Persinger is not just musically omnivorous, he's aggressively so. He never misses the chance to tap the guitar body, scrape and hit the strings, or "prepare" the instrument in a neo-Cagean manner. And lest his listeners actually feel comfortable enough in his groove to start dancing, Persinger will surely change styles at any point before long.

It's those jarring juxtapositions in rhythm, key and meter - and, admittedly, the bad puns and quirky titles - that might well dupe casual listeners into thinking that the music on this collection is little more than a steady stream of pan-stylistic parlour tricks. As one would expect from one who calls his music "Modern/Primitive", Persinger lives for the paradox. There is a studied seriousness in his playfulness, just as there's a great musical depth behind his surface genre-surfing. If, to paraphrase F. Scott Fitzgerald, the mark of a great artist is being able to keep two contradictory notions in mind and still function, then Persinger's musical abilities know few bounds.