By calling the muted psychedelic folk-rock, blues, and Tropicalia of Mutations a stopgap, Beck set expectations for Midnite Vultures unreasonably high.

Ironically, Midnite Vultures doesn't feel like a sequel to Odelay -- it's a genre exercise, like Mutations.

This time, Beck delves into soul, funk, and hip-hop, touching on everything from Stax/Volt to No Limit but using Prince as his home base.

He's eschewed samples, more or less, but not the aesthetic.

Even when a song is reminiscent of a particular style, it's assembled in strange, exciting ways.

As it kicks off with "Sexx Laws," it's hard not to get caught up in the rush, and "Nicotine & Gravy" carries on the vibe expertly, as does the party jam "Mixed Bizness" and the full-on electro workout "Get Real Paid," an intoxicating number that sounds like a Black Album reject.

So far, so good -- the songs are tight, catchy, and memorable, the production dense.

Then comes "Hollywood Freaks." The self-conscious gangsta goof is singularly irritating, not least because of Beck's affected voice.

It's the first on Midnite Vultures to feel like a parody, and it's such an awkward, misguided shift in tone that it colors the rest of the album.

Tributes now sound like send-ups, allusions that once seemed affectionate feel snide, and the whole thing comes off as a little jive.

Musically, Midnite Vultures is filled with wonderful little quirks, but these are undercut by the sneaking suspicion that for all the ingenuity, it's just a hipster joke.

Humor has always been a big part of Beck's music, but it was gloriously absurd, never elitist.

Here, it's delivered with a smug smirk, undercutting whatever joy the music generates.