Magic Cyclops

An Iowan with an inexplicable and inconsistent British accent, Magic Cyclops is one of Denver’s great enigmas. Live, he rarely performs with more than a laptop and a stage set that falls just below the production standards of a kindergarten talent show. The tinny, Casio-dominated production of his recorded works isn’t much better. And then there’s the humor, as subtle as a Tom Cruise Scientology sermon. Lyrically and musically, Magic Cyclops’s tongue is so deep in his cheek that it threatens to poke right through. His appeal is difficult to explain, and yet there’s something downright charming and dangerously infectious about the Quad City Madman’s latest digital-only EP, available via his MySpace page. Magic Cyclops has abandoned the stylistic ambition — such as it was — of Best of Synthesizer Hits to resurrect the turgid garage rock of 1979 Devo. But when he concludes the ridiculous faux soul of “Teen Pregnancy Don’t Do It” with a PSA for Planned Parenthood, you might almost believe he means it — even if you’re not quite sure what “it” is.