Shakethrus: 2004 - Shaking Through.net: Music: Reviews

The Hold Steady: Almost Killed Me
Frenchkiss, 2004
Rating: 4.0
New York-based rock outfit The Hold Steady comprises Ex-Lifter Puller singer Craig Finn and bassist Tad Kubler (shifting to lead guitar), along with drummer Judd Counsell and bassist Galen Polivka. The quartet’s debut Almost Killed Me is an unusual and unusually successful mix of shamelessly obvious classic-rock riffs and Finn’s bluntly stated, near-spoken-word observations about life and the Minnesota of his youth (not to mention countless pop-cultural touchstones). Influences vary, from Bruce Springsteen and his E Street Band (especially evident “Hostile, Mass.” and its use of brass) and Billy Joel (“Certain Songs”) to the Replacements (appealingly messy rhythms) and Hüsker Dü (Finn’s biting lyrics). What keeps Almost Killed Me from little more than gimmicky diversion is Finn’s impressive lyrical skills (“I’ll be damned if they didn't disappear / Wandered out of mass one day and faded into the fog and love and faithless fear,” from “Hostile, Mass.”) and the band members’ ability to serve up indulgent guitar solo clichés (as they do at the end of “Most People are DJs”) and then comment on such excess (by abruptly cutting off the solo and beginning the next song), thus celebrating and poking fun at them at the same time. The earnest “Certain Songs,” which celebrates those tunes that get “scratched into our souls,” and the gloriously anthemic “Knuckles,” which humorously rhymes “Kevlar vests” with “crystal meth,” are standouts. Although Almost Killed Me runs out of gas near the end, it nonetheless signals the arrival of an exciting and noteworthy new band.

The Divine Comedy: Absent Friends
Nettwerk / Parlophone, 2004
Rating: 4.0
Neil Hannon’s first post-fatherhood album, Absent Friends, reflects a more sobering, candidly honest worldview from the conspicuously cheeky artist. The Baroque arrangements and ornately articulate baritone (and, occasionally, soaring falsetto) remain in full force, but the lyrical content clearly reflects a shakeup in Hannon’s long term priorities. The aggrieved “Leaving Today” reveals the artist checking in on his young daughter before heading off on the road; the delightfully airy “Come Home Billy Bird” follows a travel-weary businessman who can’t wait for his journey to end; the cavernous “Freedom Road” details a trucker hanging up his CB radio for the final time. Those hoping for amusing, “Generation Sex”-style Divine Comedy material will have to sate their appetite with the clever style-over-substance piece “The Happy Goth.” For those seeking material with a little more bite, there’s “Our Mutual Friend,” about a three’s-a-crowd romantic triangle that ends badly for its jilted narrator. The fact that Hannon opens the album with a title track lamenting notable entertainers and personalities who’ve shuffled off this mortal coil, and closes with “Charmed Life,” a lovely ode to his baby girl, answers any questions about the Hannon of old magically reappearing. Absent Friends is about putting the past in perspective and holding out hope for a brighter future for this generation and the next.

Radiohead: Com Lag: 2+2=5 [EP]
EMI Toshiba, 2004
Rating: 3.0
Radiohead’s remix/B-sides/noise-farts collection Com Lag suffered from a first-pressing glitch on Four Tet’s remix of “Scatterbrain.” Subsequent releases have corrected the problem, but that still doesn’t overcome the EP’s main shortcoming: the bulk of the material here simply isn’t very engaging. A live version of Hail to the Thief’s “2+2=5” kicks things off in authoritative fashion, followed by Cristian Vogel’s commendable remix of the begging-to-be-remixed “Myxomatosis.” The lazily nostalgic, gentle, guitar-plucked “Gagging Order” is a rechristened version of "Move Along," a never-finished tune from the OK Computer era. But a trio of unmemorable cuts from the Hail sessions (“Paperbag Writer,” “I Am a Wicked Child” and “I Am Citizen Insane”) drains all life from the disc, validating Radiohead’s knack at choosing the best material for the full release. And closer “Where Bluebirds Fly” is a laptop experiment in repetitive starts and stammers that fails to reach a satisfying resolution. The choice moment, by contrast, belongs to a solo piano version of “Fog,” performed by Thom Yorke at the 2002 Bridge School Benefit. For a tune that’s lyrically inconsequential, the quavering timbre in Yorke’s voice wrenches every last ounce of emotional longing from a tale of baby alligators being flushed into the sewers. Com Lag is useful for the rabid B-side and rare track collector who can save funds by getting everything from the Hail recordings on one tidy package. Hardcore devotees, this one’s for you.

Bonnie "Prince" Billy: Greatest Palace Music
Drag City, 2004
Rating: 3.5
Fans of Will Oldham’s Palace catalog finally get their wish for a “greatest hits” collection. But the often willfully inscrutable Oldham couldn’t make things that simple. Instead of easily compiling these 15 choice cuts and serving them up in a nice, tidy package, Oldham decided to re-record the material in a country vein, using his bolder Bonnie “Prince” Billy persona and backed by some of the finest session men Nashville has to offer (players like drummer Eddie Bayers, fiddler Stuart Duncan, and pianist Hargus "Pig" Robbins). Unsurprisingly, Greatest Palace Music enjoys sterling production but mixed interpretive results. “New Partner” benefits from a fuller sound and “The Brute Choir,” despite running longer, has more urgency that its original. Some amusing reconfigurations include “I Send My Love to You” and “Pushkin,” both from 1994’s Days in the Wake. “Love” gets a Grand Ole Opry-style makeover, complete with swinging rhythm and livelier vocals; “Pushkin” exchanges its spare acoustic simplicity for a piano-and-gospel harmonizing arrangement. The misses, however, are whoppers: “Ohio River Boat Song” is drained of its emotional power, running a minute and a half shorter and reborn as a jaunty fiddler tune, and “Horses” just isn’t the same sans its blazing guitar work. Greatest Palace Music isn’t so much an apology for the earlier, often roughshod quality recordings as it is another curious, intriguing addition to Oldham’s redoubtable body of work.

December 23, 2004

Ludacris: The Red Light District
Def Jam South, 2004
Rating: 3.8
Astute Shaking Through regulars might recall that this writer took Ludacris to task last year for indulging in ugly, lowest-common-denominator posturing on Chicken -N- Beer. When it was announced that the title of his next album would be The Red Light District, your humble correspondent must admit that he feared more of the same. So it's an exceedingly pleasant surprise to report that District keeps such coarse pandering to a minimum. Even better, it's easily Luda's most consistent and -- can it really be true? -- experimental album to date. Yes, there's a fair amount of filler here -- most notably the pretty but vapid R&B of "Pimpin' All Over the World," which sounds like Earth, Wind & Fire's Philip Bailey attempting to go gangsta. But District packs a number of bouncy, accessible car-radio stocking-stuffers, like the ingratiating single "Get Back" (still a bit too puffed-up with thug posturing, but at forgivable limits), "Number One Spot" (hearing Ludacris rap "Scheme, scheme / Plot, plot" is a highlight that has to be heard to be fully appreciated) and "Put Your Money" (with a surprising guest turn from DMX). What's more, Ludacris bolsters his likeable traits -- his loose, Everydawg-made-good persona, his unique Southern drawl -- with an eagerness to expand his stylistic parameters: the tribal drumbeats and arresting "Jump down, turn around, pick a bale of cotton" break of the Timbaland-produced "The Potion," on which he proclaims "Speakin' about what hip-hop is missin' and shit / I'm 'bout to fill a void"; the lilting street-psychedelia of "Blueberry Yum Yum." And even when he falls into the trap of complaining about the perils of wealth (as on the otherwise enjoyable "Large Amounts"), Ludacris avoids the alienating misogyny and affected thug-life misanthropy that have marred past works. For those reasons, The Red Light District is the best work of the Atlanta rapper's career so far.

