How do you describe Howe Gelb? If Neil Young's brain was broiled by years of exposure to the unbearable southwestern heat, or if Leonard Cohen had been abducted and partly brainwashed by aliens, then maybe you'd get something resembling Gelb. Yet the Giant Sand frontman's eccentric songwriting antics aren't quite what they used to be. Giant Sand's brand of anything goes "desert rock" referenced every conceivable rock style: country lap steel guitar, surf, punk, rockabilly, stripped- down country- blues, free- form experimental, you name it.

But Hisser, for the most part, is a quiet, subdued whisper of an album. And as usual, it's not always clear what the hell Howe's songs are trying to say. But listening to the record, it's easy to picture Howe sitting alone in the arid Arizona desert, gently strumming an acoustic guitar. He's plying his trade to the surrounding cacti, exchanging secrets with the spirit world, and conjuring up musical accompaniment from thin air.

The songs are stripped bare in the beginning, with nothing but Gelb's bluesy acoustic strumming to hold things together. As the album progresses, though, Gelb slowly sneaks in some piano, viola, slide guitar, nail files, and the like. Hisser peaks midway through with a couple of irresistible Tom Waits-ish rock- waltzes, but soon Hisser begins to take a looser, more fragmented turn. Gelb announces, "I like to see water explode..." A schizoid piano accompaniment breaks from cheery ragtime into dissonant dementia. Guitars growl, buzz around, and crash into one another. And just as Gelb's twisted logic has a foothold in your subconscious, the album closes as tenderly as it began: "I got wasted," Gelb quietly drawls. "So I could end the day."

Sure, to some, Gelb can come off like just another mealy- mouthed hippie that's chewed a few too many peyote buttons. As Hisser proves, though, Gelb has retained his innate sense of restraint-- he rarely flips his lid and slips into obnoxious free- form noodling. And there's always something just a tad endearing about his skewered sense of humor. I mean, who wouldn't stand up and applaud Gelb-isms like "I wake up with something in my eye/ I pull out one of your lashes/ I like the way you stuck in my eye"?

-Michael Sandlin