Southern Fried Genocide
Southern Fried Genocide
Self-released; 2012

Cars, liquor, and being gainfully employed by the cloven-hoofed boss of the underworld are all topics that get equal air time on this self-titled release by the Melbourne-based Southern Fried Genocide.

Formed from the still smoldering ashes of the now-defunct Zombie Jesus, Southern Fried Genocide ups the ante with solid slabs of suvern blacktop boogie served white hot.

With buzzy, volatile guitars that sound as though they might come apart at any moment, most of the songs are performed in overdrive tempos and as such, is perfect skateboarding/irritate-the-neighbors music. The songs bring to mind dark images of horror films, running ‘shine, and street races that end badly for someone.

Original, brash, and decidedly nervy with his coarsely agitated vocal delivery, frontman Stevo delivers a memorable performance throughout the album. But main guitarist Mark, a.k.a. “Rockshow,” steals the show every time he steps up to take a lead, most notably on “Working for the Devil.” Like a possessed Chuck Berry crossed with Rick Neilsen, Mark plays as if he has something to prove, and his fretwork is incendiary, fluid, and melodic. There are more than enough chops to spare on these eight tracks.

The lineup is rounded out by Wes AWESOME (rhythm guitar), Reid (bass), and Ralph (drums), all gifted, agile players who lay down impressive rhythms at breakneck speeds. Proof of these solid, unwavering tempos is the freedom they afford Mark’s over-the-top lead work on standouts like “Four Door Hornet” and “The Dreggs.”

The band have been gigging steadily, with high profile dates opening for national acts like Cracker, Maylene and the Sons of Disaster, and Brooklyn’s Hull under their belts. Southern Fried Genocide are a solid five-piece who show nothing but promise of great things to come with this high-octane debut.

– M.A. Rivera

Paul McCartney
Kisses on the Bottom
Capitol Records; 2012

With this latest album, Sir Paul has made good on an old promise to “Get up and dance to a song that was a hit before your mother was born.” Kisses on the Bottom is largely a collection of standard covers with two new McCartney-penned tunes. As such, it’s in the vein of Rod Stewart’s Great American Songbook albums, but most of the songs here are less well known. The first thing you’ll notice is Sir Paul’s voice; he sounds his age, and that’s just fine. It’s a voice we’re all familiar with and he doesn’t need to compete with anyone, much less his younger self. Backed by Diana Krall’s band, he ably takes on “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter,” “It’s Only a Paper Moon,” and “The Glory of Love”; elsewhere, Eric Clapton and Stevie Wonder make guest appearances. There is an off-the-cuff spontaneity to the recordings, and they all sound warm and live. In the liner notes McCartney explains his logic behind the selection: all are songs he grew up with and represent his desire to include gems that would be “unfamiliar to some people.” He also comments on the effect and influence they had on his own songwriting; in particular, “My Very Good Friend the Milkman” has strong overtones of “When I’m 64.” Sir Paul clearly isn’t done filling the world with silly love songs — and what’s wrong with that? – M.A. Rivera

Paul Weller
Sonik Kicks
Island; 2012

Paul Weller, ex-frontman for The Jam and ’80s R&B revivalists The Style Council, is 53, a fact that on its face seems cruelly ageist to mention, but is essential in qualifying Sonik Kicks, his 11th solo effort, as an excellent example of grizzled experience trumping fresh-faced youth. By most accounts, Weller, the often derided personification of generic “Dad Rock,” should be well past it, one step away from Jaggerish irrelevance. 2008′s 22 Dreams certainly made it seem so, with its largely ruminative, propped-on-a-stool mood, and its followup, 2010′s Wake Up the Nation, came across as too eager to outlive its angry brevity, a bit like a flashy, mid-life crisis convertible gunning the wrong direction down a one-way street. Sonik Kicks, however, finds Weller rounding the block to make another daring pass, this time with a luscious, foreign supermodel in the passenger seat. There’s not a duff tune here, save syrupy closer “Be Happy Children,” but by that time, the album has sped off to its opulent Mediterranean villa and drawn the blinds. “Green,” “Attic,” and winking single “That Dangerous Age” are standouts, but it’s sleepers like the flamenco-driven “Drifters” and “Paper Chase” that nudge Sonik Kicks from “pretty good” to superb. Especially delicious is the give-it-a-second-chance “Study in Blue” (a duet with the much younger backup singer he recently wed), which gives way to a gloomy, four-minute dub soundscape that proves, if nothing else, that Weller’s ears are still in fine form. – T. Bennison

The Robert Glasper Experiment
Black Radio
Blue Note/EMI; 2012

Exceptionally gifted jazz pianist Robert Glasper takes big chances on his latest release, Black Radio, an album that aims to imagine what radio could be if it didn’t focus strictly on commercial viability. It features a who’s who of some of todays most talented black musicians — Erykah Badu, Bilal, Lupe Fiasco, Lalah Hathaway, Shafiq Husayn (Sa-Ra), KING, Ledisi, Chrisette Michele, Musiq Soulchild, Meshell Ndegeocello, Stokley Williams (Mint Condition), and Yasiin Bey. Erykah Badu sits in with the band and covers the Mongo Santamaria classic “Afro Blue,” making it modern, stylish and fresh, and Meshell Ndegeocello’s contribution, “The Consequence of Jealousy,” is one of the standout tracks, with its deeply sexy groove. Glasper draws from jazz, hip-hop, R&B, and rock here, offering us compelling glimpse into his broad artistic vision. That there are tracks that fall short is only further proof of his willingness to step out of his comfort zone rather than play it safe with formulaic songwriting. Closing out the album is a reinterpretation of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” a version that falls somewhere between Tori Amos’s lounge reading and jazz trio Bad Plus’s deconstruction of the grunge classic. Here, Glasper manages to make it his own and newly interesting at the same time. – M.A. Rivera

Sublime with Rome
Yours Truly
Fueled by Ramen, 2011

There will always be detractors critical of any project that replaces deceased band members with stand-ins, and they’ll usually have the compelling point: it’s just not the same. And clearly, it never will (or should) be again. Sublime with Rome is a collaboration between original Sublime members Eric Wilson and Bud Gaugh and singer/guitarist Rome Ramirez, here taking the place of Sublime’s founder, the late Bradley Nowell. Yours Truly is a mostly upbeat reggae/ska collection spiked with occasional blasts of punk-like noise that’s radio-friendly and highly listenable. Opening track “Panic” kicks hard. Filled with fat ska horns, it clearly references the bands musical past. Elsewhere, “Murdera” is infectious and upbeat, though slightly repetitive, but “PCH” is, hands-down, the catchiest song here. It’s the perfect summertime track — the kind you don’t mind hearing several times a day as it plays on every single radio station. If you can listen to Yours Truly without grousing about its faults (“Rome is no Brad Nowell!”) then it will enjoy a leading spot on your playlist for months to come. – M.A. Rivera

Air
Le Voyage Dans La Lune
Astralwerks; 2012

Recently, a hand-painted color print of the groundbreaking 14-minute, 1902 film “Le Voyage Dans la Lune” resurfaced, and it has since been painstakingly restored. This silent masterpiece, the brainchild of French director Georges Méliès, is an imaginative cinematic interpretation of the classic Jules Verne adventure, but the sole print was in danger of crumbling to dust. As such, restoration and digitalization took over a decade to complete, and French electronica duo, Nicolas Godin and Jean-Benoit Dunckel, better known as Air, were commissioned to compose a modern soundtrack to accompany the new version. Using Moog synthesizers and vintage instruments for the live recording, Godin and Dunckel drape the soundtrack in warmth and a playfulness usually missing from their previous work. There’s sometimes a bland, cinematic utility in some of the tracks, but the synth explosions, thundering drums, and crunchy, muscular guitars are here to bolster the film, not steal the show. “Seven Stars,” which features Beach House’s Victoria Legrand, is a beautiful bit of pop music. Others, like “Cosmic Trip” and “Sonic Armada,” stand well enough on their own, but will whet your appetite for a viewing of this remarkable, 110-year-old film. – M.A. Rivera

Koffin Kats
Our Way & The Highway
Sailor’s Grave; 2012

This most recent release by Detroit’s Koffin Kats covers familiar territory: touring, drinking, murder, suicide, and revenge — and covers it really well. There’s a nice mix of songs here, from the high-speed psychobilly of “Riding High” to straight ahead rockers like “Choke.” Frontman Vic Victor’s voice is in fine form, and the rest of the band turn in impossibly tight performances on each track. This level of musicianship can only be achieved through the kind of non-stop touring the trio are known for, and “Boozincrossanation” sums up the their work ethic nicely: “From the backroads of America/To the mountains of Romania/We’re playin in/A ramblin’ band.” Elsewhere, the blacktop stomp of “The Devil Asked” is an unexpected bit of fun, reminiscent of ’60s, drag racing-themed garage rock. With songs colored with incendiary guitar leads, the band shift gears easily, and steer Our Way & The Highway safely home. It’s their most polished studio release to date, and a fine example of a working band at their peak. – M.A. Rivera 

Various Artists
The Book of Mormon Original Broadway Cast Recording
Ghostlight Recordings; 2012

Be forewarned: quoting the more memorable and funny bits from The Book of Mormon at work can get you into trouble with your politically correct co-workers. The collaborative brainchild of “South Park” creators Matt Stone and Trey Parker, and Robert Lopez of “Avenue Q” fame, is a ridiculously funny (and completely inappropriate) Broadway show that manages to be endearingly sweet and blasphemous at the same time. The show begins with Elders Price and Cunningham being assigned to their mission in Uganda. Knowing nothing about the place, they imagine it will be very much like the Africa depicted in “The Lion King,” setting the scene for “Hasa Diga Ebowei,” an upbeat, “Lion King”-type number about AIDS, female genital mutilation, war, rape, famine, and drought. Later, we see the Elders struggle not only with their own faith, but how to bring comfort to such a brutal and unforgiving place. The tone of the show never goofs on the value of faith, however absurd some Mormon beliefs may sound. Elder Price refers to the Book of Mormon as the third part of the trilogy of the bible — the “Return of the Jedi” of the Holy Scripture. The show has won nine Tonys and will soon be launched with a traveling cast, the better to bring the good word to people like you and I. – M. A. Rivera

Jaimoe’s Jassz Band
Renaissance Man
Lil’ Johnieboy Records; 2011

The excellent Renaissance Man is the solo debut of Jaimoe Johnason, one of the founding members of the Allman Brothers Band. On it, the legendary drummer has put together a band of exceptional players, including trumpeter Reggie Pittman and living blues legends Junior Mack and Bruce Katz. But as the name of the band implies, the album also leans strongly toward jazz territory. It’s hard to focus on the highlights of an album full of standout tracks. “Rainy Night in Georgia” positively simmers, with Mack’s voice reaching a laconic and endearing baritone, and wild, swinging tracks like “Dilemma,” “Drifting and Turning,” and “Hippology” are all exquisite. Jaimoe himself is smart enough to use the resources available to him, and with a band this full of excellent songwriters, there’s plenty of great material for him to tap into. “Leaving Trunk” is a blues number more in keeping with his other band’s songbook, making Renaissance Man more than a mere vanity project. This is the sound of a great artist continuing to challenge himself — and proving there are more than a few new tricks left in him. – M.A. Rivera

Gillian Welch
The Harrow and the Harvest
Acony Records; 2011

The mistress of morose lyrics treads on familiar ground with this gorgeous new album of emotionally exposed songs. Gillian Welch sings about loss and despair with a world-weary voice as warm and as comfortably inviting as your favorite flannel shirt, and this release finds her collaborating with guitarist Dave Rawlings, whose brilliant accompaniment on “Scarlet Town” starts the album off with an Appalachian feel. “Dark Turn of Mind” is a country-blues tune that rolls and sways easily, and “The Way That it Goes” chronicles heartache and failure at every turn without pausing to let it sink in. This is as simple and stripped down an album as can be made, with two guitars, banjo, bass, and handheld percussion (when there is any at all), and this austerity adds emphasis to Welch’s commanding voice. She proves herself once again to be one of the most important voices in the contemporary Americana movement. The intimacy conveyed in these recordings makes the listener feel as though he’s next door listening to the band warm up. Listening to her lament and bewail every misfortune possible, who’d ever believe tragedy could sound so sweet? — M.A. Rivera

Flogging Molly
Speed of Darkness
Thirty Tigers; 2011

On Speed of Darkness, their latest release, Flogging Molly take a hard look at the collapse of the economy and the American dream. Amidst pink slips and the crushing despair of unfulfilled promises, the band unleash their anger and resentment through the course of 12 unforgiving songs. “Speed of Darkness” opens the album at a breakneck pace, but it’s with track two, “Revolution,” that the themes of loss are established, with lines like this: “I spent 27 years in this factory/Now the boss man says, ‘Hey, you’re not what we need’/The penguins in the suits they know nothing but greed/It’s a solitary life when you’ve mouths to feed/But who cares about us?” “Saints and Sinners” is another remarkable song that manages to avoid being another Irish punk rock cliché, but “Oliver Boy (All of Our Boys)” ably contemplates the fate of every mother’s son who ever carried a gun in the name of God and country. This standout track is delivered by someone who no longer cares about who’s wrong or who’s right, but is tired of seeing young men buried far too soon. “A Prayer for Me In Silence,” a duet between frontman Dave King and his wife Bridget Regan, is reminiscent of the Pogues, but without the dark humor. The best part of the album though, is that the band keep things mixed up enough to avoid falling into a repetitive pattern, making it an enjoyable and fresh listen. — M.A. Rivera

Joss Stone
LP1
Stone’d Records; 2011

Joss Stone is currently the most popular practitioner of blue-eyed soul recording today. Her latest album, LP1, is pained, lovelorn, humorous, sexy, and impossibly endearing all at the same time. In fact, LP1 may be the best release by a major artist this year. Stone collaborated with Dave Stewart on each track, and his production here is deft and exquisite. And although Stone’s voice is placed front-and-center, she clearly enjoys the interplay with the other musicians on songs like “Don’t Start Lying to Me” and “Karma,” a funky, organ-fueled bit of fun. But the centerpiece of the album, “Drive All Night,” is spare, emotionally raw, and hopeful. Elsewhere, Stone often sings as though she’s merely confiding to a friend sitting across the table from her. And while she’s clearly appreciative of the attention, there’s a part of her that still sounds unsure of her worthiness. Musically uncluttered, Stone’s delivery is stunningly sexy and vulnerable at the same time. Give this as a gift to the person who’s caught your eye, and they may very well drive all night just to listen to it with you. — M.A. Rivera