December 22, 2004

Elton John: Peachtree Road
Universal, 2004
Rating: 3.7
At his current level of media recognition, Elton John could easily set his musical career on "coast" -- and an argument can be made that he's done so for many years. But with Peachtree Road, John once again admirably sets out to make a strong album filled with solid, durable tunes, continuing in the vein of (and improving upon) 2001's Songs From the West Coast, instead of simply issuing a piece of product studded with one or two hopeful hits. And even more admirably, he succeeds -- mostly. The opening "Weight of the World" is too slow setting a tone, and "Too Many Tears" settles for cheap emotional button-pushing, tritely evoking the deaths of John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King. But elsewhere, John -- aided by longtime lyricist Bernie Taupin -- delivers some of his best material in at least a decade, made all the stronger by its refusal to conform to modern-day radio format standards in hopes of scoring an "I'm Still Standing"-sized hit. The results are melodic and accessible without being calculated, occasionally bolstered by soaring vocal arrangements. Engaging numbers like "Answers in the Sky" (which echoes the swirling hook of "Philadelphia Freedom"), "My Elusive Drug" and the bucolic "Porch Swing in Tupelo" are inviting and assured, performed with the confidence of a commanding vocalist and the careful skill of a veteran popsmith -- the qualities that make the effortless "Turn the Lights Out When You Leave" a potentially huge hit single. Those standouts raise the waterline for serviceable numbers like "They Call Her the Cat" (which tries a bit too hard, lyrically, to evoke John's fanciful 1970s heyday). Let's be clear: Peachtree Road isn't a masterpiece. But it's a welcome reminder that Sir Elton became the mega-celebrity he is today for a reason: his prodigious way with a pop tune. As such, it's his most consistently rewarding effort in recent memory.

December 04, 2004

Damien Jurado: Just in Time for Something [EP]
Secretly Canadian, 2004
Rating: 3.5
"I will not bend / Lucky, I guess." That line, from "Smith 1972," the opening track of Just in Time for Something, perfectly encapsulates the solemn determination of the characters populating Damien Jurado's vividly overcast musical universe. This five-song, ten-and-a-half minute EP may be a token gesture to hold over fans until his next full-length, On My Way To Absence, arrives, but it serves at least one essential purpose: Validating that whether in a studio or recording straight to an old reel-to-reel recorder using tape salvaged from a thrift store, as is the case here, Jurado crafts impassioned, affecting and brutally honest music. Despite tape flubs, the intermittent sound of a chair shifting and other unintentional background noises, Just in Time for Something works because of Jurado's open-faced lyrics and the haunted candor with which he delivers them.

December 01, 2004

Eminem: Encore
Aftermath/Interscope, 2004
Rating: 1.8
Given Eminem's deep psychological need to create and sustain conflict (even while publicly disavowing same), it's tempting to think that he made Encore, his fourth full-length album, as weak as it is on purpose, to bait his critics. It's just the kind of reckless move you might expect from a talent who so often chooses to sublimate his gift for intricate rhyme schemes in favor of adolescent fuming and puerile bathroom humor even Adam Sandler might wrinkle his nose at. But there's no reason to think that Marshall Mathers isn't playing it straight on Encore, and more's the pity. It's not simply the weakest album of his otherwise impressive career; it's one of the poorest performances from such a high-profile talent in recent memory. The misanthropy on display on such sonically uninvolving tracks as the wretched "My 1st Single," "Big Weenie" and "Puke" redefine tiresome. And for someone who spends so much time trying to bury hatchets with the likes of The Source and even (get over it already) Triumph the Insult Comic Dog, Mathers sure goes out of his way to kick at pathetically easy targets (Michael Jackson and Jessica Simpson). The political screed "Mosh" and the interesting production on "Yellow Brick Road" and "Like Toy Soldiers" (which samples the ancient Martika hit "Toy Soldiers") offer briefly -- all-too painfully briefly -- engrossing moments. Those aside, Encore lives up to its title, rehashing the worst bits of filler from Eminem's earlier albums. If the distrustful, even hateful hermit heard so often here really does just want to be left alone, Encore might just fulfill that wish.

December 01, 2004

Robyn Hitchcock: Spooked
Yep Roc, 2004
Rating: 3.6
If the idea of pairing Robyn Hitchcock with the contemporary mountain-folk-country duo of David Rawlings and Gillian Welch sounds a bit off-putting, don't worry: Spooked, the result of that very collaboration, never turns into the baroque piece of nonsense-baroque folk one might imagine. This is a very muted record, and that means that its joys are muted as well, such as the snippets of harmonizing on the opening "Television" (which redeems Hitchcock's slightly grating "Bing a bong a bing bong" intro) or the long, stripped-down and eerily faithful cover of Bob Dylan's "Tryin' to Get to Heaven" (the title here appended with "Before They Close the Door") from 1997's Time Out of Mind. There are some quietly affecting moments here; the slight ballad "English Girl," the finger-snap percussion and harmonized "ooohs" on the lyrically foreboding "Demons and Fiends" ("Movin' out towards the kingdom / All I see is hobgoblins and ghouls") and the low-key twitchiness of "Creeped Out" ("Everything is happening behind your eyes"). Too bad they all follow upon one another, instead of being interspersed between less arresting moments like "We're Gonna Live in the Trees." Hitchcock, best known for his elliptical wordplay, continues the comparatively straightforward approach of his latter-day efforts, and the results here reveal a deep but measured unease with world events -- as on "Demons and Fiends" and "If You Know Time," which more-or-less directly references the war in Iraq ("The war that's coming/ Setting good guys against good"). Rawlings and Welch's bare-bones accompaniment proves a handsome fit, crafting an album that thoughtfully contemplates such time-tested subjects as love, war and the desire for escape. If Spooked isn't Hitchcock's most visceral effort, its spare acoustics make it nonetheless a diverting and likeable listen.

November 24, 2004

Death From Above 1979: You're a Woman, I'm a Machine
Vice / Atlantic, 2004
Rating: 4.1
Dance metal? Why not? Toronto-based duo Death From Above 1979 -- Sebastien Grainger (vocals/screaming/drums) and Jesse Keeler (bass/Moog) -- prove that it's possible to get a groove on over skull-crushing beats and headbang-worthy riffs. The thrashing yet danceable "Going Steady" achieves what many biophysicists thought impossible: the coexistence of head-bopping and rump-shaking in the same temporal space. And that's what makes You're a Woman, I'm a Machine so much fun. Grainger and Keeler aren't limiting their options, either stylistically or musically. They capably cover everything from noisy freakouts ("Turn It Out") to electroclash chillouts ("Sexy Results"), and manage to hold it all together better than bands armed with triple the sonic arsenal. (Queens of the Stone Age, the gauntlet lays squarely at your feet.)

November 24, 2004

Castanets: Cathedral
Asthmatic Kitty, 2004
Rating: 3.9
San Diego's Castanets are an outré country outfit with a lead foot on the distortion pedal. Cathedral, the band's first widely available release, begins with lead singer/principal songwriter Raymond Raposa gravelly observing "puddles have turned into lakes," as a steady rumble builds. The storm (metaphorically and sonically speaking) doesn't break until "Industry and Snow," the third track, which features (given the dark mood) surprisingly effective toy piano, and devolves into a feedback-drenched squall. Castanets prove equally adept at traditional country ("As You Do"). But it's with the more adventurous cuts (such as the sepulcherally graceful "We Are the Wreckage," which floats on a sea of delicately shimmering notes) that Castanets validate their existence. With any luck, Cathedral will find an audience willing to explore darker corners of a genre that rarely cohabitates comfortably with experimental forms.

November 21, 2004

God Lives Underwater: Up Off the Floor
Megaforce Records, 2004
Rating: 3.9
Since 1995, God Lives Underwater has crafted an industrial-rock sound heavy on the electronica. On its fourth album, Up Off the Floor, God Lives Underwater takes that dark sound and adds a healthy dose of rock. The opening track, "White Noise," will inevitably be on the Fast and the Furious 42 soundtrack, whenever that arrives in theaters. It's the ultimate adrenaline-pumping driving song. "Tricked" is lyrically the darkest song here, highlighted by the chorus "I won't ever be tricked / Into thinking that they love me / Because no one does / And no one will / And that's the way I like it." On Up Off the Floor God Lives Underwater shifts its sound closer to the industrial and grunge sub-genres, away from the electronic field it's known for, a move sure to gain more fans and more respect than the group already has.

