Arto Lindsay: Noon Chill

Arto Lindsay became a key player in New York's avant-garde scene back in the late '70s, when he played guitar and "sang" in the legendary No Wave band DNA. What to most people sounded like incomprehensible gibberish, however, was often Portuguese, and Lindsay's Brazilian upbringing has continued to peek through the downtown veneer of his subsequent projects. While the snide synth-pop of Ambitious Lovers explicitly drew from South American pop, Lindsay's recent bossa-nova-tinged excursions have resulted in the most successful cross-cultural mergers of his career. So far, each piece of his de facto trilogy has been remarkably distinct: O Corpo Sutil eased gently into Brazilian pop, while last year's amazing Mundo Civilado dipped its feet into drum-and-bass and soul. Noon Chill, supposedly the final album in the cycle, is more upbeat than either of its predecessors, happily delving into hip hop, skronk, jungle, and any number of indescribable permutations, all of which are evidence of a restless spirit at the top of his game. Lindsay even draws a funereal horn section into the enigmatic "Gods Are Weak," one of the few tracks on Noon Chill that cannot easily be categorized as sensual. The rest of the disc is weird and wonderful business as usual, a unique and indispensable journey into a world where sound is life and Lindsay is living large.