Alice Cooper
Welcome 2 My Nightmare
Universal; 2011

It’s been 36 years since the release of the now-classic Welcome to My Nightmare, so Alice Cooper’s had sufficient time to think about what he wants to say in a sequel. Appropriately, that follow-up, Welcome 2 My Nightmare, finds him in fine dramatic form. As his attempts to stay awake fail, Cooper succumbs to an uneasy sleep, and narrates a tormented journey through troubled dreams. Throughout, you get a macabre and overblown vaudevillian sense of wit and showmanship. With rockers, ballads, Broadway-styled numbers, disco sendups and electronic pop, Cooper approaches each song fearlessly regardless of his lyrical themes. “Disco Bloodbath Boogie Fever,” “Bite Your Face Off,” “When Hell Comes Home,” and “Last Man on Earth” in particular, are all fine examples of his wickedly snide sense of humor. He reunites with producer Bob Ezrin and surviving members of the original Alice Cooper band, welcomes support from Vince Gill and Rob Zombie, and sings an unexpected duet with Ke$ha. This ghoul still has legs and apparently a great deal left to say. Longtime fans should appreciate how smart this sequel is. Paying tribute to its predecessor, it’s a worthwhile followup to a legendary recording. Hopefully Alice won’t sleep well for a long time to come. — M.A. Rivera  

Kitten
Sunday School
Atlantic Records; 2011

Let’s focus on the music here and not the fact that Kitten’s singer, Chloe Chaidez, is only 16. This debut EP boasts five very different songs, ranging from aggressive rockers like “Chinatown” to the smart, sugary pop of “Johnny, Johnny, Johnny,” a song that suggests an affinity for Florence and the Machine. It also sounds as though the quartet grew up listening to the best of John Peel’s radio show for all the territory they cover musically. “Kitten with a Whip” makes you wonder whether the Dead Kennedy’s “Let’s Lynch the Landlord” was playing in the background when it was written, and lush standout single “Kill the Light” is a guitar-layered, beat-driven song that references Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road.” Opening and closing with a low drone of distorted feedback, “Allison Day” is filled with breathy vocals that conjure Björk when she sees fit to perform actual pop songs; everything about it feels urgently hopeful and resigned at the same time. Nothing about Sunday School fits neatly into an easily identifiable category. Now with all that out of the way, did anyone tell you that Chaidez was 15 when these songs were recorded? Her warm, textured voice fits well with the music, and never demands that the instrumentation prop it up. Kitten are a true band, not a just a forgettable vehicle for another disposable pop princess. — M. Alberto Rivera

Tedeschi Trucks Band
Revelator
Sony Masterworks; 2011

Revelator, the debut release by husband-and-wife duo Derek Trucks and Susan Tedeschi, has a title that hints at an infusion of gospel and delivers on the promise. Everything on this disc is soulful and beautifully crafted, and these 12 solid numbers are as strong as the players performing them. If you want and/or expect the slide guitar histrionics Trucks is legendary for, you’ll find some of the most beautiful leads he’s played to date. Thankfully, he’s a shrewd enough player to not let showing off get in the way of a good song. Tedeschi is blessed with a sweet, seductive and powerful voice that’s reminiscent of Bonnie Raitt’s, and when she sings you’ll believe anything she has to say. Backed by a horn-packed 11-piece band, TTB  jumps, struts, swings, and shuffles elegantly to some of the best music released in recent years. There’s Delta blues, Stax soul, Meters-style instrumentals, and ’70s funk. Even the hidden track at the end of the album is an understated workout that builds and falls away like the sound of a great band warming up a crowd for a big tent revival. Each track is pure audio honey, and Revelator should quickly make a home for itself on your permanent playlist. This is a band to keep an eye on. — M.A. Rivera

Hank III
Ghost to a Ghost/Gutter Town; Attention Deficit Domination; 3 Bar Ranch Cattle Callin’
Megaforce/Hank3 Records; 2011

Hank 3 releases three albums on four CDs, boldly stating that he’ll do as he pleases from here on out. The first, Ghost to a Ghost, keeps in step with his previous alt-country releases with songs about loss, bad women, outlaw life and heartache. Heavy with Cajun and Zydeco flourishes, it also shows considerable depth and a different part of his musical palette. “Goin’ to Guttertown” and the genre-fusing title track, “Ghost to a Ghost” are standout cuts. The third recording, Attention Deficit Domination, is doom rock at its finest. On it, H3 proudly displays his devotion to lumbering slabs of distorted noise in the vein of Sleep, the Melvins, and some of Black Flag’s slower, grinding tunes. Each song pushes forward like a fully loaded truck creeping up a steep mountain. Intense and unrelenting, the guitars drone slowly and may even rattle the fillings in your molars loose. 3 Bar Ranch Cattle Callin’, the fourth in the series, finds H3 performing speed metal with exquisite double bass work over shouting cattle auctioneers, ultimately creating a previously unheard of genre. His humor is on display with song titles like “Cow Mortal” and “Angus of Death,” but each track is a slice of intense audio adrenaline. H3 took big chances on these four albums and not every listener will be enamored with much of the material, but there’s no denying Hank has stayed true to his unique artistic vision throughout. – M.A. Rivera

The Head and the Heart
The Head and the Heart
Sub Pop; 2011

Dreams don’t always become reality, but for the members of the Head and the Heart, all those open-mic night hopes ended up being as real as their self-titled debut. This born-in-a-bar Seattle band will feel familiar to Avett Brothers fans thanks to some beautiful harmonies, smart lyrics, and a smattering of romantically realistic songs about stuff we don’t often sing along to. Mumford & Sons listeners will love the unexpected crescendos and alt-county/folk rock timbres. “Rivers and Roads” is a traveling song for star-crossed lovers and “Cats and Dogs/Coeur D’Alene” is a sweet anthem about the decision to commit. “Down in the Valley” is like drinking a bottle of liquor on a back porch– beautifully heavy and regretfully hopeful for what will come. Elsewhere, “Honey Come Home,” which is realistic as a dirty fridge, offers a story about divorce, perspective, and rebirth, and “Lost in My Mind” speaks to everyone who’s ever felt like the life they’re living is less than they bargained for. Penultimate track “Sounds Like Hallelujah,” however, honors making the right decisions for all the right reasons. The Head and the Heart sounds like a lot of things, but the real heart of its brilliance comes from the band’s ability to tell the story of how we all get where we are. — V. Bormann

Washed Out
Within and Without
Sub Pop; 2011

For me, Moby’s appeal peaked at Play, but when I stumbled across Within and Without I immediately felt like I’d been transported back to everything I loved about that classic. Washed Out’s debut evokes similar sensations and has the added bonus of hiding some darker, sexier undertones. Imagine 1980s synthpop mixed with chilled-out lounge music from at least three geographical regions at once; just when you think you know where it’s going, you’re off to somewhere new. Maybe it’s partly because of the coital album cover, but this whole album is wear-your-highest-heels and reapply-your-lipstick sexy. Ernest Green, aka Washed Out, has social networking to thank for playing in our ears, but his bedroom-mixed tracks feel anything but small-town. Within and Without is just the kind of fascinating, unique recording Hollywood will make global. Ladies and gentleman, I predict that tracks from this debut will feature prominently in a car commercial within four months and at least three movies this year. If you’re a Moby fan, if you love atmospheric music that you can tune in or tune out accordingly, or if you just really want to try something new, download this. Then, get into your car, play “Amor Fati” as loud as you can stand it and drive, drive, drive. If this doesn’t make a trip to the podiatrist feel as exciting as the commute for a night out in Manhattan, then clearly my “Eyes Be Closed.” — V. Bormann

Travis Barker
Give the Drummer Some
Interscope Records; 2011

When Travis Barker, the Neil Peart of punk rock and reality TV’s most famous drummer, released Give the Drummer Some in March, it raised expectations. Even the cover art by Pushead hints this debut solo album will be a heavy metal disc with extraordinary drumming throughout. And then it comes on and we hear one dozen Barker-propelled tracks of hip hop. Rappers Snoop Dogg, Game, Lil’ Wayne, Swizz Beatz, RZA, Raekwon, Lil’ Jon, Twista, Busta Rhymes, Yelawolf all contribute to the celebrity wow factor here as does the exceptional guitar work of Rage Against the Machine’s Tom Morello. And while this is a good hip hop album, it seems a waste of Barker’s legendary ability to have him mostly keep time. Admittedly, he does it really well, but much of the album seems to be stuck in one groove more or less, and soon becomes repetitive. Unlike most hip hop recordings, the drums are punchy, warm, and rollicking — proof positive of Barker’s varied musical tastes and the skill with which he’s jumped genres so believably. Now how ’bout giving the drummer some, for real? — M.A. Rivera

Stevie Nicks
In Your Dreams
Reprise; 2011

The cover of In Your Dreams features Stevie Nicks holding an owl, which suggests she finally got accepted at Hogwarts. Whether as a student or as a visiting professor, the liner notes never let on. It’s probably the most interesting thing about this new collection of songs by Ms. Nicks. None of them are flat-out bad, but they do sound a lot like songs from previous Nicks albums that weren’t very memorable. With titles like “Wide Saragasso Sea” and “Annabel Lee,” which references Poe’s poem of the same name, there’s hope for some of the notable lyrics and melodies that have made Nicks such an iconic musician. But alas, they fall flat. And here’s the real head-scratcher: the really good songs on here only reveal themselves halfway through the disc. The song “Moonlight (A Vampires Dream)” resembles some of the finer moments in Nicks career, as do “Ghosts Are Gone” and “Soldier’s Angel,” whose spare, haunted guitar part comes courtesy of former bandmate and live-in love Lindsey Buckingham. This standout collaboration is further proof that good chemistry should never be tampered with. There are only a handful of truly memorable songs on In Your Dreams. Unless you’re a diehard fan, happy for any and all new material Ms. Nicks produces, you might be better off saving space on your CD tower and just downloading the tracks you like. – M.A. Rivera

Langhorne Slim
Be Set Free
Kemado; 2009

Seeing Langhorne Slim open for the Avett Brothers in Clearwater last March sent me back to this release and reminded me all over again why he’s still one of my favorite songwriters. Why? Because he tells it like it is. The new songs he previewed at that show were amazing and because I don’t know when we’ll be able to hear them regularly I’ve been holding myself over with Be Set Free, which I highly suggest you pick up. In the middle of wedding planning, graduate school, and life in general, I find his lyrics get me thinking about what truly matters. “Back to The Wild” is a poetic reminder that we all carry with us the best and the worst about our lot in life, ultimately to our benefit. The title track is a folksy tune about how love literally sets us free, “Yer Wrong” is the most straightforward song I’ve ever heard about being right, and “Blown Your Mind” tells the story about what we ponder when we just can’t find our way. During every song I find myself thinking, “I wish I’d written that.” “Say Yes” is what I put on repeat when I get discouraged; I couldn’t have said anything better myself about what making decisions about a wedding feels like: “Darling, look, no body plans it this way/We’re floatin’ now we’re fallin’/Somewhere in outer space/I keep on loving you/You know me better than the rest/And we should flip a coin/Hold our breath.” – V. Bormann

I first heard Bon Iver all the way through during a drive with my fiancé to the seashore for my birthday, and from the opening chords of “Perth,” I knew this self-titled release was going to be the one to beat for me this year. I watched the swamp become a blur as we made our way; it was a beautifully sunny day and we had a picnic ahead of us. Behind my sunglasses, my eyes were overflowing. This isn’t a record you listen to, but something you fully experience — you breathe it in, you walk through it slowly, and feel all of it. “Calgary” will make you reach for the hand of the one you love and appreciate all you’ve been given by those you lost. The last track, “Beth/Rest,” feels like a perfect continuation of where the album first began. Bon Iver is about redemption, the moments that take you away, and the moments when you need to be taken away, but more than anything, it’s about the moments in which we return: always changed, hopefully better. Don’t miss this one. — V. Bormann

Ziggy Marley
Wild And Free
Tuff Gong; 2011

With all the attention lately paid to genre-mashers, reinventors, and music industry subverters, it’s heartening to hear a release like Ziggy Marley’s Wild And Free, an album whose joyful adherence to tradition and formula makes even the most astute critics seem like stiff-shirted buzzkills. Even the unintentionally hilarious title track, a stilted ode to weed sung with famous hempster Woody Harrelson, is not without merit; lyrically, it’s closer to the kind of agricultural propaganda you’d expect from the North Korean government, but it does chug along nicely and pushes all the right reggae buttons in the process. Similarly, other songs (“Forward To Love,” “Roads Less Traveled,” and the buoyant “Personal Revolution”) showcase the positivity and yearning falsettos you expect from Bob Marley’s most prolific offspring. It’s all pleasantly stoney and spiritual, but Ziggy comes closest to resuscitating his father’s genius with the album’s lone jarring moment in closer “Elizabeth,” a touching vignette about one of a callous government’s human casualties. It’s the type of song Bob would be proud to have written, and one that suggests his son still has much more to offer. — R. Figgis

