Rei Momo,' David Byrne's first solo album, is essentially a survey of Afro-Brazilian and other Latin rhythms, and while it is perhaps the most self-conscious of Byrne's plunderings of the world's musics, it is also the most genial and easygoing. Unlike Remain in Light, the African excursion Byrne took with Talking Heads, Rei Momo does not include a bibliography in its press package. This album's message is in its music – a percussive, highly danceable set of songs that showcases its various sources while retaining many of the distinctive qualities of Byrne's own work.

"Now and then I get horny/At night you do/At night you do," Byrne warbles over the lilting rhythm of "Independence Day," the album's opening song, and his loopy eroticism sets the tone for the record. Byrne's singing throughout the album is smoother and more relaxed than it typically has been in the past, and the offhand surrealism of his non sequitur lyrics ("Money doesn't matter/Babies never lie/I'm going in the out door/I'm doing all right") bobs along nicely atop the momentum of Rei Momo's fifteen songs. The songs themselves are often extended by lengthy instrumental passages, and horns, strings, percussion and a wide variety of Latin instruments interweave in driving rhythmic patterns.

Dozens of musicians – tellingly, none of them Talking Heads, whose future would seem to be somewhat in doubt – perform on the album, and Byrne calls on the best. Salsa singer Celia Cruz duets with Byrne on the amusing "Loco de Amor," which originally appeared on the soundtrack for Something Wild, and Willie Colon and Johnny Pacheco both play on the album and co-write songs with Byrne. Members of bands headed by Cruz, Rubén Blades, Tito Puente and Wilfredo Vargas appear throughout. The production by Byrne and Steve Lillywhite is bright and impeccable; each of the many instruments is presented in pristine detail without ever distracting from the overall ensemble effect.

The one significant drawback of Rei Momo – the title refers to a Brazilian carnival king – is its lack of thematic ambition. While Remain in Light laced its polyrhythms with lyrics that explored mythology, third world politics and the relationship between tribal and contemporary ways of life, Rei Momo is a party record, a playful fantasy about life in the carefree tropics.

Byrne frequently hints at more serious concerns on the record – notably on "The Dream Police," "Dirty Old Town" and "Don't Want to Be Part of Your World" – but they are only clouds momentarily darkening the brilliant equatorial skies. Only "Women vs. Men," with its depiction of the sexes battling to a violent draw, suggests that all may not be well in the sunny lands below – or in our own land. A harder perspective might have made Rei Momo an artistic triumph, rather than the perfectly enjoyable, entirely worthy latest carrying of the progressive white man's burden. (RS 566)

ANTHONY DECURTIS