Songwriting 101 will tell you that the first few seconds of a song are crucially important. That's the time when songwriters, master craftsmen that they are, set the tone and the mood for the entire song. These are the few critical moments when a songwriter has to draw an apathetic and uncaring audience into their work, so he'd damn well better use them wisely.

It says a lot when a band consciously chooses to waste these magic moments by opening their songs with such inspired sonic wonders as the sound of sloshing water, pots and pans clanging together, and not one, but two tracks, that begin with people slapping their own knees (apparently a subtle ode to "the hambone"), all for the sake of being "different." Bent Leg Fatima are such a band, and on their self-titled album, we have a ham-fisted attempt to blend blues grooves, jazz style, country jangle and rock n' roll with abstract, Captain Beefheart- inspired pseudo-art theatrics.

Complete with deliberately pointless lyrics, a bunch of unsettling photos on the inside of the CD sleeve and a track listing written in squiggly, frilly, 1850's-style script, the band is aiming at "avant-garde" with a sniper scope and high-powered rifle, even before they play a single note. 10 songs and 60 minutes' worth of pure pretension follows, resulting in an album that's about as profound as a Magic 8 Ball that's stuck on the "Cannot Say Now, Ask Again Later" tile. But it doesn't have to be this way.

Bent Leg Fatima play ruined jazz-rock. Highly rhythmic but not overly syncopated, the band's songs are rambling, sometimes aimless things that flow at their own pace-- they're going to get to the point when they damn well feel like it. These tracks are mellow, relaxed, melodic walks through a country park, headed nowhere in particular, just enjoying the scenery. Picture the Doors after a four-day whiskey-bender, getting their hands on a shitload of effects pedals, a drum machine and a Halloween sound effects tape. Now, we all know that even when the Doors were fucked up, they were still in pretty good shape-- the problem lies with all of the other shit.

Bent Leg Fatima sound like they just couldn't leave the studio toys alone when making this album-- the bells and whistles that can work well when used sparingly like massive vocal reverb, tape loops and electronic moog noises-- and it chokes the life out of some of the record's better songs. Most of the bonus wankery serves no purpose on the album, and 99% of it could be stripped away to make one lean, smart, ass-kicking album. Sadly, that's not the case here.

But despite the fact that the album is more pretentious than an undergraduate theater major, there's some real promise here, and I'm not willing to completely dismiss Bent Leg Fatima as a lost cause-- the band displays some moments of true technical proficiency at times. The album's opening track, the smooth instrumental "Greetings and Farewells," and the second to last song, "Crow, Cat and Snake," are actually pretty excellent songs. Even the pointless lyrics on "Crow, Cat and Snake" are creatively pointless, and its country, jazz, blues and rock influences are heartfelt and energetic. All this, and the decorative elements-- the sound effects, tape loops and studio tricks-- are kept to a dull roar.

In case 10 tracks worth of puzzling, sometimes alienating music hasn't been enough to convince you that these guys are genuine auteurs, the boys in Bent Leg Fatima finally rely on that staple of the serious musician-- the hidden track-- to nail the point home. Buried almost 15 minutes after the last note of the closing song, the hidden track is a privileged glimpse of the ol' Bent Leggers at work in the studio. My question is, if the album itself is this frustrating, who's going to bother holding down the fast-forward button at the album's end? The world may never know.

-Steven Byrd