Gregg Allman
Low Country Blues
Rounder; 2011

There’s an upside to the new reality of a digital music economy; established musicians no longer have the luxury of spending six months and a gazillion dollars to record a three-minute ditty, and Gregg Allman’s Low Country Blues is a great example of this. This is Allman’s first solo album in 14 years, and all of it was done on the fly, with three other musicians playing alongside him. Low Country Blues is a stark and beautiful record, reminiscent of the best music Allman’s ever recorded. Consisting mainly of obscure, nearly forgotten covers, it finds Allman clearly at home with the material, and his pained and soulful voice fits these songs perfectly. “Devil Got My Woman,” “I Can’t Be Satisfied,” and “Floating Bridge” are the standout tracks on this highly listenable collection of songs. “Devil Got My Woman” offers a particularly haunting performance that makes you wonder whether the singer is better or worse off without her. Heavy on the piano and the warm rich sound of his reliable Hammond B-3, the songs focus on groove without a lot of showing off. There’s also a lot of hand-held percussion filling out the empty spaces where you’d normally hear someone from Allman’s other band squeezing out a lead. Much of Low Country Blues has occasion to get dressed up with Memphis-style horns, but overall it sounds closer to catching a great band in a casual. intimate setting. — M.A. Rivera

Sleigh Bells
Treats
Mom & Pop; 2010

For quite some time I’ve been confusing Sleigh Bells with The Asteroids Galaxy Tour, which as I reflect, has more to do with my slight memory of an awesome song from a Heineken commercial than it does with them being specifically similar bands. One thing the two groups do share is the emerging genre of “noise pop.” For Sleigh Bells, the genius that makes up their debut album comes from the duo’s powerful ability to confuse and amuse. On Treats, you’ll find infectiously sweet tracks like “Rill Rill” mixed with club-worthy features such as “Kids” and “Run The Heart.” Just when you’ve figured out that “Infinity Guitars” is a rock-out waiting to happen, you’ll be pulled into the craziness that is “Crown on the Ground,” only to weave back through an angsty “Straight A’s.” Much like high school, which is a theme in much of their songwriting, it’s all kind of confusing and celebratory in a not-sure-how-long-this-will-last kind of way. Enjoy it while it’s here; noise pop could be the next big thing or it could be a little bleep on the radar, but it’s worth an afternoon of house cleaning to “Riot Rhythm” to figure it out. — V. Bormann

Adele
21
Columbia; 2011

You know you’ve made it in America when one of your tunes is on “American Idol” and “Glee” within the same month. While the British songbird Adele is no newcomer to American fans, she’s finally getting the broad public exposure she deserves with “Rolling in the Deep,” the first single off her second album, 21. Titled after the singer/songwriter’s age, this record is a beautifully landscaped journey through the falling rocks of a breakup. Despite her youth, Adele has clearly felt the emotions of a woman at least twice her age. When I hear her I feel like I’m listening to the Sade of my generation. On “Turning Tables” she belts out a goosebump-inducing manifesto, and “Don’t You Remember” gives us a folksy attempt at pardoning a lover she’s let go, showing incredible diversity within the same strain of feeling. “Set Fire to the Rain” is about how you can’t stop passion just because something is over, and “I’ll Be Waiting” is a promise made by a woman who will do anything to recover what she’s lost. The acoustic, jazzy “If it Hadn’t Been for Love” is proof that even the greatest pain has a purpose, while her cover of The Cure’s “Lovesong” is an astoundingly delicious rendition, filled with longing that I’d never noticed in those lyrics before her take. Growing up, breaking up, getting over it — Adele has her ear to our hearts as she mends her own. – V. Bormann

The Felice Brothers
Celebration, Florida
Fat Possum; 2011

At the very least, you have to hand it to the Felice Brothers for trying. So determined are they to set themselves apart from the surfeit of folksy Americana groups currently ruling the charts that their latest release, Celebration, Florida, features electronic drums and synths. Pegged since their 2005 debut as banjo-plucking Dylan acolytes, the New York-based quintet would like to present this new sonic shift as boldly revolutionary as Bob’s infamous 1965 plug-in at Newport. The results, unfortunately, sound even more foolish when played as they do on paper. The songs themselves are good enough as foundations — “Ponzi” is especially good — but the electronics they’re wrapped in seem tacked on in an effort to either appeal to a broader fanbase or to earn plaudits for being adventurous. Too often the compelling theory gets muddled in the rendering; “Fire at the Pageant” and “Honda Civic” may have been conceived as epic-sounding but simply sound dissonant and messy coming through the speakers. The Felice Brothers are a great band, however. Chalk Celebration, Florida up as a quirky, cacophonous anomaly. You’re better off giving Iantown (2005) or Yonder Is The Clock (2009) another listen. — N. Henson

Elton John and Leon Russell
The Union
Decca; 2010

Usually the arrival of a new Elton John album is met with the same sort of enthusiasm reserved for a relative who only has two tired stories to tell and can only clearly recall one of them. But Sir Elton decided to partner with a longtime influence and legend in his own right, pianist Leon Russell, for this 2010 recording. This collaboration serves both artists well. The songs sung by John seem to be the sort of cocktail lounge variety his later career reflects, but it’s a style he’s admittedly good at. Russell’s voice sounds like a less creaky version of Willie Nelson and is soulful and introspective. While mostly a slower collection of songs, the duo seem to be enjoying themselves. “Shiloh” is the third track on the disc, and it’s the moment where The Union begins to come alive. Russell and John duet on standout track “I Should Have Sent Roses,” one of the better songs in either artist’s catalogues in years. The audio on this album is great. The instruments boom, rattle, shake and pop, and there’s not a lot of processing on anything but the vocals. Everything else sounds really natural and effortless. Hopefully John will continue in this less calculated direction, instead of simply mimicking something he’s done better a million times before. – M.A. Rivera

Mumford & Sons
Sigh No More
Glass Note; 2009

As many of you know, I am a big Avett Brother’s fan, so when I heard Mumford & Sons play the Grammys with them (and Bob Dylan), I was instantly intrigued. As it turns out, I’ve listened to Sigh No More enough in the last few months to secure it as one of the most important albums in planning our wedding. On drives to meet with vendors, on afternoons of work, on reflective nights — this is what I put on. “The Cave” captures the feeling of hanging out with family, “Dust Bowl Dance” covers looking at new neighborhoods in which to live, and “White Blank Page” reminds me that the only way to love is to do it 100%. “After The Storm” is my head on my fiancé John’s shoulder as we’re on our way somewhere and a reminder of what we’ve both come through to find each other. But really, it’s the title track that makes this a bookmark album. The religious undertones are not lost on me, but my religion is kindness and there is no greater kindness than truly loving. Mumford & Sons get that, I think. “Love it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you/It will set you free/Be more like the man you were made to be/The beauty of love as it was made to be,” they sing. For anyone who asks, that’s my definition of marriage. In a culture of divorce, it’s about making a commitment that makes you both better, more humble people. – V. Bormann

The Unthanks
Last
Rough Trade; 2011

One of the most stirringly beautiful and original albums to have appeared in a long time, Last owes as much to the comforting past as it does to the confounding present. Though ostensibly “folk,” this fourth release from the British troupe fronted by sisters Rachel and Becky Unthank is something much more than a studied rehash of old forms. Buttressed by soothing crooning and gossamer string arrangements, Last harks back to the roots of English balladry — in this case Northumbria, near the Scottish border. But the Unthanks also weave in modern elements like effulgent horns, plaintive piano, and contemporary lyrical sensibilities to create the equivalent of a modern field recording, one that captures these timeless songs at the moment of their exquisite birth. Like a newborn foal finding its legs, the mesmerizing opening track, “Gan To The Kye,” is both precariously fragile and confidently indomitable. Similarly, others, like “The Gallowgate Lad,” “My Laddie Sits Ower Late Up,” and “Close The Coalhouse Door,” simmer with a mixture of tragedy and muted joy. Now the downside to all this, as you can imagine, is that the gentle Last appeals to an ethereal mood you’re either in or wish you were. That it happens to engender a heightened state as soon as it’s played is a testament to its guileless musical power. – T. Bennison

Dengue Fever
Cannibal Courtship
Fantasy; 2011

Dengue Fever’s latest release, Cannibal Courtship, tills the same fertile musical soil as on their previous three CDs — ’60s-inspired surf/garage rock with Ethiopian jazz touches sung in English and Khmer. Cannibal Courtship is the band’s most focused release to date. Gone is the bravado of the first two albums where they were getting their footing, daring someone to call them out for being so different. This band is sure of what they’re doing. “Cement Slippers” is an angry back-and-forth duet of a couple who can’t stand being together, but haven’t figured out how to be apart. The songs sung in Khmer are exotic and strangely familiar. Singer Chhom Nimol’s voice floats lightly over the instrumentation. During “Sister in the Radio,” Nimol’s voice is high, trebly and filled with heartache, leaving the listener to wonder what or who made her feel this way. The organs and saxophone soften the angular edges of the rock/pop songwriting format, blurring the lines to sound a lot like jazz. “Kiss of the Bufo Alvarius” is pure spy noir jazz, calling to mind Connery’s Bond in the Far East, surrounded by beautiful women and unconcerned with any looming danger. With their first album, Dengue Fever could have easily been dismissed as a novelty act, plumbing a forgotten musical form for a quick buck. But four CDs on, they prove they have what it takes to go the distance, creating their own extraordinary musical legacy in the process. – M.A. Rivera

Okkervil River
The Stand Ins
Jajaguwar; 2008

Okkervil River have a classic Austin backstory: garage-born, they released their own debut, joined SXSW in 1998, released a concept album, and then signed on to a label they’ve been with ever since. It could be said that all of their albums are conceptual, The Stand Ins not withstanding (pun intended). Written as a companion-piece to the previously released Stage Names, this album completes a treatment of pop culture, celebrity, and the rock-star lifestyle that is at once journalistic investigation and lyric poetry. As I hear it, The Stand Ins is both an ode to life on the road as well as a warning to all those who seek and achieve fame. The result is a fierce yet delicate understanding of our roles as fans in perpetuating the lifestyles we admire. “Pop Lie” looks at the fallen hero singing in a mall food court, while “Lost Coastlines” is a summery, banjo-tuned ballad about being adrift on the road. “Blue Tulip” addresses the fear of rejection measured against the fear of failure for dreams not realized. In the end, it seems that as critical as The Stand Ins is about the life of those who dare to be known, it also stretches itself out as an apology about the same follies. We’re human and we idolize other humans. Okkervil River asks us to remember that — as fans, as musicians, and as very flawed humans. – V. Bormann

Zach Deputy
Live at Rock On Concert Cruise
United For Opportunity; 2010

“And now welcome the star of our show, Mr. Zach Deputy!” Thus begins the opening of one of Zach’s Live at Rock On Concert Cruise, one of about 40 live albums available through  www.zachdeputy.bandcamp.com. I chose this one to download for a “name your price” amount because the track-listing reminded me most of how I came to know of “ZD.” While visiting friends in Tallahassee and trying to decide on a show to see, my fiancé and I went through websites of various artists in town for the weekend. When we came upon ZD’s description, we knew we wouldn’t regret it. When else would we have a chance to witness “island-infused drum n’ bass gospel ninja soul?” I knew we had to see this guy, and as it turned out, that’s exactly who ZD is — one guy in a baseball hat, sitting down amongst a collection of instruments and electronics. No pretense. No expectations. Just music. What transpired that night on the dance floor of an old college haunt wasn’t just one of the best small live music acts I’ve ever witnessed, but the experience of being part of an entire movement. Pressed up against hipsters and bikers, hula-hoopers, and preppy college kids, my old college roommates, my fiancé and I danced with a throng of traveling gypsy-like fans. ZD the person faded away, as I think he intended to; he’s just the medium, it seems. His infectious and uplifting music moved me back in time and forward in the same moment. We’ve all grown up, but ZD made me feel all the freedom, youth, and celebration that college brought. To hear him is to be transported to a place where nothing can keep you from moving forward, or at the very least, moving your feet. – V. Bormann

ViliFi
Common Eyes
SH Music; 2011

Though this is ViliFi’s debut album, the band are no strangers to the local music scene. The Merritt Island trio, comprised of Shain Honkonen (guitars/vocals), Chad Berney (bass), and Jake Hogeland (drums), were known and loved, until recently, as oNe, an outfit than can be said to have improved through this new, more focused incarnation.

With the 13-track Common Eyes, ViliFi make their intentions clear at the outset with blistering opener “Sympathy,” a showcase of each member’s impressive musical skills. The rest of the album continues apace, with songs like the woozy “Abide” and the funk-inflected “Price I Have To Pay” woven around frenetic rhythms, furious guitar shredding, precise bass lines, and Honkonen’s warm vocals. Few bands sound as cohesive as this, and the entirety of Common Eyes has a palpably live feel.

Hard rock influences abound on chugging tracks like “Anguish” and “I’m Alive,” but ViliFi really shine on the more balladic offerings like “Gone Away” and closer “Take Me Away.” All the songs here are Honkonen-penned originals and are, as evidenced in the excellent, downtempo “Hanging On Tonight,” distillations of a variety of influences, including prog-rock, jazz, and even classical structures. One of the album’s best tracks, “Hanging On Tonight,” is a song full of color and restraint, and sounds all the more incredible when compared to the urgent intensity of much of the remainder of the album. Other highlights include Honkonen’s fluid guitar playing and finely-crafted lyrics, and Berney and Hogeland’s solid rhythm section, which is by turns anchored and wildly impulsive.

Melodic, funky, hard-rocking, and refreshingly unique, Common Eyes also suggests that ViliFi have a few more classic albums in them. Based on these tunes, the band should be around for a long, long time — perhaps in another incarnation, but in spirit at least, still the rocking same. — P. Thorpe

Common Eyes is available through iTunes, CDBaby.com, and Digstation.com. Visit the band’s website at: www.vilifi.net. ViliFi will be performing a number of times throughout the month — 4/1, 4/6, 4/13, 4/20, 4/27, and 4/29 at the Cocoa Beach Pier; 4/15 and 4/19 at the 321 Local (333 King St., Cocoa; 458-4509); and 4/8 at Off The Traxx (918 E. New Haven Ave, Melbourne; 327-2919).

