Mix Marc Ribot’s tangled web of guitar figures with the airy propulsion of Dennis Crouch’s bass and you have the perfect accompaniment for Bridges’ trip into art-rock fantasia. Pour yourself a glass of strong hooch if you want to get a handle on this wicked ride.
Picture The Dude brushing shoulders with Charles Bukowski and you’ll get an idea of the intoxication that awaits. It’s not a song in the traditional sense; rather, it’s a bleary renunciation of rules and boundaries, and that’s what makes it such a kick. Bridges (backed by Sam Phillips and Benji Hughes) sounds like he’s just come off one heck of a bender, but he’s arrived with visions, and in his own leisurely style he sings them as if they're epiphanies.