by Richie UnterbergerFor Ed Sanders' solo debut, he'd apparently decided to become a satirical redneck country-rocker with a string of sh*t-kicking barroom stomps and tear-in-your-beer ballads. The wholly incongruous lyrics, however, ensured that these would not get played in honky tonk jukeboxes. The faux-hardcore country backing was juxtaposed with narratives about hippie culture clashing with conservative rural dwellers and/or hypocritical backwoods types who delighted in bashing longhair queers and the like -- not an overdone approach, it has to be admitted, and not one incompatible with the themes Sanders had previously explored in the Fugs. The problem is that the tunes aren't that funny, and that Sanders' exaggerated yokel twang quickly wears out its chuckles. If you think songs about the Plaster Casters trying to work their craft on hicks from the sticks, or tales of small-towners discovering naughty photos in each other's possession, or an ode to "Jimmy Joe, the Hippybilly Boy" are knee-slappers, this might be up your alley. For most, though, these will sound like over-the-top satirical miniatures that are not funny enough to have qualified for Dr. Demento's play list. Sound like a warning? Well, for all its faults, it would get yet worse on Sanders' second and final solo LP, 1973's Beer Cans on the Moon.