Shakethrus: 2005 - Shaking Through.net: Music: Reviews

November 27, 2005

Fall Out Boy: From Under the Cork Tree
Island, 2005
Rating: 3.5
At its best, Fall Out Boy's second full-length effort winningly synthesizes elements of punk-pop and that hard-to-define ethos (as much lyrical worldview as musical genre) some call "emo" into a hyperactive tangle of self-aware quips, smartly executed time changes and random blasts of pop-cultural trivia. Although the end result can feel a bit forced (with song titles like "Of All the Gin Joints in All the World" and "Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner"), when the quartet scores -- as on the ubiquitous single "Sugar We're Goin Down" -- it scores big, with grappling hooks, soaring background vocals and meaty mouthfuls of verbose lyricism that stop short of drowning the melodies. It's a busy record, occasionally ambitious, with whiplash-inducing breaks that dip into heavy metal and show-tune aesthetics. But lyricist/bassist Peter Wentz can get bogged down in the kind of trite teen-journal-entry poetics that he succinctly punctures elsewhere with lyrics like "I'm the first kid to write of hearts, lies and friends" (from the laboriously titled "I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me"). That's even more disappointing given his brief winks at the self-importance of so many similar bands -- "Yeah we're friends/ Just because we move units," singer/guitarist Patrick Stump sneers on "Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends." During the opening "Our Lawyer Made Us Change the Name of This Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued," Stump issues the following warning: "Take my advice 'cause we are bad news / We will leave you high and dry / It's not worth the hearing you'll lose." Cork Tree (mostly) gives the lie to that assertion, and holds out the promise that this capable quartet will, sometime soon, fully transcend its breast-beating teen-angst trappings and record an album truly worthy of a little tinnitis.

::: Kevin Forest Moreau

Lightning Bolt: Hypermagic Mountain
Load, 2005
Rating: 4.4
Best way to enjoy music by Lightning Bolt: Crank and surrender. Hypermagic Mountain’s second track, “Captain Caveman,” all atomized vocal distortion and no-Ritalin-allowed rhythmic riffage, announces everything you need to know about the latest earsplitting noisefest from the high-revving bass and drum duo of Brian Gibson and Brian Chippendal. For those who thought 2003’s Wonderful Rainbow seemed extreme in its pulverizing level of intensity, Hypermagic Mountain reduces it to the equivalent of a by-the-numbers Bread rehearsal. Hypermagic Mountain’s sum effect eclipses its redline-obliterating parts, but special dispensations must be given to the leaking madness of “Megaghost,” with its yelping, wounded-animal sound effects and furiously tight interplay between guitar and drums. And it would be criminal to overlook the amazing proficiency exhibited on "Bizarro Zarro Land," which nimbly flirts with control and chaos, dexterously catapulting from one treacherous musical peak to next without once losing its footing. Hypermagic Mountain will be a tidal shock of relentless jackhammer threats to the non-discriminating music fan. For the initiated, there’s true primal joy to be heard in this mammoth creation. You’ve just got to be willing to shed those tightly guarded notions and listen.

Constantines: Tournament of Hearts
Sub Pop, 2005
Rating: 3.7
As regrettable as it is to trot out the old “strong first half, weak back half” reviewers’ cliché, the Constantines’ third release, Tournament of Hearts, cruelly forces the issue. Running a snug thirty-seven minutes, Hearts absolutely outshines (sorry) 2003’s Shine a Light -- or so the first five of its ten tracks would lead the eager listener to believe. There’s the pulse-quickening kickstarter “Draw Us Lines,” the impressively subtle rhythms of “Hotline Operator,” the lived-in blues riffs of “Love in Fear,” and the meaty force of “Lizaveta,” with its emphatic declaration “We were born to live!” The cycle closes with the moping, countryish “Soon Enough,” a nice change-of-pace number. Shame the Constantines fail to sustain the momentum. The obvious ’70s hard-rock workout “Working Full Time” and the pedestrian “Good Nurse” start the slide toward mediocrity, and by the time we reach the penultimate “You Are a Conductor,” with its lame J. Giles-esque, “Love Stinks” beat, Tournament of Hearts has sunk from "Holy Cow!" gobsmacked status to a "What’s All The Fuss Then?" shrug-worthy ranking. Incredible initial run, though. If the group can maintain such energy across an entire album, then more enjoyable reviewer clichés will surely be employed in the future.

Animal Collective: Feels
Fat Cat, 2005
Rating: 3.5
The last track on Animal Collective’s Feels is called “Turn Into Something.” This turns out to be an appropriate title, because the song actually progresses, moving from a rumbling, twangy stomp to an ecstatic, airy finish. The same cannot be said for preceding cuts “Loch Raven,” “Daffy Duck” and “Banshee Beat,” which meander with unfocused dream-logic vocals and no discernible sonic payoff. Granted, Animal Collective doesn’t have to follow a standard verse-chorus-verse structure to be effective. But such improvisational-sounding music translated better in the back-porch setting of the acoustic Sung Tongs (created by the duo Avey Tare and Panda) than the electric, full-band effort (plus a host of guest artists) exhibited throughout Feels. Opening shot “Did You See the Words” starts with a peculiarly Mercury Rev, expansive-harmony vibe, then collapses into a shambling mess, complete with tinkling piano breakdown. If the material was revelatory in its unpredictability, offering something heretofore unheard in the world, then such willy-nilly compositions could be forgiven. But Feels doesn’t trump earlier, more intimate Animal Collective releases. It’s just louder and messier.

Deerhoof: The Runners Four
Kill Rock Stars, 2005
Rating: 3.8
Deerhoof has it backwards. Its earlier, mondo-prog releases ran roughly thirty minutes yet possessed the density of albums twice as long. The Runners Four, by contrast, is twice as long yet is comprised of short pop tunes. Not that the stylistically hyperactive San Francisco quartet will ever be confused with manufactured, American Idol-style top 40 confections. Rather, The Runners Four is simply another interesting collection of tunes from a group that refuses to curtail its trespasses across musical boundaries. “Running Thoughts” sports a cool Stereolab-meets-Enon spacey groove. And singer Satomi Matsuzaki manages to make what could be annoying vocalizations (like those heard on the suitably titled “Chatterboxes”) affecting in a whimsically playful manner. Echoes of past efforts can be heard, especially on the epic guitar squalls of “You're Our Two.” But this is Deerhoof trying out pop fripperies and capably managing what many preprogrammed radio acts fail to convey: a sense of adventure and fun from start to finish.

Six Organs of Admittance: School of the Flower
Drag City, 2005
Rating: 3.5
School of the Flower, Ben Chasny’s seventh release under the Six Organs of Admittance moniker, flows effortlessly. The gauzy weightlessness of “Words for Two” transitions seamlessly into the acoustic plucking of “Saint Cloud.” The noodle and drone of the near fourteen-minute title track ends with a thick layer of fuzz that somehow makes sense (in a loopy kind of way) given that the follow-up track’s called “Thicker Than a Smokey.” School of the Flower is as pretty as its titular place of higher learning intimates and as substantive as bongsmoke. Peace way out.

October 06, 2005

Devendra Banhart: Cripple Crow
XL, 2005
Rating: 3.6
Consider the crossover demographic potential: an all-Spanish-language Devendra Banhart record, a protest record -- plus a generous dollop of the trippier-hippie fare reminiscent of his earlier work -- all rolled into one genre-trumping smorgasbord of musical delights from the de facto leader of the free/freak/nu-folk movement. Devendra Banhart’s 22-song fourth album, Cripple Crow, delivers so many styles and moods that it’s impossible to label. This is probably the point. Consistency of material is another matter, however. As nice as his cover of Simon Diaz's "Luna de Margaerita" is, there’s the lovely but overlong “Santa Maria De Feira” detracting from the artist’s native-language cuts. Likewise, the spaciously epic peacenik-anthem title track is affecting for what it doesn’t say as opposed to the youthful obviousness of “Heard Somebody Say” (“It’s simple / We don’t want to kill”). And the gentle folk number “Queen Bee” conveys far more pastoral sentiment than the goofy wild-child chant of “Hey Mama Wolf” (complete with wolf calls!). The best moments are among the most straightforward, with languid brooder “Now That I Know” and the beautiful piano closer “Canela” standing out. Cripple Crow does a wonderful job expressing the range of Devendra Banhart’s musical interests, uneven though the actual payoff may be.

