Christopher Loudon

Though she sounds as if she just arrived from Ipanema Beach, Heidi Vogel actually hails from London and boasts a fascinating history that began with Cirque du Soleil and progressed to lead vocalist for the British jazz-electronica ensemble Cinematic Orchestra. North American audiences got their first real taste of Vogel’s prowess in 2009, when she and her Cinematic mates delivered a killer “Breathe” on Jimmy Kimmel Live! For her first full-length solo album, she dials the power down, opting for a meditative softness across an 11-track playlist that primarily pays tribute to the great Brazilian songwriters of the 1960s and ’70s. Pure and fresh yet enticingly earthy, Vogel captures an intimacy that is less romantic than conspiratorial—whispered secrets and shared confidences rather than pillow talk. Propelled by guitar virtuoso Josue Ferreira, it is an approach that intensifies the beauty of masterworks by Jobim, Vinicius de Moraes, Gilberto Gil and Ivan Lins better than any interpreter since Elis Regina. Jobim’s tender “Dindi” and Lins’ captivating “Love Dance” (from which the album’s title is plucked) are particular standouts. Additionally, she ambles through stunning wordless treatments of Joe Henderson’s “Black Narcissus” and Billy Strayhorn’s “Chelsea Bridge.” Vogel hasn’t entirely broken with her past: A trio of bonus tracks include an explosive reworking of “Black Narcissus” with the Cinematic Orchestra and a second remix with jazz/funk maestro Emanative, plus a dance track called “Turn Up the Quiet,” constructed by broken-beat master IG Culture.

The 1960s gave us the Beatles and the Stones, Joni Mitchell and Janis Joplin. They also gave us Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. Indeed, among the era’s American hitmakers, few came close to matching the popularity of the TJB (none of whom were Mexican, including Alpert, who used to jokingly refer to the septet as “four lasagnas, two bagels and an American cheese”). Sure, it was fizzy, high-caloric pop, and Alpert was a solid though hardly exceptional trumpeter. But as suburbs sprawled, Alpert exhibited absolute genius at steering the hi-fi tastes of the bourgeois—not just with the TJB but with several of the acts under his A&M banner, including Sergio Mendes and the Carpenters. So it should come as no surprise that Alpert’s second (and less seismic) wave of success in the late 1970s and early ’80s would, for better or worse, prove equally influential. It’s reasonable to aver that he, as much or more so than Bob James, Chuck Mangione or David Sanborn, was quite literally instrumental in ushering in the smooth-jazz craze with a quartet of albums culminating in 1982’s Fandango , newly remastered and reissued. In essence, the nine musicians assembled here (including Alpert sidekick Julius Wechter on marimba and drummer Carlos Vega) are simply a more refined version of the TJB. (The Riviera Maya Brass, if you will.) As always with Alpert, the tunes, most written by Juan Carlos Calderón, are tasteful, fun and meticulously shaped, particularly the propulsive “Route 101” (though the slight-voiced Alpert should have been discouraged from singing…

When Mark Winkler, a quintessentially West Coast swinger, filled an album with Bobby Troup tunes a decade ago, it was a blissful marriage of hipster sensibilities. Winkler and Laura Nyro seem stranger bedfellows—California cool meets East Coast boho—yet Winkler, a gifted writer himself, makes the union work equally well. Nor was Nyro all dark-basement angst. Less hard-edged than such contemporaries as Dylan and Paul Simon, she, like Joni Mitchell, tended to float beyond category, blending a heady potpourri of folk, pop, jazz and show tunes. When that crazy mélange is filtered through Winkler’s laidback aesthetic, the results are quite magical. Winkler draws exclusively from Nyro’s first four albums, spanning the years 1967 through 1970, when many of the songs became best known via Top 40 cover versions from the likes of Blood, Sweat and Tears and the Fifth Dimension. Ably supported by a shifting cast that includes pianists Eli Brueggemann and Eric Reed and guitarist Larry Koonse, all of whom also contribute arrangements, he follows the lead of those long-ago pop groups by making each of these 11 tunes distinctly his own. So, “Time and Love” is reinterpreted as a dreamy ballad; “He’s a Runner” emerges as an intensely personal tale of betrayal; the wine-steeped “Sweet Blindness” erupts as a riotous party worthy of Louis Prima; and the jaunty post-Kennedy politics of “Save the Country” become a salve for various postmillennial malaises.

Few performers in or out of jazz are as consistently brilliant as Patricia Barber. Smash , her first album for Concord Jazz, simply reconfirms Barber’s status as a consummate artist. Her perfectly chilled voice, at once stern and tender, remains singularly compelling, and the fluid intelligence of her playing is typically enthralling. And while it would be unfair to decree Barber nonpareil among singer-songwriters, these new compositions further validate the assertion that she is one of our very best songsmiths. Most of the dozen tracks concern affairs of the heart—though, as always, Barber takes a wider view, crafting life rather than love stories. The title track likens heartbreak, which Barber notes emits no sound but should be painfully loud, to car crashes and other thundering disasters. “Romanesque” is a softer take on romantic disconnection, with conflict masterfully established between the sighed lyric and discordant piano chords. “Redshift,” a shimmering bossa nova, literally examines the science of attraction, and “Devil’s Food” is a delectable paean to love’s blindness that champions gay marriage. Shifting gears, “Scream,” a hammer wrapped in silk, unleashes pent-up anger about various societal ills. As on previous projects, Barber’s scholarly appreciation for poetry also figures into the songcraft. Three tracks contribute to a syllabic song series she is creating, with “The Swim” built entirely of two-syllable lines, “Spring Song” of three-syllable lines and “The Wind Song” of six. Brainy. Beautiful.

This is Tony Bennett’s third trip to the Duets well, and he’s come up rather dry. The original Duets , released in 2006, included a pairing with Colombian vocalist Juanes. Last year, one selection on Duets II featured Bennett with Spanish singer-songwriter Alejandro Sanz. Viva Duets was intended to build on the popularity of those two tracks by teaming Bennett with a full slate of Latin artists. As always, his guest list is distinguished, extending from Marc Anthony, Gloria Estefan and Christina Aguilera to Mexican superstar Thalía and Puerto Rican pop sensation Chayanne. Trouble is, the hackneyed album makes little or no allowance for the unique talents and sensibilities of Bennett’s playmates. The program is uninspired. With the exception of “Return to Me,” Bennett has covered these tunes at least twice in the past—and, in most cases, three or four times—and included all but two on previous Duets projects. The arrangements, though polished, are near identical to those Bennett has used before. The expectation is that each partner will bend to his crooner style, which they respectfully do, often stifling their distinct verve in the process. And Bennett, for the first time since the inception of the Duets series, seems detached, content across most tracks to simply swap lines and verses rather than truly, deeply connect with his confreres.