As hybrids go this is right up there. When the Getz/bossa craze hit the stratosphere in the mid-1960s a lot of musicians were left with neck ache. But not veteran borscht belter and virtuoso klezmer 'nettist Lev Gorshin. No. He grabbed that craze by the scruff of the neck and wrestled it into a different kind of jazz (it was a points decision, but who's counting). When regular drummer Sol Lipkin was hit by a truck in the garment district Gorshin drafted in itinerant Brazilian percussionist Egmondo Barbosa. Barbosa brought the sensuous subtleties of the Copacabana to the clarinettist's jazz-tinged outfit. Gorshin brought 300 pounds of pure, unadulterated Ashkenazi earthiness – and a good dose of New York chutzpah. “The band went bossa nova overnight – out went all the old material,” recalled bassist Murray Goldbluth, “we had to learn real fast. There were arguments, of course, that's natural. If I'm honest, at first, I didn't care for it. ‘Getz schmetz’ – that was my way of looking at it. But I ended up loving it!”. On this album bossa nova meets klezmer like two families eyeing each other warily across a buffet at a catered wedding. Those beguiling Jobim warhorses ‘Desafi nado’ and ‘Corcovado’ are interrupted by sudden eruptions of wailing clarinet from Gorshin and gallivanting accordion from Markovitz. Next up, Barbosa does a lovely job of opening Luiz Bonfa's ‘Manha De Carnaval’ with a lithe, seductive, shuffling rhythm and Schmibble is clearly enjoying himself at the keyboard, while Goldbluth anchors things feelingly. Then Gorshin, Markovitz and Orsky barge in like the Marx Brothers at a bar mitzvah. Finally, ‘The Girl from Ipanema’ doesn't conjure up an image of a “tall and tan and young and lovely” languidly sashaying seawards, but rather thoughts of five big guys schlepping for all they're worth – playing with a rollicking abandon that would have the Brazilian damsel running for the dunes. Mazel tov!