November 14, 2004

The Go! Team: Thunder, Lightning, Strike
Memphis Industries, 2004
Rating: 3.7
Coming across like a deliriously evanescent pep rally from the Outer Limits, Thunder, Lightning, Strike, the long-player debut from Brighton, UK-based sextet The Go! Team, boils over with sonic fripperies. The impossibly urgent, hyperkinetic "Panther Dash" is the kind of track Quentin Tarantino would use if he helmed a live-action version of Speed Racer. Choice cut "Ladyflash" exhibits a pastoral spaciness reminiscent of Manitoba; "Bottle Rocket" possesses a shuffling, Avalanches-lite beat and a creative, nicely melded array of sampled happenstances. The Go! Team's everything-in-excess approach is further reinforced by the groovy piano shimmy of "Feelgood By Numbers," the trippy, bended flute instrumental "Get It Together," and even a mock drill deviation, "Air Raid GTR." Such dizziness proves intoxicating. Like any good buzz, however, you're apt to wake up with a hangover, especially if you haven't filled up on more substantial fare first. Caveat Emptor: The Go! Team gleefully skips the main course and heads straight to the after-party.

November 11, 2004

The Blood Brothers: Crimes
V2, 2004
Rating: 4.1
The knee-jerk reaction to the Blood Brothers' Crimes is to cry "Sellout!" to anyone who cares about such things. (On a side note, isn't putting a price tag on anything technically a sell out?) Easily discernible melodies abound, and what's with the featured piano on the otherwise par-for-the-course, rabid meltdown number "Peacock Skeleton With Crooked Feathers"? Indeed, the Blood Bothers are -- take a deep breath, rigid hardcore purists -- maturing. Not to worry, though, you've still got the complementary vocal styles of wailing Johnny Whitney and the slightly more restrained Jordan Blilie. And the band's mad thrash is still very much in play (certainly, no one would accuse the frenzied "Feed Me to the Forest" and savage "Trash Flavored Trash" of being concessions to the mainstream). The Blood Brothers have moved up the label food-chain, but are still exploring dark corners ("My First Kiss at the Public Execution") and At The Drive-In-worthy lyrical nooks and crannies ("Rats and Rats and Rats for Candy"). There's just more variety, in an adventurous Brainiac, anything-goes sort of way. Case in point: the title track, which could easily occupy the stage with cabaret singers from bygone eras. Crimes is guilty of nothing save exhibiting the sound of a band that clearly isn't finished evolving. Deal with it.

November 10, 2004

Annie: Anniemal
679, 2004
Rating: 4.0
Anne Berge-Strand is a Norwegian singer/DJ whose debut, Anniemal, affirms that hip beats and introspective lyrics don't have to be musically exclusive elements. Highlights include a pair of Richard X-produced tracks, "Chewing Gum" and "Me Plus One," the former for its unavoidably bubblegum bounce, quick-footed and lively; the latter due to its confidently expressive sensuality (Annie promises to "rock your world"). "Greatest Hit," Annie's popular 1999 single, appears almost as an obligatory concession to those who know her solely as the performer who built the song from a loop of Madonna's "Everybody." But Anniemal's staying power comes from an overriding sense of loss. "No Easy Love" contains what should be a trite throwaway turn ("I have been working day and night / Trying to forget your smile so bright") that resonates due to the genuine emotion in Annie's voice. Electro-pop's Tapestry? Perhaps. But it's safer to name-check Anniemal as one of the stronger debuts released this year.

October 30, 2004

Ed Harcourt: Strangers
Heavenly, 2004
Rating: 3.7
Ed Harcourt leaves behind the bolder arrangements found on Here Be Monsters and From Every Sphere and ventures into late-night, "in love with being in love" romantic balladry on Strangers, his fourth release in as many years. The talented British singer-songwriter has crafted the warmest, most life-affirming album of his still-budding career. And it mostly works, with the brash/melodramatic cuts ("Storm Is Coming," "Let Love Not Weigh Me Down" and "Loneliness") strategically spaced amongst the piano weepers ("This One's for You," "Open Book") and glorious pop kickers ("Born in the '70s" and the title track, which successfully articulates the giddy excitement of first encounters that survive longer than a fortnight). The bland "Something to Live For" fails to make a love connection, however, and the overall polish proves a tad blinding and superficial. But Harcourt gets credit for sticking to his creative guns and not trotting out an elongated quasi-industrial detour (e.g., Monsters' "Beneath The Heart Of Darkness") in a self-conscious effort to shake things up.

October 30, 2004

William Shatner: Has Been
Shout! Factory, 2004
Rating: 3.4
Has Been is not The Transformed Man, Part 2. Which might be a good or bad thing, depending on how devoted one is to William Shatner's 1968 spoken-word riff on pop hits of the day, Shakespeare and wiggy poetry. Has Been lacks Transformed Man's colossal sense of hubris and campy, beyond-over-the-top execution. But what it does offer, at least its first half, is a 73-year-old man reflecting on a lifetime of ups and (mostly) downs, and it's that sobering confessional quality that gives the album an unexpected dose of depth and grace. Collaborating with Ben Folds (who also produced) and playing host to an array of guest stars, from Joe Jackson to Henry Rollins, Shatner surprises by avoiding self-parody or pandering to the masses that want the hammy Captain Kirk-meets-Priceline-pitchman shtick the actor has perfected. An attention-grabbing cover of Pulp's "Common People" proves an effective icebreaker. But then darkness settles. "It Hasn't Happened Yet" is pure existential angst over a life unfulfilled. "You'll Have Time"'s message: "Live life like you're gonna die." "That's Me Trying," with lyrics by Nick Hornby, is an epistle from a father trying to reconnect with an estranged daughter. "What Have You Done" is Shatner recalling the discovery of his drowned wife, Nerine, at the bottom of their pool. All pretty brave, in its own way. But Has Been loses its nerve in the second half. "Familiar Love" might have been an effective look at loneliness and one-night stands had the backing singers not upped the cheesy lounge factor; the title track is undermined by a hokey Spaghetti Western pastiche; and the closing, Brad Paisley-penned "Real" lacks the naked vulnerability of the earlier cuts, despite containing some pointedly well-executed lines ("Just because you've seen my on your TV / Doesn't mean I'm more enlightened than you"). While Has Been stumbles well before the finish line, Shatner convincingly proves that Transformed Man was more a product of its time than a mirror reflecting his true soul -- which is apparently pretty dark territory. Who knew?

October 16, 2004

Elvis Costello: The Delivery Man
Mercury, 2004
Rating: 3.3
Elvis Costello's 21st studio release, The Delivery Man, is a song cycle about murder, lust and betrayal set in the Deep South. If that concept sounds somewhat vague, blame the messenger. Costello intentionally plays fast and loose with the narrative order, and has even commented that many songs in the storyline will be spread out across future albums. Bearing that caveat in mind, don't feel bad if nothing resembling an articulate tale involving a delivery man and the various women he loves, murders and/or otherwise betrays rises above the murk. What is apparent throughout The Delivery Man is that, despite some fantastic individual moments (the smoking electric blues of "Needle Time;" a grief-stricken duet with Emmylou Harris of Costello's Oscar-nominated "The Scarlet Tide" [sung on the Cold Mountain soundtrack by Alison Krauss and co-written by T-Bone Burnett]), there's a nagging lack of cohesion. The nervy urgency of falling-to-pieces opener "Button My Lip" inelegantly gives way to the smoldering regret of "Country Darkness." Likewise, the bluesy tramp of "Either Side of the Same Town" is blindsided by the alarming "Bedlam." Rather than ebbing and flowing from raucous to mellow, The Delivery Man is a helter-skelter assemblage. It convincingly exhibits the breadth of affection Costello has for homegrown American musical forms, but lacks a tight-enough center to stand among his sturdier, more disciplined works.