Ryan Adams: Jacksonville City Nights
Lost Highway, 2005
Rating: 3.9
Pure country from Ryan Adams (working once again with solid backing band The Cardinals) and that’s not a bad thing. Jacksonville City Nights finds Adams retuning to his hometown , lamenting busted personal relationships and still trying to come to terms with his native soil. Adams isn’t pushing any envelopes or performing cross-genre tricks; this is late ’60s Jerry Lee Lewis interpretive territory (though Adams is still not in that rarified league, it’s nice to see him paying due respect to the masters of the form). Last-call barroom laments like “A Kiss Before I Go” and “My Heart Is Broken” hit their intended targets. “Dear John,” a seemingly marketing-driven duet with Norah Jones, fares better than expected, and at a lean forty-five minutes and change, the economy of the set (especially compared to the bloated Cold Roses) is noteworthy. There aren’t as many memorable cuts as on Adams' stellar solo debut, Heartbreaker, but Jacksonville City Nights reveals an older, more seasoned performer.

Wolf Parade: Apologies to the Queen Mary
Subpop, 2005
Rating: 3.1
Endorsed by Isaac Brock and fans of The Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade’s debut Apologies to the Queen Mary gets by more on energy than chops. Manic tracks like “You Are a Runner and I Am My Father's Son” and highlight “Shine a Light” deliver high-replay-value excitement. But a dearth of compositional ideas and reliance on repetitive hooks dooms the harder-to-attain Groundbreaking Quotient. As a first effort, Apologies to the Queen Mary shows undeniable promise. This is not the Holy Grail of Canadian art pop, however. Wait for a second salvo, and then we’ll see what these lads are truly made of. Until then, it’s obvious who should be opening for Brock and Modest Mouse on their next tour.

Blackalicious: The Craft
Anti-, 2005
Rating: 3.4
The backward complement to 2002's breakthrough Blazing Arrow, Blackalicious’ The Craft has that old-school vibe scientifically perfected. The smooth flow of "World of Vibrations" and the groovy populism of "Supreme People" set a no-crumb-out-of-place table. Tracks like "Automatique" might be admitting too much about the thought process behind the creation of the album but at least on the sobering "The Fall & Rise of Elliott Brown" the listener can feel the pain and loss beyond the clinical studio setting. Chief Xcel and Gift of Gab know exactly what they’re doing, and The Craft reinforces the mastery of their craft. But a little less formula and more personal expression would have gone a long way toward making this one an essential addition to their discography.

Elbow: Leaders of the Free World
V2, 2005
Rating: 3.0
Leaders of the Free World, Elbow’s successor to the attention-garnering Cast of Thousands kicks off with a fine, bombastic statement of purpose. The triumphant "Station Approach" is clearly buoyed by passionate optimism and ringing guitar parts (the tour is over and the boys are clearly stoked about future prospects). "Picky Bugger" lowers the dynamism altitude, an anti-excess stop sign. "The Stops" (appropriately named) apes Nick Drake and conveys all the dour misery the tragic artist’s name intimates, while the title track marks the beginning of a downward spiral. George Bush is too easy a target, and slamming him just doesn’t carry the activist weight it might have, say, pre-Iraq invasion. The back end of the album trundles along, failing to rival the opening energy or offer anything as interesting as the non-anthemic detours.

Bob Dylan: The Bootleg Series, Volume 7: No Direction Home: The Soundtrack
Columbia / Legacy, 2005
Rating: 4.0
Evenly split between Dylan’s folk and rock periods, the two-disc No Direction Home returns to the bootleg/alternate-take format of the original three-volume bootleg series release (and also serves as a handy tie-in to the carefully controlled, Martin Scorsese-assembled film of the same name). The first disc is dominated by Dylan the earnest disciple of Woody (check the wonderfully understated interpretation of Guthrie's "This Land is Your Land"), questing traveler and endearing fabricator of a more romantic upbringing than Hibbing, Minnesota could provide. Other gems include the first complete take of “Mr. Tambourine Man” from June 1964, and a politically ambiguous, quasi-amorous “Blowin' in the Wind” from April 1963. The second disc is dominated by the frizzy-haired, electrified wordsmith Dylan, who hit his peak in the mid-’60s with the matchless trio Bringing It All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde on Blonde. It offers a few moderately, historians-only alternate cuts from those seminal efforts. But it’s the kiss-off electric “Maggie's Farm,” from the July 1965 Newport Folk Festival, that carries the most punch. Dylan’s allegiance was always to the artistic muse, and here the first Great Disappointment to more agenda-minded types (unplugged purist Pete Seeger, in particular) backfires in the face of those who presumed Dylan ever intended to be pigeonholed. The second disc, on the whole, is less interesting than the first, but overall No Direction Home is a solid addition to the legacy-conscious framing of early and transitional Dylan-alia.

Franz Ferdinand: You Could Have It So Much Better
Sony, 2005
Rating: 3.6
Franz Ferdinand keeps the frenzy level pumped to 10 on its sophomore effort, You Could Have It So Much Better. At its best when working under the three-minute mark, the Scottish four-piece still has nothing relevant to say, but has managed to serve up a tighter collection than its crazily hyped debut. The fast and furious, guitar-driven “This Boy” and frantic stomper “Evil and a Heathen” ensure the rave won’t run out of electric juice before the buzz wears off. A few wrinkles add welcome variety to the familiar design: the stylish menace of “Walk Away” features Morrissey-incanting lines like “I am cold / Yes I’m cold / But not as cold as you are,” and serves as a nice change of pace to the patented high-energy antics. “Eleanor Put Your Boots On” (apparently about the Fiery Furnaces’ Eleanor Freidberger) is surprisingly endearing in its delivery. But the heatedly delivered title track typifies the too-cool-to-slow-down clip. You Could Have It So Much Better? Perhaps, but why bother when you’re having this much fun?

Tenth Hour Calling: Tenth Hour Calling
Independent, 2004
Rating 4.3
"This is not a band compiled on a whim, but a band put together with great care and thought towards the spiritual and musical aspect of performing." That's what the bio on the Web site for Tenth Hour Calling says, and it could not be stated more perfectly. This five-piece Christian rock band uses rhythms, harmonies and technical brilliance seldom heard in any genre. It's better than the sum of its parts, and since most of the members have degrees in music, that's saying something. On songs like the funky groove of "I See" and the Eagles-esque "Last Time," Tenth Hour Calling has managed to pool its collective talents to make the debut album of the year. The intensely fierce and technically flawless "Rain" and the lyrically brilliant and spiritually cleansing "Color Me" are the two best tracks on the album, and two of the best songs to come from the Christian music world this year. If Tenth Hour Calling keeps up this level of quality on future releases, it could end up being one of the most technically sound and talented bands ever.

September 26, 2005

Iron & Wine / Calexico: In the Reins [EP]
Overcoat Recordings, 2005
Rating: 3.7
In the Reins finds Sam Beam (Iron & Wine) collaborating with Calexico (primarily Joey Burns and John Convertino), and the end result is a seven-song mini-album that successfully marries Beam's hushed, Southern-haunted romanticism with Calexico’s dusty Southwestern, Mariachi-influenced sound. Stylistically, a considerable amount of ground is covered in just over thirty minutes. The tethered restraint of “He Lays In Reins” gives way to the high-lonesome lament “Prison on Route 41,” which infuses just enough energy to not make the sun-brightened horns of the toe-tapping, showy “History of Lovers” sound like a complete shock to the senses. Middle-track dud “Red Dust” is a faux-bluesy, forced roadhouse boot-stomper, but the closing three tracks, especially the sadly strumming, gorgeous bend and bow of “16, Maybe Less” more than recovers the fumble. In the Reins will please fans of both Beam and Calexico, and perhaps bring crossover business to each.

