Colombian songstress Andrea Echeverri has been purveying her unique brand of psychedelia-dusted Latin rock for more than three decades now—first as the leader of the slyly eclectic rock combo Aterciopelados and then as a solo artist. Whether experimenting with electronic textures on Aterciopelados efforts like 1998’s Caribe Atomico or borrowing from the traditions of Andean folk and Brazilian popular music on her more reflective solo endeavors, Echeverri always brings a startling level of intellectual intensity to her songwriting, which frequently recalls the politically pointed lyricism of Caetano Veloso and Juan Manuel Serat. Echeverri’s third solo LP, Ruisenora, is as tendentious and engaging as any of her previous work. Over a set of 13 songs graced with rich Beatlesque harmonies and spare, playfully experimental folk instrumentation, Echeverri engages an array of social, political, and personal issues with the clearsightedness and wit that's become her trademark. The lilting “Pirata,” which is built around group handclaps and a gently ascending melodica line, is an immediate standout. So is “Hermana,” with its graceful Andean pipes and stirring chorus.