Ladies and gentlemen, step right up!

I like misfit music.

I like the music that makes me cringe. Not in a bad way, mind you. More in a “Hang on, brain, my ears just ain’t used to this yet” way. I like deciphering that kind of code.

I like to imagine Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart, Yamataka Eye and John Zorn pushing each other around on swing sets while whistling an Ornette Coleman tune.

And I’d love to have guys from Man Man over to the house for a quick game of “What the hell?”

These Philly rabble-rousers star in their own little cotton-candy sideshow on their debut album “The Man In A Blue Turban With A Face.” It’s itchy with bizarre mythology, gorilla suits and sweet n’ sour melodies teased to a hoary scruff.

This is not a “rock record.” I’m not quite sure what it is, really. But I like it. It fits squarely in the roundish hole of weird.

Put it like this — their sonic circus would be more likely show up on HBO’s “Carnivale” than on “The O.C.” (Not sure how keen they are with moustaches on the WB these days). There are touches of klezmer, the epic pomp of a funeral procession and maddening scream-along drama drizzled all over the place. But it's not as scary as you'd think. And it's more than worth the price of admission.

Even though their sound is eerie and loose, it’s still incredibly precise. Bandmates Steven Dufala and Thomas Keville bring a demented chamber orchestra full of brass and percussion. Flung together with the unique little tales spun by singer Honus Honus (nee Ryan Kattner) and every song becomes practically a world unto itself.

Do this: Point your chin down into your neck. Now, smoke about thirty or forty cigarettes and chase it with some Jack Daniels you bought from a pirate. Then try to sing something fun, but loud. That's approximately how Honus Honus sounds. He chugs along with that Waits-inspired growl while pounding on his Rhodes, periodically bashing something, anything, metal.  Bloodcurdling screaming is backed up by a creepy “Children of the Corn” chorus (as sung by the Moonstone Pre-School Choir) on “Against The Peruvian Monster.” His raspy croon fits just right on “Gold Teeth,” an affecting little ballad featuring playful lyrics tucked into a cozy blanket of clarinet and flute. “She says too much when she sleepwalks around,” he sings. “Her hips are a warm sarcophagus.” So sweet. I think.

There’s no room for quiet here. The persistent tinkling of marimba and Tin Pan tinkering graces the record throughout, etching “The Man With A Blue Turban” with a lovely otherworldly patina. “Man Who Make You Sick” is a playground of sound on some distant, primitive planet. Baby bird vocals pop in and out of electronic bleeps and chaotic audio karate. Served best with a sense of humor.

Above all else, Man Man remains catchy as all get out. Their gleeful approach only barely totters on the edge of pretensiousness. I mean, really, how pretentious can you get when you're singing with a roomful of pre-schoolers?

Don’t be surprised when you catch yourself whistling “10 lb. Moustache” while you push your pals around on the swing set. It’s just as good if you don’t have any Ornette Coleman at the ready.

Get your Man Man on at http://www.wearemanman.com/.

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