"Personagem"

The dark cutout characters plastered abstractedly across Arto Lindsay¹s new CD cover seem a cross between a Timothy Burton movie ad and Rorschach blot. To say Lindsay's music isn't cerebral, if not downright clinical, would be an understatement; what else could be said of a man whose first band was named DNA? A child of Brazil¹s Tropicália movement, Lindsay's fame was made tweaking albums by Caetano Veloso, Carlinhos Brown and Marissa Monte, among many others. With his sixth solo studio effort, Salt, we see his finest work to date.

Lindsay's ear for production is brilliant, proven over and again, yet his own songs have often lacked similar beauty. He is a man of texture. ¬ Monte's gorgeous Memórias, Crônicas e Declarações de Amor is proof enough of that,¬ but his penchant for walls of screeching electronic sound, while interesting in a theoretical circle of scientifically bent studio sort of way, lacked soul. It's almost a stark contrast, the wailing of phasers against his soft, nearly effeminate vocals, but maybe that was the contrast he was shooting for. His moments of glory have been washed through digital processing, would-be ballads tortured by the machine's unloving grace.

This is not the case on Salt, where even screeches are melodic. Newborn confidence or newfound knowledge of technical subtlety, every track emits an effervescent tinge. The chippy-chop guitars of "Personagem," and the patient drum kick of "Twins," ring through an edgy layer of electronics, but here, Lindsay tempers his robots well. The result is an efficient bow drawn by an iron archer aiming at nerve-wracking tenderness.

When he wants to be truly gentle, Linsday shines still brighter. The opener "Habite Em Mim" and springtime ode, "Into Shade," show the softer luster he's capable of, but the absolute winner is "Kamo (Dark Stripe)." Like a theme song to a Cameron Crowe movie (take your pick), it leaves a warm feeling deep inside somewhere. Where, exactly, that is, we can't say: it's an invisible realm the robots can't invade, a place we can rest comfortably before continuing our technological quest into nevermore.

Contributed by: Derek Beres