In the realm of Brazilian music there's only one bigger Gilberto than Gilberto Gil, and that is none other than the patron god of bossa nova, the legendary João Gilberto. In Gilbertos Samba, Gil pays tribute to the master in a two-fold way, firstly by recording his own versions of songs indelibly associated with João Gilberto (plus two originals by Gil), and secondly by doing something similar to what Gilberto did on his classic 1981 album Brasil. Gilberto recorded Brasil together with Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil, and Maria Bethânia, but chose a repertoire of standards by composers Ary Barroso and Dorival Caymmi, effectively melding the three most important movements of Brazilian popular music into a single album, the sambas of the '30s and '40, the bossa nova of the '60s, and the tropicalismo of the '70s. After 33 years, it's Gil who plays cultural synthesist by bringing together the bossa of João Gilberto, his own not-too-shabby musical legacy, and input from a young generation of Brazilian artists who have, silently but steadily, become a leading force in the contemporary scene, the trio of Domenico Lancelotti, Pedro Sá, and Moreno Veloso (son of Caetano), as well as his own son Bem Gil and Danilo Caymmi, son of Dorival and Nana Caymmi -- in short, just about the entire history of Brazilian popular music under one roof. Gil does not attempt to duplicate Gilberto's patented bossa sound, but rather to put a different spin on it. This he accomplishes in mainly two ways: by singing, and most of all playing, in his own inimitable style (the guitar work is just brilliant), and by occasionally toying with traditional arrangements of this material by incorporating instruments not readily associated with the bossa nova, such as shrewd electronic percussion on many tracks, the accordion on "Doralice," or -- most blatant of all -- letting Sá break havoc with distortion halfway into "Desafinado." For all of its many virtues, Gilbertos Samba is a record that is most likely to be appreciated more inside Brazil than elsewhere, as an international audience may miss the subtle references to multiple layers of Brazilian culture, and simply hear instead yet another tribute to bossa nova, albeit done a little differently. Indeed, perhaps the biggest fault one may find with this record is that it is too subtle for its own good. Straddling between loving reverence and his own mercurial nature, Gil never pushes the envelope too far the way someone like mad Tom Zé would do, but then on the other hand if he sticks to traditional form, he is too effervescent and joyous a performer to conjure that elusive happy-sad feeling that defines bossa nova, and particularly João Gilberto's version. In other words, Gil's approach work wonders with playful numbers like "O Pato," but it does not suit more dramatic ones like "Aos Pés da Cruz" so well. It certainly could be argued, and even its title seems to suggest it, that this is more of a samba album than a bossa one, but then again Gil's music has always been closer in spirit to Caymmi than to Jobim. While not a career-defining album by Gil, Gilbertos Samba offers an astonishing compendium of Brazilian music in one elegant package, arranged, played, and delivered with ingenuity and love to spare. A more radical re-imagining, something that was by no means beyond Gil's creative gifts, could have turned this record into something quite special, rather than the lovely, intelligent work it is.