Some of Eugene Chadbourne's finest moments come when he moves from a noisy, distorted guitar solo or an even more entrenched and intrepid sonic assault into a lovinly odd interpretation of a Loretta Lynn or Johnny Paycheck number. That might limit his audience (Puritans! Pedestrians!) and might be a lot to ask of his associates, but people who listen to both kinds of music (country and western, to steal from The Blues Brothers) well know that he's no pomo nutso; he's not bashing genres, just borrowing from a wider palette than most on his side of the two kinds of music ("We play the good kind," to quote Duke Ellington).

Chadbourne doesn't always find players fully prepared for the ride, but the players on (A) are ready and willing to hop in the bumper cars. On "Band of Gold" they leave Chad as alone as Martina Topley-Bird on a Tricky mix, rolling along as if life were but a dream against their wobbly, noisy accompaniment. They concede slightly to the blues on (2 or 3), but squall through "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay." On the instrumental passages, Chadbourne's ever-ready banjo submerges into their blunt anarchy. On dozens of records, Chadbourne has played in front of or, more recently, with a revolving door of musicians. Here he seems to play despite them.

Chadkytrapp is culled from two sets at New York's Knitting Factory in January 2003, the second of which opened with the piece that begins this disc. After a first-time meeting of the trio (none had played together before) in which Chadbourne led the majority and saxophonist Evan Rapport blew dissent, Julian Kytasty issued a compromise on his bandura, letting loose the Ukranian folk melody that begins the disc. Chadbourne vamped until he found room for some Appalachian blues. It could have been released as Country Music in the Former Soviet Bloc.

The string players become fast friends across the disc, with the younger Rapport there to ensure things don't get too comfy. Rapport is due to star in an off-Broadway production of Skronklemania but hasn't forgotten his Rahsaan; his dual horns urged the elders into a fine rendition of "Volunteered Slavery."