October 16, 2004

Jill Scott: Beautifully Human: Words & Sounds, Vol. 2
Sony, 2004
Rating: 3.8
Who Is Jill Scott?: Words and Sounds, Vol. 1 laid the groundwork for the North Philly singer-songwriter's approach to life and music: clean, stylish arrangements, positivism and her soulful voice. Beautifully Human: Words & Sounds, Vol. 2 refines the blueprint, cutting back on the debut's spoken-word asides to concentrate on Scott's velvety delivery ("Can't Explain (42nd Street Happenstance)" is melted-butter smooth) and anti-violence pleas: "Rasool" tragically recounts Scott's early exposure to the mean streets ("At 15 years old, it was the first death I'd seen"). Other than the upbeat, sexually charged "Bedda At Home," the middle portion of Beautifully Human settles into a mid-tempo comfort zone that, while hardly bland, lowers the pulse threshold considerably. Consequently, the more groove-oriented cuts, like the life-affirming "Golden" and assertively provocative "I'm Not Afraid" ("I am not afraid to be your lady / I am not afraid to be your whore") resonate strongest. The latest volume of Jill Scott's personal and artistic odyssey buffs the rough edges of Words & Sounds, Vol. 1 but sacrifices some of that record's spirited adventurousness. Perhaps Volume 3 will unify the best elements from both.

October 16, 2004

Joanna Newsom: The Milk-Eyed Mender
Drag City, 2004
Rating: 3.5
There's a certain irony to San Francisco-based singer-songwriter Joanna Newsom's use of the harp as the primary instrument on her debut, The Milk-Eyed Mender. Mender is heavily steeped in Appalachian folk balladry, but in utilizing her chosen instrument to summon notes that sound so fragile and winsome, Newsom forsakes any semblance of carved-from-the-earth authenticity. On the upside, however, she does create a unique canvas, better likened to some imaginary Misty Mountain Hop than to some earthbound environment. "Bridges and Balloons" (the sight of which makes "calm irritable canaries"), and perceptive weeper "This Side of the Blue" make a favorable impression, and it's obvious Newsom, like fellow folk explorer Devendra Banhart, possesses a particular musical vocabulary that merits continued patronage. When Newsom forsakes the fantastical for canned '70s slogans, however, as with the bass-heavy "The Book of Right-On," her footing is less assured. The Milk-Eyed Mender is an odd duckling that may irritate as many listeners as it entrances. Such polarization usually means an artist has struck a chord, however. For an artist like Newsom, one senses that middle-of-the-road acceptance would be a harsher assessment to bear.

October 14, 2004

De La Soul: The Grind Date
Sanctuary, 2004
Rating: 4.1
The Grind Date is De La Soul backed into a corner, coming out swinging. After parting ways with longtime label Tommy Boy, the estimable hip-hop trio shelved the third volume of its Art Official Intelligence series (apparently the brass at Tommy Boy considered it commercially unviable) and decided to make its first independent release a back-to-basics, stripped-down "we're not dead yet" statement. Mission accomplished. The Grind Date finds Pos, Dave and Maceo celebrating a decade-plus run in the rap game and conceding nothing to the latest generation of artists. "The Future" laments current high flyers who don't appreciate the groundwork laid by earlier MCs. "Verbal Clap" addresses De La Soul's less than prolific catalog: "I call 'em words from me that take long to cook / So some feel free in sayin' that we don't hunger for beats / Not that we not hungry, just picky in what we eat." The message is simple: De La Soul wouldn't still be around (and attract such guest artists and producers as J-Dilla, Ghostface, MF Doom, Common, Flava Flav and Sean Paul) if the group was no longer relevant. Or, as they claim on "No," featuring Butta Verses, being on top of the game is measured over time as opposed to flavor-of-the-moment rhymes. The Grind Date is the sound of a rejuvenated heavyweight who may have lost his belt but has in no way conceded the fight.

October 10, 2004

The Delgados: Universal Audio
Chemikal Underground, 2004
Rating: 3.8
The Delgados' fifth studio release, Universal Audio, sheds the heavy orchestral garments characteristic of the Glaswegian four-piece's previous two efforts. Devotees of The Great Eastern, Hate and "too big is only the tip of the iceberg" producer Dave Fridmann (who did major body work on the former and only provided a superficial buff job on the latter) might miss the ecstatic pop flourishes. But they shouldn't sell the clean, amiable Universal Audio short solely do to such absences. If anything, the Delgados reveal a confidence and emotional directness heretofore lacking in their work. The vocal are brought to the fore with no storm of symphonic bombast running interference. Or, as Emma Pollock sings on heady opener "I Fought The Angels:" "Everybody knows that I only have myself to blame." Fortunately, other than the minor quibble that there's not as many immediately bracing hooks as on past efforts, Universal Audio has very little to apologize for. Pollock and Alun Woodward split the singing duties, with Pollock handling the darker-themed material ("Come Undone," featuring delicate piano and quavering cello, and the choice line "These are days that you really don't want to last") while Woodward errs on the side of optimism in the face of adversity (the power chord-laden "Get Action!" and the "live for today" micro-anthem "Now & Forever"). Oddly enough, Pollock gets saddled with the most irresistibly peppy, vacuous track, "Everybody Come Down." Universal Audio finds the Delgados working out a straightforward guitar-bass-drums pop-rock jones, and handily proving bigger doesn't exclusively mean better.

October 10, 2004

Hope of the States: The Lost Riots
Sony: 2004
Rating: 4.6
With its most impressive debut The Lost Riots, Hope of the States has burst onto the British music scene as the latest Next Big Thing. Sure enough, the disc's melodic, forward-thinking songs of hope and despair have earned the band the requisite comparisons to Radiohead. To the casual listener, The Lost Riots comes off as one long anti-American diatribe, as singer Sam Herlihy injects plenty of venom into songs like "The Red The White The Black The Blue," "Black Dollar Bills" and "1776." However, any intonations of cross-Atlantic ill-will are erased by the upbeat "Enemies/Friends" ("Come on people, keep your friends close, your enemies won't matter in the end"). On most tracks, Hope of the States achieves a sprawling, epic sound, thanks to the use of violin and a three-guitar attack. And when the band goes instrumental, like on "The Black Amnesias," it comes off as a more accessible, less-experimental Mogwai. This most confident debut presents Hope of the States as a band for the future -- a place it'll most likely find very comfortable.

::: Eric Grossman

September 30, 2004

Thalia Zedek: Trust Not Those In Whom Without Some Touch Of Madness
Thrill Jockey, 2004
Rating: 3.5
There's a dark theatricality to Thalia Zedek's music, expressed via her deliberate singing style, a concentrated slow burn, and frugal choice of core instrumentation (drums, viola, guitar and piano -- no bass) that add gravity to the New York-based confessional singer-songwriter's words. The oddly named Trust Not Those In Whom Without Some Touch Of Madness (the title comes from a pair of mismatched fortune cookie notes taped together that Zedek once received) lacks the emotional resonance of 2001's stellar Been Here and Gone, but nonetheless contains several standout tracks: the grim but determined "Evil Hand," featuring some welcome lap steel, and "Brother," a country-blues number bolstered by an uplifting cello, and ends with the resigned but still defiantly delivered observation, "But it's all over now / A new king's been crowned / And we all recognize him." The cumulative effect of Trust Not is a wearying one; Zedek will never be accused of false optimism. She cuts to the core of her pain, and isn't afraid to bathe her record in the resulting gore. This can be a tough slog, but you'd be hard pressed to find a more honest, nakedly vulnerable performer currently recording.

