Canale lives on the outskirts of Buenos Aires, and "chancha via circuito" roughly means "pig on the circuit" (or loop)-- a reference to the train he takes out from the center city every night, and an image that only reinforces the impression that Rio Arriba is, like an old Sexy Sounds of the Jungle-type exotica record, meant to be a journey. The album is dressed with samples that sound like hooting owls or jangling change-- small, ambient ornaments that give the music a sense of mystery.
And actually, it's when Rio Arriba hints more strongly at the dancefloor-- on a couple of the guest-vocal tracks toward the end-- that I fall out of its spell. Most of the time, it's is incredibly repetitive, but the repetition shows patience and restraint. And it's that patience and restraint that always makes me feel like I've never gotten enough from the album, but it's also what makes me able to listen to it over and over again, absorbing its mood a little more each time. Because it never bangs my door down, I'm happy leaving my door open.