THE RESIDENTS

Metal, Meat & Bone

AArt rock’s eternal awkward squad have got the blues.

s brilliantly bewildering as ever, The Residents’ late-career splurge continues, with a supposed tribute to gravel-voiced bluesman Alvin Snow, aka Dyin’ Dog. Described as “an albino born into a multiracial family, with a penchant for exploiting older white women”, Snow almost certainly never existed, and yet he’s provided The Residents with some of their most straightforward music yet. Cunning, really.

Superficially rooted in Beefheartian blues, the alleged Mr Snow’s songs are recreated with the legendary eyeballwearers’ usual off-kilter touches, from keening violins and droning synths to all manner of unidentifiable clonks and throbs. But from the Tom Waits-like clatter of Bury My Bone to the swivel-eyed voodoo rock of Tell Me, these are often great songs, too. Dead Weight, in particular, is a beautiful, noir-ish saunter, with bursts of proggy grandeur and a generous helping of mouth-harp, while Cut To The Quick is a scorched-plains vignette with surging strings and a hint of infernal menace.

Further evidence that The Residents are back on top form, Metal, Meat & Bone is another slice of magnificently immersive nonsense.