September 30, 2004

The Arcade Fire: Funeral
Merge, 2004
Rating: 3.8
Funeral is a big-hearted record, gushing with emotion. Montreal-based quintet The Arcade Fire lists nine people (friends and family members) who have passed away, hence the ceremonial title of the group's debut. The ten tracks offered here don't explicitly deal with loss, but are obviously greatly informed by it. "Une Année Sans Lumière" mentions burnt-out streetlights (one for every dear soul lost, presumably); "Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)" concerns a power outage. But The Arcade Fire isn't wallowing in self-pity or reflecting a bereaved, paralytic state. If anything, Funeral is bursting with energy (albeit in a nervy, Talking Heads sort of way). Lead vocalist Win Butler has a hybridized vocal style reminiscent of David Byrne or Xiu Xiu's Jamie Stewart, and he's at his best on the big, sweeping orchestral pieces ("Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)" and the sway-croon pleading of "Crown Of Love"). The best moments belong to Régine Chassagne, however. She brings an evocative sense of place to "Haïti," which features a sunny, roiling beat and intriguingly dark lyrics ("In the forest we are hiding / Unmarked graves where flowers grow") and the closing, fragile, "In the Backseat," which comes closest to providing an elegy for the dead. Lyrically, the band's not quite there yet, exhibit A being "Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles)" and the clunky couplet: "My eyes are covered by the hands of my unborn kids / But my heart keeps watchin' through the skin of my eyelids." But in terms of sheer ambition -- and the realization that if you're going to use strings, you might as well go completely over the top with them -- The Arcade Fire is a promising, unapologetically melodramatic sure bet.

September 28, 2004

Devendra Banhart: Niño Rojo
Young God, 2004
Rating: 4.2
Devendra Banhart describes Niño Rojo as the child to Rejoicing in the Hands' mother. Which shouldn't imply that the 16 tracks (which came out of the same sessions as Rejoicing) on Niño Rojo (literally, "Red Boy") are somehow less developed, or dependent upon Rejoicing for clarity or comparative insight. Instead, Rejoicing offers a remote perspective (“Rejoicing in the hands of the Golden Empress / Is the mother / Is the sun” -- life-giving but distant), while Rojo is friendly, warm, not as abstract and more ingrained in the messy world of the living. Consequently, it's a more accessible (if not as deeply rewarding) work, thanks in large part to added instrumentation and players. The engaging "At The Hop" is co-written by and performed with Andy Cabic (in whose Bay Area band Vetiver Banhart is a collaborator); "Noah" effectively employs piano and cello to accentuate the longing in Banhart's voice; "Be Kind" refreshingly revels in straight-ahead pop. Niño Rojo may not appeal to the "freak-folk" crowd that so heartily embraced Rejoicing and its shambling predecessor Oh Me Oh My..., but Banhart effectively displays a willingness to broaden his musical horizons that will undoubtedly serve him well on subsequent releases.

September 28, 2004

Interpol: Antics
Matador, 2004
Rating: 3.3
Is Antics superior to Interpol's highly regarded debut, Turn On The Bright Lights? Well, yes, providing your criteria involve a tighter, less fussy sound and gimmick-free production. Antics is no-frills Interpol, with the New York quartet refining its passive (yet paradoxically insistent) bark and thrum -- a soundtrack for the hopeless urban romantic. Paul Banks has the requisite needy-yet-threatening vocal timbre to pull off such conflicted lines as "Time is like a broken watch / I make money like Fred Astaire" ("Take You On A Cruise"), and manages to infuse the bulk of Antics' ten tracks with a peculiar aching vulnerability tinged with menace; love this heartsick fool or he may well hurt you. The urgent, not quite falling-to-pieces (but damn near close) "Not Even Jail" is a highlight, as is the hard-beat-energized, Clinic-worthy "Length of Love." Antics finds Interpol improving its American Psycho-reserved rock formula without running out of unblemished ideas. Hence, a passing grade.

September 22, 2004

Tim McGraw: Live Like You Were Dying
Curb, 2004
Rating: 3.6
Tim McGraw is one of the brightest stars in Nashville's modern country firmament: An engaging performer with an ear for picking well-constructed songs and just enough rebellious pluck to insist on recording with his live band, the Dancehall Doctors, rather than session musicians. (Being married to one of the most attractive women in country -- hell, in popular music -- is just icing on the cake.) Live Like You Were Dying continues his streak, armed with a handful of exceptionally sturdy songs that are not only pleasant radio fodder, but also daring enough to push at the boundaries of conventional country fare. The energized opener "How Bad Do You Want It" flirts with pop-crossover status, its briskly rocking guitars setting a toe-tapping pace the rest of the album strains to keep up with. One has to give McGraw credit for spending his hard-earned fan capital on songs like "Drugs and Jesus" (about the two prevalent options available to questing souls in a small town) and the bracing "Kill Myself," a nervy take on a despondent man's contemplation of suicide. In fact, perseverance in the face of adversity is the album's central theme, from the earnest title track to the formulaic "We Carry On" to the likable "Do You Want Fries With That." It's all very commendable, but one wishes McGraw had taken a few more chances with the material, most of which is as lightweight and ultimately disposable as much of modern country. "Back When" hints at what's holding the singer back; it's a nostalgic ode to an "old and outdated way of life," a simpler time when "A ho was a hoe / Coke was a Coke... and when you said 'I'm down with that' / It meant you had the flu." It's a perfectly legitimate sentiment, albeit a bit backward-looking for someone with McGraw's willingness to rub up against Nashville conservatism. One wonders if he appreciates the irony when he sings "They put pop in my country / I want more for my money." So do we all, Tim, and Dying is the sound of you almost -- almost -- fulfilling that promise.

September 21, 2004

Reverend Horton Heat: Revival
Yep Roc, 2004
Rating: 3.4
It was 1992 when Jim Heath -- that's Horton Heat to you -- first made a long-lost art called rockabilly cool for the alternative nation, singing spirited odes to drugs, sex and fast cars, and playing the guitar like nobody's business. Twelve years, some great albums, a major-label deal and a few not-so-great albums later, we find the Reverend a changed man. Revival carries little more than a glimmer of his past grunge-infused aesthetic. "Mellowed out" may be a strong choice of words, as the album has no shortage of heel-kicking honky-tonk guitar riffs on tracks like "Callin' In Twisted." But it strongly lacks the "bales of cocaine" rambunctiousness Heat and his band employed to gather their underground following back in their heyday. The prime example of how the Reverend has aged is a newfound sentimentality in ballads like "Someone In Heaven," a pure-country anthem written after the passing of Heath's mother. Such sentiment (also evident in the anti-heroin lament "Indigo Friends") brings a sense of responsibility and composure to a band whose main objective has always been to take listeners on a hell-raising ride. If this deters fans from picking up the record, it shouldn't. It's a stronger album that those from Heat's Interscope period, and while songs like "Party Mad" and "If It Ain't Got Rhythm" no longer sound new, they do have their own rewards. A bonus DVD with three live songs and an interview with Heath is a nice extra that makes it a must-buy for those die-hards in the Reverend's congregation.

September 21, 2004

The Finn Brothers: Everyone Is Here
Nettwerk, 2004
Rating: 3.6
Tim and Neil Finn have been creating perfect pop music for decades with Crowded House and Split Enz, as well as solo work and two previous albums under the Finn Brothers moniker. And on Everyone Is Here, they put that experience to good use, crafting a thoroughly enjoyable pop album worthy of repeated listens. "Luckiest Man Alive" shows how the brothers feed off of each other as if they know what the other is thinking, as expressed in the lyric "I know that it's you behind / Everything that I do." More than 40 years of combined experience results in an album that works well as music for the road or for a party thrown by discriminating baby boomers, full of tight harmonies and musicianship on songs such as "Disembodied Voices" and "Edible Flowers." Everyone Is Here shows that the Finns, unlike aging purveyors of '80s pop like Phil Collins or Don Henley, have no intention of slowing down their sound, and every intention of continuing to create solid pop music under their own rules.