R.E.M.
Collapse Into Now
Warner Bros.; 2011

Though 2008′s audacious Accelerate was generally well received, its aggressive garb never really suited R.E.M., so a reversion to their old sound was bound to happen. For as U2-like as they’d like to be perceived, the trio don’t really have the swagger in them, no matter how hugely popular they’ve become since their modest 1983 debut. It’s fitting, then, that Collapse Into Now’s strengths reside in songs like “Blue,” “Oh My Heart,” and “Überlin,” all of which seem like sly adaptations of classic R.E.M. songs, with their emphasis on Stipe’s comfortingly, yearny vocals and Buck’s mandolin and jangly guitar work. The problem, however, is that much of the album comes across as a vegan version of something meatier and more fulfilling. It’s unlikely Collapse will win R.E.M. any new fans, but it will rally their already considerable fan base to cheer on their merits even more fervently. This reviewer remains unconvinced. If you like R.E.M., you’ll be more than pleased; if you don’t, prepare to be underwhelmed. — G. Sanders

Radiohead
The King of Limbs
Self-released; 2011

As light and abbreviated as it first comes across, Radiohead’s latest release reveals great depths with repeated listens. Clocking in at a mere 37 minutes, these eight cerebral songs seem built with exacting, scientific precision, as if the band had compiled each of their EKG graphs and set them to music. But also like those peaked and valleyed charts, The King of Limbs indicates much more than just cold numerical data. Beginning with an almost deliberately obtuse, erratic drum beat, Radiohead go on to shepherd the chaos into some semblance of sense as each subsequent track takes over. By the time “Lotus Flower” gives way to the slower, ostensible second half of the album, the patients seem to have stabilized with the nuanced “Codex” and “Give Up the Ghost,” songs that for all their wispy slightness find the band back to their eccentrically beautiful ways. The last number, “Separator,” ends with barely a whisper, suggesting another album-length sequel in the near future. Make no mistake: this is ponderous stuff, but only a band like Radiohead could make it feel so airy. — G. Sanders

Catholic Radio
Catholic Radio
L. Parker Moore; 2011

Catholic Radio’s eponymous debut CD is full of surprises. First off, they have no affiliation with Rome, the Holy See, or Papal Decrees. They are, however, ready to convert the tired ears of those currently weary of contemporary radio. Released independently, the production on this disc is exceptional and jumps from the speakers. The songs are driven and hypnotic, exhibiting college radio sensibility while also capturing a big sound. Standout tracks include “Still Eyed Dream,” “Powder Run,” and “Eternally Blue,” songs that burn like the coal on your last cigarette; you’ve got too many miles yet to drive through the cool, inky black night, and rest isn’t an option. “Lose” is a disarming song with a trippy, irresistible keyboard riff that shimmers and reflects like sunlight on still waters. Peppered with instrumentals (three in all — “El Buen Sabor,” “How Do I Look?”, and “Markov,” these songs show off the band’s impressive chops while revealing a sly wit and playfulness they aren’t quite ready to put into words. Catholic Radio will restore your faith in something new worth listening to. — M.A. Rivera

The Orion Experience
NYC Girl
Self-released; 2011

Didja hear disco’s making a comeback? Too late; it is back. And I’ll say this: I respect The Orion Experience for not pretending that what they’re doing is more white boy funk. Nope, they go for the polyester jugular and shake it like they mean it. This five-song EP offers up four songs guaranteed to increase your heart rate and make you want to get up and dance. And the other song, “Sweet Friend,” is an endearing yet understated song reminiscent of Queens’ “You’re My Best Friend.” ”NYC Girl” and “Vampire” belie all nostalgia and act as though it’s still 1978 — 16th notes and all. There don’t appear to be any loops programmed on this disc either, which qualifies the band as disco purists. The guitar chimes and teases over a solid, insistent bass line, which should be packing dance floors everywhere. Singer Orion Simprini’s voice is smooth as velour as he laments ladies who leave him breathless. He seems slightly girl crazy if we’re going to think too hard about what he’s saying, but the lyrics are beside the point. The groove is everything here. “Emerald Eyes” is a horn-driven upbeat shuffle, and “Rollercoaster” provides a four-on-the-floor dance beat. All of it is irresistibly catchy. Danceable and fresh, NYC Girl is required listening for anyone who needs to get up and move. — M. A. Rivera

Gruff Rhys
Hotel Shampoo
Ovni Records; 2011

Like the small shampoo bottles and toiletries he’s collected over the years while on tour fronting Welsh band Super Furry Animals, the songs on Gruff Rhys’s third solo outing aren’t so much components of a lucid, binding concept, but rather a jumble of sundry lagniappes: useful freebies to the enlightened; landfill dross to the grouch. Yet suggesting that any of these tunes are merely the adequate throwaways of a distracted songwriter would be a grave mistake, because each is near to bursting with brilliant melodic invention and the meticulously layered production Rhys is known for. Though some might seem slight (“Conservation Conversation”; “Patterns Of Power”) compared to others (the excellent Tropicalia-influenced opener “Shark Ridden Waters,” for example), Hotel Shampoo isn’t nearly as diffuse as it might first sound to those in search of a clear statement; Rhys’s music always aims for the ears first, the head later. He’s also always worn his inspirations on his sleeve. You get a bit of Brian Wilson (“Honey All Over”), McCartney (“Sophie Softly”; “If We Were Words (We Would Rhyme)”), itchy dub (“Christopher Columbus”), and, this being Gruff Rhys, a healthy dose of Burt Bacharach (“Space Dust No. 2″; “Take A Sentence”; “Vitamin K”). Impossibly catchy from beginning to end, the cozy Hotel Shampoo is the kind of album you’ll want to keep forever. – T. Bennison

Drive-By Truckers
Go-Go Boots
ATO/Red; 2011

It was back in 1999 that I first heard Drive-By Truckers’ sophomore album, Pizza Deliverance, and pegged them as kitschy Southern rock pretenders. Some 10 years and 8 albums on, the Athens, Georgia-based sextet have settled into that first image nicely, but they’re no longer pretenders. With Go-Go Boots, their latest release, the band seem to have molted, sloughing off the caricatured image of corn pone thrashers in favor of more iridescent wings. But where last year’s The Big To-Do reached for the stadium and Top 40 charts, Go-Go Boots shuffles off into moodier, shadowy rooms. The change in sound is noticeable (some might say distracting), and longtime fans might grumble at the departure, but after you hear tracks like “Pulaski” and the dark portraiture behind “Used To Be A Cop,” you’ll welcome their newfound love of experimentation. Hints of this new direction could be found on a few tracks from The Big To-Do (much of Go-Go Boots was recorded at the same time), so it should come as no surprise. Still, songs like “Thanksgiving Filter,” “Ray’s Automatic Weapon,” and closer “Mercy Buckets” are jarring for their looser, more countrified feel. Take them for a stroll around the block though, and you’ll get used to the fit. — G. Sanders

Arcade Fire
The Suburbs
Merge; 2010

This is the album of the year according to the 2011 Grammys, and while I don’t usually agree with all their nominations, of this year’s selected group, The Suburbs was definitely the one that deserved the win. An atmospheric tale of life-as-we-know-it, The Suburbs is bookmarked by two title tracks that imbue the Montreal band’s third release with grace and heart. Having received accolades from just about every influential music publication out there, this album something you shouldn’t miss. Why? Well, there’s the haunting look at domesticity that is “Ready To Start,” “Modern Man,” an infectious anthem to 21st-century masculinity, and the anthemic “Empty Room,” which tells the tale of what it feels like when you don’t have anything left to lose. There’s also a song that so beautifully describes the weight of every mid-20s existence in “Suburban War.” If you need any more reason to be amazed by the timeliness of this release, try listening to “Sprawl” or “Sprawl II” and not hear the swan song of your own hometown’s growing pains. It takes serious talent and risk to write an album about something we so often stay quiet about: life between cities, life between boundaries, life between stages in life, and the absence felt between the in-between. – V. Bormann

Far East Movement
Free Wired
Cherrytree/Interscope; 2010

The only way you haven’t heard the double-platinum track “Like A G6″ in the last couple of months would be if you’ve purposefully placed yourself under a proverbial rock, and even then, odds are this infectious dance song would have somehow found its way into your life. Personally, I haven’t found a song that makes me want to move quite as much in a long time, so curiosity led me to look into the rest of Far East Movement’s first major release. While all the tracks are arguably within the should-make-you-move genre, nothing grabbed me as much as their Billboard and iTunes hit. Hosting a litany of would-be club favorites, the rest of Free Wired feels exactly like what you’d expect: a mix of lyrically shallow songs about drinking, girls, and dancing with a side of pop ballads. Songs like “2gether” (which features samples from “Love Shack”) and “Girls On The Dance Floor” are reminiscent of Justin Timberlake, while “Rocketeer” and “Fighting For Air” are more of the crooning R&B variety. Though “Like A G6″ doesn’t sound like anything I’ve heard before, I can hardly tell the difference between everything else on the album and what I’ve been hearing for years. Overall, if you want a pretty standard dance mix to get you through those last few miles of your run, this one won’t disappoint, but it blow you away either. – V. Bormann

Gorillaz
The Fall
EMI; 2010

Edging further from the realm of ingenious concept into the land of shameless gimmickry, Damon Albarn (the mind behind this virtual cartoon collective) dangles his latest album from another intriguing hook: that it was recorded entirely on his iPad while on an American tour. While cynics might cite this as merely a canny, cross-promotional marketing tool, it’s really just a footnote, a fact that has little bearing on The Fall’s essential merits. Drawing so much attention to the role the iPad played in the recording unfortunately forces the listener to become more of a sonic critic than he really should be. Still, knowing about its influence will do one of two things: either make you balk at the cold emptiness of it all, or praise the magical tablet’s proficiency. Regardless, Albarn’s tunes here ably reflect the loneliness of the road on which they were conceived. Tracks like “Detroit” and “The Parish of Space Dust” are pretty bleak affairs, but also show Albarn at the top of his game. A consummate musician, he’s able to capture the quintessence of travel and all the images and emotions it conjures with a few suggestive, Zen-like strokes. More a straight-Albarn curiosity than a crowded Gorillaz cabaret, The Fall is an understated little masterpiece. — P. Thorpe

Tommy Guerrero
Lifeboats and Follies
Galaxia; 2011

Killjoys will dismiss former professional skater Tommy Guerrero as an unfocused noodler who should never have picked up a guitar in the first place, while the more open-minded among us will, by the time Lifeboats and Follies is through, be too tranquilized to venture an opinion. To be fair, Guerrero, once a core member of Powell Peralta’s Bones Brigade, has never settled for being a half-hearted dabbler. Ever since the 1998 release of his solo debut, Loose Grooves & Bastard Blues, Guerrero has pushed himself further and further from his comfort zone by employing elements of deep soul, jazz, and hip hop. Now, nine albums into an impressive career, comes a perfect distillation of the Guerrero sound: elastic rhythms, stripped-down arrangements, and funky, ever-circling beats, courtesy of erstwhile Beastie Boys drummer Fredo Ortiz. Money Mark and a few other longtime friends make appearances here, but they never lift the album up out of the soporific doldrums into more challenging winds. It’s all a little too laid-back and noodly for this reviewer, but therein lies its charm — at least for millions of fans who’ve made him a phenomenon. Whichever way you look at it, Lifeboats and Follies is music for its own joyous, devil-may-care sake. — H. Vaughan

The Devil Makes Three
The Devil Makes Three
Milan; 2002

While combing through the Avett Brothers’ online message boards one night, I came across a thread with a ton of similar comments: “If you like the Avett Brothers, you’ll like…” Of the bands listed by a variety of posters, the Devil Makes Three was listed multiple times, and after listening to their self-titled first album, I can say I agree with the similarities. Smartly written (“Old Number Seven”) with lovely newgrass rhythms (“Graveyard”), raspy vocals (“Ten Feet Tall”), folktastic instruments (“Nobody’s Dirty Business”), and chock-full of excellent traveling songs (“Dynamite” and “Ocean’s Cold”), The Devil Makes Three makes for a nice respite between Avett Brothers records. However, I will say they aren’t, at least not on this first release, playing up to the same caliber of the Avetts. I’ve yet to listen to TDMT’s other albums, but I do hope the rest of their catalogue offers listeners a little more variety; there were many moments on this album where I thought a song was repeating, only to find that it was indeed the next track, and so on throughout. Aside from that snag, I truly did enjoy the heel-kickin’ tunes offered here and will surely return to the message boards next time I’m looking for a new band to get me through my long daily commute. — V. Bormann

Iris DeMent
My Life
Warner Bros.; 1993

Though filed by record labels under Gospel, Folk and Country — all of which are accurate — Iris DeMent is still very difficult to categorize in a conventional way. When my best friend introduced me to her on a recent car trip, I thought instantly of Lucinda Williams, Loretta Lynn, and Joni Mitchell. With cowboy poetry, farmhouse hymnals, love songs as delicate as antique lace, and berry-sweet waltzes, her music is truly, deeply, a lullaby to the Southern girl inside me. Listening to My Life is like picking veggies fresh from the garden, being barefoot after a rainstorm, and reading outside as the breeze picks up the perfume of the orange trees. DeMent’s voice puts me in mind of driving under Spanish moss-covered trees to a little mom n’ pop breakfast joint for steaming buttermilk biscuits and local honey, and her words evoke visiting Ms. Mango’s for hibiscus tea and homemade potholders. Moreover, My Life is home to the most perfect, brokenhearted title-track I’ve ever heard and home to the song I’ll dance with my father to when John and I get married (“Mom and Dad’s Waltz”). I’d like to thank Iris DeMent for reminding me why Southern women are likened to magnolias — for being soft, hearty, and beautiful. Sometimes there really isn’t another way to categorize something that equals so much, My Life included. — V. Bormann

The Decemberists
The King Is Dead
Capitol; 2011

With their latest release, The King Is Dead, Portland, Oregon quintet The Decemberists veer off their recent path toward grandiosity for their most countrified and pastoral album to date. Tapping into their shared love of R.E.M., the band wring rustic, shimmering beauty from tunes like “Don’t Carry It All,” “Calamity Song,” and “Down By the Water.” That all three have Peter Buck providing guitar work and vocal harmonies may be seen as taking inspiration a step too far, but the collaboration works so seamlessly that the songs couldn’t have been recorded any other way. However, frontman Colin Meloy’s eagerness to sound authentic often backfires on him. As The King Is Dead progresses, the “creaky porch” ambiance reveals itself to be little more than a flimsy prop. Closer “Dear Avery,” as beautiful as it is, also gives off whiffs of the disingenousness at the heart of the Americana renaissance. It’s a bit like scientists from the future trying to recreate the “American Folk Country” sound in their sterile lab; their manuals give them blueprints for Bob Dylan and Neil Young, but they end up birthing even more bloodless versions of James Taylor and Jackson Browne. Despite all this, The King Is Dead is a strong album, and a step in the right direction for one of the most interesting American bands recording today. — J. Hughes

