Courteeners – St. Jude
(Not just) another guitar band from Manchester. And the singer’s name is Liam. Singer and chief songwriter Liam Fray, however, is more a descendant of the Libertines and the Smiths than the younger Mr. Gallagher. Morrissey, in fact, is a Courteeners fan, telling anyone who listens how enthused he is about the band. The Courteener’s sound is more precise than the exquisite anarchy of the ‘Tines, but their efficiencies serve the songs nicely. Daniel Moores’ lead work combines the limpid sound of Tom Verlaine and the lyricism of Johnny Marr (sometimes, oh so obviously). Fray’s keenly observed lyrics are not without their snide, sometimes misogynist undercurrent, but that never kept anyone from enjoying “Under My Thumb” or “Girlfriend in a Coma,” huh?

Conor Oberst – s/t
I wrote a longer winded review of this record for the K.C. Star that perturbed many a Conor fan, despite its’ being a largely positive take on the record. In brief, this ‘solo’ album is a very good representation of Oberst as singer and songwriter. He may not rock exactly, but he does rollick. These songs are full of sharp observation and wordplay. And a bit of excess, but that’s part of the C.O. package, I suppose. His debt to everyone from Dylan to Van Zandt, to McLean to E. Smith is clear, but he has the talent to have put paid to such debts. The moving “Danny Callahan” and “Moab,” in which he re-invigorates every post-Kerouac cliché, are the best among several pretty swell songs. The overall mood is akin to “Harvest” era Neil Young. Bright Eyes fans certainly shouldn’t be disappointed, and newcomers should feel no fear.

Jesse Malin – On Your Sleeve
Affection for Malin in these quarters should be no secret by now. With this collection Jesse tackles a diverse selection of some of his favorite tunes. In other words, it’s what we used to call a ‘covers’ album. With a track listing that diverges somewhat from the European original, Malin still makes a great case for his skill as interpreter, and plainly as a lover of good songs. Some selections reflect his punk roots (Bad Brains, Johnny Thunders), others his absorption of the songwriter’s canon (Paul Simon, Fred Neil), and others still his homage to contemporaries (Kills, The Hold Steady). All of them are delivered with love and fervor in Malin’s inimitable marble-mouth Queens in a hurry style. What’s not to like?

Oasis – Dig Out Your Soul
Or dig out your old records. Oasis does. Noel and company have never been ones loathe to hide their influences. The Beatle thing looms (lurks?) over this program as it does over everything Oasis does, but they’ve also plundered from everyone from Traffic to the Strokes. Finally, in terms of, shall we say – groove, they’ve gone a bit Stone Roses or Primal Scream on our arse. In other words, this is Oasis’ version of a trance-y, dance-y, nigh on to shoegaze record. The best songs are Noel’s, but Liam’s get better all the time. In fact, his “I’m Outta Time” is something of a highlight here. It’s tempting to say that you’ve heard this all before, either from the band, or from their sources. Still, no one is better at making a BIG ROCK RECORD than these guys. So, if you’re tired of indie modesty and the esoteric cul de sacs of the monde de Pitchfork, come home to Oasis. And let them dig out your soul. Blow your mind. Whatever. They are good at it.

Delta Spirit – Ode to Sunshine
There is a new sound emerging. Like most new sounds it’s based on older materials. The materials include country, folk, blues and gospel music, an amalgam of which has already been dubbed “Americana” by people who are better marketers than me. If Fleet Foxes are Jackson Browne, transplanted to Big Sur, jamming with the Dead, and the Felice Brothers are ‘The Basement Tapes” played on a depression era radio station, Delta Spirit are kindred spirits whose music sounds like the Violent Femmes with a better singer throwing together songs for a hipster gospel tent at the Maple Leaf Festival. Okay, enough rambling comparisons. What distinguishes the DS, beyond their yearning, sometimes gorgeous tunes (try not to be moved by ‘Strange Vine’), is the plaintive voice of Matthew Vasquez and the organic, vaguely “Beggar’s Banquet,” gestalt of the band’s sound. This whole genre (?) may become tiresome soon, but with bands as good as those mentioned in this review it may not be anytime soon.

Juana Molina – Una Dia
Juana Molina is famous in her native Argentina as a soap opera actress. “Un Dia” is her fifth album.  Her work has gotten progressively abstract, but no less compelling for it. She builds her compositions with spare, repetitive keyboard lines, a splash of acoustic guitar, bits of percussion and interweaving, sometimes looped, vocal lines. With her breathy Latin vocals and vowel sounds and the hypnotic instrumental tracks it’s as if Astrud Gilberto was jamming with Terry Riley. There’s a gravitas to this music, too, that takes it out of the pure Latin lilt category and gives it weight like Bjork, or even Nico. Part meditation, part dervish music, “Un Dia” is enchanting stuff for either a dance that goes on indefinitely or an endless sleep.

Japanese Motors - s/t
The promo chatter for J.M. makes much of their not trying to sound British. Or like they are from New York. And that they fully embrace their So-Cal roots. I guess that's true - they are surfer dude slackers, like Pavement's more athletic, simple minded little brothers. But they don't sound so So-Cal, if that's Social Distortion and TSOL, although they have their vaguely Sublime/Chili Peppers moments. Nope, they have more Strokes and Velvet Underground roots (pretty New York ifn' ya ask me). They sings of true love, paradise lost, and, oh yeah - Coors Lite and "wearing their hair down in their eyes again." Right on, dudes. What makes this record pretty damn great is the Black Lips-like commitment they bring to mixing hip, cool and groovy influences (Velvets, again) and complete silliness. If the Lips are the Monkees meet the Velvets, Japanese Motors are the Velvets go Kingsmen - right down to the Sixties vintage pseudo-rockabilly moves and the inclusion of an instrumental track. This kinda came out of nowhere, but it's a ton of fun and as an album hangs together well, like memorable albums do.

Max Richter - 24 Postcards in Full Color
A collection of (mostly) short pieces (the composer jokingly refers to them as 'ringtones'). There are solo piano compositions, compositions for strings, ambient pieces, even the odd guitar thrown in. I first became aware of Richter as the producer of Vashti Bunyan's beautiful 2005 release "Lookaftering." Then backtracked to check out Piano Circus who covered the noo-classical canon of work by Arvo Part, Steve Reich, and the like. "Postcards" is in the same vein. If you enjoy the works of the those guys, or Philip Glass e.g.(although M.R. isn’t sooo repetitive, Richter should please you. The variety of instrumentations, textures and tempi makes for an enjoyable listen. There's something melancholy and autumnal about this record that somehow suits the coming season. Some of these short works give you something to chew on, others are basically thinking man's easy listening, but that's not such a bad thing at all. A perfect record with which to close a busy day.

Seger Liberation Army – Down Home
A Jim Diamond production. The concept? To reclaim the rock and roll soul of one Bob Seger. You see, before he went to Hollywood and befriended the dreaded Eagles, Seger was a stone rock and soul man. His early albums were scruffily produced, snarling nuggets of Detroit rock ‘n’ soul, straight outta the garage. The eight songs featured here are from Bob’s early days. They include the hits like “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” and “2 + 2,” as well as some less obvious gems. The crew for these sessions includes Dirtbombs, Von Bondies and other devotes intent on recasting the Seger myth. It’s short, to the point, and it totally rocks. Another cool thing – the production is raw and bracing, but it’s not lo-fi – it’s cheap, baby, but it’s BIG.

Rodriguez – Cold Fact
Here’s a candidate for reissue of the year. It sunk like a stone when it was
first released in the early Seventies, which is unfortunate because it’s a
tremendous record. Rodriguez writes ace songs, equally comfortable in the folk, rock and soul idioms. His supporting cast includes many players from the famous Motown Funk Brothers and was co-produced by legendary guitarist Dennis Coffey, who plays some outrageous stuff on this record. Great sounds, great arrangements. Rodriguez sings like a cross between an embittered Donovan and a chilled out Jose Feliciano. His lyrics span the spectrum from love songs to sharp social commentary. In a weird way this is a Detroit-Latino companion piece to the epochal “What’s Going On” and to Stevie Wonder’s excellent early Seventies output.

Max Richter - 24 Postcards in Full Color
A collection of (mostly) short pieces (the composer jokingly refers to them as 'ringtones'). There are solo piano compositions, compositions for strings, ambient pieces, even the odd guitar thrown in. I first became aware of Richter as the producer of Vashti Bunyan's beautiful 2005 release "Lookaftering." Then backtracked to check out Piano Circus who covered the noo-classical canon of work by Arvo Part, Steve Reich, and the like. "Postcards" is in the same vein. If you enjoy the works of the those guys, or Philip Glass e.g.(although M.R. isn’t sooo repetitive, Richter should please you. The variety of instrumentations, textures and tempi makes for an enjoyable listen. There's something melancholy and autumnal about this record that somehow suits the coming season. Some of these short works give you something to chew on, others are basically thinking man's easy listening, but that's not such a bad thing at all. A perfect record with which to close a busy day.

 Vivian Girls - s/t
They profess a love for Burt Bacharach. That sounds arch and trendy-ironic until you listen to the Vivian Girls. Like Mr. B. they share an affection for sweet tunes with a melancholy undercurrent. Their songwriting isn't consistently to his standard, but it's pretty good. As players the V Girls are primitive, but effective. Frankie Rose's Mo Tucker drums propel and Cassie Ramone's guitar lays down a blanket of post My Bloody Valentine (they remind me of the Shop Assistants, a circa C86 British gal group - but who's hear of them?) fuzz. Like MBV the Vivians barely sound like they are there until you turn them up nice and loud. So do so.

Kings of Leon - Only By the Night
This is sharp as a tack and gloriously thick at the same darn time. Loved their debut "Youth and Young Manhood" for its Southern rock without the cornpone punch. Thought their second record was an entertaining extension. Wasn't so sure about "Because of the Times." "Only by the Night" is a more concise, powerful version of "BOTT," and it's plain undeniable. While the U2/Blue Oyster Cult dynamics of the band's playing have migrated well north of their Southern roots, Caleb Followill's singing is stronger and churchier (dare I say... blacker) than ever. The contrast is what makes this music so rich. The lyrics veer wildly from the evocative to the indecipherable, from the poetic to the pornographic. But, hey, that's rock and roll, huh? "OBTN" is an unafraid, no bets hedged monster rock record  - nothing indie about it. It's got arena written all over it. Can your heart stand it? If so, it's a gamer!

 Wire - Object 47
If they handed out awards for bands based on an inverse relationship between enormous peer influence and minimal commercial success Wire would be among the first recipients. Since the trio of releases in the late Seventies/early Eighties that established their position in the indie rock firmament, Wire have trod a path all their own over the past thirty years. Guitarist Bruce Gilbert is gone, but the trio of Colin Newman, Graham Lewis, and Robert Grey continue to make music
that's melodic, but never hackneyed - rhythmically propulsive, yet never just dance-rock. Lyrically they continue to sound like fish out of the water of the modern world, while their music sounds like a reflection, even an anticipation of its coming course. Confident in their bewilderment, smoldering below the surface, Wire are still cool customers with a singular sound.

Davila 666 - s/t
Garage rock. What does it mean? Is it a sonic vocabulary? An attitude? A style? Increasingly it's some of the first, much of the second, and not necessarily a constricted vision of the third. Still, I guess Davila 666 are garage rock. This time from Puerto Rico. In Spanish. And why not - there's a grand history of Latino garage punk in the U.S.A. (Question Mark and the Mysterians, Louie and the Lovers, The Zeros,
to name a few). Davila 666 aren't afraid of catchy hooks; they'll grab you even if you don't understand them. And they sure do rock out. They sound Puerto Rican cousins of the Black Lips. 'Cept they probably play a little better, truth be told. Imagine yourself ... a hot night in San Juan.
Play!

Boston Spaceships - Brown Submarine
Robert Pollard, he who never rests, with another new band. This time a trio with Chris Slusakrenko (former Guided by Voices) and John Moen (Decemberists). The sound reminds of vintage GBV (circa "Bee Thousand"), but with better recording. Which is not a bad thing unless you're mindlessly
devoted to the lo-fi ethic. Pollard's enigmatic lyrics and endless gift for melody are present throughout, along
with his penchant for making pop tunes cryptic and prog-rock
concepts listenable. Again, not bad things. This release,
along with his Keene Brothers project and his recent solo
"Off to Business" constitute the cream of his post-GBV
crop(s).

Hold Steady - Stay Positive
When I saw these guys live it drove me from their records. Something about Craig Finn's performance was so manic and mannered that it was way distracting. Gradually, I went back to their music, especially their last "Boys and Girls ..." Alright, it's good stuff. They pack every Seventies arena rock cliché into their music, but somehow it sounds fresh. And powerful. Sure, they remind of the E Street Band, but the comparison flatters both. Already an effective, even moving lyricist, Finn's work on "Stay Positive" ups the ante. His creeping into middle age perspective on the idylls and ravages of youth manages to feel both more acidic and compassionate. His characters remind me of Chuck Klosterman's teenage wasteland. They're lost in substances, their own thwarted psyches and the hidden injuries of class ("One for the Cutters"). Moving stuff. And maybe easier to listen to than watch.

Ron Franklin - s/t
Franklin's second solo release goes the really solo (unaccompanied) route, and beautifully. The Arkansas native, and Memphis scene maker, sounds nothing like Bob Dylan. But, his art is sure reminiscent of the young Mr. Zimmerman, which is to say that he seems to have absorbed the same folk, blues and early rock vocabulary and turned it splendidly to his own aesthetic purposes. "Western Movies" evokes Buddy Holly, where "Dark Night, Cold Ground" comes from a dark, bluesier, and more aggressive place. Playing solo, Franklin paces this record nicely, alternating between gentle acoustic settings and rocking electric treatments. On songs like "The Elocutionist" he uses a modern sensibility to describe a gone world of Southern mysteries. Franklin's music insinuates itself. Eventually, you start thinking ... hmm, might have a major talent here.

The Bug - London Zoo
Kevin Martin is one of those British sonic tricksters whose music is a mash-up of electronic beats, dub effects and ominous noise. If he has a lineage it would clearly include Massive Attack and Tricky, but probably Public Image, Linton Kwesi Johnson (his guest vocalists conjure up an LKJ reminiscent vibe) and Bill Laswell, too. Martin's vision is bleak - all urban (London) squalor, Hurricane Katrina and images of terror, evil ... you know ... dark stuff. Martin's evocative atmospheres and the talents of mc/singers like Ricky Ranking and Flow Dan make the vision a
compelling and poetic one. Like a "What's Going On" for a Blade Runner
world, "London Zoo" haunts and entertains.

Cheap Time - s/t
Facile comparisons? Black Lips. Contemporary analogue? Clorox Girls. Ah, forget that. Cheap Time actually veer closer to a cross between your usual snotty garage-punk cocktail and something closer to Freakbeat; that's psychedelicized pop proto-punk for those of you not into such minute genre distinctions. That's right they kinda sound like Red Kross. Remember them? Exceptin' they are a little less lysergic with their sharply focused (short) punk tunes (Clash, even) and lyrical obsessions with girls (esp. jailbait) and, you know, doin' what they wanna. Somehow, comin' straight outta Tennessee, their oddball reflection of such a pop-punk potpourri all makes sense. And it rocks.

Mansfields - Cramp Your Style
As in Cramps? Yeah. This Denver trio cops plenty from Lux, Ivy and crew, from music (duh!) to a certain graphic sensibility. Maybe it all begins with the Cramps for these boys, but it doesn't end there.
A thorough listening reveals that they also have a Dolls obsession. And, heck, they can play pretty straight up rockabilly with panache, energy, and reasonably little Straycats super-mannerisms. "CYS" is nothing earth shattering, but if you like, well, the Cramps, the Dolls,
and rockabilly it could darn well be a snappy party starter. Kudos, too,
for avoiding both excessive studio sheen and unnecessarily lo-fi.

Endless Boogie - Focus Level
Sure is. Endless boogie, you see. New York hipster clowns offer tribute to the stoner vestiges of a wasted afternoon listening to "Jamming with Edward" (Stones as noodly jam band), Canned Heat, the Stooges and the Groundhogs - blasting from a stereo from behind ... the beaded curtain. Heck, what time is it, anyway? 2008. Sheesh, how long was I asleep? What the %^() - it is sorta fun. The guitarists can play; and they sure have that Mick Taylor meets Tony McPhee sound down. The vocals? Well, imagine Beavis channeling Iggy in his fevered sleep. Ridiculous, funny ... and not entirely beside the point.

Randy Newman/Harps and Angels
He’s done music for a movie or two in the interim, but this is Randy’s first album of songs since 1998’s “Bad Love.” That was a good record, something of a return to form (form being the remarkable records he did during the Seventies and early Eighties). “Harps” is even better. In fact, if it’s not too premature to say so, it sounds like a classic. Newman still favors rolling, bluesy strolls, specifically a certain Fats Domino feel. His songs still range from withering satire, the kind of stuff that you laugh about because it hurts, to simple, declarative love songs. He’s singular and an American treasure. Shoot, he’s sixty-six and he’s hasn’t worked too fast lately – relish this.

Aimee Mann - @#%&! Smilers!
Aimee Mann's art changes incrementally. So incrementally that it's tempting to say that it hardly changes at all. Tempting, but wrong. Her tunes have grown ever more subtle, but no less arresting. Keyboards, strings and brass predominate here - guitars are just, literally, a part of the mix. Lyrically, her new album "@#%&!" is more character driven than her early, more personal, work. But the line is a fine one, even in her third person lyrics she is invested in these characters who know better, but screw up anyway. Lives of quiet desperation, and all that sort of thing. Funny that such emotional undertow can be so musically insinuating and entertaining.

Mudhoney - The Lucky Ones
Twenty years ago Mudhoney loved them some Stooges. They still do. Oh, there's other garage and punk influences in the Mudhoney sound, notably their Northwestern predecessors the Sonics, but the mantle of Detroit circa 1970 weighs heavy. In a good way.  True to the desperate ethos of the Seattle grunge era, Mark Arm's take on the Igster is a little less goofy and, well, sexy. Still, his personal and social outsider laments combined with Steve Turner's still searing guitar
work make for quality garunge (that's grunge, and garage). "The Lucky
Ones" is a very worthy addition to their rockin' catalog.

Sloan - Parallel Play
These obscure Novia Scotians, well never mind - I guess Novia Scotians are obscure almost of necessity. Obscurity doesn't suit Sloan, though, because they go quietly about being one of the best rock bands in the world. Not quite the knockout tour de force that their last, "Never Hear the End of It" was, this new record is still a blindingly brilliant collection of songs and sounds. On sheer talent along these guys are, along with the Super Furry Animals, as close to a latter day Beatles as we're likely to get. Gnarly guitars, gorgeous harmonies, songs that stick - it's all here, even a sharp, knowing Dylanesque romp. Oh, and "I'm Not a Kid Anymore" rocks like ... kids. Good stuff.