September 26, 2005

The Dandy Warhols: Odditorium or Warlords of Mars
Capitol, 2005
Rating: 3.3
The Dandy Warhols' first two releases featured intermittently rewarding wasted jams; the second two, commercial-friendly pop hooks. For their fifth album, The Dandy Warhols split the difference. But that doesn’t mean they make it easy for deadline-blowing reviewers scrambling for easy, analytical angles. The assertion that the first half of Odditorium or Warlords of Mars represents the initial, indulgent and unfocused stage of the Dandys' development and the back half covers the more sales-conscious post-2K Dandys doesn’t hold water. While Odditorium is rife with inaccessible feedback squalls (“Love Is the New Feel Awful”) and meandering snoozers (“Easy”), the presence of the short hoe-down stomp “The New Country” thankfully breaks up the drugged-out excesses and reveals just how good the band can be when it actually bothers to play actual songs with a discernible structure and winning hook. That's something the second half of Odditorium possesses in spades, from the comparatively tight “Everyone Is Totally Insane” to the swinging “more cowbell!” brilliance of album highlight “Down Like Disco.” There’s even a suitably trippy closer, “There Is Only This Time” -- only it isn’t the end. Reverting to the lame wastefulness of the first half, we get the near twelve-minute, tepid “A Loan Tonight.” So Odditorium contains the best and worst aspects of the Dandy Warhols. This is somehow appropriate for a band that has never quite broken through to the mainstream and ultimately sounds like its members couldn’t care less if the brass ring ever fits their fidgety, non-committal fingers.

September 24, 2005

Super Furry Animals: Love Kraft
XL / Beggars Banquet, 2005
Rating: 3.6
The sound of guitarist Huw Bunford diving into a swimming pool is the first thing you hear on the Super Furry Animals' incredibly laid-back seventh album, Love Kraft. Recorded in Spain and completed in Rio de Janeiro, Love Kraft is unhurried, smooth and easy on the ears. Opener "Zoom!" does just the opposite of its titular promise, transmitting space-junk frequencies over stoned grinner melodies. The loose and shambolic sing-along stomp of "The Horn" works in some fibrous harmonica and hammered dulcimer, but it's more Gomez-style harmless trippy blues than Exile on Main Street-period Rolling Stones lethal indulgences. The closest the band gets to the zany inventiveness of Radiator-era Furries is "Psyclone!," a rumbling, hilarious declaration of extinction that opens with a Woody Guthrie-worthy send-up: "Pterodactyl, brontosaurus, tyrannosaurus gather 'round..." Overly synthesized tracks like the flow-busting "Lazer Beam" and the fuzzy "Frequency" detract from the weenie-roast beach-chill vibe. Notably, Love Kraft is the first Furries album to feature the writing and singing of all band members, which means less frontman Gruff Rhys and presumably more variety. But aside from the noted exceptions, Love Kraft is a solidly unified-sounding work: No political rants or social observations, and, regrettably, no Welsh-language detours. Just the Furries kicking it in warmer climes and putting aside deeper concerns for the time being. Perhaps On Vacation would have been a more apt title.

September 22, 2005

Sigur Rós: Takk...
Geffen, 2005
Rating: 3.8
It’s fascinating how the intentional repetition of 2002’s ( ) -- variations on a theme that moodily shifted from bright to darker elements -- retains a freshness and stirring immediacy, while Takk..., Icelandic quartet Sigur Rós’ optimistically uplifting fourth release, shifts into a cruise-control comfort zone, blissfully coasting on what has come before. If the material on Takk... rivaled the best moments on sophomore breakthrough Agætis Byrjun, such redundancy can easily be brushed aside as progressive refinement on a notably inventive template. The opening title track’s ethereal, alien harmonics are followed by the familiar stacked resonance and gargantuan swells of “Glósóli,” pretty but well shy of the altitude attained by Agætis Byrjun standout “Svefn-G-Englar.” And the awesome fragility attained by the nearly nine-minute “Sé Lest” ultimately peters out and drains whatever momentum Takk... has established. The high points are the most conventional (and un- Sigur Rós-like). The refreshingly brief “Með Blóðnasir” features some bracing drum effects at the end, while “Gong” retains backbone thanks to a recognizable rhythm section that prevents it from being overwhelmed by expansively synthesized melodramatics. Takk... is a beautiful-sounding record and it’s obvious Sigur Rós isn't intentionally aping its musical language to cash in on what still remains far left of mainstream art rock. To quote painter Georgia O’Keefe: “To create one's own world in any of the arts takes courage.” No doubt Sigur Rós has done just that. This works great for the locals but can leave tourists a tad restless after experiencing a similarly themed ride yet again.

September 22, 2005

Sexsmith & Kerr: Destination Unknown
V2, 2005
Rating: 3.4
Dubbed an “Everly Brothers” project by Ron Sexsmith, Destination Unknown, the singer-songwriter’s collaboration with longtime drummer Don Kerr, proves to be just that: lots of slow, honey-coated two-part harmonies about love found and (more obviously) love lost. At its best -- opener “Listen” and the (comparatively) jaunty “Diana Sweets” -- Destination Unknown glides with respectfully earnest ease through the guileless sounds of yesteryear. Indeed, on “Lemonade Stand,” Sexsmith celebrates the simplicity of micro-capitalism and, more importantly, an unfussy, youthful outlook. There’s not a shred of sarcasm in lines like “a heart must have a reason where eyes don’t understand,” from “One Less Shadow.” But the slow, shuffling pace doesn’t make for the most invigorating listen. Obviously, it isn’t meant to. This is an album intended to carry people back to another, less complicated period in their lives. Just look at the album cover: Big car in the background, adorable tyke behind the wheel of a mini-cruiser coming right at us. Consistent to a fault and imbued with an aching loveliness, Destination Unknown is a misnomer of a title, for Sexsmith and Kerr know exactly where they want this music to take us. A few bumps along the way might have helped make for a more memorable journey, though.

August 23, 2005

John Vanderslice: Pixel Revolt
Barsuk, 2005
Rating: 3.7
The post-9/11 world is a scary place, but the interior of one’s heart is even more frightening. Such weighty thematic underpinnings fuel Pixel Revolt, John Vanderslice’s fifth album. Vanderslice opens from an abstract perspective with “Letter to the East Coast,” which touches on the notion of a time-traveling Joan Crawford and how lonely that can be. “Plymouth Rock” grounds itself to the modern reality of a solider in Iraq who (understandably) has second thoughts about combat after getting shot his first night out (“I lost the reason I’m here”). “Exodus Damage” cleverly ties descending tones to its lyrical conceit (“Let it fall down / I’m ready for the end”) about a wannabe anti-government terrorist, while the shimmering, tight groove-oriented “Peacocks in the Video Rain” explores the mindset of a pop star’s ultra-obsessive biggest fan. The mellotron- and Moog-powered “Trance Manual” concerns a journalist in Iraq seeking a little physical comfort from a prostitute and features one of the album’s sharpest lines: “You are a flag of a dangerous nation.” The back half of Pixel Revolt is more personal in nature -- the elegantly fragile “New Zealand Pines” recalls happier days with a former flame; the anti-depressant lament “Dead Slate Pacific” staves off suicidal thoughts while longing for a distant love. But it's pieces like “Radiant with Terror,” Vanderslice’s updating of Robert Lowell’s poem “Fall 1961” (in which dirty bombs replace nuclear war), that potently express a societal dread and prove far more resonant than the heartsick tales that are positioned to leave a deeper impression. Pixel Revolt doesn’t reconcile the political and personal, and that may be the point. But it nonetheless makes for a frustratingly uneven listening experience.

August 23, 2005

The New Pornographers: Twin Cinema
Matador, 2005
Rating: 4.1
Imagine if the New Pornographers listened to their modern peers for inspiration (specifically the Shins) and also absorbed (and regurgitated in bite-sized pop nuggets) the expansive progressiveness and experimental artiness of Genesis, Brian Eno and John Cale. The end result might sound something like Twin Cinema, the Vancouver-based nontet’s (welcome to the fold, singer-pianist Kathryn Calder and vocalist Nora O'Connor) third release. Twin Cinema has the winning distinction of being the most rocking set from the Pornographers to date -- and also the strangest. The opening title cut plays it safe, offering a burst of loud, pop and proud high-energy righteousness. Then, just when you think the waters are safe, over the edge they go with “The Bones of an Idol,” with its persistent piano chords and bizarre lyrical imagery of people on rafts fleeing with their ancient artifacts. (Allusions to the current political climate, perhaps, but obvious explanation would detract unnecessarily from the obliquely skewed enjoyment quotient.) “The Jessica Numbers” is an untamed combination of percussion and spit, elastically prog harmonies and wiggy guitar parts. “Falling Through Your Clothes” is the spookiest tune the Shins wish they’d recorded. The hard beats on the otherwise pedestrian “Use It” and fantastic “Jackie, Dressed in Cobras” imbue Twin Cinema with more muscle than prior Pornographers releases. But it’s the psychotropic, wild-abandon approach to songcraft that makes this one a keeper. If Clear Channel ignores the pop gems filling Mass Romantic and Electric Version, they’re never going to get it, so the band might as well indulge their weirder tendencies. Corporate radio’s loss is the discriminating listener’s gain.