Social Distortion
Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes
Epitaph; 2011

The release of a new Social Distortion album is always met with enthusiasm by no-nonsense rock fans. So the release of their first in six years should be cause for something bordering on hysteria. But their latest, Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes, hasn’t earned much preliminary fanfare in the music press. This says a lot about how much the landscape and popular tastes have changed since 2004′s now classic Sex, Love and Rock ‘n’ Roll. Though they were always considered an underground band, the current penchant for songs conceived with either choreographers or bearded hipsters in mind seems to have driven Social Distortion even further into the shadows. The Mike Ness-produced Hard Times is just the kind of workmanlike album you’d expect from a band whose chief charm has always been their refusal to jump on every passing bandwagon. Here, then, are the punk rock underdogs hopping back onto the running boards of their battered hot rod for 11 tracks informed by ’70s punk icon Johnny Thunders, Hank Williams, and Exile-era Rolling Stones. On the one hand, Hard Times is another reassuring, comfortably classic Social Distortion recording; on the other, it can often sound blandly middle-of-the-road. And if that’s not a condemnation of the contemporary rock morass — that Social Distortion could be considered “middle-of-the-road” — then I don’t know what is. One can only hope that their next release conjures up the wrath and fire we expect from them. — P. Thorpe

Broken Bells
Broken Bells
Sony; 2010

What happens when you mix Danger Mouse with The Shins? Sounds that spring from of the joining of minds, a callback to the community aspect of music that has long been the driving force for new projects. Broken Bells is a “band” formed out of Brian “Danger Mouse” Burton and James Mercer’s (The Shins) mutual respect of each other’s work, and on their first release since the pair met in late 2009, it’s easy to hear what drew them to each other. There’s a familiarity throughout their self-titled album, and you can credit the feeling to the way their sounds have permeated the contemporary music scene in both delivery and inspiration. “The High Road” is reminiscent of a mid-2000 release, something entirely new and yet comfortably classic enough to leave you with that “Where have I heard this?” sensation. “The Ghost Inside,” with its Gnarls Barkley-esque beat and Midnight Vultures lyrics, is a song some doubters might call “experimental,” but which I can only refer to as brilliantly rhythmic. The third single, “October,” has that telltale Shins sound, meandering like a house-party with lyrics that are both poetic and raw. The dark and dangerous “Mongrel Heart” is a dance song for closing time at the coolest indie bar in town, and “The Mall & Misery” moves away to close the album like a thick and memorable cold front. — V. Bormann

Mavis Staples
You Are Not Alone
Anti; 2010

Mavis. Staples. When I first heard her name, I thought instantly of a friend’s neighbor who grew green beans in a city suburb and left her screen door open in the summer. That Mavis never complained if someone in the neighborhood had a party that got a little loud or ran a little late, and as I learned more about this Mavis, I think it’s easy to say she’d probably do the same. Making music since the 1950s with her family group, The Staple Sisters, Mavis Staples has been recording her own records full of positivity and civil rights awareness since 1969. A mix of gospel, country, and soul, her powerful music has helped connect her with artists such as John Scofield, Ray Charles, Ludacris, Natalie Merchant, Bob Dylan (whom she said during a 2008 NPR interview had asked her father for her hand in marriage), and most recently, Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy, on You Are Not Alone, her twelfth studio album. On it, you can easily hear why so many have been interested in her over the years; her voice is that perfect mix of masculine-blues and feminine-soul. Her lyrics are informed by a blend of religion and humanism, social commentary and hopeful preaching. From the title track to the swinging “I Belong to The Band” and the deeply moving “Too Close/On My Way to Heaven,” it’s clear Mavis Staples could sing the blues in her sleep. What she does here instead, is sing straight through the blues and into our souls. — V. Bormann

Bruce Springsteen
The Promise
Columbia; 2010

Though many hailed Born to Run as an instant classic upon its 1975 release, it would prove to offer a mere glimmer of the genius 1978′s Darkness on the Edge of Town continues to bask in. Widely considered Springsteen’s masterpiece, Darkness earned as much praise for its broad concept as it did for its conciseness. Just how controlled a statement it was many never fully realized, until last month’s release of The Promise, a 22-track collection of outtakes and scrapped material from the Darkness sessions that shows off Springsteen’s enviable editing skills. And as great as these songs are — both “Fire” and “Because the Night” provided hits for the Pointer Sisters and Patti Smith, respectively — it’s clear that, thematically, they had no place on the comparatively bleak Darkness. The Promise’s songs are decidedly more hopeful in outlook and, in the main, more upbeat, as witnessed in an early, poppier version of “Candy’s Room” (here called “Candy’s Boy”) and on enthusiastic stomps like “Gotta Get That Feeling.” On its own, The Promise is a worthy investment, but fanatics will want to shell out for the boxed package, which also includes a remastered Darkness, three DVDs of performances, interviews, and documentary footage, and a facsimile of Springsteen’s session notebook. — P. Thorpe

Cassandra Wilson
Silver Pony
Blue Note; 2010

Cassandra Wilson is known chiefly as a jazz vocalist, but don’t mistake her for a stodgy traditionalist. The two-time Grammy winner is no stranger to tradition — vocally, she resembles a smokier Betty Carter, or a darker Sarah Vaughan — but august label Blue Note loves her just as much for her fearless pursuit of new sounds. Silver Pony, Wilson’s latest and ninth for Blue Note, blends live and studio recordings offset by two stirring instrumentals inspired by past experiences from her incredible career. It also features a funky, shimmering take on Lennon and McCartney’s “Blackbird,” a subdued cover of Stevie Wonder’s “If It’s Magic,” and a John Legend-backed version of Big Star’s “Waiting for the Sunrise.” Layers of quirky percussion and Ravi Coltrane’s saxophone add some African flavor to “Silver Moon,” but for all its love of experimentation, Silver Pony really hits home with a straight interpretation of “Lover Come Back to Me,” one so strong that it threatens to wrest it from Billie Holiday’s firm grasp. The live tracks, culled from performances in Seville, Granada, and Warsaw, reveal Wilson’s improvisational mastery and help Silver Pony set an exciting new standard for 21st century jazz. — P. Thorpe

Kanye West
My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
Def Jam; 2010

Those who bemoan the demise of the music video should set aside 34 minutes to watch “Runaway,” the music-movie that accompanies Kanye West’s newest release. Through the songs included in this video, we can see and hear My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy evolve from the corners of his mind. There’s a fireball car crash that accompanies “Dark Fantasy” and Kanye carrying an artistically-clad half-woman/half-phoenix to the safety of his sprawling home in “Gorgeous.” As he introduces her to aspects of his world — lambs, break-beats, fireworks, champagne — “Power” and “All Of The Lights” play on. “Devil in a New Dress” introduces her to his “friends,” and at the height of the production, 27 ballerinas interpret the feature’s title track, “Runaway.” When a turkey is served at a dinner a conflict arises, and “Blame Game” carries us into exploding flames to symbolize consummation and separation in “Lost in the World.” Like a carryover from 808′s theme, Kayne loses his fantasy girl and ends the film and the album with the Ginsberg/MLK-worthy rap “Who Will Survive in America.” Wow. Not included in the movie but present on the album is the downright crazy “Monster,” the star-studded “So Appalled” (which features Jay-Z, Swizz Beatz, and The RZA) and “Hell of a Life.” These three tracks should settle the down-and-dirty West fans are used to getting a dose of, but on the whole, MBDTF is incomparable to his previous work. Perhaps that shock and risk is precisely what West fans are beginning to expect. — V. Bormann

The White Stripes
Elephant
V2; 2003

Of course you’ve heard “Seven Nation Army” from the fourth release of the iconic White Stripes, but what prompted this review was another Elephant song I was reintroduced to recently, “Ball and Biscuit.” This is one of those songs that got lost on me somehow the first time around, but now I can’t get out of my head. I could listen to this downright nasty, backwoods blues tune over and over and over (as I have) and it still wouldn’t be enough. Rolling Stone correctly gave this album “5 out of 5,” and I would go so far as to say that it’s the best the White Stripes have ever been. Including a remake of the Burt Bacharach classic “I Just Don’t Know What to Do With Myself” on the same album that contains the industrial folk of “The Hardest Button to Button” — well, that takes balls (and biscuits) to pull off. If you listen to only one White Stripes album, you can’t go wrong with Elephant. From the obsessive love song “You’ve Got Her In Your Pocket” and the dreamy, detective rock of “Cold, Cold Night” to the polyamorous “Well It’s True That We Love One Another,” this is the White Stripes at their finest — out there, into your head, and pushing the limits. — V. Bormann

Kings Of Leon
Come Around Sundown
RCA; 2010

This is one of those albums wherein everyone hears something different, and personally, I think that’s my favorite thing about it. KOL have packed their fifth studio release with a variety of sub-genres; they’ve written ballads and rock songs that sound more beautiful placed together than they would apart. And as KOL fans are accustomed to, the band have recorded them cleanly and in that voice you’ve come to know like a friend. On Come Around Sundown they’ve taken risks with doo-wop on “Mary,” gone a little country with “Back Down South,” and blended whispers of ska with a wicked bass line on “Pony Up.” “Pickup Truck” sounds like it’s been playing for years, and rightfully so; it’s a hands-down hit. Look for it on soundtracks in the near future. “The End” moves like a hurricane — there’s a heavy presence to this track that blows me in a new direction each time I hear it. Don’t take “The Face” lightly; here you’ve got an ideal heartbreak song that brings every memory back. And “No Money” — well, here you have it, folks. To those of you who think KOL have changed since they’ve been able to fill arenas, this one should take you back and remind you that the boys haven’t left their roots, they’ve just found some new topsoil. This album is a fantastic mix of revolution, evolution, and the result of a band that’s made it big and is still having fun. — V. Bormann

Bob Dylan
The Witmark Demos: 1962-1964 (The Bootleg Series Vol. 9)
Columbia; 2010

There was a Volume 8? For a somewhat reclusive and anti-establishment icon, Bob Dylan sure makes a lot of demands on his fans with all this unearthed material. But it would be a mistake to dismiss the excellent Witmark Demos as fodder for only obsessive completists. This two-CD collection, culled from recordings made during the crucible stage of his career, is probably the most revelatory and intimate he’s made available thus far. This is the kind of stellar compilation you wish all the best musicians would release; not merely rough outtakes, but snapshots of a sweeping vision boiled down to its essence. The bonus, in this case, is that the vision in question became one of the most revolutionary and resonant in music history — and its effects are still felt an astounding 45 years after its conception. Forty-seven tracks are offered here (15 of which have never appeared on a proper Dylan album), all made before Dylan had turned 24. To hear stripped-down versions of songs like “The Death of Emmett Till” and “Talkin’ John Birch Paranoid Blues” is to witness the powerful Dylan myth in mid-formation, and even without the benefit of hindsight, it’s still stirring stuff. A limited edition bonus disc features a live 1963 performance at Brandeis University. — P. Thorpe

Elvis Costello
National Ransom
Hear Music; 2010

Unlike Bob Dylan, his nearest peer, the equally prolific Elvis Costello has made just about all of his old demos and b-sides available on reissues from his back catalogue, as if to wipe the slate clean and move determinedly forward. His latest album, National Ransom, in many ways continues from where he last left off with 2009′s Sacred, Profane, & Sugarcane. But Costello and longtime collaborator/producer T-Bone Burnett are at pains to distinguish Ransom from recent forays into bluegrass territory. Sure, there’s dobro, fiddle, and a sort of knees-up rhythm to many of these songs, but “Jimmie Standing in the Rain,” for instance, is closer to the pre-war Paris of Reinhardt and Grappelli than to the North Carolina of Doc Watson. Even Costello’s paean to the legend, “Dr. Watson, I Presume,” eschews predictable homage by highlighting the forgotten gospel and folk strains of Watson’s lauded style. At its worst (“National Ransom;” “Five Small Words”), the accompanying music sounds like “insert-here” background noise; at its best, (“Slow Drag with Josephine;” “Bullets for the New-Born King;” “Church Underground”) Ransom suggests both a welcome return and an exciting new phase for Costello. And, to be honest, it’s outstanding lines like “… pecking at carrion of the fallen battalion” that you’re paying for, ones that make Elvis Costello one — if not the — most important and arresting lyricists recording today. The best album he’s made in years. — P. Thorpe

Loretta Lynn
Van Lear Rose
Interscope; 2004

One day last month I heard this amazing song coming from our home office, which was nothing new because John has great taste in music, but this was something I needed more of right then and there: Loretta Lynn + Jack White + “Portland, Oregon” = be still my heart. And here I am, 30 years after Lynn’s prime, counting myself among the lucky few who’ve benefitted from the musical marriage of a trailblazing producer and a classic country artist. This album makes me want to run through the grass with a guitar slung over my back with fireflies getting caught in my hair as the sun sinks down over the side of a mountain. Yes, it’s that good. “Have Merc” has a sexy rock/country sound that reminds me of Elvis paired with Nancy Sinatra. “Family Tree,” an open letter to an adultress, and “High On a Mountain Top” could make even the staunchest anti-country listener move his feet. “Little Red Shoes” is a Dylanesque talk-song about daddies and daughters, while “Women’s Prison” sounds like it should be the theme song for Kate from “Lost.” “This Old House,” a tambourine-hittin’, foot stompin’ song about family and loss, and “Mrs. Leroy Brown,” which open with a patriotic-sounding guitar solo that evolves into a drumming, strumming, rocking tune about being a housewife, are two other highlights. “Miss Being Mrs.” wistfully contemplates divorce, and to close it all out “The Story of My Life” is indeed just that — Loretta Lynn’s life compressed into less than three minutes gathered together with an infectious hook. — V. Bormann

