Maturity is the theme for this month’s batch of albums, be it artists who’ve progressed, regressed, or simply stayed in a rut.

Quick links are provided for those who’d rather get right to a particular review.

+ Andrew Bird: Armchair Apocrypha
+ Bright Eyes: Cassadaga
+ Fountains of Wayne: Traffic and Weather
+ Grinderman: Grinderman
+ Rickie Lee Jones: The Sermon on Exposition Boulevard
+ Kings of Leon: Because of the Times
+ Panda Bear: Person Pitch

Andrew Bird: Armchair Apocrypha
Fat Possum, 2007
Rating: 4.5
Armchair Apocrypha is this year’s Fox Confessor Brings the Flood: cryptic but not inaccessible. Of course, that’s where comparisons between Andrew Bird and Neko Case stop. Two singular talents will stand but the most tangential similarities. Bird, known for his brainy songcraft and elaborate arrangements, succeeds in making Armchair Apocrypha one of his most appealing efforts by ensuring that the fear and anxiety are more apparent and, crucially, immediate. The catchy opener “Fiery Crash” is an ode to empty but comforting superstitious rituals. The vulnerable “Armchairs” has an emotionally open delivery worthy of the late, ultra-emotive Jeff Buckley. The fractured, drum-clattering “Simple X” helplessly proclaims, “Our minds are scattered about from hell to breakfast.” Even lines like “I think life is too long / To be a whale in a cubicle” (from “Plasticities”) resonates, affecting rather than smarty-pants clever. The arrangements are lovely, as always, but it’s Bird’s openness (as opposed to his inscrutability) that pays the greatest dividends on this exquisite, resonant work.

Bright Eyes: Cassadaga
Saddle Creek, 2007
Rating: 3.9
Bright Eyes’ voice has broken; this band has matured. Cassadaga is less concerned with hamfistedly emotive expression than creating a cohesive, musically accomplished work. The principal trio — singer/guitarist/lyricist Conor Oberst, multi-instrumentalist Mike Mogis, and organist Nate Walcott — along with a host of guest musicians (including the likes of indie notables M. Ward, Gillian Welch, and drummer Janet Weiss), has moved away from Oberst’s often painful personal reflections to produce a restless, questing work that ventures from the titular Florida town, known as the “Psychic Center of the World,” to points unknown (“I Must Belong Somewhere”). The sprightly, fun “Soul Singer In A Session Band” and the multifarious execution displayed on “Coat Check Dream Song” reveal a savvier, wiser Bright Eyes. Welcome to the adult world.

Fountains of Wayne: Traffic and Weather
S-Curve/Virgin Records
Rating: 3.0
Welcome Interstate Managers was a revelation of pop brilliance with piercing insights into empty, unfulfilling middle-class lives. Fountains of Waynes’ proper follow-up, Traffic and Weather, offers some scattered moments of that same pop brilliance; the problem is, nothing sticks the way tales of alcoholic salesmen and forlorn losers did on Managers. We never care about “Michael and Heather at the Baggage Claim” or what’s going on with “Yolanda Hayes” at the DMV. Adam Schlesinger and Chris Collingwood definitely know how to construct a hook-friendly pop tune, but without interesting stories to tell, it all feels like an empty-calorie exercise in vapid songcraft.

Grinderman: Grinderman
Mute, 2007
Rating: 4.1
“All we wanted was a little consensual rape in the afternoon and maybe a bit more in the evening” explains Nick Cave in blasé, spoken-word terms on “Go Tell The Women.” This is just a front, however: cheap posturing poorly masking true intentions. For all its blistering, back-to-basics rock formulations and deliciously anti-P.C. shock pronouncements, Grinderman (comprising the quartet of Cave and fellow Bad Seeders Warren Ellis, Martyn Casey and Jim Sclavunos) is ultimately a testament to man’s utter dependence on women, be it of the bluntly physical variety (”No Pussy Blues”) or the emotionally vulnerable stripe, as on the powerfully delivered “(I Don’t Need You To) Set Me Free.” Raw opener “Get it On” and manic closer “Love Bomb” are gripping, but the real pull is Cave finding someone to hold onto, be it “Electric Alice” or “Depth Charge Ethel.” Grinderman might actually be Cave’s sappy hopeless romantic testament. That he accomplishes it without orchestral arrangements and mopey strings is truly impressive.

Rickie Lee Jones: The Sermon on Exposition Boulevard
New West, 2007
Rating: 3.8
Rickie Lee Jones’s The Sermon on Exposition Boulevard draws its inspiration from the recorded words of Christ (as assembled by Lee Cantelon in a book called The Words). In that respect, Jones eschews an organized-religion slant in favor of the message of the man himself. “Circle In the Sand” mentions “Going back to my cave,” and that, in a nutshell, is the ascetic rock appeal of Sermon. You want back-to-basics? This is it. True to the thematic ideas at play, Sermon’s best moments are its most naked and unadorned. The opening “Nobody Knows My Name” is a first-take gem, one of the strongest tracks Jones has cut, expressing pain and salvation via simple chords and free-associative lyrics. Another first-take keeper, “Where I Like It Best,” emphasizes interior belief (“The prayers belong to you”) and manages to steer clear of protesting the High Mass extravagances typical of the Roman liturgy. Unsurprisingly, Sermon falters when Jones allows professional polish to overburden the words. “Falling Up” has a friendly hook, but little weight compared to the surrounding material; “7th Day” suffers from a similar emphasis on pretty over stark. On balance, Sermon is one of Jones’ strongest efforts, a set where hearing all first-take efforts might have provided an even more profound and rewarding listening experience.

Kings of Leon: Because of the Times
Hand Me Down, 2007
Rating: 3.7
The Followill clan’s third release, Because of the Times, reveals a band growing musically and revealing the requisite growing pains. Moving away from the Southern-fried rock the band built its reputation on, Times features moodily ambivalent tales of unplanned parenthood (”Knocked Up”), energetic rockers (”Charmer”) replete with punkish yawps, and hook-heavy, poppier efforts reminiscent of recent My Morning Jacket (”On Call”). “McFearless” is a highlight, with some knockout bass play, while “Ragoo” offers a loose vibe and a comfortable flow that (hopefully) points to the band’s future. More awkward experiments include “My Party,” which isn’t well-served by an emphasis on vocal distortion, and “Black Thumbnail,” which falls into cliché by exposing the band’s sure-handed command of the gratuitous guitar jam. Regardless, Kings of Leon have confidently moved past Youth and Young Manhood.

Panda Bear: Person Pitch
Paw Tracks, 2007
Rating: 3.7
Animal Collective’s Panda Bear (aka Noah Lennox) serves up his third solo album, one that’s unabashedly celebratory and sunny. The centerpiece, “Bros,” sports a Beach Boys airiness that could brighten the stingiest Scrooge’s heart. “I’m Not” annoys with its overly gauzy sheen, and “Good Girl/Carrots” falls into a seemingly endless pattern of loops that make it a perfect fit with the formless drift of “Search for Delicious.” Person Pitch is a paradoxically personal yet expansive work, a set that seems incredibly intimate to Lennox but universally open to a world of possibilities.

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