After scanning the (admittedly impressive) roll call of guest artists on White People, you intuitively ready yourself for HBMS’s attempt at cramming a whole wardrobe of experimental outfits into a tiny gym bag of a disc. Unfortunately the zipper bursts within just a few tracks and colorful chaos spills everywhere. As much as we all want to root for an album featuring Jack Johnson, RZA, Franz Ferdinand’s Alex Kapranos, De La Soul, Mike Patton, Cat Power and John Oates (oh my), in the end Dan the Automator and Prince Paul seem more invested in covering the spread of their rolodex than producing a coherent album. The songs are sprightly but not riveting, the beats competent but not galvanizing. Amusing but distracting skits from Tim Meadows’ Ladies Man and Father Guido Sarducci further clutter the proceedings. A cheerful but inessential jumble.