August 11, 2005

Indicia: Identifying Marks
Kanpai Records, 2005
Rating: 3.9
The debut album from California duo Indicia takes the listener to an underground groove made famous by groups like Moloko and Sneaker Pimps. Identifying Marks begins with the undeniably catchy “It’s Coming Around,” which could have actually been an outtake from the Sneaker Pimps' Becoming X. Vocalist Betsy Ullery conveys a sexy sincerity that even makes the repetitive chorus of “Corners” (“I can’t reach you” is repeated 16 times) sound genuine. While Ullery sexes up the album, David Ward meshes his influences -- Uberzone, Dubtribe and Bassbin Twins among others -- and lays a sonic backdrop perfect for a rave, relaxing on the couch or that seedy brothel downtown. Ward and Ullery have created a sonic wonder that is perfect for anyone who thinks that electronic music is just the rehashing of one beat. Don’t be surprised if Indicia starts invading more clubs around the nation soon.

August 04, 2005

Michael Penn: Mr. Hollywood Jr., 1947
spinART, 2005
Rating: 3.7
Michael Penn’s wife, Aimee Mann, released The Forgotten Arm earlier this year. Mann’s album is apparently set in the 1970s and examines a relationship played out against a cross-country travelogue. Penn’s Mr. Hollywood Jr., 1947 is even more explicit about its thematic point and setting. And, unlike Mann’s, Penn’s cover art and liner-note background imagery accurately reflect the post-World War II America in question. But, like his significant other, Penn uses his lyrical brush to add the barest detail to this work about busted relationships and renewed hope for finding warmth in the comforting arms of another. Aside from name-checking well-known landmarks and referencing familiar street names, brief, instrumental pieces “The Transistor” (1947 being the year of its invention) and “18 September” (the date the Department of Defense was created) and the charming “The Television Set Waltz” are as obvious as Penn comes to linking his words to the Los Angeles of yesteryear. The main focus is connecting lines like “Every good thing I had abandoned me,” from opener “Walter Reed,” with “Lose some more / Show him it’s worth dying for” from “Room 712, The Apache” before reaching the upbeat conclusion that for every ending, there’s a beginning (“On Automatic”). Mr. Hollywood Jr., 1947 is Penn’s most unified sounding record (impressive considering it’s long gestation period and the varied blend of styles employed), and despite sounding overly mannered in spots (“Your Know How”), marks a welcome return from an artist whose solo work rates high regardless of the time or place it’s set in.

August 04, 2005

Caesars: Paper Tigers
Astralwerks, 2005
Rating: 2.7
It makes sense. Sweden's Caesars had to make their lead single the most addictive song on the album. “Jerk It Out” was everywhere for a couple of months this spring -- on the radio, iPod commercials and every record store listening station. Now where are Caesars? Did they fall off the earth? Not yet, but it’s coming quickly. If “Jerk It Out” is taken off their fourth album, Paper Tigers -- as it should, since that song has appeared twice before on Caesars releases -- then the chances of this Swedish quartet being known amongst casual listeners, especially in the states, is remote. Although the music hints at the Stooges and Soundtrack of Our Lives, the album fails to warrant repeated listens. With the exception of “Jerk It Out,” “Spirit” and “It’s Not the Fall that Hurts,” the entire album is forgettable. By the halfway point, it becomes too easy to zone out and for the music to fade into the background. After a couple of listens, the slicked-up monotone becomes monotonous and repetitive, as do vocalist Cesar Vidal’s echoed vocals. The Strokes, the White Stripes and the Hives have exhibited staying power with albums that are solid from beginning to end, and Caesars try to ride the wave. Unfortunately for them, that wave has ended and the undertow will suck them back into the ocean of bands, to be forgotten just as quickly as they were found.

July 29, 2005

Bob Mould: Body of Song
Yep Roc, 2005
Rating: 3.4
Body of Song is an apt title for Bob Mould’s post-Hüsker Dü career-summarizing solo release. Hankering for Workbook-worthy self-examinations? The slow, simmering “Circles” (“My circle of friends is shrinking down”) and straight-ahead power rock of “Underneath Days” deliver the goods. Club kids will feel right at home with post-Modulate offerings, from the vocoderized vocals and pumping beat vitalizing “(Shine Your) Light Love Hope” to the more guitar-oriented “I Am Vision, I Am Sound.” But it’s fans of Mould’s power pop-rock trio Sugar who’ll reap the greatest reward from Body of Song. Short and cutting, “Best Thing” offers a healthy dose of sourpuss Sugar (“You just lost the best thing you never had”). Even with the excessively treated keyboard effects, the upbeat and passionately delivered “Paralyzed” is classic verse-chorus-verse Sugar. Despite being overly repetitive, “Missing You” nonetheless serves up fat power chords and signature Sugar harmonies. The duds stand outside obvious classification: “High Fidelity” is a pokey, acoustic-based ballad featuring weirdly out-of-place tubular bells; closer “Beating Heart the Prize” is a ponderously over-long, muddled exhibition of indulgent guitar parts. Body of Song is patchwork and spotty, dappled with a handful of sparkling additions to Mould’s estimable catalog. On the whole, however, it falls short of either his solo or Sugar-fueled efforts.

July 22, 2005

Sparkwood: Jalopy Pop
Sparkwood Music, 2005
Rating: 3.9
What if Moby had a hankering for the Beach Boys and decided to do a little remix? Jalopy Pop could very well be the result of such an endeavor. With the exception of the first and last tracks (which make up 15 of the disc's 56 minutes), Jalopy Pop is a dissertation on 1960s surfer rock complete with summer lovin' and groovin' on the beaches -- "Nichole's Overture," "In Your Lovin' Arms" and "Miles Away" could easily be outtakes taken right off a long-lost Beach Boys album. Bart Padar, the mastermind behind Austin, Texas-based trio, takes the '60s doo-wop sound of "Cruel World" and refreshes it by adding cryptic lyrics like, "Sometimes I wish that life as we know it would end." Overall, the mixture of electronica with the catchy rhythms of 60s surfer rock makes for an undeniably entertaining album, and will introduce another generation to just how much fun surfer rock can (and used to) be.

July 22, 2005

Parchman Farm: Parchman Farm [EP]
Jackpine Social Club, 2004
Rating: 2.3
Remember how the radio couldn't get enough of Jet's "Are You Gonna Go My Way?" The public seemed to like the fact that the band took everything that was sacred about classic rock, sucked the life out of it and made it radio-friendly. Now take Parchman Farm, a quartet from California that, within the five-tracks of this EP, manages to take Jet and suck the remaining life right out of it. Didn't think that was possible? Take a listen. The band invites comparisons to Kings of Leon, but is closer to a dirtier version of Jet, with a raspier and more annoying vocalist (Eric Shea), who plays the harmonica like he can't quite find his lips. Parchman Farm's fuzzed-out rock sounds so dirty that a shower is necessary after every listen. Thankfully, this is only five songs long. Hopefully, Parchman Farm has realized its mistake and won't come out with a full album. One soul-sucking band per generation is plenty.