September 13, 2004

The Thrills: Let's Bottle Bohemia
Virgin, 2004
Rating: 3.5
It'd be a stretch to say that The Thrills have jettisoned their sparkling California sound on Let's Bottle Bohemia, the band's sophomore effort. Conor Deasy still warbles his way through stories of has-beens and never-weres (Exhibits A and B: "Whatever Happened to Corey Haim?" and "Faded Beauty Queens"), while Kevin Horan's twinkling keys provide the backbone for several tunes. But it's clear that the band has taken great strides to tighten things up. Whereas their acclaimed debut, So Much for the City, included several five-minute tracks, Bohemia checks in at around 35 minutes, with songs averaging about three-and-a-half minutes. And several tracks feature a hardened edge that was nowhere to be found on City (that's R.E.M.'s Peter Buck contributing guitar on "The Curse of Comfort"). Lead single "Not for All the Love in the World" and closing track "The Irish Keep Gate-Crashing" are a study in contrasts: the former is perhaps the album's most downcast -- and melodic -- track, while the latter offers a jig-like romp. Fans of So Much for the City's warm, Beach Boys-esque charms may be disappointed with The Thrills' musical progression, but most should enjoy Bohemia's varied charms.

::: Eric Grossman

September 13, 2004

The Black Keys: Rubber Factory
Epitaph, 2004
Rating: 4.0
Akron, Ohio no longer holds the title of "Rubber Capital of the World." One good thing to come out of this industrial downturn is the number of abandoned rubber factories in town just begging for rock duos with a serious passion for electrified blues to set up shop and make music. And the Black Keys (singer-guitarist Dan Auerbach and percussionist Patrick Carney) do just that on the aptly named Rubber Factory. Having established their basic crunchy-blues sound on The Big Come Up and refined it on 2003’s lauded Thickfreakness, Auerbach and Carney up the ante on Rubber Factory by expanding their scope (the achingly heartsick ballad “The Lengths”) and managing to make a cover of the Kinks’ “Act Nice and Gentle” their own by twisting the pop structure into a loose, after-dark back-porch jam. The duo’s bread and butter, obviously, is its blistering rootsy blues numbers, and there’s certainly no shortage here. The energized “10 A.M. Automatic” is positively anthemic (a rather atypical blues aspect that nonetheless pays substantial dividends), while the down-and-dirty “Aeroplane Blues” measures up to the deepest cuts on the duo's first two albums. Rubber Factory finds inspiration in decay, and signals a hopeful future for the Black Keys, whose popularity should eventually allow them to record in a rundown factory out of personal preference as opposed to financial necessity.

September 10, 2004

The Gunshy: No Man's Blues
Latest Flame, 2004
Rating: 3.1
The Gunshy, previously a one-man show run by hard-working singer-songwriter Matt Arbogast, has transformed into a full-fledged band withNo Man's Blues. The album finds Arbogast refining an alt-country/rock blend, approaching the task with a certain vigor and honesty that at times makes you want to punch a hole through the wall. The singer's husky-shaky vocals don't seem to come off as singing at all, but rather high- and low-pitched rasps; think Tom Waits with a sore throat. But the vocals lend themselves to the kind of pessimistic-macabre lyrics that Arbogast seems to have a knack for writing. Songs like "I Will Die Alone" and "Dead Ends" present a brutally realistic outlook on life and love and making it as a musician. But yells of "I'm fucking up my life for rock and roll" in "Seven Weeks" are directly contradicted by the confident and sanguine backing arrangements, arrangements that aren't incredibly original or elaborate but offer enough variety to keep building momentum throughout the album. This turns No Man's Blues into a kind of double-headed coin. Some may see it as complex, others as inherently conflicted. The truth is it's both, but at its core the album offers a red-blooded country-emo sound that should be allowed its place, and given more credit then the band probably gives itself.

September 10, 2004

Argentine: In Other Fictions
BMI, 2004
Rating: 3.7
Few bands have been able to successfully bend traditional rock elements into a means of producing albums that stress atmosphere, texture and mood over the pop-rock formula of melody, rhythm and hook. It can be done: Talk Talk did it; Radiohead and Yo La Tengo's best albums were birthed when they created entire worlds with guitars, bass and drums, all the while managing to rock out to sounds that weren't exactly of the head-bobbing persuasion. This is what Argentine strives for with its debut, In Other Fictions: music that takes you places in lieu of giving you something to sing along with. "The World Gets Younger," a tune that would make Thom Yorke proud (if not a little bothered by the fact that Ian Carpenter's vocals sound a bit like his own) strives for a spacey-twilight aura, pulling it together with sparse, reverb-heavy guitars. Any lesser band might make the mistake of taking an album like this in convoluted and eccentric directions, but Argentine keeps a perfect center of gravity. In fact, it might be too perfect. What the album lacks is a collection of moments that change the moods and textures just enough to keep a casual listener interested. "Westerly" comes closest to achieving this, as cello and violin work by contributing member Mocha Ishibashi creates a slow-swirling whirlpool of dark yet optimistic sound. It's one of the shortest cuts on In Other Fictions, but it's a track that should put watchful eyes on a sprouting band.

September 09, 2004

The Upwelling: The Upwelling [EP]
Noreaster Records, 2004
Rating: 4.2
In the space of four tracks on one EP, New York's The Upwelling has created a listening experience that is not only thoroughly enjoyable but one that must be talked about. The trio combines the atmospheric optimism of Pink Floyd, the electronic undercurrents of Depeche Mode and the vocals of Tears for Fears to create the best EP of the year. The best track is "Ladder 104," in which Ari Ingber's vocals match the urgent intensity of the music, inviting the listener into a cinematic rescue mission with a sing-along chorus that would have been right at home in the movie Backdraft. If the band releases a full-length album anytime soon that involves the listener as much as this EP does, or matches its energy, it will be the year's best rock album, hands-down.

September 09, 2004

Woke Up Falling: Woke Up Falling
436 Records, 2004
Rating: 3.1
The Portland, Oregon-based trio Woke Up Falling sports a diverse rock sound that intersperses crunching guitars and killer beats with slower, more contemplative tracks. The results are undeniably passionate. "In Silence" and "Circle a Date to End This War" are great, intense numbers that won't make your speakers explode, and they're impeccably written as well. The problem lies in the vocals. Singer Gordie Muscutt sounds like The Cure's Robert Smith mixed with Bert McCraken from The Used, and it's a sound that takes a long time to get used to. Worse, if you don't have the lyrics in front of you, the words become obscure warbles, as if he's convulsing while he's singing. Still, Woke Up Falling sounds better with each spin. If you're looking for tight, angst-driven (but not necessarily hard) rock music, this is definitely worth a listen.

September 08, 2004

The Libertines: The Libertines
Rough Trade, 2004
Rating: 4.5
Let’s get the backstory out of the way: The Libertines have been fraught by internal conflict, most notably singer Peter Doherty’s recent battles with crack cocaine -- take a look at the cover of the band’s self-titled sophomore effort and you’ll see a somewhat disconcerting picture of Doherty and bandmate/partner-in-crime Carl Barat, taken the day Doherty was released from jail after serving a couple of months for burglarizing Barat’s apartment. Now to the music: The album’s opening track, “Can’t Stand Me Now,” is perfectly indicative of all The Libertines have to offer. Strikingly personal, undoubtedly bouncy and rife with tension, it offers some of the most exciting rock music you’re likely to encounter this year. (Just ask producer Mick Jones, who has likened The Libertines to his former band The Clash.) The disc covers a wide range of moods, from peppy tracks like “Last Post on the Bugle” that recall The Jam, to shambolic punk tunes (“Don’t Be Shy”) that sound as if Doherty had showed up to the studio in a drug-induced haze (which, sadly, was no doubt the case at times). On the strongest tracks, notably “Can’t Stand Me Now” and the closing number “What Became of the Likely Lads,” Barat and Doherty trade off insults and testimonials like a pair of scorned lovers, creating and feeding off of an unmistakable energy. The Libertines isn't without its missteps (the tuneless “Arbeit Macht Frei”), but there’s no denying its status as one of the most exciting discs in recent memory.

