MUSIC TO ST. VITUS DANCE TO

"The Rube Goldberg of rock" is a distinction David Bagsby aspires to. Judging by this latest in a long line of releases by the Tulsa composer, Bagsby (here in a "duet" with Kurt Rongey) has earned the title. Heck, he may even be the king of frenetic, mind-warping musical constructions, every bit as wacky as the elaborate cartoon contraptions once drawn for laughs by the legendary Goldberg.

Employing a madcap soundpalette of electronic instrumental voices and bizzare sound effects (anchored by samples/emulations of acoustic instruments), Bagsby straps his listeners into a straightjacket, plops them into a bumping car, and speeds them through a herky-jerky 45-odd-minute collision course of inspired musical lunacy. The musical workmanship is as fastidious, as detail-perfect, as any Rube Goldberg construction plan, but the darkly mischievous tone, the freaky ambience, is closer to the medieval phantasmagorias of an Hieronymous Bosch -- as interpreted by Jim Carrey or Terry Gilliam. Ye who venture into this post-modern Garden of Earthly Delights will be regaled by everything from electronic locust swarms to Banshees in labour.

As you may have guessed by now, this isn't a record to take to your meditation class. It's at least 80% amphetamine in content, the rest magic mushroom. Grand Wizard Bagsby will never let you settle into a groove, much less a hammock. Even within each of the 11 tracks, he continually jerks you about in different directions, gleefully pulling new rabbits out of his hat at every stop. But while they last, Bagsby's propulsive jazz/rock grooves are a high octane gas -- electronic music you can really get down and St. Vitus dance to.