Fleet Foxes - s/t
Let's start with the My Morning Jacket comparisons. Okay, maybe they sound a little like them. Strange, though, because I never really "got" MMJ. I appreciate their sincerity and I don't doubt their passion, but I just find them overwrought. Fleet Foxes aren't. This record is subtle and beautiful in ways that MMJ isn't. Critics are throwing accolades and influence citations left and right at these guys. I hear them as nu-folk for a post Harry Smith world. Fleet Foxes evoke David Crosby's "If I Could Only Remember My Name" in
its/their spectral beauty. Their more up-tempo, not-quite-rock, tracks gallop along like offspring of the Grateful Dead's "Aoxomoxoa" album. Fleet Foxes harmonies remind of underrated outfits like the Association. Robin Pecknold's songs channel archetypal language and moods in ways that are austere, but sanguine. I've listened to it innumerable times waiting for the Kool-Aid to wear off. It doesn't. These kids are on to something.

Babyshambles - Oh What a Lovely Tour
It would have helped, but you didn't have to be there. You can quite enjoy this souvenir. The band dances upon the precipice of dissolution in places. Doherty's pitch fails him a time or two. And that's precisely what's fetching about this record. Turn the sucker up and it sounds like an evening with a fine, distinctive band and several hundred (thousand?) 'friends' in Glasgow. Too many bands don't have good songs. Too many records sound pitch corrected and generally sanitized. The Babyshambles live sound, well, real, and somehow refreshing. Pete sticks to the better tune stack from "Shotter's Nation" and cherry picks the less consistent "Down in Albion" for the better tunes like the title track and "F^%k Forever." A smart, endearing set.

The Baseball Project - Volume 1: Frozen Ropes and Dying Quails
If you are a baseball fan you'll definitely get a kick out of the Baseball Project. BP's songs are full of history and  detail that convey a true love of the game, as well as plenty of rowdy irreverence. The two chief architects of BP are Steve Wynn (a KDM favorite, former Dream Syndicate leader) and Scott McCaughey (former Young Fresh Fellow, current R.E.M.). They've written a slate of fine songs that should entertain even their fans who could give a fig about small ball. Linda Pitmon plays drums bashingly, as she does in husband Wynn's full time outfit, the Miracle 3. Some guy named Pete Buck plays bass. They sound like they had a great deal of fun putting this together, andthe fun is contagious.

Foxboro Hot Tubs - Stop Drop and Roll
It's Green Day. But you probably knew that. Rumor has it that they handed this record to Warner Brothers, who insisted that it not be released under the band's name. You know, brand identity issues and all. Silly record company - Foxboro Hot Tubs rock! Billy Joe and the boys binged on Kinks and Paul Revere singles and wrote a fresh crop of songs based on that pop-punk-garage legacy. Armstrong even subdues his cod-English accent in places. Wow. Anyway, it's a swell record; period evocative, sure, but very fresh sounding, too. For techies - it's all done on eight (even four) track tape, and it sounds cool.

Thomas Function - Celebration
The Thomas Function combine Farfisa organ accents with garage-folk drive and Jonathan Macero's wounded, Richard Hell cum Dylan yowl. Macero's singing also evokes The Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments and the Ponys (for all of you whoactually keep up with this underindiealternaground stuff). The lyrics are the usual poetic dropout, misfit stuff, but sharply observed and tied to catchy tunes, part jangle pop, part backwoods T. Rex. Back when record companies had money they would have "discovered" these Alabama punks. Now, it's all down to thefreakin' internet. And Kief's. We're always glad to help, you know.

Robert Pollard - Is Off to Business
Robert Pollard is the J.S. Bach of power pop. Endlessly melodic, inventive, tireless, and obsessed. Since disbanding Guided by Voices Pollard has been very busy, proferring the sweet chamber pop of "Silverfish Trivia" and the beautiful collaboration with Tommy Keene - the Keene Brothers. And as always he's done some stuff that was neither here nor there. Such is the price of the prolific. United with his GBV co-hort Todd Tobias "Is Off to Business" is top-notch Pollard. The title is both indicative of this set's relative gravitas and an ironic dig at a culture lost at sea, as lamented in the lovely "Original Heart." Tunes galore, as usual. Fetching words. If yer a Bob Pollard fan you'll find nothing not to like here.

Felice Brothers - s/t
A band (yes) of brothers who grew up near Woodstock, literally and figuratively. The specter of Dylan and The Band's "Basement Tapes" drapes all over this music. The neat trick they pull is that they sing about an old weird America, in Greil Marcus's phrase, a world that's as much about the Great Depression as the current recession, but they drop in all manner of contemporary landmarks
and references. Their ensemble sound is graceful and sounds practically effortless; it's that, shall we say, organic. They play beautifully at slow tempos with ghostly, sparse arrangements. Remember how your band teacher told you it was harder to play slow (well, at least)? Right they were - and the Felice boys are masters at that. Ian Felice handles most of the vocals with a conversational, whiskey at noon nonchalance, somewhere between Levon Helm and Tom Waits. How "authentic" the Felice Brothers are is an interesting question, but finally an irrelevant one. They do what great bands do - they create their own universe and hook you into it.

Mudcrutch - s/t
Tom Petty, and fellow Heartbreakers Benmont Tench and Mike Campbell, prove that you can go home again. To Florida, that is. And the band they first thought they would conquer the world with. Originally signed to Shelter Records before TPAH,
Mudcrutch folded after one seven-inch. As the liner notes indicate this session was done in ten days – no headphones, no overdubs, just the sound of musicians comfortable with one another playing music they love. The newly penned material works and the period evocative (early 70’s) covers, like the Byrd’s ’Lover of the Bayou’ and the trucker anthem “Six Days on the Road,” add seasoning. A reasonable critical reference point would be a cross between the Byrds of the “Notorious Byrd Brothers” era and early Neil Young and Crazy Horse. The showstopper is “Crystal River,” a long, jammy number that does precisely what long, jammy tracks mostly don’t – it sustains mood and tone beautifully for every second of its’ length. 

Los Campesinos! – Hold on Now … Youngster
Los Campesinos! sound like what they are: a bunch of college smart asses (Cardiff University), clever, caffeined, and set to bounce off the wall. Like a less somber Broken Social Scene their lyrics are unexpurgated and sharp, their music a careening monster that sounds like big rock (you know, like the Waterboys or somebody) and a parody of all that that stands for at the same time. Knowing and snarky lyrics (and exclamation points) aside (bet they
love Pavement), Los Campesinos! (roughly, Spanish for ‘peasants’) are in
their queer way a voice of their generation – plugged in, attenuated attention spans and all, going a mile a minute in six directions. And, they are musical enough that their giddy enthusiasm is met with melody and craft, the combination ultimately beguiling. Gosh, maybe Belle & Sebastian woulda sounded like LC is they’d had more fun at parties. Fresh faced, cute, brimming with ideas … Los Campesinos! are the future. Of something.

Virgins – s/t
Superficially, the Virgins have more in common with some crap band like Maroon 5 than they do with, oh I dunno, Arcade Fire or somebody. But,
anyway, that’s not the point. What is? That first impressions are deceiving. The V’s are in fact a sly, slick outfit; equal parts pop-rock melody and
dance-rock grooves. Definitely having their cake and eating it too, they bring everything from the Stones (think “Miss You”), to the Strokes, to Chic, to the Chili Peppers, to Hall and Oates (fronted by Elvis Costello), the Police, Royal Crescent Mob (maybe, or Les Savy Fav?) … to the table. The songs are largely nightlife narcissism exercises, yet there’s something desperate and melancholy underneath the surface, rather in the manner of vintage Roxy Music. The rock guitar moves are spare and compressed. The bass grooves are fat. The drums funky. Superficial appearances aside, the Virgins bring it.

Jack Penate – Matinee
Jack Penate slogged his way through the tough British club circuit with a bag of fine tunes, a keen sense of vernacular and a warm tenor to deliver it all with. Signed to XL Records he cut his first record in 2007 and it was released this year in the U.S. Reminiscent of the fine Eighties outfit the Housemartins, the Smiths (sometimes) and a none too distant cousin to Elvis Costello’s debut, “My Aim is True,” Penate’s “Matinee” is sweet with turning to treacle, trenchant with out pretension and melodically engaging throughout. Songs like the brisk apology “Have I Been a Fool?” and the mortal, but not morbid, query of “When I Die” grab you and stick in your brain days later. Unaffected, but effecting, “Matinee” is a lovable showcase for an important young talent.

Scarlett Johansson – Anywhere I Lay My Head
As some other scribe observed, the French are used to actors posing as pop stars. In America we are circumspect, nay cynical, about such endeavors
 as this … this being Scarlett Johansson’s cycle of Tom Waits songs called “Anywhere I Lay My Head.”  While it won’t redefine how we hear Waits,
 and it doesn’t introduce a singularly mesmerizing vocal talent, that’s not to say that, by God, this isn’t pretty good stuff. Because it is.  “Anywhere” was produced by Dave Sitek from TV on the Radio, and Nick Zinner from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and David Bowie make contributions to the sessions. Sounding vaguely like a cross between Liz Fraser and Nico singing to arrangements that evoke a lusher Joy Division, Scarlett has, well – a point of view, and a love for the material that carries the day. It has and will provoke divided opinion, and more than a little scorn (envy?), but “Anywhere” is a somber, yet engaging take on a great songwriter’s songbook.

Alejandro Escovedo – Real Animal
Should you wish, you can read my long ass review of the new Alejandro Escovedo record at http://www.kansascity.com/238/story/675468.html, where it’s linked to the Kansas City Star’s Tuesday, June 24th edition. The Cliff’s Notes version: Alejandro is a major artist with a deep feel for everything from punk-rock to Van Morrison’s Caledonia soul to Mexican folk music. Like Doug Sahm before him he’s a walking, talking compendium of Texas music. But he’s also a devotee of Seventies glam and proto-punk (think Stooges, e.g.), and that comes through decisively in his music. Produced by Tony Visconti (David Bowie, T. Rex – two of Alejandro’s faves), “Real Animal” rocks, croons, shakes and soothes. It’s a look at Escovedo’s musical and personal odyssey that is both career summation and a door to his musical future. It’s one of the best records of 2008 right now and I don’t think much will happen in six months to shake that judgment.

Waco Brothers - Live and Kickin' at Schuba's Tavern
Schuba's is a great bar in Chicago for music. And it's
like the local, as the Brits would say, for the Wacos.
Formed by Leeds transplant, Jon Langford of the Mekons, to amuse himself inbetween Mekons activities, the Waco Brothers developed into a fine band in their own right. Imagine Rockpile (Nick Lowe, Dave Edmunds, etc.) with Noam Chomsky as lyricisit. Or, forget if you insist, the subversive subtext and just, you know, rock out. 16 tunes, all delivered in their Cash goes Clash way. All rockin (kickin', too). All in all, a fine night out preserved for posterity.

Fratellis - Here We Stand
Their debut, "Costello Music," was really a wonderful record. A masterful, melodic spin through Brit-pop history, delivered in rogue Glaswegian wonder. "Stand" is a little different. These tracks sound like the work of a band that's grown tighter on the road, which means the playing is muscular and powerful. The trade off is that something was lost in terms of economy in arrangement (read: songs are roughly four minutes
each, instead of three). But on balance it all works out.
These tunes have a rakish Faces quality, telling tales
of young men on the town, and the prowl. Rest assured.
Gradually, the songs sink in. And the same old charm
rubs off. Another pop masterpiece from one helluva band.

Gurus - Now
The Gurus hail from Barcelona. They sing in the Lengua Franca of rock and roll, though - English, duh! Their palette is unselfconsciously diverse in a way that few American or British bands match. They veer wildly from Beatlesque/Freakbeat stylings to power trio blasts that cover territory from Rory Gallagher to the Pixies and Nirvana.  They pull off Badfinger inspired pop harmonies, but muscle up on tracks like their cover of the Doors "Roadhouse Blues," which barrels down the track like some bastard child of Motorhead and early Patti Smith Group. Throughout, the Gurus play and sing with abandon and authority. More proof that the future of honest to God rock and roll music may be with cats that use English as a second language.

Simply Saucer – Half Human/Half Live
Simply Saucer was one of the great lost bands of the Seventies. They fused the Velvet Underground's dark jangle and noise with the spaced out explorations of Syd Barrett days Pink Floyd and the out of joint rhythms of Captain Beefheart's Magic Band, yet Edgar Breau's vision had something that went beyond influence or pastiche. Emerging from the Hamilton, Ontario underground they were too far out for their surroundings and never had much of chance to emerge from them. Miraculously, "Half Human/Half Live" finds them thirty years on with sound and spirit very much intact. Half studio recordings of unreleased songs and half live freakouts, this long delayed second album impresses. And it would do so if there was no back-story whatsoever, if this were a brand new band the power of their music would be undeniable. Had they been from New York we would be recalling Simply Saucer alongside Television and the Voidoids.

Love Psychedelico – This is …
Love Psychedelico have been rocking Japan for a decade now, but "This is Love Psychedelico" is their first American release. They sing in both English and Japanese, shifting not only tongues, but frankly in and out of coherence. Small matter, however, with music this infectious. The pop world is clearly this duo's oyster, as they range unafraid from British Invasion charmers to Zep riffage and Fleetwood Mac harmonization. It's the kind of unlikely mix up of styles that seduces the otherwise circumspect critical mind. The reason: Love Psychedelico is just plain fun.

Santogold – s/t
Santi White has knocked around the music business for a while now. She did a & r work for Epic Records, recorded with a ska-punk band called Stiffed, and produced a record for rock, reggae, and r 'n' b synthesist Res. Under the artist/band name Santogold, her debut recording is an arresting mixture of Eighties rock (thinkCars), dance music grooves (comparisons to M.I.A. hold some water), with convincing vocals that cross Nina Simone with Karen O. While that all sounds pretty cool, what makes this a damn good record is the quality of the songs. These aren't dance tracks with vocals layered on, but organic, grooving, rocking tunes. She's going to catch fire, so you might as well get hip to her now.

Frank Black – Svn Fngrs
Let's be frank. Since Frank Black (Charles Thompson) went back to the persona of Black Francis with last year's pretty great "Bluefinger" he's been sounding more like his old band. That would be the Pixies, as seminal a band as there's been in the last twenty years. His solo journey has taken him through all sorts of idiom and imagery, through Nashville studio cats, and more trad Stones based rock and rolling. No longer the surrealist spewing youngster, B.F. has turned to bizarre myths and archetypes (Celtic mythology, Nuclear age balladry). It works. He sounds in a fervor, committed. The music, while Pixie-esque, is also spare, driving and Beefheartian in places. The man's perspective is singular and on "Svn Fngrs" he rocks. The world
is a better place, still, for Charles Thompson.

R.E.M. – Accelerate
This is widely touted as a return to form; and for the most part it is. The inward gaze that had dominated the band's release since the underrated 'New Adventures in Hi-Fi" approached  ennervation in the 2000's. When a band has been around as long as these gents it's impossible to evaluate a new release without comparison to their catalog. That established, this record stacks up nicely. It recalls the "Life's Rich Pageant" through "Green" days, no doubt. If anything, though, R.E.M. have taken a refresher in garage-punk values given the brevity and thrust of these songs. There are hooks aplenty, too . Some of Stipe's lyrics resonate wildly, as they do when he's on. And for the first time in about ten years R.E.M. rocks.Any questions?

Teenage Prayers – Everybody Says You’re the Best
Cool band. Grows on me every time I listen. This is produced by Steve Wynn, a man of abundantly good taste. Teenage Prayers remind more of Green on Red than any single band, distinctly American, but rooted in the loose swagger of the Rolling Stones. They are both hedonists and philsophes, ready for a good time and ready to reflect on its passing. From the salacious opener, “I Like It” to the Brechtian sway of the closing track “Spirit in a Can,” the Teenage Prayers havecrafted an album that does what the good ones do – it takes you on a journey that you’re happy to take again.

Neon Neon – Stainless Style
Someone  who actually listens to Eighties synth-fodder and pop starlet contempo-trash could tell you more about the curious roots of Neon Neon. I hear all that stuff, but I don’t care enough about it to call myself an expert. I’ll leave that hard work to someone with more time on their hands. My interest is pretty much inspired by being a fan of Gruff Rhys. As both solo artist and as chief architect of the multi-faceted sounds of the Super Furry Animals, Gruff is a modern marvel. He has the same ability that the Beatles had (back in the(ir) day) to pulls sounds from out of the air, plug them into his own aesthetic vision and makes something musical and fun out of it. With noted hip-hop producer
Boom Bip he’s done it again. How does he do it … where others have failed? Duh, by constructing real songs, with real tunes and smart lyrics to go with all the undoubtedly groovy sounds. This is danceable, provocative, catchy music. Pretty much guaranteed to please fans of, say, Beck or Gorillaz.

Big Dipper – Supercluster/The Big Dipper Anthology
Bill Goffrier left the Embarrassment, and Kansas, for Boston back in the mid-Eighties. Okay, the Embos had some swell tunes. Give’m their due. They are also sacred cows in Kansas because they were dweebs from Wichita who shone a bright, inspiring light to all their fellow dweebs in Newton and Chanute … message – yer weird …and we’re here to say it’s okay. This was less of a bulletin in Lawrence, frankly, where oddballs already had sanctuary. Still, plenty of immigrants to Lawrence were from Larned (or wherever) and the ‘Bos were adored by many, especially such newcomers to Paris on the Kaw (ha ha). Anyway, Big Dipper were even better. They took the same sensibility and added more hooks, better playing and suaver harmonies. Sorry, it’s true. Songs like “Faith Healer,”“She’s Fetching,” and “Bonnie” are about as good as it gets for Eighties vintage alterna-guitar music (no synths) … better than
Husker Du, buddy. Or Dinosaur Jr. That said, three discs is a little much. That’s the bad news. But the good news is better. And that’s most of ‘Supercluster’ is pretty great and even the filler goes down pretty good at $16.99 for three stinkin’ discs.

