Who is Beck?

People have been puzzling over that question ever since "Loser" became an instant anthem in fall 1993. Even more so when what started as a catchphrase that competed with Bart Simpson's "Ay Caramba" and Nirvana's "Smells Like Teens Spirit" in t-shirt shacks nationwide--"I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me"-quickly grew with and outgrew the generation into which it was born.

And again in 1994, as Beck released three albums in rapid succession: Mellow Gold's platinum cut-up alt-rock with big beats; the experimental lo-fi aesthetic of Stereopathic Soul Manure; and the stripped down folk-stomp of One Foot in the Grave, which made him out to be an old-time-bluesman-cum-indie rocker. Judgment? Beck was a prolific artiste and an old fashioned songwriter, and his music was fast and cheap and out-of-control.

Or not. 1996's Odelay combined Beck's anarchic sensibility with the production experience of The Dust Brothers, a duo as famous for crossover rap singles as they were for their groundbreaking sampling work on Beastie Boys. The record jumbled the junk in you trunk with country-western breakdowns, yet it was smart enough to also itch the backside of your brain. It's safe to say that never before and never again would a record featuring an anthropomorphic mop on its front cover win two Grammies, spawn three MTV hits ("Devil's Haircut," "The New Pollution," "Where It's At"), enter the hearts of critics nationwide, and become the soundtrack of the summer. Judgment? Beck was the alt-rock intelligentsia's answer to hip-hop.

That is, until he decided not to be. In 1998, Beck paired with Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich to record Mutations, which featured languid ballads and a South American vibe, sparking a mini-revival for the songwriters associated with Brazil's Tropicalia movement. Originally intended for release on L.A. indie Bong Load--a stipulation Beck demanded in his major label contract allowed him the freedom to release experimental works on other labels-Mutations was a hit almost in spite of itself, seeing release on DGC and spawing the hits "Nobody's Fault But My Own" and "Tropicalia."

Then the deep, freaky, funk of 1999's Midnite Vultures led to Prince comparisons, and suspicions Beck had been trying on the "flashdance ass pants" he once sang about on Odelay. Combined with a tour de force live revue, titillating and confounding videos, and the committing to vinyl of longtime showstopper "Debra," Midnite Vultures would become a misunderstood future classic that is still converting acolytes to this day-as recently evidenced by the success of the Beck/Jay-Z/Pharrell mash-up "Frontin' on Debra" (see below).

2002's Sea Change revealed yet another side: Beck's most deeply personal and emotionally laid-bare work to date. Paired with Godrich once again, Beck wrote twelve somber ballads and set them in seductive acoustic arrangements. Ethereal slide guitars, atmospheric pianos, glockenspiel, clavinets, and keyboards melted into a single all-encompassing sound. The result would be his most critically acclaimed swerve to date. Judgment? Beck was a shape-shifter with a subtle flair for sound.

But now something else is brewing. In late 2004, Beck joined forces with Jay-Z and Pharrell from the Neptunes to released the first commercially available mash-up, DJ Reset's marriage of Midnite Vultures' "Debra" to the Neptunes' "Frontin'": "Frontin on Debra"--released exclusively through iTunes, where it jumped from out of nowhere to the top 20 downloads.

In February, he did the same with "Hell Yes," commissioning digi-terrorists 8-bit and Paza for a video game-themed EP's worth of remixes of tracks from his forthcoming Guero. Judgment? Who knows. Because as this 4-track collection of tracks created using modified videogame consoles became iTunes #1 album-yes #1 album, Beck's other most popular downloads would include covers of the Korgis' obscure and heartwrenching ballad "Everybody's Got To Learn Sometime" from the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind soundtrack, Bowie's "Diamond Dogs" from Moulin Rouge, and faithful takes on Daniel Johnston and HankWilliams from their respective tribute records, all alongside Beck's own classics "Loser," "Lost Cause," "Beercan" and "The Golden Age".

All of which brings us back to: Who is Beck?

Well, his new album Guero may or may not answer the question. Sometimes he hits the dance floor-as on opening track and first single "E-Pro," which heralds the head-bobbing return of Beck the rapper; "Que Onda Guero," a funny Spanglish story about a kid from east L.A.; "Girl," a sunny bit of California pop; or even the robot funk of "Hell Yes." At others, he sits home and thinks hard and about those nights: Hear the gentle lilt of "Missing" or the brokedown clatter of "Farewell Ride" and "Emergency Exit." Mostly, though, he finds a way for all these pieces to co-exist in a single picture: Listen to him reconcile his many sides on songs like "Rental Car," "Black Tambourine," "Go It Alone," and "Earthquake Weather." Slinky tempos and blues licks sit side-by-side against smoky Latin rhythms, chattering chorus girls, psychedelic flourishes, and turntable scratches.

And once again, against all odds, it works. Everyone from Blender and Maxim to the New York Times Magazine and The New Yorker has chimed in early 4 and 5-star accolades, the latter distilling it to: "Guero sums up everything Beck is good at, like an imaginary greatest hits album."

So who is Beck on Guero? Is he turning those magpie eyes on his own discography? Maybe it's time to stop asking and just listen.