**1/2 Bob Log III

TRIKE

(Fat Possum)

Bob Log III's Trike is like a boombox-quality tape of randy inner ramblings from the neighborhood pervert's basement. "I'll tell you when to go," a twangy voice echoes. "Hmmm?" a giddy girlish voice asks. "Go Woo-hoo!", Daddy-twang responds on "Claps," and that's followed each time by 10-to-20-second snips of heavy breathing, creepy giggling, and the warm sounds from lumps of flesh smacking -- at one point in double time, which may have something to do with the title of one of the album's earlier tracks, "Clap Your Tits." So in a way this is a naughty Jerky Boys-like novelty disc, the kind you'd slap on for a puerile chuckle. In addition to the sound of two breasts clapping, the raunchy album features lots of tape hiss, a bass drum beating, foot stomping, tape loops, a scratchy holler, a drum machine, handclaps, and guitars whipped up into primal vamps with frantic slide-guitar squiggles filling the between-groove spaces. "Bacon" is a one-chord John Lee Hooker rave-up. But Log gets most of his mojo from reworking Howlin' Wolf's "Smokestack Lightin' " riff, plucking the eerie musical figure from what sounds like a rusted wire slung loose over a branch. And, hey, the ladies seem to be applauding.

-- Lorne Behrman