Bring me the head of the corporate record boss: Such was the title (well, almost) of one of the best songs from a truly exceptional though widely ignored 1995 release, Ejector Seat Reservation, by psy-shoegazing troupe Swervedriver. Combining the glory rattling guitars of My Bloody Valentine with the raw power of the Stooges and the melodicism of the Pink Floyd, Swervedriver covered so many bases so extremely well, that for many listeners, their music was simply too much. Intense, sublime, and purely over the top, Swervedriver's back catalog remains a hidden treat of ‘90s alternative rock, its power none diminished. Raise (A&M, 1991), Mezcal Head (1993, Creation/ A&M), Ejector Seat Reservation (1995, Creation), and 99th Dream (1998, Zero Hour) can be had for pennies on eBay. Well worth the search.

But rather than plow through the old, why not enjoy something new? Swervedriver founder Adam Franklin has kept his muse afloat through the years, and released a few albums under the alias Toshack Highway. For the first album under his own name, Franklin resurrects the style and mad swing of seminal Swervedriver, and it's enough to blow the gaskets in your brain. Bolts Of Melody offers typically Swervie-bent titles like "Theme From LSD," "Song Of Solomon," and "Ramonesland." The songs themselves are equally sky scraping and psychedelic, like day tripping through Hyde Park on medicinals or discovering classic old vinyl in excellent shape (fresh plastic has that effect on some of us). Always a stellar guitarist, Franklin rips forth with mighty majesty and sun flecked beauty, stock elements of Swervedriver tracks like "Son Of Mustang Ford" and "Other Jesus."

"Seize The Day" mindwarps through uplifting, unexpected chords, bolts of pure melodic brilliance and soaring changes that recall the "Eight Miles High" Byrds. "Sundown" hits Blonde On Blonde era Dylan, "Theme From LSD" does a jazz waltz like a lost track from Electric Ladyland,  "Morning Rain" drops back into a watery, lazy pulse, appropriately expressed in lyrics about "walking in the rain" and "tripping country lanes, throwing stones at the fast lanes."  Swervedriver fans always basked in the group's songs of escape, ennui and enlightened enervation, and Franklin once again nails that mood like no other.  Franklin's guitars add to a perpetual sense of hovering above the earthly plain, his whammy bar/phase shifter fixation like angels tugging at your shoulder. "Shining Somewhere" revs up the Stooges ecstasy, "Birdsong" hints at Nick Drake, "Syd's" Eyes pays tribute to the Pink Floyd's demigod.

That Franklin still casts his epic, head-tripping spell 10 years after his group's prime proves his talent is no fluke. Kick out the jams, and give this man your loot. Meantime, download "Seize The Day."

Adam Franklin: "Seize The Day"  (MP3, 2:12)

You got a purty mouth: Poor Ned Beatty. Rumor has it that for years he was haunted by the male rape scene he endured in that filmic ode to the great American hillbilly, Deliverance. Beatty, accompanied by virile costars Burt Reynolds and John Voight, obviously drew the short straw. When confronted by a toothless mountain man who eyed Beatty's ample girth, the little roly-poly actor ran for the hills. But not before the mountain man exclaimed, "you got a purty mouth," dragged him to the ground, removed his pants, and got to know him, up close and personal.

Hokum slinger and Slim Whitman sound-alike Christopher Denny could be second cousins with that mad mountain ingrate. Not for his sexual predilections, mind you, but for his Lefty Frizzell fixation, tales of woe and general air of dangerous country fried recollections. Denny's debut, Age Old Hunger, stands tall and bare-chested, the Little Rock-born artist singing his two fisted country tunes with all the gumption of a man possessed, or perhaps a soul delivered. The only problem is Denny's voice, his warbling, near yodel worthy call an odd instrument that could be a woman, a man, or perhaps the sound of Ned Beatty under duress.

But it's good to know Christopher Denny. Writing from experience, Denny sings of jail breaks, drug addiction, lost friends, and lost chances. And while his weird voice initially puts you in mind of Leon Redbone or Flip Wilson in drag, his songs barrel into your head like pine sap.

In "Time," Denny's voice quavers and quips, and travels up and down the scale, his Old Soles band kicking and spitting while Denny sings about seeing the Lord "in the trees in the sky." Age Old Hunger is an infectious, oddball debut, whether or not you got a purty mouth.

Christopher Denny: "Time"  (MP3, 2:12)