Antietam – Opus Mixtum
Leave it to Antietam to define an era. Even if it’s twenty years late. Tara Key and company have always played ruggedly defiant alternative guitar rock – some Yo La, a lot of Sonic Youth, if slightly less dissonant. “Opus,” like Husker’s “Zen Arcade” before it, is a sprawling, varied document. Songs like “Tambo Hope” and “RPM” are pleasantly pop informed, in fact there’s a general improvement in song craft from the band compared to their past work. And while they can tear it up with the best of them, the second disc features several acoustic numbers and even some engaging instrumentals. This is Antietam’s fifth record. They’ve had a rather casual release schedule over their twenty plus years together. The cool part is that they not only stuck to their guns, but that their marksmanship has matured, too.

Gutter Twins – Saturnalia
Grunge was a bunch of dreck mostly. Still, some good things were spawned from that hairy, flannel debacle. One was Mark Lanegan. His solo career, full of charmingly depressive music and built on a foundation of Cave and
Waits, has been consistently sharp and musical. His duet with Isobel
Campbell was just plain lovely, and one of 2006’s surprise delights.
Greg Dulli made searingly sleazy rock with Afghan Whigs – all Dream
Syndicate guitar drone and white boy mock-funk. His more recent stuff
with Twilight Singers has been sweeter, if no less sinister. Lanegan has
been an occasional guest. In fact, their musical roots and shared Sub Pop
history make this collaboration seem inevitable. There’s  just the right
mix of kindred spirits and friction between the two. “Saturnalia”
chronicles the joys and rigors of wrestling with the dark side with big,
sometimes lush, arrangements and imposing songs throughout.

Pale Moon Gang – s/t
If there’s such a genre as New York rock, the Pale Moon Gang are unashamedly its ambassadors. Richard Dev Greene and company are Lower East Siders who have cut their teeth on the sort of punk rock that pours out of Revolution records in the Village. There may be some Clash influence here, but for the most part it’s the sort of tight, sinewy Gotham punk associated with Johnny Thunders and the Stooges (they qualify as honorary New York rockers despite their Michigan roots). PMG even tackle Iggy’s “New Values,” which could have exposed their weaknesses, but instead showcases their strengths. They don’t transform it, but they aren’t humbled by it either; they confidently make it their own. Just like kids used to turf wars, I guess. This is meat and potatoes stuff, but if you’re looking to cop a great example of the enduring qualities of this sound – this may be your score. It’s a Kief’s exclusive. And it’s a cheapo $9.99.

The Dirtbombs - We Have You Surrounded
No Jim Diamond production. This time the neo-garage sounds of the 'Bombs are complemented with more obvious filets of soul and even a little techno edge. Mick Collins and crew seem thematically preoccupied with a world going to hell in a hand basket, so it's remarkable/cool that for the most part they still make social collapse sound like a party (think Talking Heads "Life DuringWartime"). As usual, they proffer an interesting cover, this time "Sherlock Holmes" by Sparks. The top of the record’s arc is "Wreck My Flow," a Dylan goes Flava rant about all the peoples f'in with Mick's mojo. This thick, darkly comic record should enhance yours.

Raveonettes - Lust, Lust, Lust
Or as one song incants "I know that you want the candy." Yup, that candy ... as in the album title. And implicitly that other candy, of street pharmacy style. Well, the Raveonettes have always done this dance. Here they do it a little louder and more desperately. The pleasant Jesus and Lou Reed Chainovertones of their earlier work are replaced here by a thicker assault that makes the implicit distortion of their first two albumsless adulterated. In fact, at low volume parts of "Lust" sort of disappear. In glorious full blast the honeyed contrast between their Velvets s/t (3rd) vocals and their "White Light" guitars (on eleven) is in stunning relief. If you like this band there's nothing here going to change your mind. Just turn it up.

Shelby Lynne - Just a Little Lovin'
This is sheer pleasure. Oh, sure there's a little heartbreak on the menu, too, but Lynne is such a wonderful singer that even pain turns into pleasure. "Lovin'" is in essence an homage to the great Dusty Springfield; in other words it's a love letter from one tremendous female singer to another. At first, honestly, I thought this record was a little shy on affect, or energy. Most of the sweeping neo-Spectorian productions of Dusty's early hits were replaced by gentle ensemble playing that sounded - sorry, almost lounge-y. But I've been wrong before. Further listening confirms the absolute rightness, even elegance, of what Shelby has done with these tunes. I suppose veteran producer Phil Ramone deserves a bit of credit, too. One caveat: The fade on "Willie and Laura Mae Jones" that obliterates the narrative arc of the song. That aside, tremendous stuff.

Black Crowes - Warpaint
The reunited Robinson Brothers have made their best record since "Southern Harmony and Musical Companion." Recruiting Luther Dickinson on guitar? Good idea, guys. He and Rich R. sound terrific together. Bro' Chris can spread the hippie-soul shtick a bit thick sometimes, but at his best he's truly one of the most soulful and elastic white dudes on the planet. He sounds great on "Warpaint." This album has a sanctified sensuality that's more than a little reminiscent of the Stone's masterpiece "Exile on Main Street" - not a reference I throw around casually. In a world of neutered college rock and cod-testerone metal madness it's not clear where a soulful, sexy little record like this fits in. The cool thing is that it doesn't. Buck the trends, dance with one hand waving free, kids.

Efterklang - Parades
I have no idea how many people are in this band. I don't know what to compare them to. Of course I could throw out some reference points but they'd just be grasping Pitchforkian double-speak. Since I have no ready critical framework for this music it makes meta-critical reference beside the point. The simple fact is that it's distinctly musical and moving. These Danes thrive on epic pop constructions, making liberal use of massed choir vocal moves and gorgeous orchestral passages. Honestly, 95% of the music that sounds vaguely like Efterklang is convoluted crap. What makes this different? Not really understanding is part of the enjoyment. "Parades" carries you, sweeps over you. And leaves you feeling like you've arrived at some place different when it's over. Sometimes you just have to follow the music.

Super Furry Animals – Hey Venus
Our old faves the Super Furries have done it again. “Hey Venus” brims with melody and invention. Gruff Rhys and friends can write and produce beautiful pop tunes like “Run Away” and “Show Your Hand,” songs that are Top of the Pops in a perfect world. They typically mix in some oddball charmers, in this case the quasi-round “Baby Ate My Eight Ball” or “Noo Consumer” with its syncopated rhythms and sing-song (along) choruses. The albums peaks with “Suckers,” simply a great tune about, well, all of us – simultaneously sour and hopeful The Furries are always playful and innovative; they don’t disappoint here. Quite simply, likethe Beatles or XTC before them, the Super Furry Animals are a model for rock’s capacity to absorb new and varied ideas and synthesize them in fascinating and entertaining ways. These Welsh dudes are simply …
…  brilliant.

Cococoma – s/t
The blueprint for the Cococoma is simple. Take the Sixties garage idiom as defined by the ‘Nuggets” collection, with its roots in everything from
stalwarts like Them (or Paul Revere and the Raiders) to innumerable one hit wonders and turbo-charge it with the speed and nervous energy of
post-Nuggets outfits like the Modern Lovers and the Lyres. On the vocal end, abandon any attachment to Sixties hit radio aspirations in favor of something closer to Bill Roe’s mutated Richard Hell yelp. All the signifiers are here – plentiful Farfisa organ touches, guitars with natural tube distortion and songs that make their point quick and split. For more contemporary references think bands like Viva American Death Ray. In other words,  there’s nothing groundbreaking here, but it’s  guaranteed kicks for lovers of the genre.

Vampire Weekend  - s/t
Four rich boys from Columbia University with a Pitchfork Almighty buzz. Just the kinda thing I'm inclined to dismiss. Except that this is pretty darn good. Imagine the Strokes if they were devotees of Afro-pop rather than Reed and Verlaine. And the comparison holds up because beneath the stylistic maneuvering in each case there are solid, likable pop songs. Vampire Weekend's bright, attractive sound also recalls the Talking Heads, although Ezra Koenig seems a blithe spirit compared to David Bryne's sometimes vein popping angst. As a lyricist he has his rich boy cake and eats it too, neither denying nor reveling in his clean cut superiority (frank, everyday observations honestly rooted in the quad of an Ivy League school). Instead, he and his band make warm, inviting music that might just charm its way into lots of collections.

Paul Metzger - Deliverance
Well, there aren't too many guys playing a modified, treated 21-string banjo to whom one can compare Paul Metzger. While Metzger's instrument has the percussive plink of the banjo it also can sound like a tenor guitar or a sitar. Conceptually, I think it's safe to say that he's a descendant of string players like Sandy Bull, John Fahey and Robbie Basho, all of whom mixed the American Delta and Appalachia with North Africa and India. Metzger's works sound like improvisation from someone with a natural compositional grace. The ultimate effect is music that unfolds, sometimes sequentially, sometimes aleatorically and that reflects all the above influences without mimicking them. You can furrow your brow listening to this music if you want, but its ultimate rewards come when you 'turn off your mind, relax, and float downstream." Deliverance … yeah.

Fleshtones – Take a Good Look
The Fleshtones have always rocked hard and good humored. They've been playing their own version of party rock since the late Seventies and their basic mission is unchanged - to provide a good time to fans who like frat rock with a blown mind - "Louie Louie" on a crash course with the counterculture.. Peter Zaremba's is the wry perspective of one who's chosen a life on the bohemian fringe. In his fifties he's both defiant and reflective. Musically, he, guitarist Keith Streng and company are as focused as they've been in years. At their worst (which is still big fun) the 'Tones have descende into surf and garage clichés. At their best (here) they keep the guitars aggressive and the energy level just a little crazed. Ivan Julian (of Voidoids, etc. fame) gets great sounds and great performances from one of rock's unheralded heroes - the Fleshtones.

Lightspeed Champion – Falling Off the Lavender Bridge
Dev Hynes is a true product of our times. He's an African-American, but raised in Britain (he lives in London). He played guitar in the dance-noise outfit Test Icicles. He loves country music. And hip-hop, especially. But as Lightspeed Champion (a fictional doppelganger with super heroic dimensions) what does he do? He writes beautiful, personal songs and performs them in baroque pop and folk-country settings. He records in Omaha with various Saddle Creek types. There's no reason why "Falling Off the Lavender Bridge" shouldn't appeal to fans of Conor Oberst, Sufjan Stevens, or M.Ward. But the fact is that there's a humor, vulgarity even, at the core of Hyne's art that's looser and more touching than any of those indie icons.

Giantess – s/t
Once the Battles, Giantess surrendered the name to another Battles whose fine, but very different, sound, was responsible for one of 2007’s indie fave discs “Mirrored.” Oh, the hardship. Yet they toil in obscurity, which is too bad since they’re really good. Giantess is rooted in the Kinks. And early Wings. There are also echoes of Big Star and the Velvet Underground in their sound. It all adds up to appealing, slightly oblique, pop with sharp wordplay and sly arrangements that rock out without diving into cliché. Ted Hamilton, in word and voice, reminds of Scott Miller who led the at once snarky and endearing Game Theory and Loud Family. A more contemporary, and (still) fair, comparison might be Britt Daniels. Sure, there are some Spoon-isms here, but Giantess is broader, bashier. And less David Byrne twitchy. In fact, it’s hard to believe that we live in a world where music like this isn’t immediately accessible and widely enjoyed. Sadly, we do.

Sick Fits – s/t
Hailing from Ottawa, Canada the Sick Fits started life as yet another band desperate to evoke the spirits of ’77. You know, punk rock. Buzzsaw guitars. Jeans with holes. Great stuff it was, and is; but you can buy the uniform at too many malls, so the Fits decided to dig a little deeper. Not much, but a little. So, they glommed onto the glory of early Seventies rock, the sounds that gave birth to a revolution (punk, finally). Damned if they haven’t learned their lessons well. This rocks. Granted, the “Aladdin Sane”/”Kill City” (Iggy – down and out in L.A.) vibe is so thick you could cut it with David Johnansen’s tongue. And sometimes the re-writes are pretty transparent (“Every Day is Sunday” could sue Bowie’s “Watch That Man” for paterntity). Screw it, though. This is fun, fun stuff – evocative of a day when rock was sexy and sly, before Motley Crue and those numbskulls turned sex into sleaze and legions of mall punks turned punk into emo and drained all the humor, joy and mojo out of it.

Lewis & Clarke – Blasts of Holy Birth
Rather symphonic pop, sumptuous stuff. The lyrics here, while intelligent, are not the thing. Nope, the music here does the talking, if you will. These intimations of the frontier and journeys undertaken are tone poems of a sort, climaxing with “Be The Air We Breathe,” its conversation in strings providing a nice balance to the more guitar driven “Black Dove.” Lou Rogai and friends could make “Blasts of Holy Birth” as pretentious as the title itself if they were compelled by a more prosaic execution of their naturalistic vision. Finally, said vision is as vast and enveloping as the North America discovered by the “band’s’ namesake, yet Lewis and Clarke make their case with music
as discreet as it is big.

Damon & Naomi – Within These Walls
Described by the artists as “ballads in a lonely mood,” ‘Within These Walls’ is quiet, conversational music that serves as both environment and as something more prepossessing (if you take time to absorb it). Damon and Naomi extend the spare, enveloping sound of their old band Galaxie 500 with music that’s as intimate as friend wordlessly bringing you a cup of coffee on a cold winter’s day. Finally, though, as contemplative as this music can be, it’s hardly easy listening. Guitarist Michio Kurihara (a frequent collaborator from the group Ghost) weaves
guitar lines, some melodic, some blistering, throughout these songs like a Greek chorus or a quietly made argument. Occasional strings and horns also enter Damon and Naomi’s (songs) conversations about isolation, heartache and hard truths. A bittersweet take on the traditional folk tune “The Trees They Do Grow High” culminates this resolute, quietly beautiful recital.

Phosphorescent - Pride
Matthew Houck and who/whatever else is Phosphorescent seems torn between realizing their own slack version of Brian Wilson’s teenage symphonies to God and the cod grad school Americana of Will Oldham (or whomever he/it is this week). But, heck, it’s all something blowin’ in the Pitchfork wind, I reckon. What makes this somehow more compelling than another Neutral Milk Hotel homage or just another Animal Collective record is the “Tonight’s the Night” comedown of “Cocaine Lights,” and Houck’s resolute insistence on balancing the beautiful and the harrowing – until the latter strides off hand in hand with the former. Which is another way of saying that Phosphorescent manages to pull of a vocal drone to rival Reed and Cale’s string-saw work – you know, first it’s grating then you can’t stop listening to it.

Claudius Linton – Reggae Master
Claudius Linton is one of those reggae singers that no one outside of Jamaica and the hard core reggae fan knows much about. But like rhythm and blues masters James Carr and Howard Tate, he was (and remains) beloved by his peers, including the late Bob Marley. He’s allegedly preparing a new, comeback record; this is a sixteen track compilation of his work from the late Seventies. It includes the Jamaican
hit “Crying Time,’ and other Linton calling cards like “Backra-Massa” and “Twentieth Century.” The backing is from top flight studio cats from reggae’s heyday and the singing is nonpareil, from testimonials to Jah to sweet lovers rock sounds. Any fan of great reggae vocalizing should check out Claudius.

Michael Yonkers & The Blind Shake – Carbohydrates Hydrocarbons
Michael Yonkers is a cult fave whose less than widely known work dated back to the Seventies. Sub Pop resurrected him a couple years back, and his bedsit psych-skronk sat well with a new generation of the alienated. Having resumed performance, this set takes to the studio the energy and tension created on stage with the Twin Cities noise merchants Blind Shake. Easy listening it’s not. What it has in spades is a doomed (n)e(u)roticism that’s as thick as Black Sabbath and as psych damaged as Pere Ubu. In fact, Yonkers strained, barely contained vocals recall the latter’s David Thomas as much as anything. In the racket department these misfits stack up to Sonic Youth or newer captains of distortion like Places to Bury Strangers. Okay, these guys are committed. And they probably should be. Committed, that is. In other words they make And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead sound like a band with too many words in their name. This righteous distorto-fest is released on the GoJohnnyGo label. Anything to do with the estimable Mr. John Kass is okay in Kief’s book.

Voice of the Seven Woods – s/t
Rick Tomlinson touches all the bases. As Voice of the Seven Woods, Tomlinson and cohorts aim to take you on a trip. A good one. Ya know, there’s been an explosion of neo-psychedelic stuff in the last few years. As curious, engaged record store folk we’ve had the occasion to sample widely from this emerging genre. One size does not fit all. Most of it, frankly, is aimless, tuneless drivel. Wow, just like THE FIRST TIME. And some of it, from certain Acid Mothers Temple releases to the more acoustic wood-psych of Nick Castro, is pretty brilliant. So is VOTSA.
Widely and wildly ranging stylistically, VOTSA’s journey includes stops in the forest of British folk spirit (from Davey Graham to, I’m guessing, the Incredible String Band), then at the Krautrock rail station, before bedding  down with Frippertronics after a night of dervish abandon with the step children of Indian and Moroccan music. Actual melodies are developed, rhythms are insistent and compelling. In other words, this is adventurous, exploratory music that works.

Fields – Everything Last Winter 
Fields are shoegazer and beyond. For while theirs is a dense sound
dominated by multi-track guitars (from delicate acoustic to howling feedback), it is also finely wrought and detailed, subtly incorporating strings, horns, synths and the kitchen sink.  The tone of many of these songs recalls the days when House of Love were brilliant. Ride also comes to mind as an influence. My Bloody Valentine? Yeah, I guess, but not so much. This band can sing well. Oh, how that helps. Thorunn Antonia, in particular, is an arresting singer, with her fire and ice voice that summons comparison to everyone from Sandy Denny to Nico. Field’s ensemble vocals create sweet and dour harmonies akin to both Low and Joy Zipper. Michael Beinhorn’s production is brilliantly detailed, capturing all the subtle (and dramatic) qualities of Field’s songs and arrangements. I came to this late in 2007, but in hindsight “Everything Last Winter” is looking like one of last year’s most striking releases.

Plastiscines – lp1
Welcome to another segment of Lafayette’s revision. Yup, another cool, rockin’ record by a French group. Who knew? These four Parisian ladies are candy floss Elastica. Their music generates
comparison to classic punk, and their influences range from the angular drive of Wire to the pop propulsion of the Buzzcocks, and from the messaround dance grooves of the B 52’s to X (Billy Zoom-ish guitar moves). They sing some of them in French. And some in English. And it just don’t matter because it’s all full of energy and melody. Short songs - sharp and tons of fun.

Jose Gonzalez - In Our Nature
Argentine born, Swedish raised, Gonzalez is a singer-songwriter and interpreter (one of the most arresting songs here is a cover of Massive Attack's "Teardrop") whose guitar palette and gentle, but captivating voice make him unique among the nu-folk crowd. He may superficially resemble everyone from John Smarty to Nick Drake to Elliott Smith, but his weave of alternately delicate and brutal guitar sounds with subtle electronics and bossa nova carries his art into an idiom all its own. Beneath the seductive and insinuating purr of this music are anti-war sentiment and attacks on religion. "Nature" moves deftly from the pastoral to the passionate with a cool, seamless drive that never lets up.

