For this is an EXPERIMENTAL album. I can't in good conscience recommend you rush out and buy, because ... well, this is some crazy-ass shit as the kids might say. But on the other hand, it's so out there, Guignol obviously doesn't have the same goals as the typical indie bands we review. It's so out there, I can't say I enjoy it, but at the same time, I can't give this kind of material a knee-jerk low rating without fear of sounding ignorant.

Am I over-thinking this? I would bet that's a large part of Guignol's goal. Let's just say, the Hirschorn would be a more appropriate venue to host a live Guignol show than the 9:30 Club.

Guignol is made up of Jeremy Barnes, drummer for Neutral Milk Hotel and member of Bablicon, and Laurence Coleman and Aaron Moore of Volcano the Bear. You may not have heard of Bablicon or Volcano the Bear - that's because both bands are similarly on the fringes of the avant garde. Guignol is a natural sidebar to both groups and their sensibility. How to describe that sensibility? A quote from a Volcano the Bear review is near perfect: "a large amount of improvisational influences and playful fuckery on nearly everything."

As a whole, Angela, David and the Great Neopolitan Road Issue can be heard as building to the final track, "The Great Neopolitan Road Issue," which is perhaps the most conventionally listenable of the set. "Road Issue" is 12-and-a-half minute track, of which a big chunk is dedicated to accordian and cabaret organ improvisational jamming, if this starts to give you any idea of what I'm trying to convey. "Of Houses and Canals" starts out the cd with the sound of one person rhythmically clapping, a single keyboard note drone for a background, which quickly peters out. A brief pause, and then you hear two people clapping, faster now, the keyboard building into the final half of the song, a minimalist bored voice singing against a minimalist two note keyboard accompaniment.

"A Gourd Question" is a 13 minute track that alternately blends shimmery keyboard runs, found percussion, and a (prepared?) piano. "Invisible Sports" is reportedly based on a traditional Slavic tune, and incorporates some, uh, interesting, cat-like "yeoowing" vocals. "The Fly Machine Passes" sounds like a passing old-world funeral procession. Two 30-second tracks are pretty much exactly the same off-kilter drinking song, perhaps placed as one of those spot the differences puzzles. And finally, "Snore Scene" is exactly that: there's some rhythmic snoring, a pause, some more rhythmic snoring, an antique alarm clock sounds, and then several maniacal laughs. Fin.

Modern/post-modern classical music can be fascinating in context - but the fascination is often tied to knowing the details of the composition, such as whether a piece employs classic musique concrete style tape loops, or algorithmically-generated parameters. Like those pieces, Guignol could be an interesting exercise to listen to a couple of times and try to figure out what you think. But in the end, that's all it often is, an exercise. I prefer the subversive experimentalism of today's Radiohead, Bjork, or Wilco - experimental, but at the same time, grounded in the group's past songwriting, and frankly, listenable as a standalone experience.

I guess my dilemma is, it doesn't seem that difficult to get on stage and do random weird/odd/strange things and intellectually label it experimental, the real talent comes from making the experience resonate emotionally as well. This album doesn't really resonate for me (although it did grow on me slightly from my initial reaction), but (full disclosure) neither does performance art, one-man/one-woman shows, or poetry reading (nothing wrong with poetry, it's people getting up and reading it that bugs me). Other people obviously enjoy it.

So is Guignol for you? An easy way to decide: ask yourself, is "Revolution#9" the best song on The White Album? Or do you find yourself skipping past it more often than not?

number 9 ... number 9 ... number 9

yeeooooowh