Momus

Nick Currie, the itinerant Scotsman who calls himself Momus, had already been making odd, wildly smart, dirty-minded records for more than 10 years when his first American album appeared. Originally a Jacques Brel–inspired singer/songwriter (seek out the remarkable Tender Pervert, from 1988), he scored hits in Japan with the hyperactive, hyperintellectual songs he wrote for pop idol Kahimi Karie; besides his own work, he's subsequently written for artists including Laila France (the hilariously sex-obsessed album Orgonon) and Milky (a.k.a. his ex-wife, Shazna Nessa).

20 Vodka Jellies is a hodgepodge of outtakes, demos (including his own version of Karie's Japanese megahit "Good Morning World"), and stylistic ex-periments. For all that, it flows deliciously. Momus' jaunt through personae, musical modes, and egghead name-dropping (this may be the first pop album to mention Polish novelist Witold Gombrowicz) just reinforces his pose as a wise, funny old exile, and his melodies have never been as splendid as they are here.

The jokes on Ping Pong are somewhat broader -- song titles include "Tamagotchi Press Officer" and "Space Jews." Still, "I Want You, but I Don't Need You" is the ultimate statement of mock-chanson cocksmanship, "Lolitapop Dollhouse" (written for Karie) lives up to its title, and Momus isn't yet quite too full of himself to be charming.

The Little Red Songbook, an exploration of "analog baroque" (read: lots of fake harpsichord), belabors its wit severely -- the disc's most-quoted line is "What is the cultural meaning/Of coming in a girl's mouth?" -- and its music is almost entirely incidental. A harm-less tune about Walter/Wendy Carlos on the original printing of Songbook sparked legal trouble from its subject; to raise money for legal fees, 30 people and organizations each paid $1,000 to be the subject of an original Momus song on the two-CD set Stars Forever. It's a cute idea, but the songs are mostly forgettable.

By Folktronic, Currie had moved on to another, even weaker conceit: the intersection of cheap technology and folk tradition, which results in dopey jingles about "Finnegan, the folk hero of HTML" and an "electronic mountain girl." Debunking the myths of authenticity is a nice idea, but he doesn't have much with which to replace them.

Oskar Tennis Champion's songs also lean too hard on jokey concepts -- the titles of "Is It Because I'm a Pirate?" and "My Sperm Is Not Your Enemy" tell the whole story -- but Momus' tunes are back on the upswing, and the ring-tone medley that closes the disc is a nice touch. And the title track is his strongest in years, an elegant little piece of postmodern whimsy. (DOUGLAS WOLK)

From 2004's The New Rolling Stone Album Guide