Coming of age at roughly the same time as some of those proto punkers in England, Philip Charles Lithman found himself so in love with the British take on electric blues, he snagged a guitar and tried to come up with something on his own. At the age of twenty two, Lithman would make his way across Atlantic to San Francisco,though. And of all the people he could have in fact come into contact with during the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, Lithman met a few guys who would eventually become the Residents. Since most write ups of this guitarist usually veer towards some history of that weirdo group, I’ll refrain. But the connection made upon that initial meeting would probably be the most important relationship in Lithman’s career.

After growing weary of the US West Coast, the guitarist returned home to England and began playing with Chilli Willi & The Red Hot Peppers. The blues based bar band made some in roads in the UK, but not enough to sate the drive that Lithman felt as he eventually moved back to California, this time opting for Los Angeles. But after being turned down by a few major labels, Lithman packed it in and returned to the northern confines of the state.

By this time, Lithman had been dubbed Snakefinger by the fellows in the Residents, who had accumulated a sizable cult since the last time Lithman had encountered the group. With the guitarist looking for a bit of work, the band saw fit to include him on two of their better known albums – Duck Stab as well as The Commercial Album. As a result of the Residents’ odd popularity, the group founded its own Ralph Records to release their discs. And after a bit of time, Ralph needed to grow. In addition to Renaldo and the Loaf, Snakefinger wound up being on Ralph’s roster. And even if Snakefinger only release four studio discs – there’s a live set as well – the music that he got down fits seamlessly into an erratic and sometimes scary catalog that Ralph still keeps in print.

Even judging from the back story to all of this, it’d be a fair bet that Snakefinger wasn’t able to settle on a specific sound. Instead the guitarist tempered his blues background with other worldly chants, some avant guard drones, ample distortion and enough supplemental noise added in production for even the most damaged of ears to appreciate at least a piece or two of this.

His first album, Greener Postures, while coming a good thirty years after Lithman had hoped, comes off as a rather unified effort despite that laundry list of inclusion above. Every offering here should be troublesome to those well versed in the radio, but the reggae lilt of “The Man in the Dark Sedan” could hook a few folks. The song – and really the entire disc – explains why Lithman worked not only with the Residents, but eventually some stray members of Pere Ubu. And while this might all be a bit too rooted in the ‘80s, it’s still a decent slice of esoterica from Ralph.