Emma Pollock - Watch the Fireworks
Her indie credentials impeccable (former Delgado, co-founder of Chemikal Underground label, here Emma takes aim at the market, or mainstream, or whatever. Not exactly dead aim, though. Nope, lurking underneath the sweetened pop arrangements and her guileless, unassumingly pleasant vocals are tales with much drama; the mother/grandmother tiff of "If the Silence Means That Much to You;'" the deathly take on a friend's anorexia ("Limbs"); the domestic violence in "New Land". Charming, lovely, and dark, too. Top songwriting, widescreen smart pop arrangements, and intelligent lyrics, nah - who'd be interested.

Steve has a review of the new Babyshambles record "Shotter's Nation" in the Kansas City Star ... read it here ...

http://www.kansascity.com/entertainment/music/story/344072.html

Ha Ha Tonka - Buckle in the Bible Belt
Named after some Missouri state park/lake, Springfield's Ha Ha Tonka are the best product out of scary southwest Missouri since the Bottlerockets. They share the 'Rockets working class roots, but Ha Ha's harmonies are more pop pristine, and their rueful musings on the the weird reality of mid-America are more obtusely poetic. They somehow manage to have fused alt-rock, heartland sounds and pop production values into an oddball, and effecting whole. It's appropriate that they are on the Bloodshot label, but beware (and this is a compliment), there's a left of center, Daniel Woodrell quality to this band that's not biscuits and gravy country-rock.

Richard and Linda Thompson - In Concert ... 1975
If you are among the enlightened minority who consider  Richard and Linda Thompson's work from the 1970's as some of the finest of that fractured era, you should pick this up now (get it over with) and walk to the counter. Only two of these songs have appeared (on the collection "Guitar/Vocal") previously; otherwise, this is a complete and completely convincing 1975 show. Thompson's dourly human songs are the sine qua non of the duo's brilliance, but their singing, especially Linda's, is sublime, and Richard's guitar work is that always thrilling combination of rock pyrotechnics, swinging phrasing and melody out of time. The disc is import priced, which is never fun in this day of the declining dollar, but it's worth it.

White Williams - Smoke
Take the synthesized, stylized take on black music that characterized Bowie, Eno, Roxy Music and Sparks and update it to the post hip-hop era and you have a pretty good idea what W. Williams is after. Where Beck makes obvious nods to the urban thing on the one hand and morose, introspective singer-songwriter moves on the other, Williams' mix is comparatively seamless - implicitly funky, but decidedly downbeat and chilled out as his cover of "Candy" demonstrates.
Now there's a song that's been done to death. And W.W. breathes spooky, slightly creepy life into the old sucker. Weird shades of the Velvet Underground even creep into the guitar work. Altogether, a fascinating, successful debut.

My Sister Klaus - Chateau Rouge
Actually, it's a guy (not really a band/not a female) - French dude named Guillame Teyssier. He's frankly all over the place, from Suicide/electro-dance tracks to three chord guitar jams. He's obviously a fan of the likes of Spacemen 3 and Jesus and Mary Chain, which means he also traffics in
their permutations of Spector pop. Really, though, the unifying vision here has mostly to do with a healthy worship of all things Velvet Underground/Lou Reed.
Such worship can be a formula for autodidact mediocrity, no doubt.
In MSK's case the songs and production manage to sound focused and
professional without losing any of the primitive tribal stomp at the
heart of this music.

Sterling Harrison - South of the Snooty Fox
You gotta wonder - how many marvelous rhythm and blues singers are there who never get their star time. The late Mr. Harrison could stand up tall next tomany more renowned r'n'b singers - from Tyrone Davis to O.V. Wright, to say nothing of Solomon Burke and Bobby Bland. He rings every last ounce of souland sexual tension out of Brook Benton's "I'll Take Care of You," owns such chestnuts as "Ain't Nobody Home" and "You Left the Water Running," and reads every nuance in Tom Waits' "The House Where Nobody Lives." If you are a fan of fine soul singing, add "South of the Snooty Fox" to your shelf.

Flying Burrito Brothers - Live at the Avalon Ballroom 1969
Ah, present at the birth of a legend. Fresh from his brief stint with the Byrds, Gram Parsons assembled the Burritos to pursue his version of a new country
music, a vision only half realized by the Byrds  "Sweetheart of the Rodeo." The Burritos mixed country songs (more culled nuggets than hits) with Parsons own plaintive songs. Their sound would have entertained in Bakersfield or Lubbock, but Sneaky Pete Kleinow's screaming steel guitar leads shook up traditional country, as did Gram's vulnerable, wounded vocals - more about expression than professionalism, as full of reverence for his sources as the suggestion of new possibilities. And there was yet no hint of how short Parson's journey would be.

Robert Plant/Alison Krauss - Raising Sand
The inevitable pairing. Just kidding. Percy the Metal invader/impaler meets the neo-bluegrass angel Alison. To cut to the chase - they sing just beautifully together, sometimes their blend is Everly Bros. close and endearing. The songs are all fine, especially the TWO Gene Clark ditties. T-Bone Burnett's production, while meticulous, is also a part-time party pooper with his insistence on keeping the whole stew down to a simmer. Some of these songs might've benefited from a bit more of Plant's sexual hysteria (i.e. rocked out more). Ah, but don't let me rain on this NPR parade, "Raising Sand" is a splendid meeting of two musical talents.

Moby Grape - s/t
Know about this record? It's one of the greatest debuts EVER. Five distinct singers. Three guitarists, each with a very different style, playing beautifully together and staying out of each other's hair. If some of the vibes sound hippie dated, remember this was San Francisco - 1967. A jam band they weren't - taut, discrete songs that pull all the same roots music strings as the Buffalo Springfield or the Grateful Dead, but with a straining at the bit energy that anticipates the MC5. Remastered too sound better than ever (wow, there's bass!), this Sundazed re-ish also features some early demos that crackle with Skip Spence's sheer manic intensity and hint at what a s*%t hot live act the Grape must've been.

Mannequin Men - Fresh Rot
Chicago lads who rock with a vengeance. They hang out with the likes of the Black Lips and the Ponys, two bands with whom they share some stuff, but their mix is all their own. Their myspace page answers the question "Sounds Like" with "everybody's pretty upset." Ha. And just about right. Lazy writers compare singer Kevin Richard with Mick Jagger. Okay...and so what...not quite...actually, he's more like a cross between a pissed off Peter Perrett (Only Ones) and Brother JT from the Original Sins (who always sounds pissed off, or "pretty upset."). Plenty of snotty, wounded workin' class attitude, well constructed songs and lean, mean playin'. They're the kind of guys who scoff at choosing between the Stooges and Creedence - their answer is both, just ask Richard Hell.

Daniel Higgs - Metemphyschotic Melodies
What the title says. Close recorded guitar from the more deranged wing of the John Fahey school of pan-American guitar - so close it sounds like it's treated, or a banjo, resembling the sound and approach of the great Sandy Bull. His long-ish compositions build wonderfully, ranging from the frenetic to the atmospheric without any obvious studs showing. Fans of everyone from the aforementioned Bull/Fahey to guitarists like Derek Bailey and Jack Rose should find much to dig about Mr. Higgs.

Redwalls - s/t
Pulling the eponymous title trick for a third album is pretty much an indication that the band feels this is representative, primo stuff. And they are pretty much right. The Redwalls sing with a Fab Four derived open throated joy and sentimentality (rather like Mando Diao) that's not exactly in fashion. Unlike their enjoyable, but tooooooo slick, second release on Capitol, this indie label third album was recorded basically live. In fact on a first listen the overdriven, compressed guitar sounds shock a bit - sounding kinda like a transistor radio really cranked (except that the robust vocals are crystal clear). Upon second...third...listenings it all makes sense. Beatles, Dylan, all the classic rock influences remain, but on this album the Redwalls don't sound like charming pastiche, rather a very talented band that's arriving at their own sound.

Black Lips - Good Bad Not Evil
Like the quotation from the Shangri-La's that gives their new album its name, these guys are a throwback that somehow achieves timelessness. Tuned to some surreal, phantasm of a Sixties radio show that plays everything from the Velvets to the Byrds to the Sir Douglas Quintet to Dion to Red Sovine, the Black Lips finally focus the agitation and energy of their early albums into a cogent, crazed and totally rockin' record. Start to finish, "Good Bad" will have you dancin', singin' along and swillin' whatever's handy. A definite candidate for the store top 10 of '07.

Tuung - Good Arrows
On their third release, Tuung sharpen their songwriting and focus their vaunted electronics in service to the songs. That's a good thing. One can only say so much with effects and sonic manipulations, ultimately it all gets back to tunes. Tuung's new material reflects the influence of everything from the Incredible String Band to Syd Barrett, as well as a kinship with the more pastoral side of the Super Furries. Electric guitars and modest nods toward rocking out integrate nicely with the band's oddly traditional countryside idyll. Pretty, charming, a nice trip.

Bettye LaVette - The Scene of the Crime
The magnificent revival of a great soul singer's career continues. Her last release, produced by Joe Henry, featured LaVette's scorched and seductive pipes trained on a fine collection of modern singer-songwriter material (Joan Armatrading, John Hiatt, etc.); it worked. This time, accompanied by the Drive By Truckers, she turns in a seamless, personal and soulful testament dominated by her own material. This might be playing if you wandered into the West Memphis roadhouse of your dreams. Except you can just hit 'play' again...and you don't have to pinch yourself.

Nyles Lannon - Pressure
Folktronica. Whatever that is. This guy sure gets that tag from the press. I guess all you need is love - and an acoustic guitar and a laptop. Anyway, Lannon, formerly of the band Film School, gets the combination right. Which is to say that the emphasis here is clearly on melody. And Lannon writes very compelling tunes. Between the ambient fuzz of the production (Kevin Shields producing the first McCartney solo?) and his opaque elocution the lyrics are a bit hard to make out, but what you can make out sounds resonantly contradictory to the seductive charm of the tunes. Elliott Smith, anyone?

Bruce Springsteen - Magic
These reviews must be brief. Had I more space, I'd tell you exactly why this is Springsteen's best record since "The River." In short, "Magic's" material is reflective of everything a Springsteen fan has ever loved about the artist. His politics make protest poetic. His commitment to the American ideal manages to breathe life into what often feels like a stale old joke. His love songs are all hard won pleasure, sinew and devotion. On songs like "Girls in Their Summer Clothes" Springsteen sounds renewed - like he's shed much of the weight of three decades of superstardom and he's back on the boardwalk at Jenkinson's. The great beast that is the E Street Band roars again after the suppressed slog that was "The Rising." Brendan O'Brien's sludgy, compressed production occasionally obscures their parts and dulls their roar, but so it goes. When a record succeeds on so many levels, one can only heap so much scorn on the producer.

Thurston Moore - Trees Outside the Academy
A weird little solo salvo that works better than it has a right to. This isn't Sonic Youth. The voice is recognizable; it's not as if Thurston lapses into some assumed country drawl or precious neo-folkisms, but this is a song suite dominated by acoustic guitar, Steve Shelley's always stellar drumming, and Samara Lubelski's sonorous violin. It's oddly reminiscent of Nirvana's acoustic contrarian side (think "All Apologies"), and somehow evocative of some bizarre Lower Broadway take on the slipstream of Van Morrison's "Astral Weeks." J Mascis shows up every once in awhile for some oddly appropriate guitar rippin'. And Thurston segues with some gratuitous sonic skronk occasionally, too - just because he can.

Oakley Hall - I'll Follow You
We've championed these guys for awhile. Had an in-store last October. They were brilliant; the turnout was so-so (sometimes you guys take your time listening to us). Ah, but yes, we planted the seed. And their last record "Gypsum Strings" wound up selling quite nicely for us (and you). Their new album, and first on Merge, is mostly a step forward. It lacks some of the manic, folk kineticism of "Gypsum." Some of the songs seduce a little slower. But be patient, this album insinuates itself with repeated listening. The band's psychedelic tendencies (think Jefferson Airplane/Moby Grape) always accelerate the music, rather than dissolve it. While still sounding quintessentially American, Pat Sullivan and the band sound for all the world like vintage Fairport Convention with their mix of swirling guitars and fiddle and blend of fine male and female voices. An assured record from what's becoming a great band.

Taken By Trees - Open Field
There's something almost heartbreaking about the quality of Victoria Bergsman's voice. Immediately distinctive, it was at the center of the Concretes' self-titled, and best, record from 2004. Sure, it's recognizable from some damn I-pod commercial, and from her cameo on Peter Bjorn and John's "Young Folks." But "Open Field" is the clearest declaration of Bergsman's own musical vision. At turns sweet and acerbic, it's chamber pop blend is compelling, but never demanding. In fact, it has a spontaneous, offbeat charm that's best enjoyed in a quiet space with its instrumentation, both folk-ish and orchestral. Bergsman's voice, whether expressing loneliness or joy, has a consistently yearning quality that haunts and compels. Fans of everything from El Perro del Mar to Nick Drake should find something to love about Taken By Trees.

Black Francis - Bluefinger
Prolific, always good, often tremendous - Black Francis (or Frank Black) is one of modern rock's greatest resources. For fronting the Pixies alone he'd be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame of the post-rock mind. That his solo career has, while not without its ups and downs, been an embarrassment of riches is frankly (ha) the icing on the cake. His work the the Catholics may have been sufficiently rock-traditional to have warranted the shift in identity from Black Francis to Frank Black, but his version of rock orthodoxy was still plenty, and enjoyable, weird. For "Bluefinger" the shift back to the Black Francis identity will be made much of in the Pitchfork circles, and while some of this music is a direct line back to the Pixies it also has plenty in common and continuity with Frank's solo work. Actually, with Black as the sole guitarist, this record has a tough, spare quality that's even rawer than most Pixies music. He's an expressive, arresting and oddball singer - as you know. These songs, if inconsistent, are mostly terrific - manic, oblique and oddly personal...like Frank Black. Hey, he's one of a kind - and he's on top of his game here in a way he hasn't been since the first two albums with the Catholics.

Chesterfield Kings - Psychedelic Sunrise
Alright, the title sounds like some sort of hippie smoothie drink. But the Chesterfield Kings always bring the rock, and it's a rock that's suffused in brooding, even malevolent shades of late Sixties Stones. Some of their records are straight out of the suburban garage. Others are a little more acid-laced. "Psychedelic Sunrise" features a consistently engaging tune stack and may be a definitive record in their twenty-five year history precisely because it's the apotheosis of their blend of garage snarl and swirling dervish sounds. Released on Little Steven's Wicked Cool, this is as good a place to start.

Okkervil River - The Stage Names
Okkervil River exemplify nearly everything that drives me nuts about indie rock these days. They are self-referential, self-obsessed and histrionic. So, of course I hate their new album, "The Stage Names."
Except I don't. Even if they aren't always a good time, like the Arcade Fire they bring their passions past a simmer, which separates them from a gazillion Will Oldham adherents. In fact, the band almost rocks out in places, in a loose, refreshingly unhinged way. Lyrically, "Stage" is pretty much a concept album about being an indie rock band. Oh God help us. Amazingly, beyond the self-reference and obsession Will Sheff is also an astute, frank observer with a way with words. Guys who reference the poet John Berryman and re-write "Sloop John B" are never going to break the college club ceiling. But in this case it's okay.

Tough & Lovely - Teardrops
Tough and Lovely come to us from Spoonful Records, a label out Columbus, Ohio with an ear for offbeat garage sounds. Their two previous albums didn't sell me, but "Teardrops" does. Chief songwriter and guitarist Andrew Robertson works some of the same turf as the the Reigning Sound's Greg Cartwright - new twists on old r 'n' b formulas, and he does it convincingly. As much as one might balk at the whole R.I.Y.L. (Recommended If You Like) construct, it's safe to say that if you like the Reigning Sound, Detroit Cobras, Thee Shams or Mary Weiss, Tough and Lovely will do the trick for you. Singer Lara Yazvac is the real deal maker here. Unlike so many garage-soul belters she's a bit subdued, but her sultry approach is refreshing (a dash of Debbie Harry to temper the usual soul sistuh sounds), and she can belt it out tough when the material requires it.

Butane Variations - s/t
Butane Variations. Another band of Brooklynites hoping to avoid honest work. If sheer musicality is any criterion they might just do it. What do we have here? Smart, tuneful songs and arrangements for junk shop Epiphones, steel guitar, cello and spacey keyboards. Knee-jerk categorizers will reach quickly for the alt-country tag, but they're about as country as Simon and Garfunkel. Sure, their harmonies recall the Jayhawks, but their vision of things and their loose-limbed playing are straight outta Pavement. And like Pavement they sound like they listen to each other and their songs have a cagey way of drawing you in.

The Blakes - s/t (EP)
Reissues by Karen Dalton and Betty Davis demonstrated the Light in the Attic label's good taste in music from yesteryear. Along with Nicole Willis and the Black Angels, LITA's signing of the Blakes shows they know what sounds good today, too. The Blakes are hard to nail down, which makes them plenty fun and interesting. Their sound careens from short, sharp punk-pop tunes ("Magoo") to pop takes on Eighties Will
Sargeant/The Edge sounds ("Streets"), to neo-freakbeat ("Die"), to the Vines-go-psychedelic Fab Four sound of "Village Green." The tunes are all concise. For all their stylistic cops and diversity the band's sound is seamless, rockin' and sounds less self-conscious than it probably is. If they can construct an entire album as cool as this EP we'll be in for a treat.

The Raspberries - Live on the Sunset Strip
Okay, the 'Berries probably don't have any more hipster cred now than they did in their heyday. Back then, their sound, which cunningly, convincingly and sometimes originally synthesized the Beatles, Beach Boys, Who and Small Faces, was considered teeny-bop by all the addled beardies lost in the pot fog of blooze guitar and drum solos. Their loss. Today it can be yours. It can if you don't check out this record. Thirty years on these guys still sound absolutely great. Culling the best material from their four fine early Seventies releases, the Raspberries rock the house. Alright, a few of the harmonies augmented by musical extras add a tiny bit of cheese (and one or two of Dave Smalley's Eagles-y songs wear out their welcome a little quick), but for the most part the great songs and inspired playing rule the day. Wally Bryson masterfully combines the sounds of Harrison, Townshend, Marriott, and McGuinn. Jim Bonfanti is a monster drummer - the missing link between Keith Moon and Max Weinberg. And damned if Eric Carmen can't still sing his ass off. Are there better combinations of hard-rockin and power-pop tunefulness than "Tonight" and "Ecstasy?" I don't think so. These guys should be mentioned in the same breath as Big Star, but because they had more commercial success and fewer drug problems they missed out. Don't let the image nonsense burn you, this is really good stuff.