Neil Young
Le Noise
Reprise; 2010

As hard as it’s been to draw a bead on Neil Young since, say, 2000, his latest release, Le Noise, comes as no surprise. Paired with ambient-friendly producer Daniel Lanois (he helped mold the distinctive sounds of U2′s The Unforgettable Fire, The Joshua Tree, Achtung Baby, and How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb, among many others by artists as diverse as Emmylou Harris and Scott Weiland), Young lets loose his passion for the raw, unchecked power last captured this well on a few tracks from 1990′s Ragged Glory. But Le Noise, as oddly treated as it can be at times, as a whole hearkens back to the furious, if unfulfilled ethos of Rust Never Sleeps, the classic he recorded with backing band Crazy Horse. That was back in 1979, yet judging from some of this album’s best tracks (try “Rumblin’,” “Walk with Me,” or “Angry World” on for size), Young’s sonic vision seems to be growing keener and more focused as the years go by. Essentially a solo outing of tunes left hanging at several prior stages of his career, Le Noise is a must-have for anyone who’s stuck with Young since the ill-conceived experimental phase that saw the release of Trans and Landing On Water, or more recently, crunchy, folk-bound duds like Living with War and Chrome Dreams. — P. Thorpe

Grinderman
Grinderman 2
Mute/ANTI; 2010

If there were ever a flaw in Nick Cave’s extensive back catalogue, it would have to be his tendency to take himself too seriously. Sure, there were some great tongue-in-cheek moments during his time with the Bad Seeds, and even before that with the Birthday Party, but they were largely too writerly to elicit much more than a pompous, knowing snigger. Now 50 and considerably wiser, Cave seems more concerned with taking the piss out of his younger, proto-goth incarnation. Last year saw the release of his latest project’s eponymous debut Grinderman, an album that tested the waters of this ironic new outlook with mixed results. Now, with the release of follow-up Grinderman 2, Cave and his band (comprised of three former members of the Bad Seeds) plunge into a morbid, satirical sea with devil-may-care aplomb. It’s still what you’d expect from Cave — violently sexual Bukowski-like imagery delivered in his inimitably menacing baritone — but this time, the driving, punk-like sound yields a chorus of spit-your-whiskey-out guffaws. Cave clearly had a good time coming up with these playful lyrics (check out “Mickey Mouse and the Goodbye Man” and “Kitchenette”), and their improvisational nature bleeds over into some of the most maniacal instrumentation you’ve heard in a long time. – P. Thorpe

Kanye West
808s & Heartbreak
Rac-A-Fella/Def Jam; 2008

Creating a breakup album is a fine art. It needs to be painful, it needs to resonate, it needs to simultaneously console, anger, and motivate, and most importantly, it needs to be something your audience can connect with, even if they’re in love. 808s & Heartbreak overwhelmingly succeeds on all these counts. A step away from the norm for Kanye and a peeling back of the layers of fame, 808s shows us not only new parts of Kanye the artist, but also Kanye the person. Calling this album “therapeutic” after his mother’s death and splitting from his fiancé, Kanye reminds us of what music is to us at the most basic level: sharing. Every song on this album is a masterpiece. “Welcome Heartbreak” delves into the regrets of celebrity, and “Heartless” is a dance remix waiting to happen. Elsewhere, “Amazing” delivers a fist-pumping anthem to self-respect, “Paranoid” warns women to stop “worry[ing] about the wrong things,” and Kanye addresses the past on songs like “Love Lockdown,” “Robocop,” and “Street Lights,” an atmospheric and chilling look at how life doesn’t always take you where you want to be, even when you’re on the right road. “See You In My Nightmares,” is blunt middle finger to what once was: “Tell everybody that you know/That I don’t love you no more/And that’s one thing that you know.” But closer “Coldest Winter” offers a questioning, hopeful look into the unclear future: “Goodbye my friend/Will I ever love again?” It takes guts to break and rebuild; this album is a testament to what pain put to good use can produce. — V. Bormann

Spoon
Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
Merge; 2007

I’ll admit I’m probably one of the few people who listen to indie-rock and one who is just discovering Spoon. More importantly, while everything tells me I should like them and I’ve just finished spending a month with this album, I can’t help but feel like I’ve just come home from a lackluster date. I either picked the wrong place to start or chose a boring appetizer, but my first Spoon experience has left me wanting more of something else. I appreciate Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga for what it is and maybe I need more time with it, or need to be in a different mood to feel like I “get” it, but that’s just the thing: I still need it to be more. The arrangements feel like they could have come from any band, the lyrics come across like sub-par Wilco, and the whole tone of Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga in general is just very… forgettable. “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb” sounds vaguely recognizable, yet closer to a song you overhear in a store but never like quite enough to ask about. “Don’t You Evah” sounds like something you’d order burritos to, and “Rhythm and Soul” reminds me of a song played at a show between bands. This album is like the indie-rock version of wallpaper music, and while that’s not entirely bad, it’s also not my thing. I’m sorry to all the Spoon fans out there; I really wanted this to work out. — V. Bormann

Ray LaMontagne
God Willin’ & The Creek Don’t Rise
RCA/Red; 2010

If you’re like me, “Trouble” was your first introduction to Ray LaMontagne. It’s a revelatory song from his sophomore album of the same name, one that lolls comfortably in the past while trudging determinedly toward the future of folk. If LaMontagne’s voice, which falls somewhere between Levon Helm and Sam Cooke, wasn’t arresting enough, his thoughtful, poetic lyrics backed up many critics’ claims that here at last was the man to take Americana to the next level. In light of that heavy load of expectations, you’d be forgiven for finding his third album, Gossip in the Grain, something of a disappointment. All the ingredients were there, but the soul seemed too forced at times, the result perhaps of fulfilling some pesky contractual obligations. So consider his latest, then, God Willin’ & the Creek Don’t Rise a kind of make-up gift, a return to the promise of LaMontagne’s humble beginnings. Backed by the Pariah Dogs — guitarists Eric Heywood and Greg Leisz, bassist Jennifer Condos, and drummer Jay Bellerose — LaMontagne can be found settling into a welcome comfort zone. This is the first time he’s worked closely with a backing band (they’ve been touring with him for some time), and their contributions lend these fantastic songs deeper, more heartfelt texture. Witness the magic on opening shuffler “Repo Man” and the tearful “This Love Is Over.” Expect more great things from this national treasure, but in the meantime, lose yourself in one of the best albums of the year. — P. Thorpe

Various Artists
Afro-Beat Airways: West Africa Shockwaves; Ghana & Togo 1972-1978
Analog Africa; 2010

You’d figure the novelty of another album of unearthed African obscurities would have worn off by now, but the excellent Afro-Beat Airways: West Africa Shockwaves, a selection of mid-’70s tracks from Ghana and Togo, proves that this is just the tip of the iceberg. The edge of a sprawling desert might be more apt though; culled by Analog Africa head Samy Ben Redjeb from 80 CDs of more than 800 tracks he found moldering on a friend’s damp verandah, Shockwaves does a fine job of providing both a concise overview and a titillating intimation of unheard vastness. A beautiful, well-written 44-page color booklet chronicles Ben Redjeb’s serendipitous discovery and fills you in on the backgrounds of forgotten groups like K. Frimpong & His Cubano Fiestas and the Apagya Show Band. A mixture of twitchy Afrobeat, extended psychedelic freakouts, and James Brown-inspired funk, Shockwaves is so infectious and mind-blowing that one wonders how we ever lived without hearing these sounds. Since the beginning of the ’90s, scores of similar collections have piqued listeners’ interest — among them the seminal Indestructible Beat of Soweto (1990) and 2008′s African Scream Contest – but few capture the unhinged spirit of musical creativity found here. Essential tracks: “Ne Noya,” by Cos-Ber-Zam (one of two Togolese bands represented), the riotously festive “Odofo Nyi Akyiri Biara,” by Ebo Taylor & the Sweet Beans, and Uppers International’s elastic “Neriba Lanchina.” – T. Bennison

Vampire Weekend
Contra
XL; 2010

Since the release of Vampire Weekend’s 2008 debut, devoted fans have come to adore the unique mix of indie rock and Soukous (African rumba) that has become the band’s signature sound. Soukous comes from the French word “secousse,” which means “shake,” and when you’re feeling VW, you’ll do just that. As easily moving on a long car ride as on a dance floor, this band produces catchy, poppy, thought-provoking indie songs with a flair of worldly influence. Like walking through a bazaar in a foreign country, you know what to expect, but you’re never really expecting it. On their sophomore release, Contra, VW don’t disappoint. Their melodies and Congo-style beats are as optimistic and infectious as ever. Their first single, “Cousins,” is ska for a new generation, and their second, “Giving Up The Gun,” reminds me of mid-’80s dance mixed with thoughtful radio pop (think Owl City). Third single “Holiday” is an anthem to summer and youth — peppy, cute, and sugar-sweet — but to really appreciate Contra, you must move beyond what’s being pushed by their label. “Horchata” is an eclectic rumination on looking back, and while “California English” is, on the surface, about Tom’s toothpaste and private schools, more deeply, it’s a message to a sweetheart who’s moved and changed. Finally, “I Think Ur A Contra”” is easily the most lulling and beautiful song on the album, a song that to me exemplifies VW’s scope of talent: “You wanted good schools and friends with pools… But I just wanted you…” – V. Bormann

Phoenix
Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix
V2; 2009

The French produce alternative dance pop music like no other. Think Daft Punk, Air, Stardust, Cassius, and of course, Phoenix. Wolfgang Amadeus is their fifth release and it’s fresh like cut lemons of cool. Seeing as how they took home a Grammy for WA in January of this year, I doubt I’m the only one who notices how timely Phoenix is. “Lisztomania” has been playing on TV shows like SNL and just about every late-night talk show on the circuit. “1901″ has been on a variety of soundtracks like Alice in Wonderland, Where The Wild Things Are, and TV shows such as Cougar Town and One Tree Hill.  Following their more recent success and recognition, the band spent this summer touring for Coachella, Lollapalooza, and Bonnaroo — a clear marker that after ten years of work, they’ve truly moved beyond the “Fences” of the industry and into their own pasture of progressive popularity. Like their namesake, it’s hard to tell where the road will truly begin or end for this musical wunderbird, but judging from their 1995 start covering songs in French bars, I’d say this is the ascent they’ve been working toward. And it only takes one song, “Love Like a Sunset” to know why the sky really is the limit for this effervescent quartet. Grab a feather and get off the ground — there’s dancing to be done! – V. Bormann

Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse

It’s a testament to Danger Mouse’s skill and cachet as a producer that Dark Night of the Soul was already being hailed as a classic long before its completion. Everything he’s touched thus far, from Gnarls Barkley to the Good, the Bad, and the Queen, has garnered critical, commercial, and artistic acclaim, and Dark Night’s promise of Sparklehorse’s insightful songs sung by a slew of guest artists refracted through the skewed prism of visionary David Lynch had fans chomping at the bit. Add to this unprecedented expectation a tortuous release history, a heated label battle, and the subsequent suicides of Mark Linkous (the brains behind Sparklehorse) and collaborator Vic Chesnutt, and you have the makings of a grim masterpiece — all before you’ve even heard track one. Plenty of other vaunted classics have survived on much less (see Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music), but Dark Night has the dual attraction of looking good in your discerning collection and sounding beautiful. It’s downfall, however, is its one-note outlook. After several spins it becomes merely a good mood album, one you might pull out when you’re feeling lower than Nick Drake could take you. The first half is inspiring enough, but the latter part is the sound of unsettling, almost perverse introversion, the equivalent of several egos beating a dead horse. Still though, Dark Night of the Soul is essential listening, whatever your frame of mind. — T. Bennison

Herbie Hancock
The Imagine Project
Hancock Records; 2010

And so begins another chapter in the ongoing deification of John Lennon, an artist whose inherent bitterness and cynicism seems to have flown over the heads of subsequent generations of misguided idolators. You’d think someone like the legendary Herbie Hancock would be above such nonsense, but you’d be wrong. Here he is trotting out every World-Peace-”It’s a Small World”-trope — as part of a collaborative, continent-jumping “musical concept” his publicists insist is unprecedented — all while presumably paying Yoko Ono handsomely for the use of the word “imagine.” It’s heavy baggage he’s carrying, to be sure, but it becomes an even heavier encumbrance once you see the roster of artists he’s enlisted to realize his vision. Witness P!nk (!) rubbing elbows with John Legend, Seal, Lisa Hannigan, Jeff Beck, and James (not “Jim,” mind you) Morrison, a chap whose dubious claims to fame include an unmemorable hit UK single and the fact that he’s opened for Jason Mraz, as if that counted for anything. Elsewhere, you find the Chieftains trying their best to mingle with Kokono No. 1, Los Lobos, and Chaka Khan, while Susan Tedeschi, Derek Trucks, and Wayne Shorter are left wondering where on earth Hancock went off to. To make matters worse, Lennon (the album’s other implied selling point) is dispensed with after the first track, only to be revived one more time for a meandering, lackluster take on “Tomorrow Never Knows,” courtesy of a disinterested Dave Matthews. A nice idea squandered. And all under the auspices of the great Herbie Hancock. Imagine… — T. Bennison

Various Artists
Broken Hearts & Dirty Windows: Songs of John Prine
Oh Boy; 2010

I’ve always been a fan of tribute albums. When done right, they both pay homage for inspiration and make the old new again. They also bring classic songs from well-known artists to younger generations with unique new delivery. I guess I just like lots of new and old mixing together — renovated furniture, cooking styles, and of course, this album. For it, twelve tracks were pulled from John Prine’s prolific song writing career, and in each it’s possible to trace both the original man and the new mouths singing along. My Morning Jacket take on the ironic “All the Best” and the Avett Brothers sing about a “Spanish Pipedream” that’s as sweet as peaches. Elsewhere, Josh Ritter croons about a sweltering “Mexican Home” and Justin Townes Earle sounds like he could be Cory Brannan’s brother on “Far From Me.” You’ll also hear Old Crow Medicine Show doing a beautifully authentic “Angel From Montgomery,” the Drive-By Truckers serenade to “Daddy’s Little Pumpkin,” and Those Darlins do Prine proud with their breathy version of “Let’s Talk Dirty in Hawaiian.” I’m missing “Glory of True Love,” “In Spite of Ourselves” and “I Just Wanna Dance With You,” but here’s hoping Broken is just one of many attempts to make John Prine new again. — V. Bormann