July 22, 2005

Of Montreal: The Sunlandic Twins
Polyvinyl, 2005
Rating: 3.8
The Kevin Barnes Experience (or Of Montreal, on official documents) continues to get the funk out with The Sunlandic Twins, a worthy successor to 2004’s impressive Satanic Panic in the Attic. While still stylistically varied, and utilizing multiple movements in many of the songs, Sunlandic Twins’ highlights are the ones that coax you to dust off the dancing shoes. In this respect, “Wraith Pinned to the Mist (And Other Games),” featuring a steadily pumping beat and sharp melodic ticking shift toward the end, and the punkier “I Was Never Young” work best. Big pop hooks are still very much in the mix, as well, from the energetic opener “Requiem for O.M.M.2” to the intricately structured “Forecast Fascist Future.” Barnes also can’t resist tossing out overly literary similes (“I’ve been a gloomy Petrarch with a quill as weepy as Dido,” from “So Begins Our Alabee”), and the second half lacks the spirited kick of the first. But, on the whole, The Sunlandic Twins is another laudable effort from Barnes and company.

July 20, 2005

Teenage Fanclub: Man-Made
Merge, 2005
Rating: 3.7
More akin to the gray-skied mood of Songs from Northern Britain than the energized pep of Grand Prix, Teenage Fanclub’s seventh full-length release, Man-Made, doesn’t hit you over the head with immediately accessible hooks and Bandwagonesque-memorable melodies. This is a mature, reflective work (read: repeated spins are expected to reveal the deeper layers), the sound of a veteran group content with its cult status and simply playing to its strengths: Smartly crafted guitar-pop that will appeal to the faithful and perhaps add an adherent or two. Tortoise’s John McEntire produces, but doesn’t impose overt studio gimmickry on the twelve tracks (evenly distributed among the trio of principal singer-songwriters -- Norman Blake, Gerard Love and Raymond McGinley); rather, McEntire’s mix is understated, exhibiting a not-quite-samey but uniformly smooth flow. Blake, once again, stars, with nary a dud among his four contributions (the lone rocking cut “Slow Fade” being the best). But balance is key, and thus we get "Only With You," McGinley’s lovely (if plodding) ode to monogamy, followed by "Cells," Blake’s delightfully uncomplaining ode to decay. Love’s contributions are defined by excellent arrangements, from the shimmering taffeta guitar work that closes “Time Stops” to the buttery-smooth rhythms of “Save.” Thanks to McEntire’s tight rein on the production and the still-formidable skills of the players, Man-Made finds Teenage Fanclub successfully keeping middle-age spread at bay.

Engineers: Engineers
Echo, 2005
Rating: 3.2
“One In Seven” is the best song on the London-based four-piece Engineers' self-titled long player. Guitars soar, drums pound, and a sense of urgency swells dramatically, ending in a powerfully symphonic cavalcade of wannabe-anthemic rock. The problem: “One In Seven” is the last song on the album. The ten tracks preceding it simply don’t measure up (though opener “Home” lands nearest). Not that there’s anything particularly horrendous with the drowsy haze of “Waved On” or the spaciously placid “New Horizons.” But for a band clearly capable of righteous storms of sound to hunker down rather than embracing their obvious gift for bombastic melody seems wasteful. The rousing “One In Seven” can’t be called a tease so much as a missed opportunity to arrest listeners’ senses early on, thus keeping them involved for the duration. There’s a reason the strongest material is typically sequenced near the front: Forty minutes in, attention spans tend to drift. Engineers has structural issues; hopefully its successor will follow a better blueprint.

Röyksopp: The Understanding
Astralwerks, 2005
Rating: 3.8
More alive and texturally diverse than its subdued electronic debut Melody A.M., Röyksopp’s The Understanding reveals Norwegian duo Torbjørn Brundtland and Svein Berge building on the percolating energy of Melody’s "Röyksopp's Night Out" and fearlessly expanding its musical boundaries. Melody A.M. may be a more unified listening experience, but The Understanding is considerably more invigorating. The biggest complaint here stems from the excessive emphasis on vocals, which too often fall into overlapping Pet Shop Boys tripe (“Only This Moment” being the most obvious offender). Chelonis R. Jones brings soulful resonance to “49 Percent” and The Knife’s Karin Dreijer offers an evocative, otherworldly turn on “What Else Is There?” But it’s the non-vocal tracks that leave a lasting imprint, with the jazzy, confidently expressive opener “Triumphant” and the elongated, Kraftwerk-pulsing “Alpha Male” earning the highest marks. The Understanding is one of those bold sophomore efforts that will most likely split fans of the duo into two camps, with the Air/Boards of Canada downbeaters lamenting the new direction and the dance-oriented, Basement Jaxx set reveling in the unexpected vibrancy of Röyksopp’s present sound. Let the anticipation begin for the (hopefully) anything-goes third release.

Laura Cantrell: Humming By The Flowered Vine
Matador, 2005
Rating: 4.0
Nashville-born, New York-based Laura Cantrell is obsessed with finding a pure country sound. Not the latest marketing-driven Toby Keith patriotic anthem or sugary pop confection perfected by Shania Twain: Cantrell prefers dirt-free, articulate production, with an emphasis on the stories behind the songs, a truth that goes beyond contrived lonesome ballads or Saturday night shit-kicker stomps. Humming By The Flowered Vine, her third album, is a well-sequenced blend of interpretations, originals and covers. The traditional “Poor Ellen Smith,” about a man sent to the gallows futilely professing his innocence, is imbued with an unvarnished, acquiescent insight -- as when the condemned narrator gazes from the bars of his cell and studies the grave of the woman he’s accused of murdering. The Cantrell-penned “California Rose” pays tribute to honky-tonk singer Rose Maddox, who agonized over leaving the family singing group to strike out on her own, and moves at a quick but measured clip, conveying a lot of information with easy sincerity. Cantrell brings a guarded toughness to Lucinda Williams’ “Letters,” backed by some suitably sturdy guitar lines. Obviously, the peerless craft and genuflecting reverence are beyond reproach; those desiring a more progressive form are out of luck. Cantrell is all about keeping the flame of the past alight, and in that respect Humming By The Flowered Vine burns with dazzling clarity.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Self-released, 2005
Rating: 3.8
New York five-piece Clap Your Hands Say Yeah’s self-released, self-titled debut is a concrete example of a young band aping its influences and still managing to convey a discernible identity. Two major reasons lead singer/songwriter Alec Ounsworth and crew overcome sounding so familiar without offering anything unique: good taste and chops. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah (CYHSY) kick things off with the appropriately titled “Clap Your Hands!,” a drunker carnival barker swoon that recalls Black Rider-period Tom Waits. The controlled minimalism of “Over and Over Again (Lost and Found),” which offers the strangely appealing couplet “A clean shave in the morning / And a full beard with no warning,” has Ounsworth affecting less-frantic David Byrne-esque vocalizations. The peppier “The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth” and “Is This Love?” find Ounsworth summoning an unholy Gordon Gano-meets-Isaac Brock strangulated yelp. CYHSY has crafted a whatever-sticks debut with meritorious replay value. The brief instrumental interludes (“Sunshine and Clouds and Everything Proud” and “Blue Turning Gray”) are fairly insubstantial, but they add variety to an already impressively eclectic mix. Slot this one under: Bands whose record collections you’d want to borrow from.

July 13, 2005

Xiu Xiu: La Forêt
5 Rue Christine, 2005
Rating: 3.6
Nocturnal, nightmarish and fantastic are worthy adjectives to describe La Forêt (or “The Forest” for you non-Francophiles sleeping in the back), the discordantly anti-commercial outfit Xiu Xiu’s latest psychological meltdown masquerading as a pop-rock album. Singer/programmer Jamie Stewart is still all about heavy melodramatics (“It’s impossible to just keep on living,” he professes on the relationship-gone-sour opener “Clover” as an ominous vibraphone plays), but La Forêt expresses such sentiments in more creative ways than prior Xiu Xiu efforts. “Muppet Face” moves from airy synth to spookily moody rhythms and, ultimately, industrial shrieking. “Baby Captain” utilizes twisted lyrical dream logic to manifest emotional frailties in the forms of “black Phoebe” and a “white gold girl.” The aggressively violent imagery of “Saturn” (arrows stabbed through the bottoms of mouths) draws on the mythological tale of Zeus freeing his siblings from his father’s belly. La Forêt’s least interesting numbers are, unsurprisingly, the most straightforward (the guitar-and- bass-driven “Pox”) and those that go overboard on the metal-scraping production elements (“Dangerous You Shouldn't Be Here” and the closing “Yellow Raspberry”). That La Forêt is ultimately a difficult, uneven work fits the Xiu Xiu M.O. to a T. This isn’t a band looking to be loved so much as it desires a swift kick in the teeth. Alas, reaction to such obvious sadomasochistic goading exceeds the energy threshold of this reviewer.

