Livro

1	Os Passistas (Carnaval Dancers) 3:23
2	Livros (Books) 4:31
3	Onde O Rio E Mais Baiano (Where Rio Is Most Bahian) 3:22
4	Manhata (Para Lulu Santos) (For Lulu Santos) 5:17
5	Doideca 3:40
6	Voce E Minha (You Are Mine) 3:44
7	Um Tom 2:29
8	How Beautiful a Being Could Be 3:27
9	O Navio Negreiro (The Slave Ship) (Excerto) Excerpt 5:17
10	Não Enche 3:31
11	Minha Voz, Minha Vida (My Voice, My Life) 2:50
12	Alexandre (Alexander) 5:48
13	Na Baixa Do Sapateiro (In Baixa Do Sapateiro) 3:46
14	Pra Ninguem (For No One) 2:59

Barnes & Noble

One of Brazil's longest-reigning pop deities, Veloso -- now over 50 years old -- shows he can still produce innovative and thoroughly enchanting music on this 1998 release. On LIVRO, Veloso lays down a solid rhythmic foundation of percussion characteristic of his native northeastern state of Bahia. Over that, he layers strings, brass, and various instruments. Veloso's caressing voice floats above the wonderful hodgepodge of harmonies and rhythms, sounding as if he were going to swoon from the beauty of it all. The result is music that sounds traditional and folkloric, lush and stark -- often at the same time. Showing himself to be both cosmopolitan and a traditionalist, he follows a sweet, drum-punctuated paean to Bahia with a cool, muted homage to Manhattan. Veloso displays his edgier side on "Doideca," with angular, modern-sounding percussion frenetically beating as a piccolo spirals above it, and on "O Navio Negreiro," a poem read in a monotone over a funky percussive accompaniment. But Veloso is nothing if not a romantic, and several tracks carry his exquisite lyricism aloft on a swinging chorus of drums and percussion, creating a unique, eye-opening sound. Marty Lipp

Barnes & Noble

From the warm embrace of a ballad ("Você é Minha") to the syncopated swish and sway of a samba ("How Beautiful Could a Being Be?"), Veloso's versatility is breathtaking. And Brazil's poet king is at the height of his powers on LIVRO, destined to be remembered as a masterwork in his storied career. It begins with Caetano singing "Vem" ("Come"), drawing out the vowel so sweetly that it's simply an offer you can't refuse. Then a battery of Bahian percussionists roll out a thick, welcoming carpet of drums that lure you into a lush musical wonderland that you won't want to leave. LIVRO is yet another virtuosic display from this prodigious Brazilian singer-songwriter. Who else could write a sultry but cool-as-Miles ode to Manhattan ("Manhatã") and then follow it up with a toe-tapping twelve-tone(!) techno number ("Doideca")? It's all held together not only by the thick glue of Brazilian percussion that permeates most songs on the album, but by Caetano's consistent ability to forge gorgeous, unpredictable melodies. LIVRO closes with "Pra Ninguém," an homage to the great Brazilian singers, past and present. Someday, when this song becomes a standard -- and it will -- the last line deserves to be altered to say: "E melhor do que o silêncio só Caetano" -- "And better than silence [there's] only Caetano." Andrew Farach-Colton

All Music Guide

Caetano Veloso continues his free-thinking explorations of tropicalismo on this ambitiously arranged, elaborately packaged suite of songs devoted to whatever happens to cross his mind. Veloso says that he was listening a lot to the collaborations of Miles Davis and Gil Evans around this time, and Jaques Morelenbaum's charts often reflect their darkly urbane ethos. Yet for Morelenbaum's yin there is also the yang of the battering Bahian percussion that dominates many of the rhythm tracks. "Livros" in Portuguese means "books," so Veloso gives you a sample of his book Verdade Tropical in the booklet notes and pays eloquent tribute to them on the title track: "Books are transcendental things/But we can love them with our hands." He is alternately awestruck and appalled by the ambiguities of New York City on "Manhata"; here, the arrangement definitely contains haunting echoes of Evans. He can venture into atonality on "Doideca" (12-tone, but pointedly translated in the booklet as "loony"), recite the horrors of a slave ship voyage, tell someone off ("Nao Enche," which means "Piss Off"), or simply sing "How beautiful could a being be" over and over, presumably to a child, in falsetto to a hot groove. One of the most amazing songs is an epic about the life of Alexander the Great; it comes off like a great saga song. Finally, he runs down a long list of all his favorite Brazilian singers, seemingly leaving out no one, only to close with "Better than this there's only silence/And better than silence, only Joao." Can't add anything to that, except don't miss this CD if you love Brazilian music. Richard S. Ginell