Emboldened by a huge hit and hanging with and , was ready to let it all go when it came time to record a follow-up to . The very title of implies that it's a de facto sequel to its smash predecessor but, as always with , don't take everything at face value. Yes, he's back with producer and he's working from the same gleefully melodic, polished pop/rock territory as before, but this is an incredibly schizoid record, an album by an enormously gifted musician deciding that, since he's already going unhinged, he might as well indulge himself while he's at it. And, wow, are the results ever worth it. Opening with a song to a groupie -- he sang his balls off, baby, he nearly broke the microphone -- and ending with an ode to this record careens all over the place, bouncing from one idea to another, punctuated with B-horror movie sound effects, bizarre humor, profanity, and belches. There are song parodies, seemingly straight piano ballads, vulgar hard rock, lovely love songs, and a cheerful singalong with retirees at an old folks home who all proclaim, "I'd rather be dead than wet my bed." The sheer perversity of it all would be fascinating, yet if that's all it had to offer, it'd merely be a curiosity, the way his post- records are. Instead, this is all married to a fantastic set of songs that illustrate what a skilled, versatile songsmith was. No, it may not be the easiest album to warm to -- and it's just about the weirdest record to reach number 12 and go gold -- but if you appreciate 's musicality and weirdo humor, he never got any better. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine