By 1994, Julian Cope was the modern equivalent of the free-thinking British eccentrics of old -- a guitar-toting H.G. Wells with melodic gifts and a potty mouth. Cope's beliefs about the state of the world are firm, but what really matters is the songs -- and they're great. There is new tension between Cope's pop gifts, his desire to tell stories in song and his ever-increasing weirdness (be it from decades of drug use or a professorial study of ancient sites, religion and outsider art). There is more going on in one Cope song, like "Don't Call Me Mark Chapman," than on most albums.