8. Sued Nunes — Segunda-feira (Ala Comunicação e Cultura)
Sued Nunes has a voice that echoes countless centuries and souls. She doesn’t need to belt or ascend to the higher registers to stir a shiver; instead, she is a disciple—or, should we say, an heir—of the Brazilian singing tradition that favors a clear, direct approach, emphasizing timbre over melisma, much like other powerful female voices from Bahia, such as Daniela Mercury. Her voice alone sets the tone for her music, which is steeped in the influences of candomblé. Yet, she reveals how her essence can stretch when she embraces more pop-inspired production and chord progressions, like in “Nem tenta”.
7. Felipe Cordeiro — Close Drama Revolução & Putaria
Felipe Cordeiro has always been one of the most vocal artists regarding Brazil’s historical neglect of the music made in the country’s North. As this discussion evolves and takes prominence in 2024, he wouldn’t stay silent, so he released Close Drama Revolução & Putaria. In form and essence, lyrics and melody, Cordeiro proclaims Northern, Amazonian music as a fundamental part of the Brazilian musical identity — in “[música parcialmente brasileira]”, he even plays with the acronym MPB (which stands for “Música Popular Brasileira”, or “popular Brazilian music”), calling it “partially Brazilian music” for not embracing the music made in the North region.
What is this music that Cordeiro defends? It’s brega, tecnobrega, guitarrada paraense, cumbia. It’s sung and played by names like Fruto Sensual, Gaby Amarantos, Arraial do Pavulagem, and his father, Manoel Cordeiro — all featured in Close Drama Revolução & Putaria. Except for one name (sax player and songwriter Thiago França), all the guest features on the album hail from the North region. However, the variety of voices is not the sole factor driving the record’s appeal. The instrumental tracks like “Potentes do brega”, “Cúmbia do Amor,” and “De tarde no Combu” are among the best, showcasing Cordeiro’s skills as a guitar player.
One minute, Cordeiro is excelling at guitar solos; the next, he’s denunciating illegal mining and the erasing of indigenous people; and the next, he’s calling the listeners to party. Close Drama Revolução & Putaria is a manifesto, but not one that takes itself too seriously. After all, Pará-born genres are essentially festive and sassy too.
6. Pabllo Vittar — Batidão Tropical Vol. 2
No one unlocks the pop, dramatic, and queer potential of forró and brega quite like Pabllo Vittar does. Batidão Tropical Vol. 2 lives up to this mission, offering fresh covers of early 2000s hits from these genres to reflect Vittar’s musical roots but also to introduce these genres to new generations and audiences who may not have encountered them due to the limited reach they had at the time.
The LP also triumphs in paying more direct tributes than its predecessor, Batidão Tropical Vol. 1. Joelma, the driving force behind the nationwide success of the genre brega calypso, is honored with a cover of Banda Calypso’s “Pra Te Esquecer”, a track from her time as the band’s lead vocalist. Forrozão Tropykália is not only covered but also featured in “Planeta de Cores”.
The sequel of Vittar’s Batidão Tropical plays it safe, and for this reason, it could hardly have the same impact as Vol. 1. However, the curation of songs of Batidão Tropical Vol. 2 is more entertaining and brings some good surprises, innovating in the production of covers “Não desligue o telefone” and “Nas ondas do rádio”.
5. Anitta — Funk Generation (Republic / Universal Latin)
Anitta always dreamed of making Brazilian funk go global. Funk Generation isn’t the proof, but the path Anitta built to get to the point that she could release an album like that by a foreign record label. Yet, Funk Generation is one of the most ambitious records in the genre’s history. It’s ambitious even for Anitta, who had become synonymous with drive in Brazil. Never before had her grit translated into music like in Funk Generation. The album has a clear purpose (to present Brazilian funk to foreign audiences) and fulfills it cohesively and boldly.
Those familiar with Brazilian funk may be confused when listening to Funk Generation: too many variations and subgenres are meshed together. The outcome may sound like a strange foundation for those unfamiliar with any of them. On the top of this mix, the lyrics alternate between Spanish, English, and Portuguese — sometimes on the same track. Does any of it make sense? It’s okay if it doesn’t. Anitta may be pretty direct when calling herself a “puta” or intoning sexual lyrics in Funk Generation, but her message is left subconsciously: you will not get to escape Brazilian funk; you *will* listen to it a lot, in many ways, and many languages, whether in Funk Generation or outside of it.
4. Os Garotin — OS GAROTIN DE SÃO GONÇALO
When we listen to a genre’s legendary singers and songwriters, we often say that no one in this generation can quite match their magic. We wait for the rise of new icons that could walk the way paved by the greats, and we look for them in the mimesis of these icons. However, many overlook that when these new icons emerge, they don’t just echo the best qualities of the legends. They infuse those elements with the spirit of our times, creating something familiar and fresh.
