Super review by Cal Gibson, of The Secret Soul Society.

Out of the window, the wind and the rain are having a fine old time shredding the leaves from the trees as autumn turns inexorably to winter. Darkness falls at 4.30 in the afternoon, and we all feel blue, souls shiver and thoughts fester, warm sunlight will not be felt again until April or May. Northern Europe in Winter: not a place for the faint of heart.

Which is where Gus Levy comes in: serving us a straight up shot of distilled Brasileiro heat, delivered with a kiss and a smile and a wave of the hand as we’re off to the praia. If you’ve been jamming the Sesso album then you’ll be heading over to Gus’s vibe: it’s similarly horizontal, too smooth to groove, too cool for Euro-school.

Glacial tempos underpin irradiated basslines and pitch perfect vocal delivery from Gus and backing singers – opener No Vento Que For is four and a half minutes of sun-blessed musical wisdom, swathed in strings and full of repressed yearning. It’s pop music for the dispossessed: shades of Caetano Veloso slipping in under the radar. Beauty and truth wrapped up in the groove.

Juliana adds some skronky guitar lines but keeps the mellow feels: Jorge Ben repackaged for the here and now. It’s eloquent, heartfelt, pop-based with a West Coast flavour that goes down easier than a flask of Sailor Jerry. Gus being a guitarist, his six strings are present and correct throughout the album, intertwining with the orchestration for a beautifully considered soundbed. Great stuff.

The title cut is a slow-mo swampy blues, stumbling into the light after a night on the tiles, mouth dry, head pounding, in need of the softest of pillows. A touch of Tindersticks in amongst the sunshine maybe, a hint of Ry Cooder in the guitar lines. The whole thing threatening to come to a shuddering halt, weighed down by love gone bad and whisky-soaked regret. The sound of the sun frying souls for breakfast. A lovelorn classic.

Mudanca comes on like The Moody Blues meets The Go-Betweens downtown: Rio rock given a twist and a turn and a cha-cha-cha. Stick it on repeat as the rain lashes down, and somehow the world seems almost habitable again. Two minutes in and Gus delivers a lovingly detailed solo that shakes magic over the groove: quality music-making for sure.

Devagar plays us out with two minutes of miniature architecture: strings and vocals and yet more deep soul music to wallow in. It’s a brilliant conclusion to an album that’s subtle and warm and full of tenderness, an album to slot right into your collection alongside the greats mentioned above. It more than stands up to such elevated comparison: a salve for the coming months of discontent.

Gus Levys Magia Magia is out now on 180g.