::: Eric Grossman

September 08, 2004

Talking Heads: The Name of This Band is Talking Heads [Expanded Edition]
Rhino, 2004
Rating: 4.7
It’s rather odd, the number of critics and fans who want to toss the Talking Heads’ two live albums (The Name of This Band is Talking Heads [TNOTBITH] and Stop Making Sense) in a caged death match. If anything, the two albums complement one another, with TNOTBITH offering a career concert retrospective of the band through its 1981 Remain in Light tour, and Stop Making Sense, recorded over three nights at Hollywood's Pantages Theatre in December 1983, offering a more concise glimpse of the band during its cresting wave of popularity spurred by the single “Burning Down the House.” Of course, Stop Making Sense is more a soundtrack than a live album, a necessary byproduct of director Jonathan Demme’s film (and still the best way to “hear” the concert). TNOTBITH, long available only on vinyl, has finally entered the CD era (ironically, just as the format ceases to be viable in the age of iPods and other Gigabyte-sized storage formats). Thankfully, Rhino has done an excellent job remastering and expanding upon the original analog source. The first disc of the two-CD set covers the band’s early days (1977-79), when the quartet was still finding a sound to call its own. The live renditions are looser approximations of their studio counterparts, with “The Big Country” intriguingly exchanging the ennui of the original in favor of an angrier, darker tone. The second disc (1980-81) is the sound of a band at the height of its powers, employing a ten-piece band and backup singers, and exhibiting an absolute mastery of its material. The Talking Heads bring a dazzling, polyrhythmic dimension to the older songs and explode the sonic possibilities of the newer, studio cuts. TNOTBITH and Stop Making Sense are both vital documents of what made the Talking Heads such an important and exciting band. It’s nice to finally have them both on equal footing.

August 24, 2004

Clinic: Winchester Cathedral
Domino, 2004
Rating: 3.4
The album cover of Clinic's third full-length, Winchester Cathedral, looks like something the Polyphonic Spree might favor. A hand splayed before a bright sun is not the sort of optimistic, life-affirming image that comes to mind when considering Clinic's signature look (surgical masks and smocks) or sound (sinister and nocturnal). Winchester Cathedral, however, does brighten the Liverpudlian quartet's heavily drone-oriented, damaged-art-rock sound. Not that the first half of the album is any indication of this. Devotees of Internal Wrangler and Walking With Thee will no doubt embrace opener "Country Mile," in which the Greenwich Time Signal morphs into a fire-alarm-warning noise, before dissolving into the familiar panicky backbeat and droning melodica Clinic has mastered to an "ears closed" proficiency. "Circle of Fifths" and "Anne" follow in a tediously similar vein. It's not until the late-in-the-game pseudo-Motown number "Falstaff," featuring singer Ade Blackburn's best Smokey Robinson imitation, that Clinic sends one out of its moss-covered ballpark. The song is airy and smooth, a true standout. The succeeding klezmer waltz "August" isn't nearly as daring, but at least it moves in a different direction. Winchester Cathedral may be a transition album, or it may just contain a few curveballs to keep discerning listeners on their toes -- only Clinic knows for certain. As it stands now, if the group holds fast to what works, there won't be much point in owning more than one album by the band. And what a shameful waste that would be.

August 20, 2004

Rilo Kiley: More Adventurous
Warner Bros., 2004
Rating: 3.5
Jenny Lewis (vocals, guitar, keyboards) and Blake Sennet (guitar, vocals) of Los Angeles quartet Rilo Kiley may be creative equals, but it's Lewis -- whose voice and lyrics have come to predominate -- who's become the clear focus. Sennet sings on just one track of the band's new More Adventurous, going solo on the pleading, brief "Ripchord". The rest of the album serves as a showcase for Lewis' impressive vocal range, with Sennet, bassist Pierre de Reeder and drummer Jason Boesel (not to mention a string and horn section) capably supporting her. The exuberant "try anything" feel of 2001's Take Offs and Landings and 2002's less daring but still unpredictable The Execution of All Things have been spurned in favor of a professionally polished, radio-friendly vibe. And while the arrangements veer between sprightly and bland, More Adventurous does prove to be Rilo Kiley's most consistent and sharply executed release to date. "I Never," an impressive Patsy Cline workout, and the infectious, darkly self-flagellating "Portions for Foxes" make a strong impression, while the anti-Bush, anti-death penalty, anti-good-song opener "It's a Hit," despite the presence of a punched-up baritone sax, falls flat. More Adventurous isn't exactly false advertising, although it's obvious Rilo Kiley is weary of its second-tier indie-rock status, and wouldn't mind adding a stadium or two to its tour itinerary in the near future.

August 17, 2004

The Earlies: These Were the Earlies
WEA, 2004
Rating: 3.4
You can't accuse the Earlies of skimping in the musical inspiration department. The Anglo-American quartet's debut, These Were the Earlies, pays an enormous debt to a pair of '60s experimental pop heavyweights (The Beatles and The Beach Boys), while layering in some liberal doses of Spacemen 3/Spiritualized-style distortion. But the group didn't stop there, as the entire concoction's tied together by a quasi-religious theme of traveling home under the watchful eye of Mother Mary. And it's not half-bad, providing you can get over the fact that the Earlies have yet to find a sound to call their own. Opening hymnal "In The Beginning" is a dead ringer for the Beach Boys' opening prayer from the unreleased Smile sessions (the big difference being the Earlies actually have lyrics). The interesting "One of Us is Dead" apes the Fab Four's "A Day in the Life" ("I heard the news today / They said one of us is dead") before triumphal horns and an innervating beat predominate. '70s rock isn't left out of the mix either; "Wayward Song" proves a less-optimistic recasting of Kansas' "Carry on Wayward Son." Pleasant electronic filigree ("Slow Man's Dream"), more references to Mother Mary to hurry up and shepherd lost souls home ("Morning Wonder," "Dead Birds") and a gentle piano number ("Song For #3") that tips its cap to the much-cited Psalm 40 ("How long will we sing this song?") flesh out the disc. These Were the Earlies is a proper past-tense summation of such backwards-leaning material. The group's obviously done its homework; now it's time to work on an original thesis for its follow-up.

August 17, 2004

Jim White: Drill a Hole in That Substrate and Tell Me What You See
Luaka Bop, 2004
Rating: 3.7
On Luaka Bop's website you'll find Jim White saddled with the unwieldy label "trip-folk Americana." While that might sound like someone in the marketing department trying a little too hard to pigeonhole the idiosyncratic artist, a listen to his first two releases (1997's Wrong-Eyed Jesus and 2001's No Such Place) actually lends credence to such a multifaceted description. White -- former cab driver, professional surfer and fashion model -- is a restless soul, and his music reflects a man who, to paraphrase a line from Jim Lauderdale, is "only happy when he's moving." Drill a Hole in That Substrate and Tell Me What You See finds White in full collaboration mode. Aimee Mann, Barenaked Ladies, Chocolate Genius and Bill Frisell make noteworthy appearances, but it's Joe Henry (who produced the bulk of the tracks) who makes the strongest impression. Quite simply, Drill a Hole is White's distinctive, Panhandle-troubadour vocals performed over the jazzy, late-night tones of a Joe Henry-assembled band. Fans of White's first two albums may be alarmed by this dramatic stylistic shift, but fortunately, the Florida native's curiously perceptive lyrical observations avoid getting drowned out by Henry's soulful horns and muted strings. White does briefly lose his sense of place on the Barenaked Ladies team-up, "Alabama Chrome," a song so structurally similar to the Canadian pop band's other work (cascading harmonies at a fast clip; shiny, car-commercial-fodder hooks) that it sounds like it landed on the wrong album. But Drill a Hole is an interesting listen nonetheless. White's restlessness is a boon for audiences that appreciate performers who obey a higher muse than formulaic retreads falling off a conveyor belt every two years.

