The word "revolution" is, in and of itself, a nifty pun. It can denote a return back to where you began, or it can mark a transcendence from where you once were. The story of Os Mutantes, the seminal sonic pranksters from Brazil's famed Tropicalia movement, is a story of revolution in its every context.

Born in the aftermath of a 1964 coup that ushered in a repressive military dictatorship, Os Mutantes (Portuguese for "The Mutants") went on to create some of the most progressive and transcendent music of the 1960s and early '70s. Now, after more than three decades of inactivity, bandleader Sergio Dias has re-emerged with a new lineup, a new album and a hefty touring schedule that brings the Mutants to Minneapolis for the first time, Saturday night at the Cedar Cultural Center.

Balancing jubilant experimentation with sharp pop songwriting and breathtakingly sophisticated arrangements, Os Mutantes have always created a daring potpourri of sound. In their greatest works, of which the band can claim at least three undeniable masterpiece albums (as with many bands, the early stuff is by far the best), musical tropes from genres as diverse as psychedelic rock, samba, rhythm and blues, musique concrète, and western classical dance together like the linked nudes of Matisse's "Dance." While this colorful collage work earned the band fame in their homeland, international acclaim wouldn't come until decades later, when artists like Kurt Cobain, Beck and David Byrne began hailing their achievements to anyone within earshot.

Despite the relatively newfound attention to the group's landmark early recordings, a rejuvenated Dias professes no interest in attempting to re-create the magic that once was. Consistent with his revolutionary nature, Dias instead brought Os Mutantes back to life to create new music in every sense.

By phone, the jovial and articulate lead Mutant explained: "We made a point of not listening to the old records. We wanted to sound exactly as we would sound today. I even built a new guitar to play. We wanted it fresh."

True to this aim, the group's new release, "Haih ... or Amortecedor," is fresh, vibrant and utterly unique. While the band still mashes a galaxy of sound into an amazingly harmonious package, the end result is a refreshing statement that offers nostalgia nothing more than a sly wink on a path to uncharted realms.

Such songs as "2000 e Agarrum" and "Anagrama," two of the album's most instantly enjoyable tracks, retain enough old Mutantes charm to send the listener backward, yet most of the album is decidedly forward-looking. "Querida Querida," the album's first real song, is a beguiling stew of hard-rock guitar, tactful horns, swirling reversed audio snippets and harmony vocals that is unlike anything you've ever heard. Upon first listen, it's almost too much, but repeated play reveals logic and hooks you could never have seen coming. It's a tribute to the spirit of creation that the group takes such bold risks.

To a similar effect, Dias could have undoubtedly brought in a slew of prominent collaborators to help generate interest and sell records -- the Flaming Lips, Of Montreal and Devendra Banhart are all well-known fans. Instead, Dias enlisted a group of relatively unknown Brazilians. The only collaborators with any real name recognition in the States are Tom Zé and Jorge Ben, two contemporaries from Tropicalia's heyday in the '60s.

"We wanted to be able to be naked in front of the audience, and just be slapped in the face if something was wrong or the music was bad," Dias explained.

To those who have long loved Os Mutantes' recordings, be not afraid to take a step forward with them. An attempt to recapture a sound created long ago would stand in antithesis to the group's driving impulse. The snake eats its tail. The phoenix rises from its ashes. The Mutants mutate. And change is a beautiful thing.