Venezuela's resident musical maniacs and former Latin Grammy nominees are back with covers of seventeen tunes they knew and loved during their teen years, a few of which, such as "Miss Venezuela," complete with samples of a simpering beauty queen, actually sound strangely familiar. Their rampant satirical stance and penchant for studio wizardry still firmly in place, they wallow in neo-nostalgia, running amok in Caracas Oldieville, abetted by producer DJ Dimitri of Paris and their own polymorphous tendencies. Nods to Isaac Hayes, Nigerian superstar Fela Kuti, sixties bossa nova as sanitized via the American west coast, P-Funk, Santana, and even The Fifth Dimension do a crazed buck-and-wing around hip-hop, lounge and latter-day dance club machinations. The contexts shift so rapidly that if the listener weren't so busy boogying, vertigo might well set in. By the third track, the flagrantly over-ripe, increasingly bizarre sets of cross-pollinations begin to seem almost normal, as a kind of sonic Stockholm Syndrome sets in. Going with the flow becomes not only a matter of self-preservation, but a hilarious, booty-shaking journey into the group's seductive, endlessly inventive brand of lunatic genius. -- Christina Roden

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