When the big fat advances from big fat record companies dried up, pared down his sound and came to terms with his inner garage on the nearly overdubless . The album was worthy redemption from the big-money blandness of his mid-'80s recordings and a nice return to form after flirting with the -flavored that defined his late-'90s material. stays the course, and while it's not or , it at least sounds like it's from the guy who was responsible for those classics. Fortunately, is well aware of his age, and without teen angst as his focus, he turns to hedonism, sexy women, and sly, sicko humor played style by one of the tightest crews he's ever fronted. Delivered in an exaggerated style, "I'm in jail in a Texas town/In my sister's wedding gown" opens the bizarre a tale of a trucker who drives his rig all night listening to . It's inspired, as is the cover of 's (harpsichord, flute, and all), the reckless party tune and the slinking which smells a lot like during his heyday until the dramatic bridge comes along and makes the likeness uncanny. The album is filled with surprises, but recalling his era with the robotic snarl on takes the cake for fanatics. The catchy is a worthy single and the filler is clearly marked "bonus track." Ending the album with the Southern-fried, horror show would have made more sense, since with rapper -- lifted from -- is silly and forced. Those are traits the rest of this fine album avoids like they were poison, or for that matter, ~ David Jeffries