third LP, Amor De Genta Moca (Musicas De Antonio Carlos Jobim), a full three years before Getz jumped on the Jobim wave with his Charlie Byrd LP Jazz Samba. But today's post centers on the Telles LP before that, her second release, Sylvia, from 1958. This is by and large a pre-bossa or even samba style of Brazilian pop recording. Most of the arrangements feature full orchestral backing, heavy on the strings, with an occasional sax interlude, very much in the style of the more sentimental and dramatic singers like Angela Maria or Elizeth Cardoso, though Telles eschews any of the stronger dramatic impulses while retaining a very emotive and melancholy tone. The closest American counterpart I can think of at the moment might be a Helen Merrill, though with less of her jazz improvisational approach. And yet surprisingly, half of the 16 tracks on this CD (which includes the original LP's 12 tracks plus 4 bonus tracks) are co-written by Jobim, proving that while we Americans may think of him merely as a bossa composer, we do him a great injustice. There are, however, two jaunty samba swingers in Jobim's "Aula de matematica" and Carlos Lyra's "Lobo bobo," a hint of things to come both from Telles and Brazil in general. While most Americans consider Astrud Gilberto to be the Voice of Brazilian Bossa, Telles is actually a far superior vocalist in terms of technical ability and interpretive range. She may not possess the fiery power of an Elis Regina, but she is a master of conveying the understated sadness that permeates much of Jobim's best work. Saddest of all, however, is the fact that Telles was tragically killed in a car accident in 1966 at just 32 years old. That same year her LP It Might as Well Be Spring attempted to break her into the American market with a number of American Songbook standards sung in English, her second attempt to crash American shores after her 1961 collaboration with American musicians Barney Kessel, Calvin Jackson, and the Bill Hitchcock Orchestra titled appropriately U.S.A. But for those curious to dip their toes into the music of Telles, Sylvia may not be the best place to start--there are several anthologies of her best work that may be more suitable, such as the compilation from the excellent Verve Pure Bossa Nova series issued in 2008. Once you've become a Telles devotee, however, you'll want to add Sylvia to your collection, too.

Do I Really Need This CD?  I actually already had an MP3-based download of this LP minus the bonus tracks that I snagged during the wild-west file-sharing days of the internet. But as anyone knows who has dabbled in those dark areas, the sound quality of those files can be a mixed bag, and I have since been trying to upgrade the audio fidelity of my more favorite releases from those sources, particularly now that I have a CD player that can take advantage of those better sources. Given that original vinyl copies of this album run from $125 for only a VG grade copy to $225 for only a VG+ (forget trying to find a Near Mint copy), this $14 Japanese CD that I purchased from Dusty Groove seemed the way to go (you can still find it for $9 without shipping from CDJapan as of this writing). Though I didn't give it my closest audio analysis on first listen, the sound quality of this CD seems quite good, if not breathtaking (which I wouldn't expect from a standard redbook CD anyway), and given some previous bad luck I've had in buying the above-mentioned Amor De Genta Moca on CD from what appeared to be a Brazilian label only to find it was a needle-drop, this copy seems the best choice from the currently available options. So, in short, yes, I really do need this CD.