Adam Green

Listen to Adam Green’s latest album “Sixes & Sevens” and you’ll spend 48 minutes inside the head of an intelligent rambler with a penchant for rhyming and a short attention span. With his tongue lodged firmly in his cheek, Green’s latest effort is neither earth-shattering nor disappointing.

Green, whose career plodded steadily forward after he entered the anti-folk scene in 1998, has recently garnered a lot of face time because of his appearance on the “Juno” soundtrack with former Moldy Peaches bandmate Kimya Dawson. Green’s latest solo album may deliver a sarcastic shock or two to newer fans familiar with only his latest claim to fame.

The album begins exuberantly and— though Green masks this sentiment in countless clever guises—it remains so throughout. The array of genres is dizzying. Green croons unabashedly on “Tropical Island,” coupling stereotypically lilting island music with lyrics like “Ring-ding, another one dies / Watching posers scandalize / Trading off their panty lines one day.” Abruptly, “Cannot Get Sicker” yanks the listener’s frame of reference in the direction of woozy jazz, only to divert him again with “That Sounds like a Pony,” a song with John McCrea-like monotone speech-song and the added curiosity of movie-soundtrack strings. “Morning After Midnight” bears a momentary (and awkwardly satisfying) resemblance to David Hasselhoff’s experiments in recording. All this happens in less than ten minutes.

The seventh track, “You Get So Lucky,” is a bluesy cowboy song that bursts into unconventional brassy orchestration. Perhaps as a concession to the “Juno” fans, “Drowning Head First” sounds almost identical to the soundtrack’s “Anyone Else But You,” though the lyrical content is substantially less idyllic. Melodramatic string arrangements grace “It’s a Fine,” while nothing but an acoustic guitar keeps Green company in “Be My Man.” Nothing is off limits: a gospel choir makes occasional appearances, as does the sproingy sound associated with clown cartoons.

Green churns out diverse, cheeky ballads at an almost alarming rate, with only one of the album’s twenty songs reaching the three-minute mark. Though it may not provide the most cohesive listening experience, the album’s variety means that there’s a decent possibility you’ll find something you like, provided your generation has been fed a steady diet of irony.

But unless it’s Adam Green himself you’re fond of, don’t expect him to cater to your preference for more than a moment. With five solo albums behind him, Green’s satiric stylings alone may be enough to carry fans through “Sixes & Sevens.” He is consistently smart-mouthed, with more sting than the Magnetic Fields and some serious comedic variety. He puts his chameleonic quality to good use, managing to mock the sensibilities of Tom Waits, Johnny Cash, the Beach Boys, and Broadway musicals without sacrificing any part of his characteristic wit.

Keeping in mind what they say about imitation and flattery, however, Green’s irreverence can only goes so far. He mimics these styles in jest but also, just slightly, in earnest. Adam Green can pretty much do it all, and on “Sixes & Sevens,” he proves it. His heterogeneous musical stylings are replete with tinges of influence from a broad pool of influences. But while this can lend to a broader appeal, it is not conducive to appreciating the album as a coherent whole.