You can't exactly call Verocai an outright renegade; he both produced largely uncontroversial Brazilian artists of the time like Jorge Ben and Gal Costa and composed TV themes. But he generously sprinkles Arthur Verocai's pop-soul casserole with the kind of intriguing flavors that would later turn on current retro-experimentalists like Stereolab and Zero 7: snarling horn-section lines, sharp string-section stabs, and twinkling electric-piano solos.
Certain moments on the album, though, reach out beyond the producer's quirky brand of Brazilian groove. Elements like the off-rhythm shaker in "Caboclo" and "Velho Parente," the clanking Bahian percussion of "Sylvia," and Luiz Carlos' willfully flat vocals on "Pelas Sombras" reflect Verocai's tangible desire to toss a wrench into the repressive order of the time. Perhaps Edson Maciel's tipsy two-minute trombone solo on the album-closing "Karina" best encapsulates the attitude: Like a trapped elephant, it mumbles, then trills, sputters, and trails off before building into angry whoops, the defiant sound of artistic energy held down for too long.
