Nobody works overtime their last day on the job.

That might explain why Beck's Modern Guilt, the final album of his current major-label contract, is also his shortest by a long shot.

But it doesn't explain why the 33-minute set -- in stores Tuesday on the eccentric singer-songwriter's 38th birthday -- is also his most appealing disc in a long while.

For that, look to his newest foil: Danger Mouse, aka Brian Burton, aka the maverick mad scientist behind Gnarls Barkley, aka the hippest non-hip-hop producer of the moment. Armed with atmospheric synths, twitchy beatboxes and subaquatic dreamscapes, Burton provides the singer with some long-overdue sonic freshness. Funny thing about Beck: For a guy whose rep is based on being different, he's stuck to the same routine for most of his career, alternating between upbeat albums (like Guero) produced by the Dust Brothers and artsier fare (like Sea Change) helmed by Nigel Godrich.

Along with his obvious musical contribution, the Mouse seems to have helped the idiosyncratic Beck focus. Reportedly cut in one short, intense burst, these underproduced and immediate-sounding tunes balance creativity with concision. Beck doesn't overthink his melodies or his words; sometimes, he even uses off-the-cuff scratch lyrics, which are laced with dark imagery of ghosts and illusion, bombs and revolution, confusion and paranoia.

Sure, it's all a long way from the hook-filled goofball irony of pop chart-toppers like Devil's Haircut and Loser. But hey, it gets the job done.

Orphans (3:17)

"Think I'm standing but I don't know where," croaks Beck. No wonder; between the dusty bossa nova beat, woozy electro textures, a wee bit of '60s Brit-folk jangle and some ethereal vocals from Cat Power, this cut is enough to put anyone off balance.

Gamma Ray (2:58)

Beck rides gnarly surf-rock licks from the garage to the beach -- and sings ominously about "ice caps melting down ... and my Chevrolet Terraplane goin' round and round" while waves of reverb-soaked vocals ebb and flow. Cowabunga, dude.

Chemtrails (4:42)

Stick out your tongue for a dose of Floydian trippiness laced with rubbery bass and flailing Keith Moon drums, and decorated with falsetto vocals and a false ending that puts the psych! in psychedelic.

Modern Guilt (3:16)

The bouncy pop beat and twitchy textures complement some twangy guitar and Tainted Love synth-bloops -- while Beck's urban-paranoia lyrics give the whole affair a darker tone.

Youthless (3:01)

Finally, a dance cut. Sort of. Beck hits the floor and works his weird mojo to a throbbing, jittery post-Diddley beat outfitted with skittery Kraftwerk beatboxes and freewheeling keyboards.

Walls (2:24)

If Lee (Scratch) Perry produced The Police at their artsiest, he might have come close to the watery wobble and clattery offbeats of this dubby electro-reggae cut beamed in from Venus.

Replica (3:27)

With its skittery beatbox and chilly synth stabs, the track sounds like Squarepusher remixing Radiohead. Thankfully, the soothing vocals and elegant overdubs take off the edge.

Soul of a Man (2:38)

This is more like it. A grindy bassline, thumpy drums and moaning-dinosaur guitars help Beck chase the hoodoo down on this menacing piece of low-slung QOTSA-style electro-blues.

Profanity Prayers (3:45)

Waiting for the rock? Here it is. A blast of noisy post-punk set to thumping, pumping tom-toms, this wouldn't be out of place on a Sonic Youth CD -- until the slide guitar comes in, anyway.

Volcano (4:27)

Don't think volcano; think lava lamp. The beat to this swampy folk-blues track is sluggish and lumpy, there's a dreamy chorus of wordless vocals and the lyrics are about losing touch with reality.