This CD reissue of an instantly sold-out LP on Poon Village from earlier this year is certainly eclectic, but is also unexpectedly intimate and straightforward as well.  More importantly, it offers one of the most inspired Beach Boys covers that I have ever heard, as well as some truly ambitious and creative album art.
One very noteworthy thing about this release that is not immediately apparent is that it is comprised almost entirely of covers, which goes a long way towards explaining its relative accessibility.  Alan Bishop, formerly of the Sun City Girls, attributes all of the songs to their original composers, of course, but he tends to do it in oblique and enigmatic ways.  For example, the sultry bossa nova opening piece listed as "The Dinner Party" by Maestro Padre Supremo is actually Ennio Morricone's "Metti una sera a cena."  Bishop's delivery is not quite as languidly sexy as Edda Dell'Orso's was in the original, but he certainly displays good taste.  Morricone dominates the album, actually, as there are five other songs attributed to said maestro (only one of which is at all Spaghetti Western-esque).  That proportion probably won't surprise anyone already familiar with Bishop's career though, as he has made no secret of his life-long Morricone fascination (he even curated a rarities retrospective on Ipecac).  Another famous soundtrack composer makes an appearance as well, as Alan improbably interprets the theme from You Only Live Twice.  I never thought I would hear anything James Bond-related from one of the Bishop brothers, but Alan is apparently a serious John Barry fan.
For the bulk of Baroque Primitiva, Bishop keeps things very simple and stripped-down, opting for just low-key, under-produced recordings of him and his acoustic guitar.  On three pieces, however, he is joined by accomplished multi-instrumentalist Eyvind Kang, who ably fills out the sound with drums, piano, and viola.  Kang shines brightest on the closing cover of The Beach Boys' "God Only Knows" (here attributed as Smiley Brian's "God Only Be Without You").  The piece starts off as a fairly loyal and reverent (if a bit loose and squelchy) rendition of the pop classic, but takes a pretty sharp detour around the halfway point.  Initially, it feels like the song is falling apart, as Kang's viola sounds slightly out of key and Alan's vocal tracks fall a bit out of synch.  It's all a clever feint though, as the next chorus commences an impressive escalation of density and passion: Bishop's vocals lock into a chant-like loop and Eyvind conjures up an Eastern-tinged droning roar with his frenzied bowing before it all subsides into a mournful-sounding outro of looped vocal snippets.
The three Bishop-penned pieces, for their part, are a bit of a mixed bag, as "Humor Police" is kind of annoying, "3 Dead Girls" is charming but very brief, and "Well-Known Stranger" is a nice bit of depressive outsider country.  The album definitely shines brightest during its covers though.  "God Only Be Without You" is easily the most striking and instantly gratifying song on the album, but Alan's breezy and spacious Morricone covers are pretty unfailingly enjoyable in their own right (I especially liked the lonely organ in "Funny Thing is...").
Baroque Primitiva is essentially a naked and sincere tribute to the songs that Bishop loves and it succeeds quite admirably in that regard.  In keeping with that theme of nakedness, it should also be mentioned that Kristen Anderson's accompanying art is amazing and makes this an object well-worth owning.  The mandala of nude women on the front cover is certainly striking, but it is not nearly as impressive as the booklet of heavily stylized blown-up details inside, which approximate something resembling Expressionism mingled with sacred cave art.
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