From the beginning, the LA-based art rocker Ariel Pink has been a love-him-or-hate-him sort of guy. His mix of muddied home recordings and damaged pop isn't new (see: Daniel Johnston), but Pink pulls it off with an exuberance beyond that of your average weirdo. And whether you think he's a sham or a genius, one thing Pink hasn't done is disappear. Ever since he first made waves after signing to Animal Collective's Paw Tracks label, the slippery singer's discography has swollen with reissues of homemade cassettes and freshly wrought bedroom symphonies.