July 13, 2005

The Magic Numbers: The Magic Numbers
Heavenly/EMI, 2005
Rating: 3.7
Siblings Romeo and Michele Stodart and Sean and Angela Gannon comprise the Magic Numbers, a group enamored with sweet harmonies and lovelorn melodies. The quartet’s self-titled debut displays an impressive range of styles, from the soulful pop devotional “Mornings Eleven” (“I would die for you”) to country-tinged ballads (“Wheels On Fire”). And while the lyrics tend toward the generic and vapid (“She don’t love me like you,” from “Love Me Like You”), the primary appeal of Magic Numbers is the lovely harmonizing, especially the back-and-forth interplay between Romeo and Angela on “I See You, You See Me.” The closing “Hymn For Her” -- tacked onto “Try” after a pointless stretch of silence akin to far too many so-called "hidden tracks" -- is a wonderful ode to love’s redemption (“I've been hurt before, but all the scars have rearranged”). It packs an emotional wallop that blows away the superficially polished preceding tunes; it's here that the “magic” of the Magic Numbers glows brightest. With more tracks like this one, the nascent foursome will truly have an album worth crowing about.

July 13, 2005

Missy Elliott: The Cookbook
Atlantic, 2005
Rating: 3.3
If it ain't broke, don’t fix it. Not the most original axiom, but it's an appropriate one, considering the criticism lobbed at the Missy Elliott-Timbaland tandem for recycling prior efforts. 2003's This is Not a Test! sold poorly and didn’t wow the reviewing cognoscenti (this site being an exception). Hence, something had to change. The Cookbook is the Big Shakeup in the Missy Elliott camp: Producer Timbaland has been cut back to two tracks, and an army of other producers ushered in to collaborate with Elliott. Aside from breaking any uniform flow the album might have had, this only reinforces just how strong the artistic symbiosis between Elliott and Timbaland is. It’s hardly a coincidence that the first two tracks belong to Timbaland and stand as high as anything else offered. The amusing, thematic table-setting “Joy” has Elliott trying out a bizarre Jamaican-Romanian accent that doesn’t really work, but does allow her to list the numerous guest-star “ingredients” featured in the mix. It’s Timbaland's stripped-clean beats that stand out, masterfully rising and falling behind the raps of Elliott and Mike Jones. “Party Time” is a high-energy dance-floor explosion, with Timbaland ratcheting up the beat and setting the bar for the subsequent club tunes. Those that measure up include the '80s-beat sampling “Lose Control” and the Rich (“Crazy in Love”) Harrison-produced banger “Can't Stop.” The Neptunes-engineered “On & On” is less successful, with its overly familiar revving-power-plant rhythms doing little to complement Elliott’s razor-sharp rhyming. “Click Clack” is a raunchy “in da club” throwaway that craters due to a tired beat and lame flow. Toss in a handful of ballads with R&B songbirds (the uneven, intermittently brilliant “My Struggles” being the highlight), and The Cookbook is complete. Too bad the final dish is an over-baked confection that falls well below its primary chef’s abilities.

July 11, 2005

Son Volt: Okemah and the Melody of Riot
Transmit Sound/Legacy, 2005
Rating: 3.7
Okemah and the Melody of Riot (Okemah being a tip of the cap to Woody Guthrie’s Oklahoma hometown and "Melody of Riot" being, well, an indication of the rollicking melodies to be found within) is nominally the fourth studio effort from Jay Farrar's Son Volt. It's also the first in nearly seven years, not counting the recent Retrospective from a few months back. Of course, considering that lead singer/songwriter Farrar is the sole returning original member, you could call it Son Volt 2.0. That's not likely to matter to Farrar's faithful fans: Despite the revamped lineup, Okemah sounds like a Son Volt record. That is, there are little of the exacting production tics that defined Farrar’s intervening solo albums, and lots of pedal steel and slide guitar. Regardless, it’s all tied together by the signature sound of Farrar’s untreated, nasally warble and crypto-Americana lyrics (like “Updated consciousness / knocking on doors,” from the mid-tempo opener “Bandages & Scars”). Whether making a refreshingly non-finger-pointing anti-war statement (“Endless War” and its “same result, different name” outlook -- “Still trying to understand / How another wrong makes a right”) or waxing nostalgic for a musical/mythical America long gone (“Afterglow 61” and the aforementioned “Bandages & Scars” which includes the affectionate acknowledgement “The words of Woody Guthrie ringing in my head”), Farrar imbues the material with genuine and passionate concern. This is not a man who stands in the mirror, affecting the perfect pose before gigs. And, despite taking few chances thematically or musically, the reincarnated Son Volt delivers a tight, nothing-wasted set. And if it drums up some additional tourism for Woody Guthrie’s birthplace, well, so much the better.

July 08, 2005

Waterproof Blonde: The Morning After the Night Before
Crash Avenue Entertainment, 2005
Rating: 3.3
Waterproof Blonde is a tease. On its debut album The Morning After the Night Before, the band briefly exudes the raw intensity that shot Garbage and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs into the big time (although its sound is more bluesy and less electronic or fuzzed-out, more like the Donnas or the lesser-known Honey Tongue), before kicking back into rock/pop mode and coasting the rest of the way. Gritty tracks like "Hold Me Down" and "Feel" showcase singer Rachel Hagen's vocals, which are the audio equivalent to a kick in the head. Unfortunately, those are the only two tracks -- which happen to be the first two on the album -- to do so. The middle of the album tends to drag, especially on "Parade" coming right after "Fall on Her" -- both reminiscent of No Doubt's "Simple Kind of Life" in that they don't really climax, but are decent enough to satisfy most musical palates. Note to Waterproof Blonde: If you have two songs that sound exactly the same, don't put them right next to each other. The band tries to bring the same intensity at the end of the album with "Supermodel Craving" and "Tackle Queen," but it seems canned and uninspired. Overall, The Morning After the Night Before isn't bad, but the promise of the first two tracks is never fulfilled.

July 08, 2005

Jamie Lidell: Multiply
Warp, 2005
Rating: 4.0
Multiply is Jamie Lidell’s tribute to ’60s soul and ’70s funk. The erstwhile Super_Collider collaborator hasn’t entirely lost touch with his techno roots, however. Multiply successfully melds programmed beats with Lidell’s fearlessly elastic croon. Check out the overdubbed, digitized baritone and faux falsetto on “A Little Bit More” or the spot-on Otis Redding homage of the title track, complete with Otis-aping lines like “Stuck between my shadow and me” as the synthetic beat keeps perfect time. The brassy funk of “Newme” and the whir-and-shuffle, stuttering shout-speak of “When I Come Back Around” also merit special mention. Multiply sacrifices cohesion in its quest for stylistic diversity, but it’s a bravura tour through the smooth sounds and hot jams of yesteryear.

June 30, 2005

Fountains of Wayne: Out-of-State Plates
Virgin, 2005
Rating: 3.0
The cover of Out-of-State Plates, Fountains of Wayne’s sprawling two-disc compilation of B-sides, rarities and previously unreleased material, shows a collection of junked cars. Well, at least the band’s honest about the contents. Simply put, barring a few notable exceptions, these are the songs that either weren’t good enough or didn’t fit into any of the New Jersey-based group’s proper releases. Older cuts -- the brief, heartfelt “Places” and the only slightly longer, closing “Imperia,” which, according to the liner notes, pays tribute to singer Chris Collingwood’s grandfather -- leave an impression, as do a pair of new songs: the classic power-pop gem “Maureen” and "The Girl I Can't Forget," a playful ode to drunken confusion. For those who didn’t spend time and money tracking down decent but hardly revelatory songs like “California Sex Lawyer” or “Elevator Up” and are eager to hear a too-serious stab at Britney Spears’ “...Baby One More Time,” Out-of-State Plates capably does its palate-cleansing job, setting the table for the eagerly awaited successor to Welcome Interstate Managers. Besides, one person’s junk is another person’s treasure. Happy hunting.

