It seems that the best performers are able to work within any genre confine and craft an end product that’s a towering achievement to musical acuity. That doesn’t make for a good band, though. The best groups are able to define themselves and relate a singular concept of time, place or musical approach.

Mushroom, a Bay Area’s collective of musicians, doesn’t have a sound that it work’s with. But with its revolving line-up has been able to come off as any number of different things: jam band, kraut rock aficionado, jazzbo, psych enthusiast and fusion adherent. There’s no telling what to expect from the band when a new disc is released, nor when Mushroom performs live. It’s all subject to time, place and who happens to be in the room. For that very reason, the band’s been able to maintain a steady following since the release of its debut long player in 1997. Of course, the last thirteen years have found the band being anything but chart toppers. That, though, might account for this newest departure from its back catalog.

Naked, Stoned & Stabbed, issued jointly through Marc Benevento’s Royal Potato Family imprint and 4Zero, takes Mushroom’s avowed interest in all musics and finds the cohort attempting to approximate various influences over the thirteen tracks here. It’s almost like rummaging through band member’s record collection.

Last releasing Joint Happening, a jazzy effort accompanied by trumpeter Eddie Gale, and Yesterday I Saw You Kissing Tiny Flowers in 2007, the group has had a few years to work out the track listing here. Each song is accompanied by some explanation of various influences that went into the construction of the composition. Some are obtuse, to say the least. But the lofty goals that the band has set work in its favor.

Anyone familiar with the band – live or on its recordings – is aware that Mushroom isn’t shy about the inclusion of plain, ambient sounds. But Naked, Stoned & Stabbed takes this predilection and ratchets it up to untoward levels.

“Jerry Rubin (He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother),” the album’s third track, arrives as tied to Germanic experimentation with electronics as anything that band’s worked out in the past. It’s not quite Cluster, but that wouldn’t be a bad guess. With the never ending hand drums propping up that analog keyboard, the song’s screeching violin adds a non-musical hint to the ethereal sounds being spurted out through speakers. The fact that the song seems odd within the context of Mushroom’s other work doesn’t matter as the effort grounds the album in an almost avant-garde setting.

Accompanied by various blues and acoustic numbers, these more experimental tracks seemingly blend together and form a surprisingly cohesive long player. Mounting talent that can so effortlessly move between genres and the ideas points to each performers talent. With the band functioning as more of a catchall then a proper, full time ensemble, the scatter shot sounds Mushroom is associated with won’t make sense to every listener. Sticking around for another release or two, though, folks will probably find something to their liking.