Rich Boys - s/t
From Kansas City's Northland comes an honest to God rock and roll band. Mitch Rich and the boys definitely have some New York Dolls attitude, but their sonic vocabulary is mostly pre-Thunders. In fact, their ensemble playing recalls "Teenage Head" era Flamin' Groovies more than anything. And that's to say they have plenty of Chuck Berry and pre-Altamont Stones moves in their back pocket. Where in the hell these kids learned this stuff I have no idea, but I intend to find out. Ten songs, twenty-five minutes - chockfull of cool guitar riffin', catchy keyboard sprinkles and Mitch's snot-nosed Nuggets vintage vocal shots. They play it hot, passionate and all the way for fun; in other words, they are the antidote to the prevalent college radio narcissistic sissies who poison the great spring of rock and roll waters. If you want to rock, the Rich Boys are your guys.

1990s - Cookies
John McKeown slogged it out on the British indie circuit for several years with his band Yummy Fur. Tired of the grind, McKeown retreated to his home turf in Glasgow. When he put together the 1990s with drummer Michael McGaughrin (ex-V-Twin) it was to play spunky back up to the outré former singer from Can, Damo Suzuki. Supporting Suzuki had its ups and downs, but the two musicians enjoyed playing together. Bored with the forced eccentricities of alternative culture, they decided to play for nothing but fun.

The fun is contagious. "Cookies" sounds like what it is - a party. Driven to capture the incandescent spirit of seventies punk rock, the 1990s deliver a transatlantic pop-punk blend that's equal parts Voidoids and Undertones. THe songs are about drugs, girls, and the vicissitudes of street life sung in McKeown's Richard Hell yelp, assisted by plenty of sassy harmonies and response vocals from McGaughrin and dissing New York ("Chelsea Hotel didn't ring my bell:), others address the bored ambivalence of mall adolescents ("Arcade Precinct:). "Cult Status" celebrates underground celebrity with a lascivious sneer.

The songs sound spontaneous, slapped together, yet they're very well crafted. As a guitarist McKeown is a sharp rhythm player and while he's no virtuoso, he can approximate a more guttural Tom Verlaine to mesmerizing effect, as he does so well on the party jam that closes the album, "Situation."

The 1990s bear some resemblance to Franz Ferdinand, who include two members of McKeown's old band Yummy Fur, but a looser, swaggering Franz - A Franz Ferdinand that swallowed an Alex Chilton record.

Aliens - Astronomy for Dogs
About the title...like the unlikely collision of styles and elements that make this record a success, one asks 'why not?' These former, founding members of The Beta Band retain the synthesis of songwriting and sonic exploration that characterized the old band, but with a refreshing emphasis on the former. The band's essence is Sixties psychedelia (Syd Barrett, Soft Machine, oh yeah - The Beatles) delivered with whimsy and a deep groove.

Manic Street Preachers - Send Away the Tigers
Their eighth album. The Manics have done it all - hard rock, glam, punk, sweeping balladry, you name it. Oh, everything except break the American market. James Dean Bradfield is that rare singer - a big voiced arena rock vocalist who doesn't suck. As a guitarist, he's Slash with punk guts and more melodic sensibility. Like "Everything Must Go," the terrific fourth album that followed Richey Manic's disappearance, "Tigers" combines everything the Manics do well - find a catchier tune than "Your Love is Not Enough." Dig the rocking loser anthem "Underdogs." It's all here - if you don't know the Manics this is a fine place to start to check out one of Britain's (they're Welsh, you know) greatest bands.

Gore Gore Girls - Get the Gore
The cool album these ladies have been threatening to make. Sheer devotion to and love of the garage rock and girl group idioms that inspire the Gore Gore Girls curbs any inevitable tendencies toward mannerism. "Pleasure Unit," with Kim Fowley lyrics no less, has to be a tongue in cheek take on the Runaways, sure, but the down and dirty "You Lied to Me Before" and the sassy "All Grown Up" are so fresh that the GGG make everything that's old about this music sound new again. Inevitably, girl bands in the garage idiom are better at one thing (girl group/garage rock) than another. The GGG bring both this time.

Ike Reilly - We Belong to the Staggering Evening
This is Ike's fourth album, and probably his best (although his debut "Salesmen and Racists" was pretty darn good, too). An Irish boy from Chicago, Ike is irreverent, politically charged (and sometimes "incorrect"), and determined to play it his way. Both poetic and plain spoken, Reilly fuses many of the same diverse sylistic elements as Beck, but where Mr. B. Hansen is cool, Mr. I. Reilly is hot blooded and not afraid to go overthe top. Most at home as a child of mid-Sixties Dylan speed lyric and blues-rock foundations, Reilly can also turn up the amps and go post-punk and Seattle sludge on ya. He has the top down openness and exhilaration of Springsteen before all the cares of the world fell on his shoulders. Ike Reilly writes fine songs and plays them for keeps. You need something more?

Brimstone Howl - Guts of Steel
These sons of Lincoln (Nebraska, that is) rock. No Saddle Creek bedsit bookishness for these lads. "Guts" is actually the band's third release, but the first on a well distributed inide - Alive. The youngsters are well served by the just right mid-fi production of the Black Key's Dan Auerbach. Unlike the dourly rockin' Black Keys, Brimstone Howl crackle with energy. Their fusion of blues feel and punk drive is reminiscent of the Gun Club, and at times they remind of a midwest American version of Billy Childish's various ensembles. They aren't afraid to get down and dirty. And refreshingly, they are afraid to slam a hooky chorus right in your face. Fans of bands from the Black Keys to the Black Lips to the Reigning Sound would do well to check these guys out.

Automatic Automatic - Not Accepted Anywhere
Well, here they are. In Wales they are just known as the Automatic. The doubling up in the U.S. undoubtedly having to do with some obscure legal nonsense.By any name this is an exciting band. They describe themselves, in part, as mixing influences from Blur to the Blood Brothers. Sounds strange, but it works because Automatic have catchy, arresting songs (like Blur) and youthful, manic energy (like the Blood Brothers). With their mix of pop vocals and screamo call and response they sometimes remind of a Brit-pop version of At the Drive In. If you grew up with the emo genre, but wished that emo bands were more interesting, varied and had better songs (c'mon, you know you have), Automatic Automatic may just be your answer.

Dilettantes - 101 Tambourines
If trippy Sixties B-movies had better music they might hvave sounded like the Dilettantes. Okay, that's not quite fair, to the Dilettantes, that is. Because along with the Sunset Strip/Byrds influences there's plenty of Lou Reed and even Roxy Music gestures. Joel Gion, from the Brian Jonestown Massacre - and arguably the 'star' of 'DIG' - emerges from that band's debacle in smashing fashion. Not only does he write or co-write most of the material, but he shares lead vocal duties. Not bad for a guy who seemed like just an amiable good with a tambourine. The songs all basically speak to the pleasures and discontents of the bohemian outsider. Like they say - write what you know.

King Khan and the Shrines - What Is
Wow. His collaboration with BBQ doesn't exactly prepare you for this. Oh, the voice and guitar are familiar, but the context is way different. The Shrines are a veritable big band by comparison and King makes full use of their versatility and firepower for a dynamite ensemble sound that careens from Velvet Underground slither to Georgia funk to Zappa-like craziness to  Sun Ra-style jazz explorations that take full advantage of the band's excellent horn players. Where King Khan and BBQ revel in the argot of juke joint ribaldry and excess, these songs feature a decidedly wider subject range. Mostly though, and what you need to know is ... this rocks, it funks, it swings - it's an eclectic and free ranging delight from an artist who appears to have more tricks up his sleeve than
anyone may have thought.

Two Gallants - The Scenery of Farewell
A departure from their usual electric fare, "Farewell" is a mostly acoustic affair featuring the duo's harmonies (they sound kinda like two Willie Niles), guitarsand some decidely Dylanesque harmonica. The songs are rambling and melodic at the same time, again reminiscent of much of Dylan's output. In fact, at points this long-ish EP sounds like the Everlys tackling "Blood on the Tracks." It will be interesting to see what impact this fine departure has on their upcoming full-length.

Porter Wagoner – Wagonmaster
Epitaph does it again. First Joe Henry brilliantly revitalizes the careers of soul stalwarts like Solomon Burke and Bettye Lavette. Then Ry Cooder helps Mavis Staples make the best record she’s made it ages. This time Marty Stuart lends a hand to the one of the kings of Country music, Mr. Porter Wagoner. Surrounded by spirited playing that’s both adventurous and true to the original
spirit of the music and Stuart’s impeccable production. “Wagonmaster” is a roots music tour de force from a fine artist that most of the world had forgotten. If you love country music this set is a no-brainer. If you’ve never heard Porter Wagoner, this is a wonderful introduction. The man who once had his own national television show, and who introduced the world to Dolly Parton is still a formidable presence.

Mark Sultan - The Sultanic Verses
Some of what you'd expect from BBQ. And plenty that you might not. There's plenty of his one man show stuff, equal parts busk and howl, Velvet Underground and doo-wop. Sultan also branches out into some multi-track stuff, almost experimental, with a distinctly different vibe. The songs are good, the performances inspired and the varied production styles are unified by his retro-futuristic rock vision. Any fan of his work with King Khan will find 'Sultanic' rewarding.

The View - Hats Off to the Buskers
This one was in our "We Like" section months ago as an import. If you didn't grab it then, now is the time with a domestic release and a measly $9.99 sale price. This is simply a great rock band record. Definitely descendants of the Libertines influence, but with a Scots vibe and a true personality all their own. "Superstar Tradesman" and "Wasted Little DJs," the latter with its oddball, but brilliant Pig Latin chorus, approach pop-punk perfection. Tracks like "Claudia" with it's McCartneysque melody and gentle syncopation/swing evidence the young band's versatility. Don't fail to appreciate the View.

Mando Diao - Ode to Ochrasy
2004's "Hurricane Bar" was one of that year's best rock and roll records. Over the first several listenings, "Ode" didn't quite measure up. But know what? It's starting to sound better everyday. Bjorn Dixgard sings with a refreshingly uncool passion. Gustaf Noren is his perfect balance, almost a Lennon to Dixgard's McCartney. The comparison isn't specious, either. Mando Diao bring the bristling vibe of Hamburg '62 into the sonics and spirit of 2007. From the full-bore rockers like "Good Morning, Herr Horst" and "Long Before Rock 'n' Roll" to the elegant balladry of "The New Boy," Mando Diao have delivered a third tremendous album. Unimpeded by the cynical cool of American alterna-nonsense, these Swedes sing and play like their lives depended on it.

Ian Hunter - Shrunken Heads
Hunter is what, by now, 65? Who cares. He still writes brilliant songs and he still rocks. His social critic eye is as sharp as ever, "Heads" is chock-a-block with sly commentary on consumerism, media bullcrap, and the decay of the American dream. Heavy? Oh, sometimes, but with sing-a-long melodies and great rock playing from Andy York and company, Ian Hunter's medicine goes down with ease indeed. The man who fronted Mott the Hoople, when they saved English rock from prog-pompousity in much the same way that the MC5, Stooges, and Flamin' Groovies did in America, is as ever a rocker, a trenchant lyricist, and entirely his own man

Alan Vega - Saturn Strip/Just a Million Dreams
Two albums for the price of one (pretty much). The singing half of the band Suicide has made some good solo music, too. "Dreams" is wee bit too much embedded in the Eighties, kinda Suicide-lite with oh-so 80's production values. Still, and all, entertaining. THE REAL REASON TO BUY THIS IS "Saturn Strip." Produced by the Cars' Ric Ocasek, "Strip" also features contributions from Ministry's Alan Jourgensen. It expands Vega's palette to include
Mark Kuch's guitar sounds, which make explicit Suicide's implied
connection between dance electronics and rock (and rockabilly).
Vega hiccups throughout in his best Bowery Elvis and the tunes
all groove.

Brakes - Beatific Visions
A second salvo of short, sharp songs from Eamon Hamilton and company. Unlike the dour, decidedly Anglo British Sea Power (his other band), the Brakes combine punkish energy with only slightly ironic country and hillbilly moves. Tunes like "Mobile Communication" would be right at home on a Loudon Wainwright or Belle and Sebastian record, but teamed with Pixies-punk blitzes like "Porcupine or Pineapple" (a shaggy anti-war rant) the Brakes smartly straddle political outrage and absurd kicks ("Spring Chicken").

Michael Cashmore - The Snow Abides
It's summer now. And, actually, this is winter music. But good art is good year round, and this is good stuff. Brew some coffee, shut the blinds and put on "The Snow Abides" and you'll be transported to a January of the mind. Cashmore's piano and string arrangements are austere but beautiful. Antony (the Johnsons) contributes haunting vocals to several cuts. This was recorded several years ago, on break from Current 93 and before Cashmore's excellent "Sleep England" full-length, but this grave, but gorgeous mini-album is a welcome addition to Cashmore's resume.

Elvis Costello – The Very Best (of the first Ten years)
For those, like moi, who are fatigued with the
Elvis who makes car stereo commercials, exaggerates his vibrato, and dabbles in every Western musical idiom independent of his actual abilities…there’s THIS -  A stark and brilliant reminder of what made him great. Songwriting chops, a crack band, stylistic breadth (artfully deployed), and veins in his teeth passion. During the ten years in which these recordings were made he was on fire, the whole of pop history at his astute disposal and the communal energy of punk to drive it all home. The Attractions, who play on 90% of this stuff, were the key to making it work. And they did. If you’re not compelled to explore his whole, and vast, catalog, this makes a tremendous introduction.

Patti Smith - Twelve
Patti Smith lives her life as an artist. She worships her icons. She follows her muse. And the rest of the cultural hum, from business b.s. to Pitchfork Media - well, I don't think she gives a hoot. This 'covers' record is ample demonstration. She did these songs because they speak to her. She transforms some, if the spirit demanded. Others she just sings. Some are amazing and inspired. Some false-start. But that's my opinion And yours (and hers) is different entirely. The point? Everything Patti Smith does is pretty damn great. Think of this way ... those Bob Dylan records you think weren't so great? Well, "Twelve" is better. But the real point is also that those Dylan records have tracks you keep coming back to; don't they?More than some of the stuff you thought was so great in 1979. Or 1988, or whenever. You'll be returning to "Twelve" years from now, for her poetic reinvention of "Are You Experienced," or sultry take on "Soul Kitchen." And you can't if you don't buy it now.

Gruff Rhys - Candylion
Over the past decade plus few bands can boast a track record to match the Super Furry Animals. Responsible for a succession of innovative and diverse albums, the Furries are the closest thing this era has to a force like the Beatles. And like the Fabs, the Welsh quintet make great music characterized by deceptive ease. First among equals, Gruff Rhys now steps forward with an endearing second solo release.

While predominately in English, "Candylion" also includes two songs with Welsh lyrics (his first solo effort was an all-Welsh affair) and one with Spanish. Recorded in Wales and mixed in Brazil, "Candylion" is a genre bending delight, mixing everything from the Byrds ("Beacon in the Darkness") to electronic samba ("Painting People Blue). Reminiscent of Donovan's underrated "Sunshine Superman/Mellow Yellow" period, these sessions combine acoustic with electric, organic and electronic. Lovely as it is, "Candylion" might seem like an endearing trifle were it not for the closing track "Skylon". Building gradually over its thirteen sprawling minutes, "Skylon" strikes a groove that's somewhere between Traffic and a chilled-out War as it unwinds a wild narrative involving two characters on a plane flight, with lyrics touching on everything from the media burn of pop culture to terrorism to improbable romance.

Detroit Cobras - Tied and True
Four albums into their career, the Cobras don't deviate from formula. Their talent is for picking old rhythm and blues tunes that, while perhaps familiar to aficionados, have not been played to death by every bad bar band in the world. Pretty good start. The closer is that they sing and play with more spirit and skill than all those bad bar bands. A group led by females, guitarist Mary and singer Rachel (as good at sassy, yet sensitive r'n'b interpretation as any gal alive), the Cobras repertoire is all about the battle of the sexes. Theirs' is the ethic of the juke joint, beyond political correctness, if not good and evil. Augmented by Greg Cartwright and the Reigning Sound
crew for this album, the Detroit Cobras have turnedin a good one - pretty much tied with their fine second release, "love, life and leaving."

Jarvis Cocker - Jarvis
For his familiarly titled solo debut, the Pulp
frontman spins more of his characteristically
piquant observations. They make even more sense if you're British, but they are plenty sharp even if you're not. A gifted talk-singer with touches of Bowiesque melodrama, Jarvis and his crew stick to the post new-wave palette that has suited Pulp so well. He's perfect for your salon - witty, trenchant, and quick to skewer pretense and class nonsense. Have him over.

Red Button - She's About to Cross my Mind
Mike and Seth are two old coots who sound
young. Well, like youth sounded in 1966
anyway. Sure is Beatlesque. But it would
be oversimplification to say they are Fabs derived. They evoke something like innocence (does anyone remember innocence? oh, wait...that was laughter...and that was Robert Plant, anyway - ) with their gorgeous, breezy melodies. Even more than a mere Beatle zone, Red Button are in Wes Anderson land. You know, the director of "Rushmore" and "The Royal Tennenbaums?" He always picks these Chad and Jeremy/Kinks/Nico gems for his soundtracks. Heck, next time he could make it easy and just use 'She's About to Cross
my Mind.'

Robert Pollard - Silverfish Trivia
As any fan of RP knows, the guy is prolific. And while never less than musical, he varies wildly from brilliant to self-indulgent. "Silverfish" is mostly the former. It's oddly reminiscent of "Forever Changes" Love. It has a lovely, melodic, chamber-rock quality that's utterly charming. Pollard's incredible gift for melody is consistently in evidence. While nothing here "rocks" like the best of Guided by Voices, the beguiling production and gorgeous tunes more than compensate. If yer a fan, there's no reason to hesitate here. If yer not ... check out "Isolation Drills" in the GBV voices.

Arctic Monkeys - Favourite Worst Nightmare
Connecting with the American audience may be a challenge, but it's a blessing in some respects for the AM. In Britain they're saviours. Here they can just be a great rock band, which they are. Alex Turner has an ear for narrative and character detail that descends from Weller and Davies. His band plays with an intensity that's part Brit-pop, part Gang of Four/Pop Group angularity. This sophomore effort is harder, grittier, but no less arresting than their first. In other words, everything you could ask of a second album.

