I'm not sure how California got its reputation as the state with the most freaks, when anyone who has spent even a little time below the Mason-Dixon line knows that the South is where the profoundly weird live. For many years, Tallahassee, Florida had an eccentric named "King Love" who stood on the corners of busy intersections in full royal accoutrement and danced a jig while waving homemade signs offering political opinion and messages of universal love. He also made catcalls at every woman who passed by. The Southern gentry is, for the most part, surprisingly tolerant of behavior of this sort.

Case in point: Shelby Bryant lives (and thrives) in Memphis, Tennessee-- a city where rhinestones are legal tender. You might think a place like Memphis (or really, anyplace, for that matter) would have a hard time accepting someone as, well, "colorful" as Bryant. And by "colorful," I mean "completely whacked-out, guitar-eschewing, flower-sniffing, country-lane-skipping optimistic." But to the world's good fortune, it seems as though the locals have embraced him as their musical version of King Love.

Cloud-Wow Music is an infectious blend of 60's/early 70's psychedelia and bubbly synth-pop. As reminiscent of Zappa at his more playful (i.e. "Electric Aunt Jemima") as it is the Syd Barrett cult, the album contains song after song of supreme pop weirdness, replete with endearing amateurisms like throat-clearing, false starts, and children's covers (remember "Inchworm?"). It's all far more daring and expansive than his work with the similarly synth-bent Clears.

Two tracks in, you're treated to "The Walk," the only guitar-oriented song on the disc and a masterpiece of gentle, mid-fi, mid-tempo absurdism. The smirking humor present throughout the record is exemplified here with lines like, "I'm on my way, I'm going over there/ To Mary's/ (Or is it Sherry's?) house/ I'm going to her house," and, "My pants are tight, my mind is loose."

After the breezy optimism of "Hello So Fine" and the silly "The Walk," you'd think you were ready for a song like "Fluxogen/Neverywhere" (if you took a cue from the title, you'd know better). A synth Doppler effect slowly builds a chord, one note at a time; when finished, Bryant scribbles over this aural painting with gulping noises, stretched out through mouth calisthenics to match the same chord. The soaring melody that soon falls into place is buoyed by some overdubbed "ah-ohms." And before you can recover from this odd segue, Bryant hits you with the lyric, "All the estrogen in the universe/ Is singing, is singing/ And the oxygen in the atmosphere/ Is ringing, is ringing." At this point, all you can do is giggle like a crazy person. That also happens to be the correct response.

Later, the slinky, sleazy, moog-centered "Peebly McNownow" succeeds as a microcosm of the whole album. A left-field libretto is disguised by an eminently hummable melody and some retro analog synth work. The subtle assonance of the lyrics is a bonus.

One of the highlights of Cloud-Wow Music is Bryant's cover of cult legend Daniel Johnston's "Wedding." It's simple and poignant, with his voice accompanied only by a bingo hall piano, both drowning in natural reverb. "The Bitter Wind" follows shortly thereafter and manages to out-Elephant 6 any of the Elephant 6 bands with throwback structure and pop-perfect melodies and harmonies.

The only nagging question is: how does Bryant's wide-eyed innocence seem genuine, when most others' attempts at this type of affected silliness come off as cloying and insufferable (Robert Schneider, I'm looking in your di-REC-tion)? I have no idea. Maybe because it's genuine. Cloud-Wow Music takes a ride through Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, with Bryant donning Gene Wilder's top hat and assuming the role of your trippy-but-wise guide through technicolor absurdity. Enjoy it, but hang on for dear life, and don't sample the fizzy lifting drinks.

-John Dark