Pitchfork

R. Stevie Moore was born in Nashville, January 1952, the son of former Elvis bassist Bob Moore. Beginning in the mid-1970s, he began releasing albums and cassettes, and since has amassed more than 400 separate full-length albums. That's right: 400. So why haven't you heard this guy? First of all, other than a few scattered indie label releases, most of his material has been self-released via mail order (now via rsteviemoore.com). Early records such as 1976's Phonography and 1977's Swing and a Miss defined his aesthetic: a mixture of Anglo-powered pop, Zappa-esque instrumentals, lo-fi experimental sound design, and other music that defies categorization. Amazingly, although the nature of his music varies considerably from song to song, his albums are consistently interesting; if you like one, there's a very good chance you'll like many.

Conscientious Objector was released in June, and is described by Moore as "works in progress." Don't let that fool you: Its songs are no less "finished" than hundreds of others in his canon-- they're merely waiting on a final destination (either in a different mix or another record). The sound is generally unpolished, despite the best efforts of his collaborators, but certainly not to the detriment of the experience. Fans of Daniel Johnson should find much to love about Moore's sound, but beyond that, lovers of eccentric pop-- from the school of Brian Wilson, Van Dyke Parks, XTC, Animal Collective, Neutral Milk Hotel, and Bob Drake-- have a goldmine in this double album.

The range of music on Conscientious Objector is staggering, from Moore's "cover" of the 1956 exotica tune "Monitor" to the gentle, guitar and vocal showcase "Take Back" to the trippy drum 'n' bass of "Yung & Moore Show (Theme 1)" to the lazy alt-country of "Social Studies Buddies" to the hi-speed, dreamy IDM of "Name Tag the Entertainer Take 12" to the bizarre collaboration with Paw Tracks' Ariel Pink on "What Else Am I Not Supposed to Do?" to the Tom Waits-ish reading of "Hot Cakes and Sausage" to the breezy electro-bossa on "Divorce Court" to a Bell Labs text-to-speech reading of all of his song titles on "A to Z" to the freak-folkish lament "Big Ben (Bridge Collapse Kills 300 Toddlers) by Spandek" to the bizarre, hazy cover of 2 Live Crew's "Me So Horny" to his a cappella "Swans" to the synthesizer explosion of "Judson Fountain of Wayne Wayne". And that's just the first disc!

Moore certainly gets a little help from his friends. In addition to collaborators Ariel Pink, Terry Burrows (aka Yukio Yung), and Don Campau, he also works with XTC's Andy Partridge on "Bang You're Alive" and former XTC guitarist Dave Gregory, who contributes two birthday-themed greetings, "Gregorian RSM52" and "Gregorian KO40" (named for Moore and his longtime partner Krys O). Furthermore, he uses vocals tracks from the Electric Six to construct "Gabe R." and gets assistance from Bell Labs to make minimalist vocal mantra on "Discodiscodiscodisco"-- only to follow it up with his own monologue, "Disco Freaks", wherein he blames the end of the world on dance music and complains that "you don't make me ice cubes quick enough."

Elsewhere, The Breetles' Chris Breetveld co-writes "(My Baby's Got A) Bank Account", a concise slice of Anglophile power-pop, and Burrows contributes to many tracks that Moore maintains will be heard in "superior alternate" mixes on a forthcoming album, The Yung & Moore Show. And then there's old Walt Gollender, who unknowingly contributes to the set's funniest "pieces," the two-parted "Walt Gollender's Breath".

Nevertheless, the spirit of Conscientious Objector is pure Moore. "Schwann Catalog" (named after the famous classical music mail-order catalog) features a backing track by Burrows but lyrics and vocals by Moore. His falsetto is deep-- not the sound of an old man trying to sound younger or softer, but a sensitive, humble one sounding knowingly vulnerable. Burrows reworks his "I Go into Your Mind" (originally from Moore's cult-classic 1978 LP Delicate Tension) into dreamy, trip-pop, featuring Krys O's graceful, weathered vocals. The song, like much of Moore's work, is born from a mind obviously reared on many strands of popular music, yet so attuned to its maker's idiosyncrasies as to seem detached from any song that had ever been. Even when he applies himself to relatively mundane numbers like the Beatlesque "Down" or the dubious doo-wop of "Wonder Where", the end result is less piss-take than insular diversion. And they're never less than interesting.

Of course, over the course of 51 tracks there's bound to be some filler. But then, given Moore's sizable discography, one shouldn't expect anything close to a perfect track record. Ultimately, the breadth of expression and creativity is enough for me to recommend Conscientious Objector on principle alone, and since there are so many truly good songs in the lot, it becomes a simple decision. R. Stevie Moore may well be the most talented, interesting pop musician never to have released a record on a major label, and this album is as much a testament to him as any.