In these opening weeks of 2008, it’s good to have the inimitable wit of Robyn Hitchcock on hand to sum up some of last year’s more absurd propositions. Finding his rightful place in the long, cherished tradition of droll British humor, Hitchcock embodies the surreal aspects of iconic English figures like Monty Python and Syd Barrett.

Hitchcock’s lengthy career goes all the way back to his late ‘70s band, the Soft Boys, whose power-pop influenced R.E.M. and the Replacements, to name a few. He has unmasked a number of incarnations since then, including his stint leading the Egyptians, his backing band in the ‘80s and ‘90s, and his solo work. Recently, he’s been fronting the Venus 3, an all-star combo that includes Peter Buck from R.E.M. and Scott McCaughey from the Young Fresh Fellows. Hitchcock’s modus operandi is nothing if not eclectic.

In November, Yep Roc Records released a five-disc box set retrospective of Hitchcock’s solo work, both reissues and rarities, titled I Wanna Go Backwards. But that’s not the only entry that has recently given him a higher profile than he’s had in years. You may have recently seen him on the Sundance cable channel in a biopic called Sex, Food, Death… and Insects. Before that, he was featured in Jonathan Demme’s ‘98 film homage, Storefront Hitchcock. So he’s no stranger to celluloid, and his charismatic raconteur’s ability spells out why.

Ironically, I recently interviewed him while he was filming a new Demme project in New York City. He explains, “I’m in the City now filming Jonathan’s new movie called Dancing with Shiva, and in it I appear as myself playing at a wedding with a collection of musicians.”

For a Brit by both birth and temperament, Hitchcock spends his share of time in the States. Though still living in London with his wife, he often travels here, especially to his favorite hangouts: Seattle and Tucson. Seattle is where he befriended like-minded residents such as Buck and McCaughey. He admits, “Seattle has the damp, English climate, and a breath of sanity blows down from Canada. The Venus 3 is based up there. Take me away and add Michael Stipe and Mike Mills, and you’ve got R.E.M.” Not a bad gig for a few part-timers.

Now in his mid-‘50s, Hitchcock says that all the recent fuss means is “I’ve been around long enough.” Self-deprecation suits him well. Like any artist worth his due—especially one inspired by the “don’t look back” credo—he says, “I would rather make new records than tidy up old ones, because my instincts are to look ahead.” Fair enough. Yet I Wanna Go Backwards underscores several decades’ worth of Hitchcock’s continued mastery.

The box set reprints three of his early solo records, including Eye, I Often Dream of Trains, and Black Snake Diamond Role in their entirety, as well as the tartly named double-disc of unreleased material called While Thatcher Mauled Britain. Hitchcock explains, “Records go out of print, so unless you come up with a steady seller like Bridge Over Troubled Water, you have to keep reprinting them—this is the third or fourth time now. Each time they do reprint them the technological landscape has shifted.”

The new collection also gives him the chance to contrast analog vs. digital technology. He admits, “My best kind of time capsule, my collected hieroglyphics, would be on vinyl. I think LPs will probably outlast CDs. In theory, any smart being able to planet-hop in the future would be able to look at this circular vinyl and figure the grooves are some kind of hieroglyphics. Why not spin it and drop a pin in? Of course, they might play it backwards.”

Interstellar travel, dream manifestation, and Egyptian myth have long been Hitchcock staples. His absurd leaps of logic ricochet between the songs’ subject matter and his onstage banter. In his live solo performances, he usually does a good bit of storytelling between the songs. He’ll riff off of any word or lyric, whether it’s “vegetable,” “bedbug,” or “astronaut,” and spin a bizarrely mesmerizing anecdote around it. But maybe that’s to be expected when your main influences are Bob Dylan, Syd Barrett, and William Burroughs—the immortal trifecta of hallucinatory wit.

With his tongue-in-cheek narration and sterling catalogue of songs, an evening with Hitchcock can be an entertaining proposition. His music ranges between twisted British folk ditties, psychedelic pop, and a tougher post-punk sound. His comic monologues are hit-and-miss, depending on your tolerance for esoteric rants. Sometimes his acerbic timing plays off the songs to good effect, but other times you just want him to get on with it. Either way, it’s an unusual blend.