BOBBY CONN’s career doesn’t make much sense–except, perhaps, to Bobby Conn. Since the late 90s he’s routinely changed stage personas, transforming himself from an ex-con to a financial guru to a glammed-out conspiracy-obsessed Antichrist. When the world didn’t implode at the turn of the century like he predicted, he simply regrouped: now he’s an anti-Bush soul crusader in silver lame, and he’s dead serious. Conn and his band, the Glass Gypsies, decided to cut their new album, Live Classics Vol. 1 (Thrill Jockey), in front of an audience at Wall to Wall Recording–a smart move, as previous albums have always paled in comparison to the bombastic live shows. Conn’s description of the recording environment doubles as an explanation of the band’s aesthetic: “A big 1970s shag-carpeted split-level basement….You can hear echoes of suburban disco and blue-collar prog rock, and imagine silk, cognac, and fondue. It’s a giant rec room with the lingering funk of mildew, sweat, and lots of weed.” The disc also includes two videos, including one for the antiwar jeremiad “Home Sweet Home”: “Ironic distance isn’t very far / This rifle has a range of 2,000 yards / When I shot him I didn’t hear the bullet fly / Is it ironic his death is televised?” Conn performs this, of course, while strolling through the crowd, serenading the ladies like he’s Eric Carmen on American Bandstand. –J. Niimi
