Too much of this stuff always made me grind my teeth, but it does work in small doses–besides, who but Al can get away with lines like "I sued Ben Affleck–do I even need a reason?" ("I’ll Sue Ya"). Actually, skip the disc itself and go straight to the additional six-song video disc, with his brilliant Beach Boys pastiche "Pancreas," plus animation from Bill Plympton ("Don’t Download This Song") and John Kricfalusi ("Close But No Cigar").

Friday: Robyn Hitchcock & the Venus 3, Ole! Tarantula, Yep Roc.

Close to three decades of writing variations on twisted pop-rock and he’s bound to get it right more often than not. He’s batting .500 here–off the top he’s got a snappy little sing-along in "Adventure Rocket Ship," and at the end a touching little tribute to bassist Arthur Kane in "NY Doll." In between are as many misses as hits, though even the most mediocre are enlivened by the presence of Pete Buck (REM) and Scott McCaughey (REM auxiliary).

Saturday: Avia Gardner, Mill Farm, Intr-Version.

The find of the week–small, self-deprecating folktronica built on casual acoustic guitar strums, random xylophone hits, musical seizures, Jenna Robertson’s faux-naïf vocals, and child-like rhythms. Basement music, really, the kind of thing Say Hi To Your Mom does really well and your friends down the street do terribly–and even when attempting cutesy ("I’m here holding apple slices close to my heart," from "Winter’s Fucking Over Yeah") there’s still enough sonic edge, or at least outright weirdness, to put it over.

Sunday: David Francey, The First Set, Laker Music.

Songs from Francey’s already classic albums The Waking Hour and Torn Screen Door, performed live at the Kent State Folk Festival. As always, Francey is a consummate vocalist and performer–"The Waking Hour" and "Fourth of July" are particular luminous on this set–and accompanying guitarist Shane Simpson plays beautifully.

Monday: The Guggenheim Grotto, Waltzing Alone, UFO Music.

For all the love put into this album–from the gorgeous packaging to agonized, literate lyrics, carefully arranged songs, and immaculate playing–it’s still dull folk-pop (shades of, but not a patch on, Leonard Cohen and Eric Andersen) that feels so diffuse you can’t remember when you put it on or took it off. That’s a shame, really, because intentions really should count for more in music; but like Al Kooper once said, the best music hits you in the gut, makes you sit up and say "What the hell was that?"–and this doesn’t.

Tuesday: Bill Frisell, Ron Carter, Paul Motian, Self-titled, Nonesuch.

As close to conservative as guitarist Frisell gets, piling jazz (Monk’s "Mysterioso" and "Raise Four") against country and folk standards ("I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry," "Pretty Polly"), each song finding that same surprising spot where the two intertwine gorgeously.

Wednesday: Cities, Variations, Yep Roc.

The self-titled Cities album they took this from was a bit of a trudge to get through, but helpful re-mixers Mild Davis ("A Theme"), Free The Robots ("Capitol"), Ladytron ("Writing on the Wall"), and CacheFlowe ("Lancer") do such a good job with the dance-disco mixes that it almost calls for a re-listen.