Perhaps Yehudit Ravit’s story can explain the appeal of Brazilian music to the Israeli citizenry. Not to go into deep into cultural history (because Brazil does play a role in it to its storied, political relationship with Israel), but it seems due to its location right on the Mediterranean and it’s quite lovely, simpatico weather, Brazilian culture has always had some pull in Israel. What’s massively impressive about Judith Ravitz’s Bolerio (in Hebrew: Yehudit Ravitz – בוא לריו, Bolerio translating to “Come to Rio”) is that it pulls no punches in impressing the influence of Brazilian music and certain Brazilian-ness, by reimagining the music of samba icon Jorge Ben Jor, in only the way she could.
Some of you don’t need me to impress how big a name Yehudit Ravitz is in the Jewish and Israeli world. Although she began her career, during her military service, in a rock band, somehow she ended up collaborating with others to create music for The 16th Lamb a set of softly rockin’ music with many children’s songs that are quite literally Israeli standards now. Fast forward, pass that, to today, as a leading lady in Israeli rock, one can surmise why her career would later take off much like Sheryl Crow’s or Melissa Etheridge’s: as a semi-decent singer-songwriter who has a gnarly-enough voice to pull off semi-edgy adult contemporary. Luckily, we’re not talking about that vastly more known aspect of her career. Today, we’re talking about that bit when she was a tad younger and still driven by her love for Jazz, funk, folk, and Brazilian music.
As younger artist Yehudit, in 1978, was invited by Matt Caspi, an early, Israeli, Brazilian music aficionado to participate in a radio show “Do-re-u’mi’od” where they’d translate and perform classic Brazilian songs. That show became such a hit they released Pais Tropical – Songs From Brazil (Eretz Tropit Yafa) a compilation of Israeli interpretations of classic Brazilian samba, bossa nova, and MPB songs. In a way, that compilation would be such a hit, due to the titular song (a Jorge Ben Jor rewrite) that it brought about an explosion of Brazilian-influenced Israeli culture.
Because of this hit of fame, during this stint as guitarist and singer, Yehudit was allowed the idea of creating her own Brazilian-influenced music. With a voice that sounds quite similar to Maria Bethânia, her own exploration of MPB on her debut album, יהודית רביץ , signalled that she could stand in front with originals that could easily blend in with the country she took musical influence from. It was that, her 1979 self-titled debut, that showed he had the chops to really experiment with what was just a trendy thing for others to play with.
Just a year later, Yehudit would record and release Covered and Discovered (גלוי ונעלם), an album that rolled into her sphere, until then, unheard of influences in funk, disco, and chanson music. Almost completely self-penned, Covered and Discovered rivals Bolerio as something quite worthy of your time as well. On it you can hear the way Hebrew, somehow, works as a perfect foil to this tropical-lilting music. To my ears, it’s the closest language you can speak/sing with that gets at that inherent pining, musical phrasing found in the sadly, oft-derided Portuguese language. Strains of the warm, head-spinning samba funk stirring at the tail of Brazil rear its head perfectly here.
In 1983, Yehudit conceived of a brilliant idea when she got wind that Jorge Ben Jor was touring Israel with his backing band A Banda Do Zé Pretinho from 1978’s similarly titled through his ‘80s Bem-Vinda Amizade (one of my personal canon albums): why not hire them to back her up on her next release? If they had the time, she had the time to go into the studio really reinvent some of the songs they helped recreate on stage and to properly introduce Israel to the lyricism of Jorge Ben Jor. On Bolerio she’d give them equal billing as they helped modernize and rethink the music of Jorge Ben Jor for an audience that scarcely knew that he was the man behind the adopted hit “Eretz Tropit Yafa” (partly due to his records being difficult to find in Israel).
Not separating the African and dark-skinned part of the band, kudos goes out to Yehudit for not tamping or watering down her newfound takes on classics like “Ive Brussel”, “Taj Mahal”, or “Que Pena”, instead the whole crew went hard and added a whole bunch of sneaky ideas. Probably rocking harder than Jorge Ben Jor would on those same tracks, the album kicks off with a deep cut from Jorge’s sleek Salve Simpatia, “Boiadeiro”, and reamps it in a way that seems heavier and knottier than the studio track; furious bass work working in tandem with equally furious guitar strums, all the while Yehudit perfectly syncing with the flow seamlessly. “Santa Clara”, one of favorite tracks from Bem Vinda Amizade, transforms into this groovier, floating track that uses Yehudit’s range to make it more of perfect tune to take a romantic drive with.
What I love about this album is how sticks her neck out and covers songs in a way that is both faithful to the original yet obviously trying to do it’s own thing. One of Jorge Ben’s oldest, most iconic tracks “Que Pena” gets reimagined as this electric piano-led stormy kind of heavy, samba boogie that sounds less like the slightly melancholic one Jorge Ben Jor recorded and more like a warm celebration to moving on. Here the work of A Banda Do Zé Pretinho really benefits expanding on the base idea on the original and sending it into the stratosphear where somehow, always needed to be. The gorgeous scatting that ends the track really cements it for me. The same goes for the burning “Que Maravilha” which benefits from Yehudit’s wonderfully Hebrew vocal phrasing, adding tons of angst to a song that originally was far less pining than her take.
On the flip side, “Dia De Indio” a track many (sadly) would deride as being unbecoming of Jorge Ben Jor in Bem-Vinda Amizade for being too electronic, sends a big “middle finger” to those haters and stakes itself further into that leftfield samba electro-funk area by adding even more slippery arrangements. Shades of King Sunny Ade’s synchro-system, whirry, dubbyness seem to move this from mere rehash to something far more futuristic than the original. I’ll end on another instant favorite, Yehudit’s positively wicked reworking of “Taj Mahal”, one that Rod Stewart should have been slapped with a lawsuit…for not aspiring to rework as well. Forgoing the slightly proto-disco song of the original, the song goes for some middle ground between the not-quite-prog music of RIO (Rock In Opposition), peep that floating violin, and the new Brazilian boogie floating around the motherland. Succinct and compressed to its amplified, bare essence, “Taj Mahal” puts Yehudit’s range and A Banda Do Zé Pretinho’s compositional chops into the territory only the original could aim to touch.
If you’re reading this post, it might be too early to properly appreciate this record, hell at 30-some odd degrees where I’m writing, it seems positively blasphemous, but on second, third, heck, fifth listen Judith Ravitz’ here to bring that heat whenever you stumble upon it. It’s always hot as all hell somewhere…