June 27, 2005

Dressy Bessy: Electrified
Transdreamer, 2005
Rating: 3.4
To accurately describe Dressy Bessy's style, one might well use the term "bubblegum punk". "Pop punk" currently has too much of a connection to teenage angst, and there's hardly a song on Electrified that can be considered less than exuberant. (When was the last time liner notes listed band members as playing "guitarz", or a lyricist used the phrases "wiggin' out" or "stop foolin'"?) The band addresses traditional pop concerns like fame, bad relationships and falling in love, while coating Tammy Ealom's sung-spoken vocals with some nice hooks, guitars for texture, and dependable drums and bass for the rhythm. Britt Myers keeps the production fairly minimal, adding some piano and vocal dubbing, but otherwise this is the raw guitar rock of youth. The problem is that uncomplicated joy mixed with uncomplicated rock can be taken for only so long. While "Side 2", "Stop Foolin'" and "Electrified" contribute an excellent one-two-three opening, and "Who'd Stop The Rain" is a lovely country break from the rest of the album's summery vibe, on the whole Electrified offers too much syrup. "HelloHelloHello" sports the saddest guitar hook in the world, possessed of such exuberance but paired with a melody that just weighs it down. "It Happens All The Time" merits extra points for pulling the album out of the perceived second-half slump, but it's not quite enough. If Dressy Bessy were a girl, she'd be charming, endearing and cute, and you'd spend dates in some combination of trips to the malt shop and making out in the back seat of your car. But after getting home each night you'd read Goethe for a few hours to make up for the lack of conversation.

::: Peter Landwehr

Pernice Brothers: Discover a Lovelier You
Ashmont, 2005
Rating: 3.4
Discover a Lovelier You, the fifth Pernice Brothers record, bears familiar hallmarks of the band’s previous efforts. There’s English Lit vocabulary (“Tontines and silly oaths and hyperbole,” from “Sell Your Hair”), cheeky, pop-culturally relevant titles (“My So-Called Celibate Life”), and Biblical allusions (“Fingered wounds proved I had been dead,” from “Pisshole In The Snow”), all tied together by unlucky-in-life-and-love story-song sketches. Where Discover a Lovelier You falls short is in the hooks department. Yours, Mine and Ours was just as literate and lovelorn, but enjoyed far more memorable choruses. “Saddest Quo” is Discover's classic Pernice Brothers track, catchy and quick-witted, despite some baffling declarations like “Wandering through like a head of tetra cyclic cattle.” Despite lead singer/songwriter Joe Pernice’s MFA-backed smartness of songcraft, the Pernice Brothers slot solidly alongside bands serving up one three-minute pop gem after another, like the Magnetic Fields and the New Pornographers. In that regard, Discover a Lovelier You is a modest triumph, and certainly not indicative of the group’s best work.

Van Morrison: Magic Time
Geffen, 2005
Rating: 3.8
On the title track of Van Morrison’s Magic Time, the nothing-left-to-prove Irish troubadour sings, “You can call it nostalgia / I don’t mind.” Boy, doesn’t he. Morrison continues to revel in some quasi-romantic, pre-1970s period of pop culture, a Brigadoon of Celtic-flavored, misty-eyed blues-rock. Opening the album with a song called “Stranded” and announcing how adrift he feels in modern times might be stating the obvious, especially when Morrison follows it with a track called “Celtic New Year,” whose title and Astral Weeks-period sound veers dangerously near self-parody. It’s also rather confounding to pick up the tempo with a determined tune like “Keep Mediocrity at Bay” and then follow it up with safe, to-the-half-note-faithful Frank Sinatra and Perry Como covers (“This Love of Mine” and “I'm Confessin',” respectively) that neither update nor transform the compositions into distinctively Morrison-esque interpretations. But, missteps aside, Magic Time delivers that familiar blanket on a chill winter’s day vibe, and Morrison fans will thankfully bury themselves under it. “Evening Train,” with its steady chug-along beat and familiar harmonica, and the par-for-the-course “Gypsy in My Soul” won’t move mountains in the search for something unexpected and daring, but they more than do their jobs. Besides, at this point, the notion of Morrison using a vocoder and musing about dark futures over detached electronic beats just wouldn’t seem right. We’ll call it nostalgia and accept that Magic Time isn’t meant to overreach its guaranteed target market.

Turin Brakes: JackInABox
Astralwerks, 2005
Rating: 3.0
Olly Knights and Gale Paridjanian just want to break free on JackInABox, the South London pop-folk duo Turin Brakes' third release. On “Fishing for a Dream” they seek “somewhere where we can be ourselves.” On “Over and Over,” Knights urges, “let’s get lost in space” because “I’m stuck in a rat race.” “Above the Clouds” reinforces the desire to escape the terrestrial binds of work and traffic jams, emotionally draining personal entanglements and dead-end encounters. Even the warm ode to bustling city life, “Building Wraps Round Me,” exudes a claustrophobic heaviness. At its best, JackInABox manages a smooth flow undercut by genuine pain. “Road to Nowhere” offers no false sentiments with lines like “everyone’s dying or curling up in pain.” Elsewhere, “Last Clown” features a jazzy coda that takes Turin Brakes’ sound into an adventurously fresh direction. Undermining these positive elements are tracks like “Forever,” with cloying, trite lines like "I’m infected by your love," with the narrator declaring himself "chemically changed" by the experience. Turin Brakes' stab at funkier material, “Asleep With the Fireflies,” sounds like a send-up of Counting Crows (“I’ve been hanging around / My head in my hands and my feet on the ground”). In a nutshell, JackInABox lacks the consistent flow of The Optimist LP and doesn’t match the sturdy songcraft of Ether Song.

Art Brut: Bang Bang Rock and Roll
Fierce Panda / The Orchard, 2005
Rating: 3.5
Sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll is so over as a lifestyle choice for the aspiring musician. The South London quintet Art Brut claims as much throughout its charming, almost-but-not-quite-there-yet debut, Bang Bang Rock and Roll: “I just want a girl to hold my hand,” moons singer Eddie Argos on the title track, while the hopeful bent of leadoff single “Formed A Band” aspires to bring peace to the world. Art Brut’s sharp guitar lines and hefty beat won’t win many points for originality, but it’s hard not to root for a band that so guilelessly examines the awkward romantic entanglements of youth. Reticence in the heat of the moment is nakedly exposed on “Rusted Guns Of Milan,” and the thrill of finally hitting a horizontal home run is deliriously celebrated on “Good Weekend,” with its dizzy-headed pronouncements (“got myself a brand new girlfriend”) and chest-thumping, Tarzan holler of a chorus (“I’ve seen her naked, twice!”). Art Brut’s best move, however, is dedicating a song to the one that got away -- “Emily Kane,” in this particular instance, with its endearing sentiment, “I hope this song finds you fame.” Frenzied throwaways like “Modern Art” and vapid observations like “popular culture no longer applies to me,” from “Bad Weekend,” keep Bang Bang Rock and Roll from attaining that rarified feel of unveiling something truly special. But on the strength of its virginally gobsmacked confessional numbers, Art Brut undoubtedly merits “remember the name” grading.

Akron/Family: Akron/Family
Young God/ Revolver, 2005
Rating: 3.3
If Iron & Wine’s Sam Beam formed a barbershop quartet, it might sound something like the warm and fuzzy folk stylings peppering Akron/Family’s self-titled debut. Backing up this notion are the roundabout, yearning “Suchness” and gentle love paean “I'll Be On The Water,” which professes to have “Lightning bolts in my chest” for its object of affection. Akron/Family favors far messier production techniques than Beam, however. Sounds of fiddling with the tape machine, presumably for authenticity’s sake, and assorted digital blips and bird samples abound. While this formless and free approach has an undeniable lo-fi charm, the canned effects emphasize the artificiality of the recording process, not the “in the wild” spontaneity seemingly aimed for. But thanks to artists like Joanna Newsome and Devendra Banhart, sun-glazed folk with idiosyncratic flourishes is the sound du jour for many in the indie rock community; just don’t imagine you’re intercepting something never intended for a ten-dollar latte-sipping public. Akron/Family has definite talent, but less forced naturalness, tighter song structures and greater emphasis on appealing harmonies could only help the group in its quest to conquer the known musical universe, or, at the very least, the corner organic foods mart.

