Robyn Hitchcock & the Venus 3 at the 40 Watt Wednesday March 21

Last year marked 30 years of making records for avant psych-folk artist Robyn Hitchcock. What does this mean? Nothing, really. Hitchcock celebrated the anniversary by releasing another weird record, but this time with Peter Buck, Bill Rieflin and Scott McCaughey - dubbed The Venus 3 - edging him just a bit closer to the mainstream (while maintaining his familiar college radio hipness). Olé Tarantula opens with a cosmic Ziggy Stardust intro, heralding the weirdness of the rest of the record, which doesn't stray far from Hitchcock's previous efforts.

Hitchcock, no stranger to Athens, is most widely known for patently strange lyrics. Frequently dismissed by first-time listeners, his songs' words are actually steeped in artistic value - at least according to dedicated fans. Hitchcock is frequently portrayed as a new age surrealist, and his art (music, paintings and even acting) creates a distorted image of reality that seems legit, but slightly askew.

Take, for example, Hitchcock's 1998 Jonathan Demme-directed live concert film Storefront Hitchcock . Hitchcock appears to be a well-groomed, well-spoken Englishman on the surface. During his spoken "raps," which occur throughout the performance, Hitchcock casually engages in conversational rants about... well, anything - minotaurs, spleens, electric coffee. Though this prose may seem nonsensical, there's meaning intended.

Similar remarks can be made about Hitchcock's music over the past three decades - it sounds very much like everyday music on the surface, with very strange lyrics overtop. But somehow, there is detectable substance - it just takes a while to find. In this way, Hitchcock could very well be one of the most brilliant and artistically cerebral recording artists of the past 30 years - or he could be a crazy Brit with a passing ability to write songs, strum the guitar and sing with a charming accent. Neither is clear, but this is his legacy: perplexing prolificacy.