Marah: 20,000 Streets Under the Sky
Yep Roc/PHIdelity, 2004
Rating: 2.4
When Philadelphia-based outfit Marah took an abrupt turn into slickness on 2002's Float Away with the Friday Night Gods, hardcore fans cried foul. Many of those fans are no doubt relieved that the band's creative core – brothers David and Serge Bielanko – weathered that storm, resisted the urge to dismantle the band and returned with 20,000 Streets Under the Sky, which hews closer to their acclaimed 2000 release Kids in Philly. But the Bierlankos might have been onto something with Friday Night Gods, because at least they were trying to expand their scope; while it has its moments, 20,000 Streets smacks of contrivance. The album's strutting soul-rock positively aches to position the brothers as the Gen-X descendents of 1970s Bruce Springsteen; its attempts to canonize the brothers' Philly stomping grounds are driven by too-precious nods to vintage pop (the cloying "Shimmy shimmy ko-ko-bop"s and other nursery rhyme-like signposts of "Freedom Park," the blue-eyed soul pastiche of "Sure Thing," the ill-conceived doo-wop hijinks of "Pizzeria") and a need to spin the neighborhood's working-class denizens into tragic characters (the junkie transvestite of "Feather Boa," the interracial lovers of "Soda"). Despite a couple of buoyant singalongs ("Tame the Tiger," "Going Through the Motions"), such street-level mythologizing mires Marah in a quicksand of nostalgia that renders 20,000 Streets ineffectual and over-earnest. The brothers' love of their region's music and its day-to-day tableaus are no doubt sincere, but they'd be better served by forward-looking musical explorations that don't mistake easy retro touchstones and tired lyrical conventions for homage, or for depth.

Rogue Wave: Out of the Shadow
Sub Pop, 2004
Rating: 3.3
Self-released in early 2003, Rogue Wave's debut Out of the Shadow has been re-mastered (though it still betrays its raw, "in the bedroom" lo-fi origins), repackaged, and sent back into the world with Sub Pop's advertising weight behind it. Principally recorded by Zach Rogue and subsequently bolstered by what would become members of Rogue Wave, Out of the Shadow offers indie-pop that moves through a variety of moods (mopey, peppy, earnest and carefree) and operates primarily in a minor key. Rogue Wave manages some pleasant hum-along choruses ("Kicking the Heart Out"), tackles serious issues from a childlike perspective ("Postage Stamp World"'s busted-home lament, with a wounded Zach Rogue inviting the listener to get in line and lick not a stamp, but his behind). Fans of Elliott Smith, Lou Barlow and Death Cab for Cutie won't be disappointed. There's definite promise here, if not the stunning masterpiece of popcraft that a sudden deluge of impressive notices might indicate. It remains to be seen whether the band possesses staying power, or, like its oceanic namesake, will vanish just as swiftly as it came.

Comets on Fire: Blue Cathedral
Sub Pop, 2004
Rating: 3.3
Let there be rock. Ethan Miller and his Santa Cruz-based cohorts believe in the power of spacewalking guitar solos, peeling organ freakouts and Robert Plant-style vocalizations (without the meddlesome distraction of actually being able to comprehend the lyrics). Comets on Fire simply want to flex a serious hard rock/proto-metal jones, and Blue Cathedral, the band's third release, is the strongest refinement yet of the group's shamelessly retro obsessions. "The Bee and the Cracking Egg" is a multiple-movement strut, equal parts Iron Butterfly sludge and Hawkwind cosmic detours. "The Antlers of the Midnight Sun" features gratuitously muscular riffs and Miller's Thunderbolts-of-Zeus delivery. What the band lacks in originality (not to mention coherence and subtlety), it more than makes up for with committed chops and indefatigable energy. For those who remember raising the lighter (but only after firing up the bong) during the '70s, and newcomers who want an approximation of what the origins of hard rock/metal sounded like for their generations, Comets on Fire are only too eager to oblige.

Nine Men's Morris: It's A Wonderful Life
Segue, 2004
Rating: 2.0
Taking their name from a 4000-year-old board game, Nine Men's Morris is in fact a trio of gentlemen from New York who make their national debut with It's A Wonderful Life. To let the band speak for itself, the album is "road trip, windows down, summer breeze music at its best." That line alone should be enough to put a smile on your face, and indeed NMM has managed to produce an album full of fun-filled, straightforward pop-rock; it's musical Prozac, really. Even frustrated-in-love songs like "Don't Say You're Sorry" and "The Kiss Off" present an outlook on life that's reached the highest possible level of self-esteem. The problem with It's A Wonderful Life is that it's too unrealistic and cheesily earnest to be taken with much seriousness. The soaring three-part vocal harmonies, complete with "oooohs" and "ahhhs", that permeate almost every track deny the opportunity to sit back and appreciate fun lyrics like "Kelly looked like Julie Brown / not "Downtown" Julie Brown / But the one with the big breasts / from Earth Girls Are Easy". The group's primary shortcoming lies in its unwillingness to take more risks with its sounds. Formulaic songwriting has its place, to be sure, but when it's put to inoffensive, adult contemporary beats and synth lines, a little goes a long way.

August 07, 2004

Sketch Show: Loophole
Cutting Edge, 2003 / Third Ear Recordings, 2004
Rating: 4.0
When listening to Sketch Show, it's all about the flow. Ex-Yellow Magic Orchestra members Haruomi Hososno and Yukihiro Takahashi definitely consider the sum impact of an album on potential listeners, making sure their digital glitches and electro-gloss finishes move seamlessly from the opening track to the last. Where their 2002 debut Audio Sponge emphasized identifiable pop elements, Loophole is more reserved, studied and edgy. It's also an incredibly delicate-sounding and beautiful work. The fluttering, unsteady buzz of opener "Mars" morphs effortlessly into "Wiper," which plays off of clipped, tense vocals and the sound of rain to create a moody evocation of someone fleeing a bad situation. "Chronograph" emphasizes a repetitive beat and a languid rhythm that contrasts nicely with subsequent track "Plankton" and its skittering, mechanical determinism. "Flakes" is an achingly fragile, psychotropic excursion, while "Attention Tokyo" buzzes and squawks as intermittent voices struggle to be heard. Loophole even gets groovy, with "Fly Me To The River" coming closest to Audio Sponge's "Supreme Secret" in terms of funkiness. The closing "Stella," with its lazy guitar pluck and artificial shimmy, isn't cut from the same superior cloth as the rest of the material, but at least it knows its place in the overall sequence. Start to less-than-commanding finish, Loophole is a deeper, more rewarding listen than Audio Sponge. What it lacks in hooks it more than makes up for with craft and understated elegance.

August 06, 2004

Ben Kweller: On My Way
ATO/RCA, 2004
Rating: 3.2
Imagine the younger brother of one of the members of Weezer making a solo album, and you've got a pretty good grasp on Ben Kweller's 2002 release Sha Sha. Kweller's follow-up, On My Way, is the sound of a young artist shedding the paroxysmal skin of youth and trying on an array of more refined, slightly oversized, professional musician duds. Kweller still keeps things simple with guitar-driven pop rock, but there's an uneasiness at play throughout. "My Apartment" is "where I hide away from all the darkness outside," Kweller admits before describing a kid ten years his junior on the title track who "still likes the things we used to think were fun." "Down" opens with "I am empty and I'm tired" and the darker "Ann Disaster" finds him defensively accusing "I know what you want / You want a piece of me." As if to balance the grim content, Kweller goes overboard with the flipside of melancholy, as on the tepid ballad "Living Life," where he promises "I'm not gonna hide anymore / I'm gonna listen to myself," while grasping for higher notes. "Believer" wallows in too-easy platitudes ("My path is dark, my steps uncertain, unless I walk with you"); likewise, the closing "Different But The Same" opines that "All you gotta do is put yourself with the people / They're the ones who make the world spin." On My Way lacks the spastic spontaneity of Sha Sha, and falls short in the lyrical department. The title is spot-on, however. Kweller's certainly on his way; he's just not quite there yet.