From 1987 to 1991, Bongwater produced strange, beautiful music that titillated, confused, and inspired fans across the nation to try to make sense of it all. When we last left off, singer, actress, and performance artist Ann Magnuson was fighting former collaborator, guitarist, and label owner Kramer for Bongwater royalties. There was talk of the death of the label, and the band's albums fell out of print. If you were lucky, you might have found a copy of The Big Sell-Out in a cutout bin, but even that's unlikely these days. Fortunately, the story continues: Magnuson and Kramer have worked out some sort of agreement that led to the release of the four-disc Box Of Bongwater. The best way to understand Bongwater is to look at the group's numerous cover songs: The set includes, among others, three tracks by The Beatles, two by Led Zeppelin and The 13th Floor Elevators, and one each by The Monkees, Johnny Cash, Gary Glitter, and more. From this springboard of proto-metal, visionary pop, and psychedelic excess, Bongwater launched its assault on the musically sacred. Straightforward song structure was alternately embraced and discarded, beautiful songs were offset by elfin-voiced introductions, and seemingly random bits of noise and background confusion were thrown into the mix. Meanwhile, Magnuson sang or spoke her hilariously surreal dreams and short stories in chameleonic tones, adopting the role of a confused participant, a purring sex kitten, or a screaming siren. Box Of Bongwater represents a nearly complete document of the group's material. All four albums, the first EP, and the appearance on the Rutles Highway Revisited compilation are represented here, but, sadly, Bongwater's contribution to the Neil Young tribute album The Bridge is omitted. The obvious question begged by any box set, though, is, "Does the band's work merit this treatment?" Yes. Some feel that anything Kramer touches is gold, and therefore worthy of obsessive documentation. Others think Ann Magnuson's songs stand as some of the finest moments in audio performance art. The truth is that it's a little of both. Magnuson is funny and fascinating, and Kramer approaches brilliance, but neither does so consistently. Still, it would be a crime to let such inspired works as "David Bowie Wants Ideas" and "The Power Of Pussy" languish in the out-of-print graveyard.