A plain acoustic guitar strums as Julian Cope announces Jehovahkill's opening cut, "Soul Desert"; the bass goes thud, you hear papers rustling, then Cope begins: "I was lost and loveless in your soul desert/I was packed and kicking into your alien land." The effect is straight from the one-take "Las Vegas Basement," the sad-eyed closing track from Cope's last album, Peggy Suicide (1991).

After years of being a drug-addled space case, a newly sober Cope found social consciousness and a sharp musical focus with Peggy Suicide. Now, on Jehovahkill, an overwhelming sixteen-song cycle that picks up where Peggy Suicide left off, he again couples lyrics of inscrutable power with music that is both eclectic and tightly tailored to his songs' many moods. In a wash of everything from cheesy organ and sinuous psychedelic guitar to techno beats and the reverberating stream-of-consciousness monologues that wander without warning, Cope has packed Jehovahkill with enough musical novelty to keep listeners guessing – and intrigued.

Cope makes effective use of the ever-changing arrangements. He's especially impressive when, after letting a song float freely, he builds the music into a repetitive climax – "Don't take my life away/Please don't take my life away" ("Know [Cut My Friends Down]") – and then slinks away for the next musical setup: a plaintive ballad ("Soul Desert"), garage punk ("Slow Rider"), explosive pop ("Fear Loves This Place").

Cope wears different hats, but his styles never clash. He's elusive in his music as well as in his lyrics, hitting hardest when he's simply intoxicated by the sound of his voice forming words. What exactly is a "Cataclysmic intrusion of the Holy Ghost" (from "Julian H. Cope")? I'm not sure. But with Julian Cope, focusing on details like meaning and reason ensures that you'll miss what certainly is, if nothing else, a big picture. (RS 647)

ROB O'CONNOR