Okkervil River: Black Sheep Boy
Jagjaguwar, 2005
Rating: 3.0
Austin rock outfit Okkervil River’s fourth release, Black Sheep Boy, is verbose and labored. Singer and songwriter Will Sheff has no trouble tossing out SAT-approved vocabulary words like "abecedarian," but the biggest problem stems from a lack of groove. Black Sheep Boy never flows, despite the seamless transition between tracks and obvious thematic links concerning helpless lambs, royal archetypes and stone-cold lovers. On “The Latest Toughs,” Sheff wedges in an awkward “author’s note” and encourages listeners to fill in the subsequent pause with their own musings. Such meta-participatory gimmicks undermine the emotional heft Black Sheep Boy so earnestly tries to impart. The least wordy tracks, unsurprisingly, prove the most effective, as on “In a Radio Song,” where the music is allowed to shift and expand without being bound to some ruler-straight notebook of pronouns and synonyms. Black Sheep Boy has bold ambitions, but Okkervil River hasn’t quite reached the point where polished execution equals or surpasses preliminary concept. Prescription: Less abecedarian, more instinctive melody.

June 16, 2005

Brian Eno: Another Day on Earth
Hannibal, 2005
Rating: 3.6
Here’s an easy summation of Brian Eno’s latest solo album, Another Day on Earth: A seamless integration of early, post-Roxy Music vocals and later, moodier ambient compositions. But that doesn’t tell the whole story. Another Day on Earth does feature the heaviest vocal work from Eno in more than a quarter of a century (discounting his 1990 collaboration with John Cale). But the majority of the vocals are so tweaked and treated, morphed and modulated as to simply lose any sense of the man himself. Underscoring this point is Eno’s least processed performance on “How Many Worlds,” which features a tinny piano and Eno’s voice refreshingly front and center, asking unanswerable questions like, “How many people will we feed today?” Tellingly, the least affected-sounding track is one of the most affecting of the bunch. Mostly, though, we get words buried beneath trance-like ambient snowdrifts (“And Then So Clear,” “Going Unconscious” and “Caught Between”). The most powerful moment arrives at the end, and isn’t even performed by Eno. Aylie Cooke’s eerily detached spoken-word work on “Bone Bomb,” about a young suicide bomber, hits hard and ends the album on a powerful note. Those eager for another “Baby’s On Fire” from Eno will have to satiate themselves with this gut-punch of a highlight.

June 16, 2005

Gomez: Out West
ATO, 2005
Rating: 3.4
It’s rather fitting that bluesy rock outfit Gomez’s first release for Dave Matthews’ ATO label is a double live set. Spotlighting the group’s jam-oriented tendencies and leaning heavily on material from the British sextet’s first two albums -- the Mercury Prize-winning debut Bring It On and the similarly structured Liquid Skin -- Out West works best when it extends the studio cuts. “Here Comes the Breeze” and “Revolutionary Kind” especially benefit from this sweaty-workout approach, allowing greater interplay between band members and a more spontaneous sound. The two covers prove hit-and-miss, with a meatier stab at Nick Drake’s “Black Eyed Dog” segueing nicely into Bring It On’s “Free To Run.” A growling attempt at Tom Waits’ “Going Out West” buttresses just how great the original is. Out West’s main drawback is pacing; despite being drawn from a trio of sold-out shows at the Fillmore in San Francisco earlier this year, there’s little sense of momentum. Even simply taking the highlights from the three performances and stitching together a set list that builds to a rousing finish (greater crowd feedback, clearly delineated encores, and so forth) would have helped convey what a Gomez live show feels like. Instead, its rousing peaks and studio-same-y valleys defeat the entire purpose of a live document.

June 10, 2005

Four Tet: Everything Ecstatic
Domino, 2005
Rating: 3.8
Kieran Hebden’s fourth Four Tet album, Everything Ecstatic, jumps all over the musical map, from crashing cymbal-squalling frenzies (“A Joy”) that trigger recollections of fellow laptop composer Dan “Caribou” Snaith’s work, to deliriously explosive percussion that could put on smile on the face of peerless jazz drummer Rashied Ali. But the overall sound of Everything Ecstatic pushes in fresh directions for the compositionally questing Hebden. Familiar folktronica structures have been torched for insurance money now financing a new, freewheeling approach that can loosely be summed up as jazzy Orientalism. Touches of this stylistic shift colored 2003’s Rounds, but Everything Ecstatic proves an emphatic break with the charged-particle, pastoral energy so prevalent on Dialogue and Pause. The breakneck, Polynesian tribal rhythms of “High Fives” and the metropolitan pulse of Hong Kong on “Turtle Turtle Up” are the most obvious examples of Ecstatic’s strong Asiatic focus, but everything crystallizes on the closing, intimate “You Were There With Me,” which conjures images of meditating on a peaceful Sunday afternoon as lazily swaying chimes play. The low-energy, nocturnal hip-hop vibe of “And Then Patterns” fails to mesh nearly as well, and the dispensable “Fuji Check,” doesn’t have enough time to develop into an interesting detour or serve as a transitional segue between more substantial tracks. Consequently, Everything Ecstatic doesn’t come together as solidly as prior Four Tet releases, but it unquestionably contains the blueprint for far greater explorations to come.

June 06, 2005

System of a Down: Mezmerize
Columbia, 2005
Rating: 3.7
Mezmerize is the first of two System of a Down (SOAD) releases due out this year (the second, Hypnotize, drops in the fall). Like the genre-hopping metal band’s previous releases, Mezmerize is unapologetically up-front about its politics -- case in point: "B.Y.O.B.," with strident anti-war couplets like “Why don't presidents fight the war? / Why do they always send the poor?” And, as has been the case since the group’s self-titled 1998 debut, the melodies have progressively become more integral to the overall mix of angrily opinionated lyrics and rapid-fire chord changes. "B.Y.O.B." alternates between a jarring Red Hot Chili Peppers-style refrain ("Everybody's going to the party, have a real good time / Dancing in the desert, blowing up the sunshine"), frantic thrashing, and Elmer Fuddian "Lalala"s. “Sad Statue” manages to make the chorus “You and me / We'll all go down in history / With a sad Statue of Liberty” hummable. “Violent Pornography” serves up the choice finger-snapper “Choking chicks and sodomy.” But it’s when SOAD takes a more bizarre slant that the band’s originality and sense of humor shine. “This Cocaine Makes Me Feel Like I'm on This Song” features the Zappa-worthy verse “There's nothing wrong with me / There's something wrong with you / Don't eat the fish,” while “Radio/Video” may be the world’s first accordion-based metal song. More tracks like this would help offset the exhaustive laundry list of pissed-off concerns. Mezmerize is on par with 2001’s Toxicity as SOAD’s best offering to date. Hopefully, Hypnotize will up the ante further while easing up on the lead-foot activist pedal.

June 04, 2005

Belle & Sebastian: Push Barman to Open Old Wounds
Matador, 2005
Rating: 3.9
Fans of the Scottish pop group Belle & Sebastian have been waiting for its new compilation, Push Barman To Open Old Wounds, for quite a while now. The band is famous for releasing singles and EPs filled with exclusive material (excepting "The State I Am In", off of Tigermilk) -- a trend reversed with the string of singles from Dear Catastrophe Waitress -- and Push Barman is a self-proclaimed "budget priced" double CD that compiles the seven singles/EPs released on Jeepster: Dog On Wheels, Lazy Line Painter Jane, 3...6...9... Seconds of Light, This Is Just A Modern Rock Song, Legal Man, Jonathan David and I'm Waking Up To Us. In addition to simply being a package for the band's more obscure tracks, the album nicely spans its shift from folksy, melancholy introspectiveness to light summer-pop, with the former contained on the first disc and a mix of the two styles on the second. The songs all sound less cleanly produced than any of the full albums, so this is probably not the best introduction for neophytes. At the same time, it's an excellent bridge between the band's two styles for someone who owns just one album, and is enough of a blend of sweet, sad, happy and romantic to last for quite a few spins. On "This Is Just A Modern Rock Song", singer Stuart Murdoch claims, "We're just four boys in corduroy / We're not terrific but we're competent." Push Barman is a pleasant confirmation that this line sells Belle & Sebastian short.

::: Peter Landwehr