Mavis Staples - We'll Never Turn Back
Mavis ain't got nothin' to prove. If she never sang another note she'd be one of the great soul singers of our time. This is something of a concept album. It revisits the spirit that animated the Civil Rights movement and makes a compelling musical case for its' continued relevance. Ry Cooder produces and provides guitar accompaniment that echoes the late great Pops Staples while adding a warmth and texture that updates the spare, spectral quality of his playing. Mavis testifies. It's about spirit. And soul. Get on board.

Golden Smog - Blood on the Slacks
Ha. Get it. It's Minnesota humor. Blood on the Tracks...Slacks. So, this is a supergroup. Well, it would be if anybody cared about the Jayhawks, Soul Asylum, Run Westy Run (who?). BUT THIS IS NOT A NEGATIVE REVIEW! Nope, this music made by guys who've seen their best days commercially,
and they don't give a %^^&*. Beautiful, reverent covers of old David Bowie songs? Check. Approximations of Dylanesquese harmonica? Check. Fragments of song that sound like the Violent Femmes? Sure. And for the course of eight songs it's all very lovely, musical...charming even. And at $9.99 you've got 25 minutes of fine music informed by years of taste and experience.

Locksley - Don't Make Me Wait
Forty-five years after their recorded debut, bands still model themselves after a certain band from Liverpool. Like Chicago's Redwalls, Locksley (Brooklynites by way of Wisconsin) betray various influences, but the clearest and deepest is John, Paul, George and Ringo. Lucky for them, they're damn good. On their debut, "Don't Make Me Wait," Locksley write musical, well crafted songs with simple, direct lyrics and trick them out with all the requisite elements: Sha La La La  choruses, handclaps, and spirited group harmonies. A touch of Strokes styled guitar interplay and solos out of the Berry-Richards-Thunders tradition loosen the band's collar a bit and keep 'Wait" from being an absolute Beatlefest.

"Wait" includes the odd downtempo number, but most of  these tracks qualify as dancefloor material (circa '65, anyway) or rave-ups ("She Does" pulls a Kinks-Yardbirds turn). Some of the band's harmonies veer toward later Brit-pop, the Housemartins and Franz Ferdinand, in particular.  Still, it's that Beatle thing that predominates, especially on "Let Me Know" and "All of the Time," which just couldn't sound much more Lennonesque. This is straight up Beatle pop. Locksley don't ever veer toward the angst of Big Star or even Badfinger. Their music is built for sheer entertainment.

Fratellis - Costello Music
Last year it was one of the best releases in the U.K. Okay, this year it's released in the U.S. And it will again be one of the year's best (2007). The spirit of the Libertines (youth pursued with abandon and elan) is all over this. But the Fratellis have a sound all their own. Sometimes they sound like the Ramones playing Squeeze's songbook. Often they remind of Supergrass. There's definitely a touch of Beatles, Bolan and Bowie in the influence hopper, too. The songs are unbelievably catchy, smart, and rockin.' The playing and singing is full of gusto. Along with the View, the Fratellis demonstrate the Scotland is today's home of great rock and roll bands. And now it's just $9.99!

Sister Vanilla - Little Pop Rock
While The Jesus and Mary Chain have reunited, they haven't released new music since 1998. Quietly, though, they've been working in recent years with their kid sister, Linda. The result is  a minor classic issued under the moniker Sister Vanilla. Linda Reid is the principal vocalist, but there's plenty of brothers Jim and William to go around, too. The JAMC aesthetic, sweetly narcotic pop meets god-awesome noise, is at play with Sister Vanilla; any fan of the JAMC will delight to "Little Pop Rock." Actually, as it was on occasion with the Mary Chain, the noise quotient is reasonably slight, resulting in a sound that calls to mind the band's second album, "Darklands," and something akin to a Scots version of the Brian Jonestown Massacre's sweet and sour take on late-period Velvets.

The Reid family, accompanied by guitarist Ben Lurie and Stephen Pastel (of the, duh, Pastels), delivers a typical mix of the sanguine ("Can't Stop the Rock") and the mean spirited kiss-off ("What Goes Around"). Some songs feature focused production, other sound like sketches with some parts, like the piano on 'Pastel Blue," sounding like rehearsals more than finished takes. Somehow, it all hangs together. Linda Reid sings with the same Dylan/Reed drenched, honey-vinegar delivery as her older siblings, making "Little" both
a pleasant introduction to the younger Ms.Reid and a worthy addition to the Jesus and Mary Chain canon.

(Originally printed in the Kansas City Star.)

Mary Weiss - Dangerous Game
As the teenage lead singer for the Shangri-la's, Mary Weiss scored a number of hits in the Sixties, most famous among them "Leader of the Pack" and "Give Him a Great Big Kiss." The group’s time in the spotlight
was brief, but they left quite a shadow, especially on the New York rock scene. The first thing that strikes you listening to  “Dangerous Game,” Mary Weiss’s  tremendous return to form, is what an influence she was
on the Seventies generation of Gotham rockers. With her powerful pipes and Queens accent, Mary Weiss was a huge inspiration to singers like David Johansen, Joey Ramone, Patti Smith and Deborah Harry.

Pairing her with Greg Cartwright and the Reigning Sound was truly inspired. Produced by Cartwright and Billy Miller, "Game" is that rare animal among comeback records: a triumph. The songs and their arrangements echo the sounds of the Shangri-La’s heyday, but update things with a leaner, garage-punk feel. Some songs, like “Nobody Knows (But I Do)” and “Stop and Think It Over” are sung from a coltish persona for a woman pushing sixty, but they succeed as straightforward pop pleasures. Other tunes, like the Cartwright’s beautifully wrought ballad “Stitch in Time,” or his Dylanesque “I Don’t Care” have an emotional depth
that Weiss develops fully.

Cartwright’s guitar playing combines George Harrison filigree with Steve Cropper rhythm chops. Dave Amels provides a clinic in rock keyboard styles. Bassist Carol Schumacher is perhaps the secret weapon here, especially with her tough and tender harmonies. From the driving “My Heart is Beating” to the closing ballad “You Can Stay with Me,” Mary Weiss reasserts her place
on the podium of great rock singers.

(Originally printed in the Kansas City Star.)

Stax 50th Anniversary Celebration
How great is this? Originally slated as a country label, it didn't take long for Stax's destiny as the fountainhead of Memphis (heck, Southern) rhythm and blues to emerge. Look at the credits on the back of this wonderful package...Booker T. and the MGs, Otis Redding, Sam & Dave, Albert King, the Staple Singers...are you kidding? The Sixties soul on disc one has an obvious and enduring greatness, but there's some cool stuff from the Seventies on disc two, too. This is down deep Southern soul music -as funky as it gets, but with tremendous song craft from writers like Isaac Hayes. At $17.99? What a great introduction to a classic label
and it's many fine artists.

Amy Winehouse - Back to Black
Winehouse writes songs that reflect a deep and wide absorption of classic rhythm and blues styles. She swings from torch songs, to
New Orleans second line, to ska, to ..lots of styles, effortlessly. With a fine supporting cast of British soul players, she sings with
a sexy, sassy assurance that draws from Nina Simone and Sarah Vaughan. Like Macy Gray at her best, Amy Winehouse can suggest whole histories of soulful music with a single phrase. The production on "Black" is at once sythnetically modern and spot-on in its evocation of the inlfuences it draws upon, sounding both contemporary and so, so analog.

Sloan - Never Here the End of It
Thirty songs. And not a stinker in the bunch. In fact, some of these tunes are first-rate. Sloan have been around fifteen years, labored for three record companies, and never sold a ton of records. Instead they've managed to build that rarest of all animals in today's rec. biz - a top notch resume. Clearly Beatle influenced, Sloan also draw from other British invasion bands like the Hollies and the Searchers. Throw in a dash of Stones-y swagger and the occasional shot of punk adrenaline. Some of the songs suggest a mature, even autumnal, look back at a marginal career (with good humor, even detachment,I might add), but the freshness and verve of the music speaks for itself.

Jesse Malin - Glitter in the Gutter
Jesse does not aim to please. He's too abrasively punk for the legions of Ryan Adams fan who might line up at his doorstep. And he's too committed to giving each song what it needs to satisfy the punk-rock crowds and their obsessions with speed and economy. He drops a cliché here and there, but mostly  he writes heartfelt, poetic songs that communicate directly without artifice or flab. His duet with Springsteen, "Broken Radio" is sweet, sad, and soulful. "Tomorrow Tonight" would've been a hit in the days before tin ears took over radio. His cover of Paul Westerberg's "Bastards of Young" is more intimate than the original. Rockers like "Black Haired Girl" and "Prisoners of Paradise" resonate with Malin's D-Generation heritage. Better than his second solo album, and nearly as good as the excellent "Fine Art of Self-Destruction." Hint: If you like Pete Yorn, who ain't bad, you'll like Jesse...who's better.

Charms - Strange Magic
One of several new releases on Little Steven's Wicked Cool label, The Charms is one of the best of a fun, if checkered, bunch. Jim Diamond (Detroit Cobras, White Stripes, etc.) produces with an ear toward capturing the band's punk-pop sound. The Charms ensemble sounds strides several decades or rock, but resembles most of the rockier side of Seventies Blondie and the straight up Eighties sound of bands like the Romantics. Ellie Vee's charms are definitely akin to Debbie Harry's - sexy, but not smarmy, knowingly in control of her sass and smarts. Hailing from Boston, the band also evokes some of the other great Beantown bands like the Real Kids and the Lyres. "So Romantic" would be a huge radio hit if radio still played rock music that hadn't been relieved of fun and sexuality.

Waterson:Carthy - Holy Heathens and the Old Green Man
The Waterson family are folk royalty in Britain. Martin Carthy has had a wondrous solo career, made great music with fiddler Dave Swarbrick, and was a founding member of Steeleye Span. His daughter, Eliza, is a tremendous fiddler and singer with several solo records under her belt. So, basically this is a Brit-folk supergroup. The elder Carthy's music has influenced everyone from Nick Drake to the whole contemporary freak-folk crowd. "Holy" is, characteristically, a collection of folk tunes - some gorgeous ballads, some uptempo...some sacred, some profane. The sheer musicality and passion of these musicians is astonishing. If you're looking for something different, something outside the old alternative rock rut, check Waterson:Carthy out.

Vietnam - s/t
Michael Gerner isn't the first rocker to give a big kiss-off to the straight world, but he darn sure is among the most ardent giving the man the finger in 2007. His tales of urban anomie and hipster defiance are at both cliched and poetic, personal and universal. His band Vietnam shares with Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and Primal Scream a commitment to rock classicism that is as doomed as it is heroic. Gerner's wounded Texas drawl leans heavily on Bob Dylan (circa 66 and the tour with the Band), but he's also drawn to the more concise beat rap of Jim Carroll. He's surely a child of the father of New York talk-sing, Lou Reed, but where Reed's New York covered the entire length of the 6 train, Vietnam and Gerner get off at Astor and head straight for Tompkins Square Park.

Guitarist Joshua Grubb's tone recalls Reed becoming Cornell Dupree, circa "Loaded;" and he's schooled in blues licks and Mick Tayloresque slide. He cops Television's "Carried Away" on "Toby" and quotes from "Love in Vain"on 'Hotel Riverview." Axemanship makes Vietnam a jam band of sorts, but a very edgy, New York version of one. Their songs aren't songs so much as band jams that frame Gerner's elliptical narratives. It all works because the band has a canny sense of arrangement and, unlike your garden variety hippie bands, they actually listen to each other.

From "Toby's" goodbye note to a doper friend, to the MC5 stormer
"Welcome to My Room," to Vietnam's 'Street Hassle' inspired epic "Too Tired," Vietnam paint a convincing portrait of sixth floor walkup living - the torpor, the menace, and the good times, too. Recorded in Los Angeles with money borrowed from Maroon 5's Mickey Madden, Vietnam's full-length debut is an elegantly wasted portrait of the counter-cultural idyll and it's fallout.

(This review will also appear in the Kansas City Star.)

Ron Sexsmith – Time Being
Re-united with producer Mitchell Froom, Sexsmith makes his best album since 1997’s “Other Songs” (his second, now criminally out of print). His voice still suggests Ray Davies and Paul McCartney (okay, and Carl Wilson…and Perry Como). Like Davies, Sexsmith uses everyday language to address profound matters, both personal and universal. “Snow Angel,” for example, is a beautiful song about suicide and betrayal. The trick is that he makes the song gorgeous, buoyant – all without undermining the depth of the sentiment. Neat trick. And It’s one he pulls consistently. Froom’s light touch with these Byrds/Beatle arrangements is deft and seductive. “Time Being” is a clinic in fine songwriting by one of the contemporary masters.

David Vandervelde - The Moonstation House Band
This young Chicagoan makes a compelling whole from various shards of early Seventies rock and psychedelia. HIs voice suggests
Alex Chilton with a Marc Bolan layrnx transplant. He and his accompanists play a slightly sludgy psych-rock that sounds like Big Star covering the Beatles "It's All Too Much" on Seconal. So, yeah, it's kind of a lumbering sound, but it has an appeal and a surprising definition that stems from Vandervelde's sharp tunes and clear vision of the music he wants to make. Lyrically, songs like "Nothin' No" hint at the flat undertones of desperation that play the bottom end to the highs of teenage kicks.

Automatic - Not Accepted Anywhere
The Automatic combine jagged new wave guitarswith piercing analog synth sounds. They also combine throaty barking vocals with high, wailing singing, often rendered in a queer call and response (like some angry B 52’s). Somehow, it all sounds like Emo that doesn't, well, suck. Sounds strange, but it's compelling. Their songs combine the adrenaline rush of the Buzzcocks with an angular clang that recalls bands from the Gang of Four to XTC. "Recover" is the most instantly mesmerizing, but all of their tunes are catchy as hell. And they are about being young and pretty much pissed off; in other words, you know, timeless themes – like Shakespeare and Eddie Cochran. 

Hold Steady - Boys and Girls in America
The Hold Steady have been so universally hailed by rock crits that they hardly need our humble accolades. But, here ya go. It took a while to sink in (and honestly, it's not universally beloved by the staff) but I've concluded it's pretty great. My initial reluctance had something to do with the feeling of having all of my Seventies rock buttons pushed. I mean, you know, it's not punk-rock. It's more informed by Springsteen, Thin Lizzy, and Blue Oyster Cult. Oh, but don't stop - Hold Steady's sturdy Seventies stew embraces all sort of long forgotten radio crap ( I dunno, Toto?). And Sweet Jesus it could be awful. But it's not. Craig Finn's view from the bottom of a glass take on the lives of the melancholy and wasted young of America rings true. Franz Nicolay's keyboard playing works Roy Bittanesque magic on these tunes, bringing some E Street musicality to the band's Soul Asylum plays the Seventies roar. It's a heady, absurd mixture, but it's powerful, emotionally engaging stuff.

TK Webb - Phantom Parade
This Brooklynite makes American music that's too personal and too weird to fit some slick definition of "Americana." A formidable guitarist, he's dexterous but never showy, as weirdly indebted to Lou Reed as he is to blues inspired players. His talk-sing vocals evoke the obvious (Dylan/Prine/Earle) and the not so obvious (Tony Joe White). His deceptively melodic songs evoke gray days, meditative hours spend driving past half-empty strip malls, sipping strong coffee on the way to pick up an impounded car. They're songs for the common man delivered with a wry, and uncommon, touch.

Portastatic - Be Still Please
Mac McCaughan doesn't just drop an f-bomb in "You Blanks." As the polite title of the album suggests, it's a part of the chorus, a part of the hook. He follows the line "You (bleep) make that impossible to say" with a cheery "yeah, yeah yeah" tag delivered in robust Fleetwood Mac harmony. And such is the tension at the heart of the Portastatic sensibility on its stunningly good new record, "Be Still Please." Confronted with ignorance, inconsiderateness and intransigence (lemons), McCaughan and company make bright pop music (lemonade). This dialectic isn't limited to McCaughan's smart, world-weary lyrics. It extends to the musical settings he prefers. Chamber pop arrangements that suggest immersion in everything from "Forever Changes" (Love) to "Astral Weeks" (Van Morrison) combined with guitar workouts that sound like a cross between Lindsey Buckingham and J. Mascis is standard operating procedure for McCaughan. Portastatic's songs betray the absorption of the Go Betweens and Elliott Smith, as well as Dylan and Gram Parsons. Sung in McCaughan's tuneful, worn Willie Nile voice, they range fro the exuberant "I'm in Love (With Arthur Dove)" to the resigned "Tom Thumb's Blues" dirge of "Getting Saved." Throughout "Be Still Please" Mac McCaughan and his supporting cast mix the caustic with the sweet in a compellingly literate and musical fashion.

This review was originally printed in the Kansas City Star.

King Khan and BBQ Show - What's For Dinner?
Initially, we weren't sure what to think. Oh, we knew we liked it. We were so overwhelmed by the out of left field power of their first record, though, this sounded a little reserved at first. Less "in the red," if you will, despite "Dinner's" label of issue. With further listening the ample appeal of this record has emerged. The template, such as it is, is still the same. The duo still mixes garage, punk, Velvet Underground, doo-wop, and rhythm 'n' blues in the same oddball fashion. How many bands do boss covers of the Circle Jerks, "Run Run Run" inspired Lou-rock, and wintry street corner ballads on the same record? Nobody, that's who, we turned you on to the first, and we can say now without hesitation - buy the second!

Babyshambles - The Blinding
If this focused, self-produced EP is any indication; Pete Doherty has spent less time off the pipe than on. Drug and legal issues aside...supermodel gal pal aside...we've known since the earliest Libertines music that Doherty is one of the best tunesmiths of his time. These tracks feature almost Beatlesque production values and charm, as well as the usual nods to ska (viz a viz the Clash) and Ray Davies cheek. Maybe the songs themselves could've profited from a tad more polish, but "The Blinding" still makes a bright, compelling case for Pete and the Babyshambles.

Luke Haines - Off My Rocker at the Art School Hop
For over a decade Haines has been making smart, challenging music. The Auteurs were one of the nineties great British bands, but they never caught on in the States. His second outfit, Black Box Recorder, made a dent in the college charts with their slinky, spare synth-pop. Haines' purely solo work combines the guitar rock of the Auteurs with the electro-sheen of BBR. On this record he aims for something like a latter day Kinks vibe, with songs that chronicle certain eccentricities of British pop culture with a fond eye and skewering wit. This is pop as art, consistently intelligent, tuneful, and engaging.