The xx
xx
Young Turks; 2009

Aptly labeled as dream pop, this three-piece London band recorded this debut album in a small room in the dead of night. Judging by these lusty, atmospheric tracks, it’s no surprise the curtain of darkness would have been an inspiration for the collection. XX is at once as beautiful and as dangerous as meditation; go too far and you might never quite return to the same place from which you started. From the album’s release in late 2009 to the present, various songs have been featured on “Grey’s Anatomy,” “Gossip Girl” and “Law & Order.” The catchy and unique “Intro” earned the group some notice in an AT&T commercial during NBC’s coverage of the 2010 Winter Olympic Games as well. Part sexy lounge soundtrack and part deliverance of modern soul, the xx here have produced a varied simulacrum of a lucid dream. With elemental themes present throughout (air, earth, fire, water), you find yourself drifting off into the clouds with a handful of soil. From the glory-of-love “Islands” to the wickedly sexy “Shelter,” xx is a landscape of evocative lyrics, with Romy Madley Croft’s vocals wrapping you gently into crisp basslines. Most noticeably though, there’s an empty-room quality to this album; it’s like being lured by music coming through an open window at the end of a long dark hallway. You just kind of let go and follow it, more because you want to than because you must. Regardless of the impetus, you should. — V. Bormann

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

America has her share of rock n’ roll heroes: Elvis, Chuck Berry, Little Richard, and Buddy Holly among them. But does she have a band that compete with Britain’s best? It’s a question that’s been circulating for some time among music critics, and one that’s gone largely unanswered despite all the heated debate. The Beatles; the Kinks; the Who; the Rolling Stones; Led Zeppelin; Pink Floyd… What group have we spawned to match their popularity and legacy? The Doors? Too brief a career. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band? Certainly American, but too populous and amorphous to qualify. You, waving your arm wildly in the back there… R.E.M.? Nice try, but still too recent. A strong contender, some say, forgiving the peculiarly American habit of distinguishing the singer from the backing musicians, might be Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Remember them? They’ve been around for three decades with three founding members still intact, and they just may have released one of the best albums of their career. Well, maybe not the best, but Mojo is certainly an attention-grabbing turning point, a look back to the loose, Southern-tongued immediacy of their eponymous debut, and at least in spirit, to Mudcrutch, Petty’s first band. But while 2008′s long-awaited Mudcrutch was a drab, sloppy outing, Mojo pilfers its philosophy of impromptu, bar-bones performances, and eschews all overdubs and studio razzle-dazzle in the rendering. Whatever you call it — “progressive regression” works nicely — Mojo is a band album in the truest sense of the word. They’re no Fab Four, that’s for certain, but neither are they Wayne Fontana and the Mindbenders. And the less said about them, the better. — T. Bennison

The Gaslight Anthem
American Slang
Side One Dummy; 2010

It’s one thing for a band to reinterpret music they’re inspired by and another thing entirely for them to simply plagiarize it. Many get away with half-assed apery; a ballsy few even go so far as to claim original invention. Some merely dress the part until another style is exhumed. The Gaslight Anthem, from New Jersey, fittingly, do a little bit of everything. The recognized inheritors of old-fashioned American rock (whatever that is), Anthem have been getting away with murder since the 2008 appearance of debut Sink or Swim, a sonic pastiche of Social Distortion, Meatloaf, and early Bruce Springsteen. Two years on, they’re hailed as rock n’ roll saviors, embraced with equal verve by Warped skaters and pointy-headed hipsters, and, as if to hammer their relevancy home, joined on stage by the Boss. What’s the secret? Sincerity, that’s what. The Gaslight Anthem wear their hearts on their sleeves, and American Slang, their latest release, is the kind of muscle-bound confessional you just don’t hear any more. Sure it’s schmaltzy in places (Want to sound profound? What else is biblical imagery for?), but it gets the job done. It’s also a bit too generic and play-by-numbers to be groundbreaking, but the easy populism it exploits ultimately works to the band’s advantage. American Slang is the difference between empty pose and committed belief, and should be played from your car stereo on nights spent in the full bloom of careless youth (or at least in remembrance of it). Never was there a more soulful soundtrack for bashing mailboxes to. — T. Bennison

The Black Keys
Brothers
Nonesuch; 2010

Every band has that one album, the one that sets them apart from the race, brings them to the radio, and makes people who’ve passed them up simply stop in their tracks. For some bands, it’s their first release, but for bands like The Black Keys, it comes later… like six later. Brothers is that album. In spite of their large catalog of stupendously written and uniquely composed hits, something else happened for TBK on this sixth release. Though 73,000 copies were sold during the first week of its release, Brothers‘ success goes beyond mere numbers; it trickles down from sweet production, foot-tapping, hip-shaking, Pabst-chugging, dirty alley blues-rock that tops everything TBK have recorded thus far. “Next Girl” is sure to be heard on a movie soundtrack, if not coming from the car next to you in traffic very soon. “Everlasting Light” and “The Only One” could be the newest wedding songs for the pre-hipster crowd. “Tighten Up” will make you want to squeeze your “baby child,” and “Howlin’ for You” is like fishnets on Halloween — sinister, lusty, and fun. “Too Afraid to Love You” is an emotional gunfight, standoff-style; “Sinister Kid” pure Auerbach cool; “I’m Not the One” a phoenix of heartbreak; “Unknown Brother” a brotherly-love song for one who’s been lost by the one who got to live, and the airy “Never Gonna Give You Up” is an afro-platform-sequins-’70s song about sugary devotion that’ll make any woman hold her man tighter. But “These Days,” is truly something else: melodic and religiously beautiful. Auerbach delivers it like a swooning, secular apology — for nothing and everything all at once. In short, Brothers is family, and its songs make you part of the Black Keys’. — V. Bormann

Tori Amos
Abnormally Attracted to Sin
Universal; 2009

Confession: I’ve never really been big on Tori Amos. I know, she’s a feminist icon, an activist musician with scruples and morals — a sort of singing Gloria Steinem — as well as a fashion icon and a one-woman wildfire with good marketing presence. I should like her, but I never have. Now Amos fans, bear with me: if she represents anything, it’s change, and this review is here to tell you that with Abnormally Attracted to Sin, I have embraced it. It’s all thanks to “Give.” Then there’s “Strong Black Vine,” “Flavor,” the Vampire Weekend-ish “Not Dying Today,” the Madonnaesque “Police Me,” and several others. The title track reminds me of some kind of sexual journey into adulthood or the entrance into a dreamland, while “Starling” conjures up images of fairies, unicorns, and misty planets. “Fast Horse” is just… amazing. Check out these lyrics: “Girl, you got to find you the man who/Can smoke this out, Bad Medicine/Girl, you got to find you the man who/Can smoke this out, Good Medicine would say/You got you a fast horse darlin’/But all you do is complain it ain’t a maserati/You had a soul that you left back in Memphis/but your mama ain’t New York she is pure Tennessee.” Tori is pure brilliance, and I’m just glad I’ve been able to get past the smoke cloud of ignorance to discover what everyone else has been enjoying all these years. — V. Bormann

Jack Johnson
To the Sea
Brushfire Records/Universal; 2010

Full disclosure: I’ve never really cared too much for Jack Johnson. His stuff strikes me as what you might call “lifestyle music,” an inoffensive soundtrack that goes well with your batik curtains and Quicksilver baggies. Take a loosely reggae-fied strum, throw in some oceanic imagery and a couple of brahs on bongos, and Bob’s your grizzled, longboarding uncle. I know it’s a blasphemous opinion, but it’s also a fact that, depending on how you look at it, makes me either better equipped to critique his latest album, To the Sea, or taints my ability to approach it with unbiased ears. To be completely honest, To the Sea is, as you’d expect, more of the same: mellow, acoustic-based tunes filled with mellow ruminations on the sea and a mellow life lived in tandem with its mellow rhythms. But beware: there’s nary a song here with the catchiness of “Never Know” or “Good People.” In fact, Johnson seems to have exhausted his quiver of hooks here, and the bamboo frame he hammers new songs like “You and Your Heart” into is showing signs of strain. There’s no doubt they’ll grow on Johnson disciples, but to those sitting on the pier railing, To the Sea sounds like a pretty ineffectual argument for paddling out. There’s a difference between enlightened mellowness and comfortable complacency, and To the Sea has a hard time making that distinction. It’s a pleasant enough ride, but nothing close to the memorably epic session you hunger for. — T. Bennison

Toots & the Maytals
Flip and Twist
D&F Music; 2010

It’s been a long time since Toots and the Maytals recorded their first album, Never Grow Old, at Coxsone Dodd’s Studio One back in 1962, but their latest makes it seem like the day before yesterday. Like that debut, Flip and Twist sounds just as fresh and exciting. With its ingenious injection of gospel and soul into a roots reggae sound, Flip recalls the band’s early beginnings as one of the most unique acts to come out of the Jamaican scene during its heyday. Led by Frederick “Toots” Hibbert, and originally called simply the Maytals, the band started out as a vocal trio. Hibbert, Henry “Raleigh” Gordon, and Nathaniel “Jerry” McCarthy all grew up singing in their church choir, and their close harmony gospel style earned them the attention of Dodd, who enlisted his house band, the Skatalites, to back them for their first record. Eclipsing the Wailers in popularity during their start, they changed their name to include Toots, recorded songs for The Harder They Come soundtrack, and released a string of classic singles — “Pressure Drop,” “Monkey Man,” and “Do the Reggay,” which is widely credited with having brought the term “reggae” into common parlance. Flip and Twist further cements their legendary status by returning to original form with songs like the soulful “Almighty Way,” “Higher Ground,” and the blues-inflected “Good Woman.” Nearly 50 years into a career that shows no signs of slowing, Toots and the Maytals don’t just enjoy a prime spot in the reggae pantheon, they were there when the blueprints for it were being drawn. — G. Fortnum

Ray LaMontagne
Gossip in the Grain
RCA/Victor; 2008

Considering how off-the-path singer/songwriter Ray LaMontagne is, it’s amazing how the media has picked up tracks from his third release like they just… belong. You’ve probably heard something from Gossip in the Grain if you’ve seen a Traveler’s Life Insurance commercial (“Trouble”), watched “Grey’s Anatomy” (“Winter Birds”), “Fringe” (“Let It Be Me”) or “House” (“Sarah”), or if you’ve seen the movie “I Love You Man” (“You Are The Best Thing”). But don’t stop there. You can’t sell yourself short on what the media purchased — you have to listen to “Roses and Cigarettes” while driving a country road. You must curl up with “A Falling Through” when your lover leaves. Oh, and definitely share “Meg White” with anyone who likes The White Stripes (yes, he wrote a song to that Meg White). If by some chance none of this has convinced you to iTunes him, I’ll add that he’s a pastoral counter to Ryan Adams. LaMontagne isn’t the kind of artist who’s going to get into a fight at the bar, but he is the crooner who’ll play in the car on the way home from just such a night. He plays for the wild men who make their way home to have their wounds dressed, and gets them thinking about what really matters. — V. Bormann

Etta James
Etta James Rocks the House
Chess; 1964

There’s just something about a live album that reveals an artist’s true soul. I cut my teeth on a 1960s understanding of music: if an artist meets or exceeds the quality of their studio recordings when they play live, they’re pretty much excellent. Since Etta James’s touring ended before my time, I figure Etta Rocks The House is as close as I’ll ever get, and if the album is any indication of her chops, her legendary status is clearly a given. As the muggy summer air settles on me one late evening, a few days after I’ve carried boxes and furniture up and down stairs to move, I find her rocking my house indeed, right down to the wads of packing tape on the floor. Recorded on September 27-28 in 1963 when she played at Nashville’s New Era Club, Rocks is often tagged as her most accomplished live album. With an impressive mix of classic blues covers from Ray Charles, Berry Gordy, Jr., Willie Dixon and B.B. King, there’s a sultry and sweet mix of standards, plenty of sax, and, of course, some moments of ridiculously astounding vocals (see “I Just Want to Make Love to You”). If you don’t move to this album, you’re probably dead. Toss this on at your next BBQ — or you’re if like me, you find yourself surrounded by boxes — turn up Etta and let her carry the crowd into the sunrise. — V. Bormann

Gorillaz

If there’s one thing you can expect from a new Gorillaz album, it’s the unexpected. The brainchild of Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett, this musical collective embraced the talents of Ibrahim Ferrer, De La Soul, Shaun Ryder, and Roots Manuva to stirring effect on past albums Gorillaz (2001) and Demon Days (2007). Plastic Beach, their latest, continues in this tradition with the inclusion of some surprising guests — Mos Def, Bobby Womack, Mark E. Smith, Lou Reed, and Snoop Dog among them — but as thrilling as it sounds at first listen, the album suffers after repeated spins, and seems oddly rote despite the considerable effort it makes to sound otherwise. And that, in many ways, is the gaping pitfall of open-bordered musical postmodernism. Buried African rhythms? Check. Middle Eastern tonalities? Yep. Dance/hip hop sensibilities? R&B smoothness clashing with clunky electronic blips? But of course. Despite this churlish complaint, Plastic Beach does offer a few moments of inspired brilliance (“Empire Ants;” “On Melancholy Hill”; “Broken;” “To Binge”), but they’re all essentially Albarn tracks, devoid of the unfettered, conceptual mishmashery that mars a goodly portion of the album. God love Damon Albarn, but curse his current penchant for unchecked collaboration. — T. Bennison