That’s what Os Garotin achieve—an R&B and soul revival palatable for street-smart, social media slang-fluent people. The trio’s first studio album, OS GAROTIN DE SÃO GONÇALO, feels rooted in history made by Cassiano, Tim Maia, and Jackson Five, but the sensual and romantic lyrics almost sound like just three young Rio de Janeiro guys talking to each other about their affairs. The informality of the lyrics, however, does not hinder the delivery of neat vocal performances. Leo Guima, Anchietx, and Cupertino all have gorgeous voices. Their harmonization is the cherry on top of the album’s groove.
3. Kaê Guajajara — Forest Club (Ala Comunicação e Cultura)
The last time (or, perhaps, the only) Brazil has ever had an indigenous-rooted pop phenomenon was in the early 1990s, when Carrapicho’s “Tic Tic Tac” took the country by storm and even made waves in France. However, the group’s success did not last; to this day, Brazil has never really had an indigenous pop star.
It’s too soon to say Kaê Guajajara is the chosen one, but her LP Forest Club is promising. Much like how Yan Cloud and Sued Nunes celebrate Black Brazilian culture through their music, Kaê shines a spotlight on the indigenous lineage often overlooked in Brazil’s pop DNA. She confidently claims space in the funk (“Cria dos cria”, “Me diz se é amor”) and dance music (“Mais alto”, “Sumaúma”) lexicons, bringing her ancestrality along. She salutes and honors the forest while also singing Instagram-caption-potential lyrics (“My top is the root”, in “Samaúma”).
Guajajara’s intention to enter the pop mainstream is obvious, but she does not fully compromise her art for mass appeal. Forest Club leans more into alternative and experimental realms. But the vision is clear and points to a prosperous future for Guajajara.
2. Duda Beat — Tara e Tal (Universal)
Duda Beat is the anthropophagic pop dream. She’s one of the most impeccable embodiments of pop that embraces Brazilian roots while simultaneously meeting fans’ cravings shaped by a pop industry dominated by North America and Europe. This conception was clear from the early stages of Beat’s career, but Beat kept perfecting it. Her third album, Tara e Tal, sounds like an artist who is closer to her prime. Tracks like “Que prazer”, “Teu beijo”, and “Quem me dera” show just how special of a pop star she is.
In Tara e Tal, Beat’s appetite for innovation is present, as always. This time, it’s influenced by the Brazilian breed of house and drum’n’bass (crafted by producers like DJ Patife), heavy metal, and the mandatory cultural specificity of Beat’s Pernambuco background. From the State of Pernambuco comes maracatu and brega funk, and as an artist whose own stage names borrows from the manguebeat movement (which meshed maracatu with rock, hip-hop, and electronic music), the mixture makes sense for Beat. Hers is a very particular brand of music, but one that is “Preparada” (“Ready”) to conquer international stages.
1. Liniker — CAJU (BREU ENTERTAINMENT)
Everyone seems fixated on musical nostalgia and Y2K culture and tries to emulate it by embodying aesthetic features in music production. But one nostalgic thing few accomplish is capturing people’s attention to the point that an album achieves longevity just like it used to. Well, Liniker is doing that in 2024 with Caju. With the risky of sounding like an “back in my days” type of person, Caju feels like a portal to a time when songwriting substance mattered more.
If you doubt it, just listen to the opening sequence made of “Caju”, “Tudo”, and “Veludo Marrom” — all of which are potentially classics. Caju is undeniably in place with current times. Still, the way people relate to it reminisces the birthing times of the MPB that today makes the “barzinho & violão” label (Brazil’s version of the “singer-songwriter” style, often featuring MPB, samba, and bossa nova hits that new artists are expected to play when performing at nightlife venues with nothing but a guitar).
By the way, the MPB label is one Liniker is moving beyond. As one of the song titles in Caju says best, she’s now a “Popstar”. The pop sauce is exalted in dancing songs like “Pote de Ouro”, “Tudo”, and “Febre”.
However, the true legacy of Caju will be romance. It’s in the delicacy of tracks like “Ao seu lado” and “Papo de Edredom”, which are enriched by the top-class piano of Amaro de Freitas and the soulful vocals of Melly, respectively. It’s also in the rapturous and unapologetic passion of “Caju” and “Veludo Marrom”. Liniker is so assertive when she pours her heart out that it’s almost condescending to anyone who does not live the same way. As she sings in “Tudo”, she can only be sorry for those to whom love is not everything.
Grounded in storytelling and vulnerability, songwriting alone drives Caju, but Liniker’s identity adds a captivating layer to the album’s popularity. There was a time when Brazilian LGBTQ artists had to be held to the status of icons like Ney Matogrosso, otherwise they wouldn’t be taken seriously (Pabllo Vittar was, and in many ways still is, a victim of this mediocre mindset). To demand minoritized groups to make “intellectualized” art to be treated with dignity is silly and degrading, but nevertheless, it’s heartwarming to see what Liniker is achieving with her music.
As a Black trans woman, Liniker’s political body sings about love and happiness in universal ways in Caju. To see all kinds of people relating to it is a breath of fresh air in a country with shamefully high rates of black and trans people’s murders. With Caju, Liniker is transcending many things at once. 2024 was her year. This is her time. And while she’s not by any means a beginner, it’s safe to say this is just the beginning for her.