The words “Caetono Veloso” and “revolution” go hand in hand. Beyond a musical profile as the sociopolitical poet/avatar of tropicalia, Veloso is the patriotic paragon of Brazilian activism and aesthetics whose work and life informed and influenced a once-militarized zone through to newfound freedoms.

With music and text that rejected, then bastardized, American pop, Veloso -- at the height of world psychedelia -- became a ferociously clever, always undeterred artist and statesman as well as a sweetly serene, Sinatra-like crooner.

But no other semiotician utilizing sexual magnetism and poly-sci poetry ever guided a nation through a censorious dictatorship, formed an entire musical movement (he and fellow tropicalistas Gal Costa, Gilberto Gil and Os Mutantes collaborated on 1968's Tropicalia: Ou Panis Et Circensis), or went to jail for lyrical and verbal transgressions against the state, facing exile from his homeland. Though feted on Luaka Bop compilations and Tropicalia: 30 Años, his religious devotion to the bossa, its kingpin João Gilberto and his own prog-psychedelic pioneering sounds are best heard on each of his 40-plus albums -- 1972's Araçá Azul, the U.S.-recorded Estrangeiro in 1989, recent masterworks Livro and Orfeu and the new, hometown-recorded CD, Live In Bahia (Nonesuch).

Unlike most of the world in the '50s, the always erudite Veloso -- as revealed in the initial chapters of his new exhaustive, biographical look at his homeland, Tropical Truth (Knopf) -- rejected American pop culture. It meant little to him and his burgeoning art form. "I loved good American films like those of Elia Kazan and the MGM musicals and the sounds of Ray Charles, Sinatra, Cole Porter and Gershwin," says Veloso from Manhattan, in a speaking voice as soothing as his vocals.

"It was rock 'n' roll and the mass culture of low-quality ideas and their icons -- Elvis, Marilyn -- that I rejected. Caricatures that were vulgar had no appeal. To import rubbish seemed foolish." It was especially foolish, as Brazil itself had the emotional complexity of composer João Gilberto and Tom Jobim, the soul of the bossa nova. Veloso's love of Gilberto is still passionate. As stated in Tropical Truth, Gilberto was "the path... that led to tropicalia," a redeemer of Portuguese language in song.

"To me, he is more than influence. He is a great high artist ripe with complexities, containing a precise synthesis of critical and culture vision of Brazilian music. What he's done and what he does -- in music and poetry -- is enormous. [It's] the way he rearranges harmonies, delivers words on top of his rhythm and exhibits melody."

By the mid-'60s, Veloso came to recognize how American pop culture could be used to unearth a new sociology of sorts, uncovering a beauty based on celebrity and consumerist rhetoric. Veloso's lyrical sensibilities dug their fangs into questions of Brazil's colonial wealth versus its poverty, purity versus mulatto-ism. His blending samba traditionalism with Brazilian choro and bossa and American blues, funk and psychedelic kitsch was as radical a move as Dylan the folk poet transmogrifying his work through electric guitar.

It was revolt by any music necessary. As with other nations' psychedelic upswing, Veloso saw new beauty and truth in the continuum that was Godard, Fellini, The Beatles and pop artists like Warhol only after he and his collective had created Tropicalia, the first work in the genre (and only, till he and Gil reunited for Tropicalia 2). "The '60s cried out for deep social and artistic change, rebelling against Communist societies and Marxist ideology that turned out to be mostly totalitarian states rather than experimentations in social justice," says Veloso. "We were meant to speak out."

Now, living in Rio, Veloso has moved from lyrically railing against censure, sexual boundaries and conservatism to more personal politics -- railing against apathy, personal boundaries and uneducated minds. "Back then we were against military dictatorships. That's a simple thing to oppose. Our position posed complex problems to the left and right. Now, we have a democracy that is stable. Or more stable. But I respond honestly to all stimulus before me. I do what I am able to." When asked if today's Brazil is the one he always hoped for in his most evocative songs, he says sternly but sweetly, "Yes. As politics go: no doubt. Still, we have a problem with the distribution of wealth. Brazil shows an unbelievable social disparity. This is what we must overcome." Veloso speaks more softly about New York City, a town he's known, loved and recorded in often since appearing at the Public Theater to adoring crowds and lousy acoustics in 1983. "I always found it odd that people who didn't understand a word of Portuguese would flock to my shows," he says with a giggle. "But I got used to it." He is also used to the fact that younger American artists -- the David Byrnes and Arto Lindsays of the world -- have found power in his older music, whether or not they understand the politics.

"The book came, oddly, from my time here in New York," says Veloso of Tropical Truth's wise, warm Fellini-meets-Descartes look at landscapes geographical and emotional. "I felt, more than ever, more than in any place outside of Brazil, that this book could forge a dialogue with people from other countries about what the truth of my homeland is." To him, New York City and Bahia -- the host of his new live CD where gently orchestrated bossas toss in time to his blissful smart-bombing lyrics -- are one in their vastness.

He agrees that Brazilian modernist culture is still an unfinished masterpiece. "In art, music and cinema -- but life, more importantly -- there is a brilliant reality that has never been achieved. Brazil is but suggestion and frustration. And that is wonderful."

Caetono Veloso plays Sun., Nov. 10, 7:30 p.m., $19-$67, Kimmel Center, 260 S. Broad St., 215-893-1999.