Tropicália gave every ‘60s Brazilian wild child a soundtrack, and Gilberto Gil was one of the movement's high priests. He's a maximalist, throwing everything but the kitchen sink at his samba-inflected pop: distorted guitars, a riot of rhythms, dramatic strings, trembling organ vamps. But the irrepressible melodies of these songs (from “Domingo no Parque” to “Cérebro Eletrônico”) can more than bear the weight; they soar.