Beatles - Love
Some purists will groan over this mashup from Giles and George Martin, but don't listen to them. "Love" is simply a Beatle comp put together by two guys who know and love their music, just like a compilation you might make. That is, if you had consummate skills as a producer/engineer and access to all of the raw Beatles tracks. Great as those records were, the band often complained that they were unable to get the fat rhythm section sounds that they loved on their favorite American rhythm and blues recordings. Well, Martin and son have given Paul and Ringo the deep groove they always wanted; and it sounds awesome. This should have every Beatle fan clamoring for the entire catalog getting this treatment. What singers. What players. What songs. Here, they are re-contextualized and lovingly re-imagined by the band's most intimate fans. It's a trip.

Oasis - Stop the Clocks
They made two great albums early in their career. Their last record, "Don't Believe the Truth," reaffirmed their power. In between they made some pretty spotty albums. And so this nineteen song "best of" demonstrates. The issue of what's included and what's omitted from these retrospectives always touches off debate among fans, but suffice it to say that this collection of Oasis songs sounds really fine. And any band that could relegate songs like "The Masterplan" and "Acquiesce" to B-sides either had a trove of good material or were high on their own supply. In this case, it's both.

Albert Hammond, Jr. - Yours to Keep
The Brillo-haired Strokes guitarist goes solo. And if "Yours to Keep" is any indication Julian might think about letting the little guy contribute to the odd song or two. Cut mostly with a rhythm section including his pals Josh Lattanzi and Matt Romano, "Yours" is a short, sweet little collection of pop gems. Some rock. Some are plaintive. All of them are musical, approachable, and easy listening in the very best sense of the term. Sean Lennon and Mr. Casablancas makes guest appearances, but Alber's guitar and voice are the focus of this endearing debut. It's one of those records that doesn't sound earth-shattering at first, but grows on you with each listen.

Horrors - S/T
Their look is goth-punk. Their gnarly hair and abundant make-up are, well, kinda cute. The music is an oddball cross between Sixties freakbeat, The Crazy World of Arthur Brown, The Damned, and The Stranglers. The songs are short, fast and organ-driven. It all goes by, all five songs of it, in a blur. Which is the idea, pretty much. Their cover of "Crawdaddy Simone" epitomizes the Horrors gruff-voiced, garage-Goth charm. Fun stuff.

Tall Hands - S/T
New York's Tall Hands play what they call "boat rock;" whatever that is. Some of their lyrics baffle. While enigmatic is cool, these guys fall for the merely vague a little too often. In fact, there's something of a form/content mismatch between their poetic posturing and their relatively straightforward rock sound. This minor annoyance is forgivable, however, thanks to the band's genuinely fetching tunes and meticulously detailed arrangements. Their self-titled seven-song debut e.p. features pumping piano parts that recall vintage Bowie and Mott the Hoople, and Algernon Quashie's lead guitar work, abounding in lyricism that's part Mick Ralphs, part Richard Lloyd. While singer Justin Raisen's lyrics may suffer from occasional impenetrability, he's a convincing singer - full of himself and Lou Reed.

The band's songs, mostly written by keyboardist Jordan Benik and Raisen, traffic endearingly in vintage Velvet Underground ambience ("Medici") and Spoon's off-beat pop styling ("Three Full Virginias"). Tracks like the deeply Reed fixated "Fifteen on Ice" and "Natural Light," with its pretty piano and guitar parts borrowed from Steve Harley's "Make Me Smile," demonstrates what the Tall Hands do convincingly - write and play songs that combine homage and genuine personality.

Lou Reed - Coney Island Baby
Lou, Lou, Lou. A year or so earlier he was so pissed of at RCA that he gave them "Metal Machine Music." Emerging from a morass of dope and cynicism, Lou made this oddly touching record. The menace is subdued. The love cro0ns seem sincere. And maybe he really did just "want to play football for the coach." His band was on the same wavelength - playing tight and sinewy. One of Mr. Reed's most consistently enjoyable records ever. This re-mastered version sounds great and the expanded treatment gives you worthy extra material.

Bert Jansch - The Black Swan
While Nick Drake is the automatic default reference for any autumnal, spare sounding British post-folk, it all started with the demi-generation before Nick. Of the generation of guitarists (Jansch, his Pentagle collaborator John Renbourn, and Davy Graham) that skillfully fused folk, blues, and jazz influence into a new aesthetic, Jansch was the most prolific and consistent. His music is the same as it ever was - technically brilliant but never showy, subdued, but with a strong emotional undercurrent. He's joined here by disciples like Beth Orton. The songs are fine. The playing, as ever, is beautiful. If this serves as an introduction to this talented performer, you won't want to stop here.

Jack-O and the Tennessee Tearjerkers - The Flip Side Kid
Jack-O. As in Oblivian. With the death of the Oblivans, we've gotten two swell bands. In exchange, Greg (Cartwright) O's Reigning Sound and this outfit from Jack. "Flip is his/their third album. Where their second had a fairly tidy production style, this release harkens back to the in the red mid-fi of his old band. This music is what happens when a smart kid from Memphis goes to the woodshed with some moonshine and spews out all the dirty blues, doo-wop, garage, and Brit-pop influences churning in his gut and his gourd. Jack is knowing, schooled, and passionate. This is rock and roll like they used to make it - when kids drank hooch while practicing in the church basement and carried their gear to gigs in a fifteen-year-old hearse.

Cold War Kids - Robbers & Cowards
Send a class of kids to the wood shop to make a birdhouse, chances are you'll get plenty that look pretty much alike. Rock bands are basically kids in a wood shop. Send them to woodshed with the same basic materials (influence, instruments, instructions to compose three to four minute tunes) and you'll get a bunch that sound the same. Sometimes you get a surprise. That sound of surprise has been part of what distinguished bands as diverse as The Band, Pere Ubu, U2, and Pavement. Fullerton, California's Cold War Kids can be added to that list. "Robbers and Cowards" is their striking full-length debut.

The most resonant single thing about the Cold War Kids is Nathan Willett's resonant voice. Combining the pliant, soaring qualities of Jeff Buckley, the keening wail of Jeffrey Lee Peirce and the swing of Nina Simone, Willett's singing is always at the center of this music, but his band mates are almost as striking. Guitarist Jonathan Russell combines the insistent, frenetic strum of Lou Reed with the limpid precision of a crack reggae guitarist like Ernest Ranglin. Bassist Matt Maust both anchors and propels the band's music with his Rickenbacker bass; he's also chiefly responsible for the band's distinctive Sixties French cinema graphic sensibilities. Drummer Matt Aviero plays like a guy whose background in orchestral ensembles didn't screw up his basic rock drive. Unlike so many current bands, The Cold War Kids understand dynamics, as evidenced on "Hospital Beds" whose insistent verses fade to a spectral piano line that introduces the song's gospel-tinged coda.

The sheer intensity of Willett's singing can tax on a few of the less melodic tunes, but for the most part it's extraordinarily compelling. Lyrically, the band eschews the obvious first person in favor of songs characterized by either character driven narrative or suggestive imagery. The former is exemplified by "We Used to Vacation," a taut tale of a drunkard's deepening denial that switches gears gracefully from a syncopated verse to a countrified chorus and "Pass the Hat" told from the perspective of a man who steals from the church's collection plate; the latter by the "Pregnant" with it's falsetto-laden tune and spoken word background.

The Cold War Kids are that rare animal among rock bands - unique, diverse, and fully realized upon arrival.

Karen Dalton - In My Own Time
Sadly, Dalton's time never exactly came. During her time as a performer she was a favorite among her peers - guys like Bob Dylan and Fred Neil. "In My Own Time" is a reissue of her second, and final, release. It dates from 1971, but the music is timeless. Lovingly produced by Harvey Brooks (one of the premier bassists of his time) "Time" captures the sheer vocal artistry of a one of a kind performer. Equally informed by jazz singers like Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday and the deep vine Mountain music of Jean Ritchie, Dalton had an uncanny, original way with phrasing. Never afraid to push her estimable vocal range, she took chances with the crack in her voice that expressed volumes. Little known in her time, she's now celebrated by fans like Lenny Kaye, Nick Cave, and Devendra Banhart, all of whom lend essays to this beautifully packaged release.

Nikki Sudden - The Truth Doesn't Matter
Well one truth does. Nikki passed away shortly after completing this fine record. With The Swell Maps, Jacobites, and as a solo performer, Nikki Sudden tirelessly and artfully demonstrated his love for rock and roll. His gifts as a singer were modest, but as a songwriter, band leader and overall rocker he made the most of his talents. The tracks on "Truth" betray, as usual, his affection for the sounds of Bob Dylan, Johnny Thunders, T. Rex, and his beloved Rolling Stones. The Nikki Sudden of "The Truth Doesn't Matter" is a friend, lover, raconteur - all in keeping with his considerable recorded legacy. His last release is an excellent introduction to his music. You can't say much better for a final testament.

Solomon Burke - Nashville
This sounds like it could have been a cheese ball marketing idea. Far from it. Burke's one of the greatest living rhythm and blues singers, but his work has always been informed by his feel for country music. Like most great artists, he finds a way to fashion a seamless, personal music out of his various, deep influences. "Nashville" has the feel of an informal, freewheeling session - one successfully dedicated to framing great vocal performances from Burke and his guests (who include Gillian Welch, Patty Griffin, and Emmylou Harris). The credit goes to Buddy Miller who recorded these tracks in his cozy, home studio in Nashville. Buddy has played with and produced many of the leading lights in the Americana idiom over the past decade and he deserves much of the credit for the compelling atmosphere of this record.

Outrageous Cherry – Stay Happy
For over a decade this Detroit foursome have been making music that combines the Merseybeat charm of late period Flamin’ Groovies, Mamas and Papas harmonies, and reverb-heavy shoe gazer guitar density that recall the Jesus and Mary Chain. And it’s a convincing amalgam of such elements. Their sound may be rooted in the emerging psychedelia of the Stones (circa “Dandelion”) and the Beatles (try the ‘White’ album), but also embraces T.Rex glam moves and minor key Goth vibes. Or, you can imagine a slightly more functional Brian Jonestown Massacre and you’re close. Their appealing bi-polarity is in evidence in these consecutive song titles: “Paranoid World” and “Stay Happy.”  

Nicky Wire – I Killed the Zeitgeist
Well, in Britain he did. As bassist and songwriter in the Manic Street Preachers, Nicky managed to speak to an entire generation with his sometimes astute, sometimes pretentious mix of Bolshi politics, European intellectual currency, and Welsh Valley sentimentality. Compared to his co-Manic James Dean Bradfield’s superior pipes, Wire has a pretty limited vocal range, but like Lou Reed (or Peter Perrett) he makes the most of them. Where the
Manics always tried to reconcile punk with the arena rock of Guns n’ Roses, Wire sticks to spare, lean arrangements that recall, well, Wire(you know, the band), as well as guitar layering that recalls Bowie’s Berlin-era work with Brian Eno. “Zeitgeist” is biograph as
protest and a consistent, compelling piece of work.

Steve Turner - New Wave Punk Asshole
Well, yeah. Long-time Mudhoney axeman demonstrates his love for lean, mean, rough hewn garage-pop. The lyrics all come from the notebook of a big hearted wise ass. Despite his Mudhoney history and Seattle roots, this music has zip to do with what most people call grunge. Turner's music is rooted in the larger, older tradition of r' n' b based northwest garage-punk - his affection for the Sonics being especially obvious. Gnarly guitars, fixed somewhere between Chocolate Watch Band, Neil Young, and Lou Reed predominate, and the evocative sound of cheap electric organs (farfisas, vox continentals) add flava throughout. Nothing earth shattering here, just sharp, confident garage-punk with a timeless edge.

Veils - Nux Vomica
Finn Andrews and company return with album no. 2. It represents a deepening of the sound established on their debut, 'the runaway found.' Andrews debt to Mike Scott and the Waterboys' "Big Music" remains, but on 'Nux' he takes a darker turn - many tracks having a Nick Cave/Bad Seeds menace. "Advice for Young Mothers to Be" is a would-be classic of symphonic pop. "Not Yet" builds with a solemn quality. Andrews' music is filled with passionate intensity and conviction. It's not for the faint of heart, but rewards anyone who makes an investment of time.

Muck and the Mires - 1-2-3-4
Early Beatle-pop played with a 'Nuggets'-style drive. These 'Little Steven's Underground Garage' faves sound a little mannered at first. Subsequent listening reveals that while this music is clearly homage to another era it doesn't walk on any formal eggshells. The band's originals are idiomatic to be sure, but they play them with a spunk that reminds of early Costello and the Attractions. Throw in a cool cover of 'Just Like Romeo and Juliet' and you have a bracing salvo of two minute rockers delivered in near-Ramones speed. Okay, every song here would sound better with John Lennon singing. But couldn't you say that about damn near any and every Beatles-infatuated band since 1964?

Fratellis - Costello Music
This Glaswegian trio have tech lunatic zeal of early Supergrass, the rake camaraderie of the Libertines and a bagful of ultra-catchy songs. The young band plays and sings with a confidence that's rare for a debut record. These are randy young tales told in a heady, but inviting Scots vernacular. AT first some of the arrangements seem to suffer from some overly baroque touches, but with tunes this fetching and generally breakneck performances, a few florid touches are easily forgiven in the heady rush of this power-pop (and that's POWER-pop) feast. Fans of XTC, The Libertines, Supergrass, Futureheads, etc. should definitely take note of this fine new band.

Emmanuelle Parrenin - Maison Rose
Originally released in 1976, "Maison Rose" was the final recording by Ms. Parrenin. She has a way with melody and an exquisite voice (often multi-tracked). Her accompaniment is from a host of first-rate Breton/French Folk musicians, including the fine guitarist, Pierre BenSusan. This music was slyly eclectic and deceptively adventurous. Parrenin and her musicians not only reached back to traditional music (using many vintage and home-made instruments); they were open to the kinds of sounds circulating in smart Progressive circles of the period (think Ash Ra Tempel, Gong, Can). Not unlike Vashti Bunyan, Parrenin fashions her own aesthetic from the music of her surroundings. She has devoted herself more to acting and dance in the last three decades, but "Maison Rose" is a once in a lifetime musical statement.

Yo La Tengo – I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Kick Your Ass
Like Sonic Youth, the Yo La’s have been around so long that’s it’s hard to imagine the alternative-rock world without them. Unlike most Velvets worshippers, Yo La Tengo is able to capture the reflective, reverent side of Louis Reed and company and the dark, entrancing groove of the Velvets circa “Sister Ray.” And as students and lovers of rock in general, their sound rambles from old soul grooves to surf music to Kinks-ish whimsy. Deep into their long career, “Ass” is one of their best ever – eclectic, smart, and soulful. Some of their records lean toward one aspect (noise-rock) or another (breezy pop songs) of their art – others are veritable Whitman’s samplers, grab-bags of everything the band knows and loves. This new album is one of the latter, complete with “Nuggets” rave-ups like “Watch Out for Me Ronnie,” as well as lovely ballads like “I Feel Like Going Home.” This is a sprawling, confident, imperfect, but finally convincing 70 plus minutes of a great rock band hitting a mature peak.

Thea Gilmore – Harpo’s Ghost/Sanctuary
Between 1999 and 2003, Thea Gilmore released six records. They put her on a short list of today’s best singer-songwriters.
After a three year break that included a battle with depression, she returns with "Harpo's Ghost." It reasserts here excellence. Shedding the polite conventions that shackle the singer-songwriter idiom, Gilmore’s range resembles Richard Thompson and Elvis Costello. Whether addressing love’s balm (“Call Me Your Darling”), its banishments (“Going Down”), or taking on the devastations of war and imperialism (“Red, White and Black” and “We Built a Monster”), Gilmore is sharply poetic. Her singing recalls Sandy Denny. It also resembles Aimee Mann – if Mann brought a bit more ice and fire. Gilmore’s supporting cast is first-rate, too, especially guitarist Eric “Roscoe” Ambel whose Edge-goes-rockabilly work embellishes several tracks. Perversely, one of the best cuts is “hidden.” “Play Until the Bottle’s Gone” is a Phil Ochs inspired beauty that captures Gilmore’s gift perfectly.

Linda Ronstadt and Ann Savoy – Adieu False Heart
Linda’s always had one helluva voice. How she used it was another manner. God knows I’ve cringed when she bludgeoned some rhythm and blues staple, or slighted the nuance of an old jazz chestnut. All I can say is she’s clearly and beautifully in her idiom here. She harmonizes nicely with Ann Savoy, who also sings compelling here. With accompaniment by some of the best players in the Cajun world and a beautifully selected program, including a killer version of “Walk Away Renee,” this is a really lovely recording.

Nice Boys – s/t
This new band from Portland clearly reveres the hip sound of the Seventies. Combining hooky songs, fetching harmonies and a beat sound that combines power-pop, glam and punk influences, the Nice Boys are new Electric Warriors on a crushed Velvet crusade. Imagine Mick Jones singing with Big Star, or the Raspberries playing the Only Ones songbook. Not every song is stellar, but the cumulative effect is charming. Some kids are definitely beguiled by the Velvet Goldmine vibe, and these guys are right at the front of the pack.

Ali Farke Toure – Savane
I’m not sure why the smartasses at Nonesuch put quotation marks around “blues.” Toure’s beautiful music is blues if anything is. It has a lilting quality that’s not exactly like down and dirty Delta sounds, but so did Mississippi John Hurt. And wasn’t he blues? While Toure’s songs are unconventional, his music is all about feel and emotional nuance. Can it be so surprising that blues might come from Mali? After all, it’s a universal language with roots in Africa. Ali Farke Toure makes roots music, no matter where it comes from. The roots are the human spirit.

Radio Birdman – Zeno Beach
The early punk bands were for the most part groups that understood that Rock was a big river with many feeder streams. Not until the phenomenon of “hardcore” did punk calcify into crap ritual with “required” attributes. Between 1974 and 1978, Australia’s Radio Birdman crafted a riotous, compelling racket that borrowed equally from Detroit rock (the MC5 and the Stooges), the gonzo-rock of the Dictators and Blue Oyster Cult, the blues, and surf sounds. On this, their first release in 28 years, the Birdmen pick up where they left off. “Zeno Beach” is hard rock with dashes of the exotic and malevolent – the kind of stuff that never was and never will be ‘radio friendly.’

Milky Ways – s/t
This Canadian outfit has roots in various and sundry garage-y outfits like the
Del-Gators, the Spacesh&*s, and Les Sexareenos. In other words, they are kin and akin to King Khan and BBQ. But where KKBBQ bash out a deliciously savant-groove that’s equal parts punk energy and inbred Hillbilly murk, the Ways are a combination of straight-up Pebbles/Nuggets garage influences along with a touch of something a little trippier – like the music Roky might’ve written for a Pete Fonda flick in 1969. Something new grabs you every time you here it and the Milky Ways become more insinuating with every listen.

