Care Package: R. Stevie Moore

Chronicling the myriad of releases from New Jersey mastermind R. Stevie Moore would take too much time and space; chronicling the vast genres and styles Moore has covered would prove even more treacherous.

In lieu of boring you with such novelties, EVP finds it best to boast about our newest friend by highlighting a few releases Moore was generous enough to send us hot off the heels of our look at the David Shrigley-inspired release Worried Noodles.

It just so happens that one of these homemade gems happens to be an album’s worth of David Shrigley lyrics transformed into colossal mash-ups of hip-hop, lo-fi, rock and pop. Shrigley Field is certain to spark the pop genius in all of us, but we dare not dream of reaching the heights of R. Stevie Moore—we’ll leave that to the experts and admirers (see: Ariel Pink). As for Shrigley Field,’s undying commitment to pop excellence, it should be presented the key to the kingdom of Brian Wilson’s imagination. Moore floats between sounds and styles effortlessly, and though his albums lack the sort of flow that makes indie boys and girls scream with pleasure, the array of hits produced track after track more than makes up for an unhealthy need for musical cohesion. And I would beg to ask when did cohesion become a necessity? A question for another day. The focus should be on Shrigley’s humorous and often dark lyrics and Moore’s fantastic interpretation of them. It feels as if these two were made for each other—the twisted versions of Elton John and Bernie Taupin.

What separates Moore from the hoard of DIY popmakers is the little things: burps, ringing phones, spectral conversations, and ADD the likes of no mortal man. Moore has held onto his childhood innocence and exploration and that he continues to be creative enough; kind enough to share is what we all should be celebrating.

Moore, along with Shrigley Field, kindly sent Hobbies Galore, which is a collection of Moore’s best 24 tracks, which only furthers to prove his talent as a jack of all trades. There’s also a DVD compilation that I have yet to check out, but it sits atop my rickety DVD player waiting to be viewed. As it catches the occasional glances from the cat who waits for the day to feverishly dance around the living room as she watches performances both old and new. I hope to report to the faithful EVP readers what the glorious video disc holds just as soon as possible.

To check out/order/worship R. Stevie Moore from the internets, head to http://rsteviemoore.com/