The pulsing, trance-based spiritual rhythms of Brazilian candomblé served as the foundation for Cuidado Madame, one of the richest and most resonant of Arto Lindsay’s many solo albums. He’s an artist for whom pleasure takes many forms: a sly, slinky rhythm; an overload of texture that clears to knotty, thorny beats; slashing noise guitar disrupting a cyclical pop groove. But what’s most gripping about Cuidado Madame is a new fluency at work, an integration of those constituent parts, such that they’re all structural elements that make the core of the art here, Lindsay’s beautifully mystifying songs, work. Few people seem able to make sensuality such an integral article of avant-pop faith; Lindsay’s song-based life seems predicated on that very matter.