A master warbler, a catholic songwriter whose erudition and folkish inclinations and taste for gutbucket rock form a beguiling hybrid, Caetano Veloso remains one of the most original of living artists. As it did for many listeners Brazil Classics 1: Beleza Tropical proved a gateway or me. I may drink more deeply from Jorge Ben Jor and Maria Bethânia’s catalogs these days, but Veloso, thanks to the way one could code him as a South American troubadour, was easier on Hispanic ears.
I’ve had several chance to see him live, finding an excuse or other because I’m pathetic. This would’ve been around the time when Pedro Almodovar’s Talk to Her brought Veloso a new acclaim thanks to a version of “Cucurrucucú Paloma” that in context embodied the queer overtones of which he has never to his credit been ashamed. And that’s not all Veloso had going on. A memoir whose asides and sociological detail cohere into an essential text about tropicália and the pressures on art in a police state, Tropical Truth: A Story Of Music And Revolution In Brazil (2002) looks especially rich in a decade when every boomer-plus rock icon had Something to Say before its confinement in the purgatorial remaindered section. Veloso’s an artist; he flutters his eyelashes like a champion tease so that “Ele Me Deu Um Beijo na Boca” isn’t just what the title says it’s about — the surprise when a male friend kisses him on the mouth — but a Neruda-esque meditation on Margaret Thatcher, Menahem Begin, and why Time Magazine says the Rolling Stones don’t matter. It’s his most attractive quality: he has the attitude of a good friend sharing his tastes while withholding his judgments.
The eponymous albums he released as the sixties ended, on which confident English-language performances share space with Portuguese cousins, are the place to start. I’ve never heard a putative acoustic strummer like “Maria Bethania” before: a demonstration of fellowship toward a sibling that encompasses “A Day in the Life” strings, onomatopoetic Van Morrison grunts, and an unfailing grasp of melody. Transa (1972), Cores, Nomes (1982), the Caetano Veloso of 1986, and a couple of the hipster-courting Arto Lindsey-produced late eighties albums boast many pleasures too. Gossamer-light, breathtaking in its confidence, 1994’s collaboration with Gilberto Gil Tropicália 2 is the sort of album I press tightly against the chest. And he’s still going! 2006’s Cê, an experiment with a conventional rock four piece, has its moments even when I get the impression he’s holding his nose.
Here’s a 16-track best-of:
1. Ele Me Deu Um Beijo na Boca
2. Maria Bethania
3. Tropicália
4. It’s a Long Way
5. Cucurrucucú Paloma
6. Estrangeiro
7. Nine Out of Ten
8. A Little More Blue
9. Aboio
10. O Leãozinho
11. Medley: Nega Maluca/Billy Jean/Eleanor Rigby
12. Haiti
13. Boas Vindas
14. Enquanto Seu Lobo Não Vem
15. You Don’t Know Me
16. Terra
Humanizing The Vacuum 