Bob Dylan – Modern Times
Bob Dylan. Like we’re going to discourage you from buying a Bob Dylan record? Okay, “Self Portrait, maybe. Or one or two others.  You’re doing alright investing in “Modern Times.” Much has been made of the idea that this completes a trilogy begun by “Time Out of Mind” and “Love and Theft.” What are they gonna say when ol’ Bob does another record in remotely the same spirit? The basic thing is, after going back to his roots on “Good as I Been to You” and “World Gone Wrong,” Dylan said to hell with it to anyone at Columbia who wanted him to work with a big-name producer. Since “Time Out of Mind” he’s surrounded himself with musicians with whom he’s comfortable and made exactly the music he wanted to make. It seems to be working. At 65, Dylan is sage and bewildered, energized and exhausted – he’s everyman with an Olympian talent. And ain’t that why we love him?

John Cale - Paris 1919
One of the most beautiful records of the Seventies. Or any decade. Cale's second solo effort after exiting the Velvet Underground is a study in chamber pop composition and sharp, surreal lyricism. Arranged by Cale and produced by Chris Thomas (Procol Harum, Sex Pistols, Pretenders, etc.), "Paris 1919" is a seamless, melodic joy. Newly re-issued with beautifully improved sound and extra tracks.

Toumani Diabate's Symmetric Orchestra - Boulevard De L'Independence
What a musical stew. Diabate combines the lilting melodies of his native Mali with a groove that's equal parts Nigerian Hi-Life and American rhythm and blues inspired. It simmers, it cooks, it keeps the party going. WIth so much going on - melodies, counter-melodies, calls and responses, instrumental embellishments...it seems like it could all turn into a mess. Diabate's genius is directing this synthesis with a studied and intuitive musicality. Beautiful stuff.

Butch Walker - The Rise and Fall Of...and the Let's Go Out Tonites
What could be less hip? This dude aims straight for the pop mainstream. Well, the one in his mind, anyway. And that was a mainstream that never (or barely) was. STraight out of glam-era Bowie and Cars-pop city, Atlantan Mr. Walker writes catchy, sexy little pop gems. Certain to fall on deaf ears in alterna-ville, and way too cool for the real, current pop mainstream. Help a brother out!

New York Dolls – One Day it Will Please Us to Remember Even This
Candidate for record of the year. No kidding. See the reviews from Uncut, Mojo, and the Kansas City Star (written by moi). The inspirations behind punk, glam, hair metal and all sorts of other stuff … not that they would want to take the credit (blame). Great, smart (ass), sexy, honkin’, heartfelt, soulful rock and roll record. No competition.

Midlake – The Trials of Van Occupanther
It’s opaque. Sorta beard-y. Betcha Pitchfork likes it. But, it’s really pretty nice. The singer is reminiscent of Rufus Wainwright at points, of Thom Yorke at others. The sound is reflective of Fleetwood Mac from the beginning of the Stevie/Lindsey era. Gentle, melodic, but with something slightly forboding brewing under the surface.

Replacements – Don’t You Know Who I Think I Was?
Subtitled “The Best of the Replacements.”  These best of affairs always make one query: who says? The ‘Mats made some great music, but they were often sabotaged by either inattentive (early) or overly Fussy production (later).  Such were the eighties. Many of these songs resonate still, though. Paul Westerberg perfected the tough kid with a heart of mush pose; no one’s done it better since. As “best ofs” go this one is really well put together, capturing many of their, well, best songs. The pleasant surprise is how rockin’ and fine the two new tracks are. A reunion record in the making?

Keene Brothers – Blues and Boogie Shoes
The KB’s are Robert Pollard of Guided by Voices fame, and Tommy Keene. Tommy’s a fine guitarist and arranger. Pollard’s the Bach of power-pop melody. Both gents are major Beatles, Big Star, and Who fans; they’re two peas in the veritable pod. Probably the best non-GBV effort from Pollard yet. Keene reins in some of Mr. Pollard’s tendencies toward the self-indulgent and  fragmentary. The result is 12 songs chock-a-block with hooks, great arrangements, and inspired playing and singing.

Alexi Murdoch – Time Without Consequence
The first thing that strikes many listeners is Murdoch’s resemblance to Nick Drake. Of course, that can be both boon and millstone. The expectations created by such a comparison can be daunting. In fact, Murdoch’s music is equally informed by Bert Jansch. And he has much in common with Vetiver and other neo-folk artists. Taken on its own terms “Time” is a Lovely set, full of intense, introspective, and compelling songs.

Hackamore Brick – One Kiss Leads to Another
A reissue from the early seventies from a New York band who never made much of a dent in their time. Fans of the band, though, recall their gentle, exploratory music, equally drawn from the Velvet Underground and their New York opposites, the Lovin’ Spoonful. Imagine a more pastoral, less R ‘n’ B influenced Flamin Groovies and you kinda get the picture. A sweetly evocative period piece.

Cheap Trick – Rockford
These vets make a good record about every ten years. Sure enough, it’s been Nine years since their eponymously titled release on the Red Ant label in 1997. That was a great record that sank without a trace in the wake of the label’s ineptitude and consequent bankruptcy. That’s the record biz for ya. “Rockford” Represents everything the Tricksters do well, which basically is play the hell out of their own weird blend of Beatles, Who and the Move influences. Robin Zander's voice remains one of rock’s most powerful instruments. His is the kind of voice that every resolute garage-rocker secretly wishes he/she had.

Ronnie Spector - The Last of the Rock Stars
Sure, the title's a tad presumptuous. Especially since Ronnie hasn't sold oodles of records since the Ronettes. I'm sure Pitchfork will hate it. Sometimes too many producers, uh, spoil the broth. But you know what? This is a good tunestack. There are spirited contributions from Ronnie fans, from Keith Richards to Pattie Smith to Nick from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and the Raveonettes. They all know something, too. That Ronie's a unique, moving singer with a good ear for a tune, as selections from Johnny Thunders to Amy Rigby indicates. People will be listening to Ronnie decades after Be Your Own Pet are going for $1.99 on Ebay.

Primal Scream - Riot City Blues
Bobby Gillespie has been everything from dance-psych visionary to denim-clad retro-rocker. This set finds the Screams back in a Stones-Faces-Gram Parsons-MC5 worshippin' mode. Which could be ugly or cool depending on the performances and the songs. Well, it's pretty cool becasue the songs are quite good, if derivative, and the performances rock and sway like they oughta. Bobby, Mani, and company have turned in one of the rockin' releases of this hot summer. Oh, and Pitchfork won't like it.

The Submarine Races - s/t
Eighties Anglo-rock done well (or is that well done?) by Chicagoans including the gent from the Ponys who sounds like Peter Perret from the Only Ones. Reminiscent of the Onlys, as well as Echo and the Bunnymen, Postcard bands (like Orange Juice). A bit dreamier, less edgy than the Ponys, but a quirky-rockin' good time nonetheless. They do weird stuff like throwing in a drum solo on track one. Pretty arch, but the disc turns tuneful after that hippie indulgence.

Souls She Said – As Templar Nites
A project from the singer-boy and the guitarist with the Icarus Line. They share the Icarus lineage that includes everything From the Stooges to early Jane’s Addiction. Incantory, Trance-like tracks that combine American aggression with Early Seventies dance-punk influences. Part celebration, Part dance party for tortured souls. You know you love it.

Grand Mal - Love is the Best Con in Town
Bill Whitten of Grand Mal has kept up appearances in the past of running a real rock and roll band. On "Love is the Best Con in Town" it's clear that the show is his. Sure, there's a twenty-two member supporting cast that contributes to these sessions, but the focus throughout is on Whitten's languid, piano-based balladry. Whitten's entire aesthetic springs from the sounds of the early seventies. His music references Bowie 's "Hunky Dory," the Velvet Underground's "Loaded," and Todd Rundgren's early solo sessions. It also echoes Big Star and such lesser knowns as Hackamore Brick.
Whitten's few rockers have a Mott the Hoople vibe. There are just enough of them to give "Best Con" some much needed variety. Imagine a dour Ben Kweller or a less suburban Ben Folds if you're looking for contemporary comparisons. Whitten's less goofy than either of those chaps, and for the most part his tales of wounded love and New York street life radiate a beguiling, timeless charm.

Tom Verlaine - Songs and Other Things
Songs mostly. Verlaine plows the same field he's been working most of the time since going solo twenty-seven years ago. And, yes, a lot of it still sounds like Television. Duh. Often, though, Verlaine replaces the kinectic, fiery interplay he had with Richard Lloyd for something slightly icier, sculpted. Verlaine is so self-possessed that he can betray influences from the Stones, Coltrane, even the Dead and never sound particularly like them. Beautiful guitar playing, twisted little tunes. Released at the same time as an instrumental record, this record begins and ends (perversely) with instrumentals as well. Verlaine's is a cultivated, but sincere eccentricity that continues to charm.

The Organ - s/t
Five androgynous young ladies from Canada who have refined a sound redolent of early Eighties English music, think Smiths, New Order, and Echo and the Bunnymen, and teh Cure. The songwriting is of a high standard for a debut release. Singer, Katie Sketch, is an almost exact composite of Deborah Harry and Morrissey - the similarities and the synthesis are stunning. She's expressive, but precise - self-possessed, but not mannered. They may not be breaking new ground, but The Organ's music is fully realized, smart, and striking for a band so young.

Various Artists - Rockin' Bones: 50s Punk and Rockabilly [Box Set]
Racially motivated lynchings, sexual repression bordering on mental illness, McCarthy's Red Scare paranoia, the end of the world in one massive Atomic blast, and little green, insect-like men dragging you and your girl off into their spaceships to do God only knows what to you. Comic books, decadent cinema, and "colored" records make you go blind or lead you into a life time criminal incarceration. Jesus is a blue eyed Anglo-saxon in a pastel blue bedsheet. Weirdos need not apply. Happy days, my ass.
What's the youngest fastest growing middle class economy on planet Earth to do? Rock'n'Roll, baby!
Rockin' Bones: 1950s Punk and Rockabilly, Rhino's 4-CD box chronicle, sets the record straight on the real sounds of America's "Golden Age" falling apart. "Hey, Mr. Eisenhower, tear down that wall!" Elvis and an onslaught of like-minded, hormonally driven kids, declared. It's the end of the world, and we feel fine.
Rockabilly, the ultimate singles driven 2 1/2 minute primal howl, produced not only the Elvises, Jerry Lees, Gene Vincents represented here, but hordes of less heralded, regionally eccentric rockers, all hoppin' and boppin' to this hedonistic celebration of Africa colliding with Northern European music influences, on it's transplanted soil, U.S.A.
Mindless, irreverent, lascivious? God, yes. Despite its lack of enduring cultural impact, it's still a blast to listen to in our new "Golden Era" of intolerence, repression,and paranoia. Let's get real gone.

Southern Culture on the Skids - Doublewide and Live
Tired schtick, or one of the country's most exciting live bands still ticking? I'll shake my stick at the latter proposition. Formed in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, in 1985, Southern Culture on the Skids (or "Scots" to their fans) over the years has been one of the most frantic missionary prophets of the missing link between Link Wray and Creedence Clearwater Revival. This live recording, culled from shows in their own stomping ground of Chapel Hill, finds them full on in their own glorious celebration of greasy food, cheap liquor, failed romance, and the general squalor of the American squirm. And did I mention guitarist/singer Rick Miller absolutely blazes rockabilly-surf-swamp virtuosity over one of the tightest crack rhythm sections since The Blasters in their prime? The limited edition disc comes with enhanced live footage and a link to even more live material on the band's website. Viva Los Scots!!

Favorite Sons - Down Beside Your Beauty
There are traces of Echo & The Bunnymen (one of my all-time fave bands) in a lot of music today, but these guys might have a bit more than most. That's primarily because their lead singer has got the Ian McCulloch thing goin' on! The music of the band is not as dense or orchestral as Echo, but these are lovely pop tunes with an adventurous singer on top of it all. Shades of the '80's, but modern too!

The Rapture - Pieces of The People We Love
Okay, it's time to dance! Not that crap that's pre-programmed and pro-tooled to death like Paris Hilton or Jessica Simpson either. This is a band of energetic lads who like to yelp and shout over some funkalicious beats that should keep the NYC deejays happy all year long. Lots of 80's influences - especially from the great Brits: A Certain Ratio. Fun stuff!

Imaad Wasif - S/T
Wasif is another indie singer-songwriter sort..."and why should I care?" you ask? Well, he is part of the Kill Rock Stars roster and is considered an equal of some of the other top notch folks out there today - such as Sufjan Stevens and Laura Veirs. This record contains 11 gorgeous songs - most pretty sparse and slow. If you love the artists previously mentioned and others like them (Jose Gonzalez, Iron & Wine), this is well worth a listen...it's beautiful.

The Ettes - Shake the Dust
I do dearly love a girl garage band! And these chicks (and one dude) are my latest favorite. Here are 14 great rock tunes (including a Reigning Sound cover) with some terrific, propulsive drumming, pup/punk energy; sassy lyrics - and an awesome lead singer with an 80's attitude. This is catchy as hell - not unlike the first Go Go's record.

The Czars - Goodbye
There aren't a lot of singers out there today like John Grant - He's more like the crooners of the '50's or '60's. The man has a remarkable voice and uses it on every song - I am always wow-ed by his risk-taking. The songs are full of observant lines about life & love & the pain/joy that those things bring. THere just doesn't seem to be an unnecessary word or note - something all too rare these days. Pure poetry (in my opinion).

The Legends - Public Radio
Since most of my favorite music comes from the '80's, this record is right up my alley. The Legend borrow quite a bit from early songs by The Cure, but there are also some synth influences from the under-appreciated early work of O.M.D. These are fun & poppy tunes that have plenty of hooks - and isn't that what we all want from our pop idols? Good stuff!

Absentee - Schmotime
Perhaps you can tell from the title of this record that this is a band with a penchant for wordplay and a sense of humor. The lyrics are clever, witty & funny...and the songs are complex yet catchy. But the most immediate quality of the band lies with the distinct vocals - a deep bass, along the liens of Stephen Merritt (Magnetic Fields) or Matt Berninger (The National)...good stuff!

Gregor Samsa - 55:12
Gregor Samsa bears a resemblance to bands such as Low, Mogwai, and Black Heart Procession...the same slow, building in tension way of writing songs. Good for rainy, sleepy days and maybe a little nap time.


Thom Yorke - The Eraser
Those of you who are hoping for a pop record full of sing-along choruses, get over it...you won't find The Bends Vol. 2 here.What will you find? Layers of (mostly) percussive instruments underneath a man's dynamic voice. This record reminds me of Bjork's Vespertine - it's another showcase for a truly incredible vocalist...one who isn't afraid to be dark and unusual and creative. Really great.

Sufjan Stevens - The Avalanche
Outtakes and extras? Hardly...This is just as good as last year's Illinoise album! If you are already a fan, you'll find plenty to love here... great harmonies, thoughtful lyrics, every instrument under the sun. Some folks like to call Sufjan a little too precious...I think he just knows how to make lovely music that bears little resemblance to most of what's out there these days. I say - keep it up, Sufjan!

Jesus & Mary Chain - Darklands (reissue)
Originally released in 1987, this is a re-issue and has been remastered with videos! This is the J&M chain sticking with their rock/punk/goth roots - but letting more of their pop sensibilities show (especially Beach Boys and Lee Hazlewood). They've learned to play their instruments since Psychocandy, but there is still plenty of snarl in this record. The sound is terrific too... gotta love remastering!

The Morning After Girls - S/T
If I were going to make a "morning after girls cocktail," I would put in equal parts of:
* Dandy Warhols
* Brian Jonestown Massacre
* Ride
* Spacemen 3
* Jesus & Mary Chain
-Add a little vodka & lime juice, shake it up and enjoy!

Mojave 3 - Puzzles Like You
What do we have here? Mojave 3 rockin' out... yes, indeed! Previous records (and lead singer Neil Halstead's solo outing) have all shown the band's devotion to folky country... Here, they've kept that sound but layered it heavily with upbeat rock & roll. The band has always been candid about their predilection for smoking illegal substances - maybe that has changed as well? Glad to hear their fun side...

Camera Obscura - Let's Get Out of this Country
Another very nice Scottish band - pals of Belle and Sebastian (with a sound similar to their early records.) Great pop tunes with deceptively sassy lyrics. Much love for sounds of the '60s - Petula Clark, The Supremes, The Left Banke... makes you want to snap your fingers and smile.

The Black Angels - Passover
Black Angels know how to get their drone on... a lead singer with a voice that howls and whines, songs that build and repeat at all the right times, touches of goth and southern gothic. There are similarities to Velvet Underground, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, and early stuff from The Cult - it's easy to get hypnotized by this kinda rock.

El Perro Del Mar - s/t
This record is nearly impossible to describe without using the word "pretty." The vocals are just about as sweet and girlish as it gets, and the music itself is often kinda chirpy - but there's an undertone of sadness to ti all. It reminds me quite a bit of Julee Cruise... there's just somethign haunting about it. Most of the songs are written by Del Mar - and she plays most of the instruments. Unusual and memorable... oh, and pretty.

 

Nomo - New Tones
10+ members yield looping keyboards, a full horn section, heavy percussion and world-music influences to produce a melodic funky-jazzy-soulful masterpiece.

The Black Keys - Chulahoma
The duo covers songs originally written by Junior Kimbrough on this 6-track EP.

The Black Lips - Let it Bloom
Lo-fi noisy boy garage rock.

 

 

Beirut - Gulag Orkestar
Zack Condon brings a new sound to the music scene unexpected from someone born in Alberquerque, NM and now based in Brooklyn, NY. This 19-year old crooner uses his voice and instrumentation to create a sound that would be at home in the Balkans or Eastern Europe. Instruments include accordians, strings, piano, et al. Influenced by Eastern European folk music, Czech polka music, and American indie-rock, this young singer/songwriter interweaves all three sounds into a beautiful, upbeat, catchy, "international" sounding album.
The English lyrics speak of far-off lands and reference locations slightly off-the-map. The song titles alone point to multiple countries, cities, and geographic locations. Italy, Brandenberg (Austria), the Rhine, and the "Canals of Our City." And the funniest part about it is that Condon has never been to these places. But it doesn't make his reminisces any less believable.
Hopefully, Zack will soon see these sites and they will be everything that the young troubador has imagined, and then he can write about them for real.