Chameleon NYC guitarist Marc Ribot, under yet another one of his many stylistic guises, refashions himself this time around as a cheeky Ricky Ricardo revivalist of Cuban big band/ cocktail- jazz music. Always plying his trade with a wry sense of humor, Ribot makes no pretense toward serious note- for- note authenticity here (after all, they're dubbed "the Prosthetic Cubans," for cryin' out loud). Although, realistically, Ribot's interpretations of Cuban jazz aren't nearly as ridiculously inauthentic as, say, the in-joke of an amorphous Arto Lindsay "Brazilian"- flavored samba.

Ribot's not only a master of many styles, but he's also managed to stumble upon a wholly original guitar vocabulary of his own. And, as a result, he's got a curriculum vitae as extensive and diverse as any guitarist working today. Ribot's damaged R+B accompaniment on Tom Waits' Rain Dogs was a contribution arguably as essential to that album's clattering beauty as the input of Waits himself. His tasteful wrong- note style has also clamored its way onto songs by Elvis Costello and Keith Richards, just to name two. In addition, he more than ably filled the lunatic guitarist spot in John Lurie's Lounge Lizards in the mid- '80s. He's also collaborated with Marianne Faithfull, Lou Reed, John Zorn, Medeski, Martin and Wood, and most recently, the Rootless Cosmopolitans and Chocolate Genius. In short, the guy works his ass off-- he's a musician's musician and a guitar whore's guitar whore-- yet he's never done anything that would compromise even the most obdurate sense of integrity.

This album (miraculously Atlantic- backed) consists almost entirely of cover tunes, and is a light- hearted tribute to the late Cuban composer Arsenio Rodriguez. Ribot's faux- Latino accents on guitar are actually pretty tasty. In fact, his chops are so uncharacteristically straight- forward and technically- sound, you'd think he'd just played along to Santana's Abraxas a few dozen times in preparation. On "LaVida Es Un Sueno," though, we all get a hearty chuckle at his ill- practiced Newark- inflected Spanish pronunciation.

Of course, Ribot's got more than ample backing from the crack Postizos rhythm section, so it's tough not to dig all over the laid- back blues drift of "Aqui Como Alla," especially considering the addition of some nice understated embellishment by organist John Medeski. Ribot's a minimalist at heart, and much of the time, he discreetly plays off the Postizos' tight rhythmic groove. He does, however, stretch out at times-- threading some curvaceous Django- like lines around the choruses. On "No Me Llores Mas," Ribot stays more true to form, loosens up, and rocks things out. He even contributes his own heady composition, "Postizo," where we find, at first, a screeching organ rising under some uncharacteristic amp feedback. Ribot then launches into the main riff, and soon the arrangement turns into a tricky call- and- response between the horror- movie organ and Ribot's honking guitar fills.

In the end, Marc Ribot y los Cubanos Postizos probably won't appeal to staunch world- beat purists. And it certainly won't set any sales records for Atlantic. Yet, it can be loads of fun, if you're willing to allow the latent prosthetic Cuban inside you to mambo its way forth. Hell, Ribot could probably care less. He'll be on to something else lickety split: Scandinavian folk music, or possibly German oom-pah tuba combos. After all, Ribot's the kind of guy that'd be at ease playing the local Holiday Inn's Prickly Pear cocktail bar as much as he would any austere boho establishment in downtown NYC.

-Michael Sandlin