The trio—consisting of guitar, upright bass, and fiddle—dabbles in standards from Gershwin's "Somebody Loves Me" to Bob Willis' "My Confession." They stomp out old fiddle tunes like "Ida Red" and "Red Bird," and plod their way through old-timey numbers such as "T + J Waltz." The album remains faithful to the group's influences with simple arrangements and conventional playing. While handling most of the songs themselves, the Hot Club of Cowtown calls in some help on a few tunes, adding piano, steel guitar, and accordion. Johnny Gimble contributes another fiddle to a few numbers—although he's never played second fiddle to anyone, having graced albums and stages with Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, and the original Texas Playboys.

Most songs have a primarily western feel, but a few tunes venture overseas, displaying a Continental influence. Guitarist Whit Smith and fiddler Elena Fremerman share vocal duties, doing their best Tommy Duncan impersonations; their solos are reminiscent of Django Reinhardt and Stephan Grapelli's slithering interplay. And occasional "yippie" or falsetto "a-haa" can be heard in the background during the adept soloing but, thankfully, no one hollers "Allez, chat, allez!"

Except to say that sometime around 2010, there's probably going to be a '90s revival, so all the stuff that you hate about now will be dug up and glorified and will probably look good through the thick haze of nostalgia combined with yet-to-be-developed evil marketing techniques. Remember how everybody used to know that, as sure as the sun rose in the east, disco sucked the root—but we all forgot about that and had to be cruelly re-educated by dressing in bad clothes and listening to the same music as our parents without the benefit of the good, cheap drugs they had.

One thing that will stand on its own merit is, surprisingly enough, this "South Park" album. I say surprisingly because most of these gimmick TV-based albums aren't very good. But "Chef Aid" manages to preserve the show's humor and adds some pretty cool tunes as well. The digital glory of Cartman's heartfelt arena-rock rendition of "Come Sail Away" totally kicks Styx's ass (like that's hard) and is genuinely moving to boot. And it's well worth the price to have such Chef classics as "Chocolate Salty Balls" and "No Substitute"—better known as the "Oh, Kathie Lee" song—forever available on CD. And such numbers as Master P's supercool "Kenny's Dead," Devo's demented "Huboon Stomp," and Perry Farrell and DVDA's "Hot Lava" are pretty damn good. Pretty goddamned good indeed is the brilliant mating of Ozzy Osbourne, Ol' Dirty Bastard/Big Baby Jesus, DMX, Fuzzbubble, and the Crystal Method on "Nowhere to Run (Vapor Trail)." (If the metal thing ever goes south, I really think the Ozzman's got a future in rap.) Also fantastic is Ween's "The Rainbow," where the boys fuse the Beatles with America (the band, not the country) and give it a hilariously deranged, yet totally tuneful, twist.

A symphony-sized string section combined with Beth Gibbons' spooky, earnestly longing vocals and Geoff Barrow's spot-on scratching gives the powerful Portishead even more torque live, making their darkness flow like a rich, sweet, deadly fount from the nether depths. While many of today's touted electronic performers embarrass themselves and cheat their audience when they hit the stage, Portishead takes advantage of a live concert's immediacy and turns it up a whole belt full of notches. Gibbons, who may yet get her due as one of today's top vocalists, flashes the full range of her might on "Sour Times." "Humming" sounds even more like the perfect theme music for a really good horror film (if they ever make one of those again) than it does on the studio album. And "Glory Box" made me regret all the times I didn't give whatever romantic relationship I was in my complete effort and attention.

The Del Rubio Triplets surround themselves with an aural landscape of guitar, snare drum, squeeze box, one-string bass, ukulele, accordion, and harmonies as intricately wrought as the webbing on a screen door. No one but the Del Rubio Triplets could offer such schmaltz as "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" and seem to really, truly, genuinely mean it. They cover two of the colors of Christmas ("White" and "Blue") with the pathos of Santa painted on black velvet. Their inspired medley of "The Christmas Polka" and "Jingle Bell Rock" will have you humming in delighted dementia as you bathe your present-wrapping wounds with Merthiolate. Their walk through the "Winter Wonderland" evokes the austere beauty of the Christmas lights on a trailer home's eaves, etched across the winter sky. They veer from covers of Yma Sumac ("Cu Cu Ru Cu Cu Paloma") to Dominique the Singing Nun, all with the warmth of true affection and none of swinger culture's pomo affectation.