We all know the drill about rarities compilations: they’re esoteric, obscure, often tough listening, little more than grab bags for serious listeners who fancy themselves as musical archivists. “For fans only,” right? And most of the time, frankly, it’s the truth.

But what critics like us rarely acknowledge is that there’s something thrilling about a good odds ‘n’ sods disc, too, even if it’s from a band whose logo we wouldn’t feel comfortable getting tattooed on our asses; it’s the feeling of discovery, of adventure, like happening upon a box of dusty old 78s in somebody’s attic and poring over them one by one.

Lambchop’s Decline of Country & Western Civilization, Pt. 2 — second in a series of B-Sides collections but the only one available Stateside — is one of those “box of 78s” records…not only because of the aforementioned “finders keepers” qualities, but because the low fidelity makes many of these songs sound like they were recorded circa 1938. Rather than working against the music, however, this sense of ancientness actually makes the venerable Nashville alt-country band’s castoffs feel more personal.

The muffled Southwestern garage rumble of “The Scary Caroler” sounds like it was recorded with a Dictaphone from three rooms away, calling to mind teenage band practices in the family basement. And from the opiated Neil Young noodling which opens sublime ballad “It’s Impossible” on, there’s a sense that one is hearing something intended for the performer’s ears only, like an impenetrable diary entry set to music.

Maybe this is voyeur’s music; certainly there’s a kind of privacy-invading novelty in hearing goofy experiments like the junker soundscape “Two Kittens Don’t Make a Puppy,” or “Burly and Johnson,” effectively three and a half minutes of halting trumpet bleats which reminds one of nothing more than hearing your little brother try to get through his seventh grade band scales. Or maybe I just feel that way because Lambchop is one of those bands I’ve always meant to check out but never got around to, and so listening to this particular record back to front is something like leaping head-first into a bucket of cold water…in a good way.

The unforced weirdness which bubbles beneath this group’s placid roots/indie waters is a surprise that unfolds with impeccable comic timing through layers of tape hiss and gorgeous melodies; I’d already made it halfway through beautiful, pedal steel-tinged track five before I realized that lead singer Kurt Wagner was crooning, “she’s got ‘Ovary Eyes’.” By the time I noticed that track twelve was another package of fragile, sun-kissed country (probably the most identifiably “Nashville” tune on the set, actually), I hardly batted an eye — even though the song is addressed to a “Mr. Crabby” and prone to rhyming the titular character’s surname with “grabby” and “word” with “turd.”

All told, there isn’t much on Decline, Pt. 2 to suggest that non-initiates to Lambchop will flock to it in droves; my perverse love for the rarities collection isn’t such that I would actually recommend this strange and wonderful set to other absolute beginners. What I can say, however, is that this is an extremely effective window into Lambchop’s odd little world — one whose charms should only increase as I continue to explore elsewhere. I’ll be visiting this world again, hopefully soon. But for now, I have these dusty souvenirs…and I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Reviewed by Zach Hoskins