In the grand pantheon of oddball singer-songwriter types, David Arvedon is certainly plenty quirky—trouble is, he’s not truly out there enough to qualify as a legit outsider artist a la Wesley Willis, Jad Fair, or David Johnston, and he’s not really enough of a sharpshooter to pass himself off as an eccentric Laurice type. As a result, he winds up coming across—at least on this double album of (presumably) new material—as a cross between a poor man’s Captain Beefheart and the Surf Punks. It’s competent, weird pop-rock that never astounds with competency nor weirdness—in point of fact, the album is nowhere near as weird as its 1968 namesake. In many cases, the weirdness aspect of things just bloats an otherwise decent tune with Zappa-esque indulgence—a lot of these songs are four or five minutes long when two or three would have done just fine. That said, most of these songs would sound decent scattered throughout the length and breadth of a college radio playlist, but if you’re looking to get sucked into someone else’s psyche for an hour or so and then spat out a changed and enriched being, look elsewhere, pilgrim. BEST SONG: I seemed to enjoy the first two or three minutes of “Gooniest Girl.” BEST SONG TITLE: “Gooniest Girl.” FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: David Arvedon would like to thank “the dead, maggot infested pigeon in the gutter at the corner of Clarendon St. and Commonwealth Avenue in downtown Boston, who had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the production of this album.” –Rev. Nørb (Almost Ready)