The outrageous percussion, dance and martial arts ensemble known as Beat the Donkey is the glorious creation of the Brazilian-born multi-instrumentalist Cyro Baptista. When not beating the donkey, Baptista is a hired gun for such luminaries as Ryuichi Sakamoto, Herbie Hancock and Trey Anastasio. He's also a premier bacalhau chef.

In concert, Beat the Donkey pounds, shakes, scratches and tickles all manner of instruments, and sails through the air with such vigor that one wants to hop onstage and join the fun -- a reaction Baptista is accustomed to. "It's interesting how many people come to me after a performance to tell me that they also shake the pods, play a vacuum cleaner hose or refrigerator parts," he explains. "Percussion taps the core of some kind of feeling that has been dormant, making us realize that music is something that we do collectively."

While Beat the Donkey's men and women sing -- sometimes softly and at others vehemently -- in Portuguese and often play rhythms firmly grounded in Brazilian tradition, Baptista is hardly dogmatic. "O Canto Da Ema" is a rocking number that features the screaming, wahed-out guitar crimes of guest Marc Ribot that resolve themselves at song's end in a greasy funk; "Rio De Jakarta" finds the band performing on a number of Indonesian instruments; "Sapo [The Frog] and the Prince" is a crisp little number whose sly beat is kept by a chorus of snapping fingers.

Asked to elaborate on "Sapo," Baptista replies, "Well many times in life we are not happy about what we are and we want to be something that we really don't know what is. That is the case of this frog. It ends up turning into a boring prince until it finally realizes that he would rather just be a frog with his big lips kissing, and a long tongue caressing, transforming those who lie about their feelings and don't know how to dream or love."

The album's inside photo depicts the 10 luscious members of Beat the Donkey, who are of varying shades, genders and ages, and sport unusual costumes (the most intriguing being a bra/survival instrument made from a chandelier that formerly did service in the Waldorf-Astoria hotel). At the edge of the frame, Baptista extends a hand, as if to say, "Hey, do you want to join us?"

Mmm-hmm. Do we ever.