Beach House on the Moon

1	Beach House on the Moon 6:06
2	Permanent Reminder of a Temporary Feeling 4:43
3	Waiting for the Next Explosion 5:00
4	Pacing the Cage 4:43
5	You Call It Jogging 3:52
6	Flesh and Bone 5:42
7	I Will Play for Gumbo 4:06
8	Math Suks 4:29
9	Spending Money 2:55
10	Semi-True Story 3:14
11	Lucky Stars 3:46
12	I Don't Know and I Don't Care 3:43
13	Oysters and Pearls 6:00

Barnes & Noble

Entertaining the redneck Rivieras of the world like a singing troubadour dispensing tequila and Tums, Jimmy Buffett has permeated the public consciousness with such booze-loving party anthems as "Margaritaville" and the unforgettable "Cheeseburgers in Paradise." Unlike his city-slicking Wall Street uncle, Warren Buffett, Jimmy espouses the simple pleasures of ringing steel drums, sand in your shoes, and gentle grooves lapping bare feet. Not surprisingly, BEACH HOUSE ON THE MOON stays true to Buffett form. The Carribean-tinged title track tells of a "splintered ancient mast" and "a hammock from a distant star" in a breezy tale of interstellar sailing. "You Call It Jogging" lambastes the virtues of exercise, with Jimmy obviously more content to doze in a lounger than pound the asphalt, while "Flesh and Bone," Buffett's idea of a relationship song, delivers a lilting gale of steel guitars, organ, and sax to support his "carbon-based caveman" theme. Drunken frat songs are always part of the Buffett oeuvre, and "Math Suks" couples a reggae bump with corrosive commentary on mandatory education. Strange stuff from a guy who's made millions from stock tips and T-shirt sales -- and that's where "Spending Money" comes in. Singing of "money that you did not necessarily earn," Buffett's logic is that of a guy who has so much loot that he's "got no financial conscious, can't worry where it went." That kind of honesty is also what gives Buffett his caché and endears him to millions -- and if you can manage to slow down to Buffett time, you too might get caught up in his brash and balmy spell. Ken Micallef

All Music Guide

After 30 albums, it would seem as if Jimmy Buffett has said everything he's needed to say, and in a way, that's true. Every once in a while, he'll depart from his sun-kissed, mellow country-rock, such as he did with his music for the audio reading of Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas or his musical adaptation of Herman Wouk's Don't Stop the Carnival, but for his regular albums, he hasn't varied his formula in two decades. That's the case with Beach House on the Moon, his 31st effort. Some may make a big deal about the presence of multimedia sections on the disc, but that's because it's the only thing that separates Beach House from Banana Wind, Buffett's last proper studio album. It's the same style of music, recorded in the same way as that 1996 effort, and to all but the dedicated fan, it could be the same record. There are slight difference, however, particularly in the quality of songs. Although some of Beach House seems a little too cutesy for comfort ("You Call It Joggin'," "I Will Play for Gumbo," etc.), it's by and large a stronger effort than Banana Wind, with more distinctive songs. It's still an album for Parrotheads, who will groove with the laid-back vibe and laugh at the silly jokes, and it's unlikely that it will convert any new fans. But it's a solid Buffett record, delivering everything a fan could want -- it may not offer anything new, but it doesn't disappoint. Stephen Thomas Erlewine