Adam Green's prolific output-- three solo albums since The Moldy Peaches' self-titled debut in 2001-- partly derives from the brevity, and partly from the unevenness of his material, much of which sounds as like it was recorded on a four-track in the back of a U-Haul. He's been called an "anti-folk torchbearer" along the lines of Jonathan Richman and Townes Van Zandt, but says he's "medium-serious" about his music (pick one, kiddo-- either you are or you aren't), an attitude that often breeds complacency. With songs averaging around two minutes, replete with gratuitous pop-culture references and illusory in-jokes, and devolving occasionally into inscrutable ramblings, Green seems to fit the mold of college-quadrangle-musician jamming ironic Bob Dylan covers for the Birkenstock literati. His best work, though, is self-indulgent, redundant, and exasperating, and therein lay its charms.

Jessica, a five-song EP of old and new material, contains dashes of 60s folk, country, lo-fi pop, and a recording of a child singing an anti-smoking commercial. Two songs are from Green's recent full-length album, Friends of Mine, and one is a cover of The Beach Boys' "Kokomo", with Ben Kweller. The title song, "Jessica", is about pop icon/mammary-spectacle Jessica Simpson, whose nonsensical musings have been on painful display recently on MTV's Newlyweds: Nick & Jessica. Here, a resounding string arrangement (cello and violin, I think) lends a bigger-than-usual sound to the guitar, bass and drums trotting behind Green's mordant lyrics. "Jessica Simpson/ You've got it all wrong/ Your fraudulent smile/ The way that you faked it the day that you died.../ My body's in a shambles/ Encrusted with brambles."

A similar string arrangement frames "Friends of Mine" where Green flutters a "Whoa-oh-oh-oh" through the chorus in Sinatra-like fashion. "What a Waster" is vintage Green, strumming guitar and lamenting about the dysfunctional sad-sacks that somehow weasel their way into his life. But my partiality to "Kokomo", the last song, is probably owed more to an awkward and deeply uncomfortable infatuation with the song itself than to Green and Kweller's version. I'm not a fan of Kweller, but Green couldn't have dreamed of pulling this song off without Kweller there to hit the high notes.

These are simple-- and sometimes inspired-- songs. But the lo-fi charm occasionally wears thin on Jessica, especially on the aforementioned child's ditty "Don't Smoke/The Bronx Zoo 1989", which brings me around to my biggest complaint about Green: he needs editing. Being only "medium-serious" about your music allows you freedom to experiment, to stumble clumsily into new territory, and to shirk accountability when you fail. It's also an impediment to greatness-- Talking Heads, Wire, and The Pixies couldn't have reached such heights without risking potentially looking like jackasses-- but with Green's greatness still in development, it remains to be seen what, if anything, all of this is leading to.