Paul Weller
Wake Up the Nation
Island; 2010

Lofty business, this rousing an entire country from its slumber, but if anyone’s up to the task, it’s Paul Weller. He kept Britain wide-eyed during his time fronting the Jam (the trio put out a staggering number of hit singles in the late ’70s), had her on the edge of her throne with the Style Council in the ’80s, and fed her pots of strong coffee with a string of admirable solo albums throughout the ’90s. But she finally nodded off this past decade to the sounds of some largely ho-hum material, albums whose individual merits and impressive chart rankings couldn’t save them from acquiring a dull patina. Wake Up the Nation, thankfully, is something entirely different, executed with all the efficiency, immediacy, and snarl of a sharper, more youthful Weller. Dispensing with the experimental, pastoral themes that by 2008′s 22 Dreams had become worrisome trends, Nation is a citified, breathless collection of blurred impressions viewed through the window of a speeding underground train. And while there are some restful station stops (the Phil Spector-ish “No Tears To Cry;” the woozy “Andromeda;” “She Speaks”), Nation works best when it spikes the pulse (“Up the Dosage”) and tunnels back under (“Find the Torch, Burn the Plans”). All in all, an album worth tumbling out of bed for. — T. Bennison

K’Naan
Troubador
A&M/Octone; 2009

There’s something undeniably motivational about K’naan — his song “Dreamer” has been used by the NFL and “Wavin’ Flag” has been remixed for the 2010 World Cup. But beyond his ability to move people through emotion and into action, there’s just something so organic about his work. He celebrates his Somali roots, ironically, in the track “America,” discusses rap’s place in the music world with the help of Metallica’s Kirk Hammett in “If Rap Gets Jealous,” and mentions the Facebook’s role in infidelity on “People Like Me.” K’naan isn’t afraid to try something new, bring some friends along for the ride (like Damien Marley, Mos Def, Maroon 5, and Chubb Rock), and talk about awareness of the problems he carries with him from Africa. Listening to Troubadour, his third album, K’naan comes across as a Somali-Canadian Eminem; if you don’t believe me, you’ll just have to hang out a little while with the stylings of this so-called “Dusty Foot Philosopher.” If you listen to only one K’naan song, “Take A Minute” will say everything about his contribution to music and society. — V. Bormann

Nujabes
Modal Soul
Hyde-Out Productions; 2005

Imagine Miles Davis with turntables and a preference for classical music, and you might get close to what Nujabes sounds like. Regardless of comparisons, he’s truly in a class of his own, with the world in all its parts serving as an obvious influence. If poets are sponges, absorbing the sounds of subways and fireplaces, than Nujabes (born Jun Seba in Tokyo) is a poet DJ. This third release on his private record label shows a creative maturity reminiscent of Common and Remy Shand — part hip-hop genius, part smooth R & B crooning, all soul, and all unique. Guest starring underground American acts such as CYNE, Substantial, and Five Deez, Modal Soul is a collection of collaborations and collages. From radio-play hip hop to smooth jazz and everything between, tracks like “Feather” and “Luv (Sic) Part 3″ explore the plight of humanity and violence with a Zen-like delivery that crosses boundaries and opens eyes. “Eclipse” (featuring Substantial) is the perfect song for an estranged loved one, and with Nujabes’ death in Japan this past February, it’s hard not to listen to it and not think of all those his untimely death left so lonely. — V. Bormann

Massive Attack

Back in the ’90s, Massive Attack (along with Portishead and Tricky) were at the forefront of the original trip hop scene, one that traded the social conscience of its hip hop foundation for ambient introspection and ghostly, downtempo disaffection. The creeping menace that marked Blue Lines (1991), Protection (1994), and Mezzanine (1998), made them albums cornerstones of the genre and each still stands as a powerful musical statement today. But their latest, Heligoland, while couched in their original instrumental and collaborative orthodoxy, is much less effective than it thinks it is. Is it the fault of Andrew “Mushroom” Vowles, Grant “Daddy G” Marshall, and Robert “3D” Del Naja (here reunited as the original central trio) or the result of a changed world? The answer is that it’s a little of both. Showing their age, Massive Attack can’t save the feeble Heligoland from descending into a morass of aimless, defeatist gloom. Even favorite collaborator Horace Andy is rendered impotent; his “Girl I Love You” is all but drained of blood thanks to some indifferent production. Bereft of the perspective and guiding ethos that made their previous albums so great, Heligoland comes across as rather adolescent and irrelevant, its only discernible message one of mopery for its own grey sake. — T. Bennison

Carolina Chocolate Drops
Genuine Negro Jig
Nonesuch; 2010

What’s old is new again is a cliché, sure, but for the Carolina Chocolate Drops, it’s also the musical philosophy on which they hang their finger picks. Unbeknownst to one another, Rhiannon Giddens, Dom Flemons and Justin Robinson had each picked up various “old time” instruments such as the fiddle, kazoo, jug, banjo, and harmonica while in their 20s. Their individual variety and interest in the sounds of yesterday led them to the Black Banjo Gathering in North Carolina back in 2005. It was during these annual Gatherings that the three would meet, swap stories about being outcasts, and ultimately gel as a unit for years to come. Now with their fifth album released, they’ve moved well beyond jamming on a front porch in the Carolinas, but they’re still committed to the value of stirring up the mix. Since their inception, music has been a way for CCD members to hold a public conversation about slavery, African sounds, stigmatized instruments, and the best way to pay homage to their predecessors. Ever heard masterful beatboxing alongside a banjo? How about Blu Cantrell’s “Hit ‘em Up Style” covered with a mesquite Piedmont flavor? Genuine Negro Jig is mountain music meets relevant modernity, and no matter which state you’re from — or what state you’re in — the Drops will get your legs ‘jigging. — V. Bormann

Gil Scott-Heron
I’m New Here
XL; 2010

Gil who? You could well be forgiven for asking. It’s very title an arch, Scott-Heronesque bit of understatement, I’m New Here bashfully assumes ignorance of his previous work, but is clad in the same well-worn togs that earned him initial plaudits in the ’70s with albums like Small Talk at 125th and Lenox and Winter in America. A gifted poet, multi-instrumentalist, and vocalist, Scott-Heron blended spoken word, R&B, jazz, soul, and rap on songs like “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” “The Bottle,” “Whitey on the Moon,” and “Johannesburg.” Many vie for the “Godfather of Rap” title, but few are as qualified to claim it. So his latest album (and his first in 16 years) is less of an introduction than a reworking of his original approach, refracted through the lens of self-discovery afforded by a decade spent in and out of prison on drug charges. First single, the desperate, heartbreaking “Me and the Devil” — part sermon, part dirty blues distillation — is an instant classic. Eschewing outraged objectivity in favor of melancholic subjectivity, I’m New Here isn’t so much of a letdown (especially when you consider to the kinetic, revolutionary quality of his earlier work), as it is a bruising reminder of the cost of taking on the system. — T. Bennison

Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
Up From Below
Vagrant; 2009

From the ashes of a fallout in frontman Alex Ebert’s (formerly of Ima Robot) personal life came the birth of Edward Sharpe, a Jesus-like alter-ego who was supposed to save the earth, but kept falling in love instead. It’s not clear if singer Jade is Edward’s next heart-stop or if their chemistry is purely musical, nor does the lack of clarity matter. The only thing you need to be clear about with regard to ESM0 is that they’re probably very serious about saving the world. Even before the chorus, the first time I heard their single “Home,” I knew ESM0 was a band apart. Every single track on their debut, Up From Below, sounds like celebration and freedom, some kind of lively expression of humanness that’s so easily glossed over by other bands. This ten-member gypsy-gang of messy neo-hippies is timeless and timely, but mostly they remind me what I want to believe in above all else: love, life, and happiness. They’re kicking off their first post-release tour, traveling the country in their white school bus. And until they make it our way, watching them perform via video, it’s clear that their unique authenticity and Jade’s ability to LET GO while performing is truly… “something to see.” With songs about brothers, deserts, black water, redemption, and lust and love written in poetry that recalls to the Beats, ESM0 will get stuck in your head and your heart in all the right ways. — V. Bormann

The Dubliners

ARC; 1988
Recorded in 1976 while founding member Ronnie Drew was on hiatus, A Parcel of Rogues is something of anomaly in the Dubliner’s discography. Known for their boisterous, bearded, rough-and-tumble swagger on stage and off, the band toned things down for this album of thoughtful ballads, probably their best. From the light lilt of opener “The Spanish Lady” to the nursery rhyme-ish “Killieburne Brae,” vocalists Luke Kelly and Drew replacement Jim McCann imbue Rogues with melancholy and yearning. Bracing adept sets of reels with traditional classics like “Foggy Dew,” “Avondale,” and a particularly tearful “Boulavogue,” the band also manage to nod respectfully to their pub-playing roots with the foot-tapping fervor of Ewan MacColl’s “Thirty Foot Trailer,” a wistful goodbye to the passing of tinker ways. — T. Bennison

The Pogues
Red Roses For Me
WEA; 1984

Often dismissed for its tinny production, the Pogues’ debut album captures the untethered raucousness of their legendary live performances. Torch bearers of the Dubliner’s legacy, the Pogues put Irish music back on the map in the mid ’80s and brought it from the smoky pub to the swelling stadium, and though If I Should Fall from Grace with God spawned more hits and Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash is more beloved, Red Roses is the best representation of the band’s rebellious essence. With palpable energy they smash their way through standards like “Waxie’s Dargle,” “Poor Paddy,” and Brendan Behan’s “The Auld Triangle,” and introduce the burgeoning craftsmanship of Shane MacGowan with originals “Transmetropolitan” and “Boys from the County Hell.” MacGowan’s reputation as the most gifted poet of his generation could easily rest on “Streams of Whiskey” alone, evoking as it does the whole past of Irish song and the possibility of its future. Respect for tradition runs in threads from track to track only to be turned on its head and kicked in the face with lyrics like: “At the time I was working for a landlord/And he was the meanest bastard that you have ever seen/And to lose a single penny would grieve him awful sore/And he was a miserable bollocks and a bitch’s bastard’s whore.” Beautiful. — T. Bennison

Christy Moore
Live at the Point
Grapevine; 1994

On Live at the Point Christy Moore becomes one with his crowd, playing with them rather than to them. From the start, you’re immersed in the evening with “Welcome to the Cabaret’s” jaunty gait interspersed with Moore’s own brand of ad-libbed Irish scat. He then falls into a soothing hush with the bittersweet “Natives” and a subdued take on Shane MacGowan’s “Fairytale of New York,” a version so wistful that it threatens to change ownership. Moore then stirs the crowd into a roar with the anti-drinking stomp “Delirium Tremens,” only to fall back once again into some gentle ballads of lost love and longing for home. The definitive balladeer of his generation and one of the finest live performers of any genre, Moore makes Live at the Point one the most masterful performances ever committed to tape. — B. Bennison

The Chieftains
The Long Black Veil
RCA Victor; 1995

When the august Chieftains decided to mix modern pop and rock with the age-old sounds of Éire’s green hills, they may have caused many to spill their pints in shock. But with their eclectic, carefully endered selection of supporting musicians and tunes, the outcome is superb. The band lay a solid, traditional groundwork for the likes of The Stones, Tom Jones, Van Morrison, Sting, Ry Cooder, and Sinéad O’Connor, allowing each to do what they do best. So natural is the sound of Sting singing “Mo Ghile Mear” (“My Gallant Darling”) in Ireland’s native tongue you’d think he’d been raised with Gaelic on his lips. Other tracks include Mick Jagger lending his trademark twang to the fluttering harps and haunting fifes of the title track. A favorite though, has got to be Tom Jones’ rendition of “The Tennessee Waltz,” which plays out so convincingly and flows so naturally, you’d swear it was the original recording. There’s not a duff tune in the bunch, and the outcome reveals the mainstream crossover to be much more bridgeable than the ocean that divides us. — B. Bennison

Paolo Conte

Often described as Italy’s answer to Tom Waits, Paolo Conte, while similarly eccentric and oddly charismatic, bears nothing more than a passing tonal resemblance to the gruff bohemian icon. Conte’s weathered voice supplies plenty of broody mood, but his real charm lies in the way he can shift from style to style — cabaret; Neapolitan folk; jazz; French chanson, and tango — without sounding hackneyed. Whether you know Italian (or French, Spanish or Portuguese, for that matter) or not makes no difference; the force of Conte springs from his deeply emotive expressivity, and the way he effortlessly assumes the identities of the lovelorn characters in his songs. If ever there were an argument for pure emotion’s ability to transcend linguistic barriers, Reveries is it. A collection of some of Conte’s strongest tunes culled from his long career, Reveries is a great introduction to a true master. Give it a spin for a romantic evening; keep it as guidebook for the many dalliances to come. — T. Bennison

Madeleine Peyroux
Dreamland
Atlantic, 1996

Some people see the release of cover albums to be signs of weakness in an artist, but I beg to differ. Madeleine Peyroux has the voice of a pretty little bird, and her ability to cover artists ranging from Patsy Cline (“Walking After Midnight”), Frank Sinatra (“I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter”), Bessie Smith (“Lovesick Blues”) and Edith Piaf (“La Vie En Rose””) on Dreamland shows a great range of both musical inspiration and technical ability. Also, I tend to think that when an artist covers on older tune that they should bring something new to the table, and on that count Peyroux doesn’t disappoint — everything she touches becomes her own. Critics have called her the “21st Century Billie Holiday,” and I can’t help but agree. Her voice has a twist in it that flows through every song — from blues to ballads — and she carries the tune as much as she does the story of how she feels about what she’s paying homage to. Her cover of Billie Holiday’s “Getting Some (Fun Out of Life)” is the perfect V-Day song: “When we want to love, we love/When we want to kiss, we kiss/ With a little petting, we’re getting some fun out of life… Maybe we do the right thing, maybe we do the wrong/But when we want to sing, we sing/When we want to dance, we dance…” Dreamland is a tour of love, French, jazz, folk and of course, dancing. — V. Bormann

Sade
The Best of Sade
Sony, 1994

There’s nothing that isn’t sexy about Sade, and if you’re looking for some mood-making music on V-Day, this album won’t steer you wrong. From the smoky “No Ordinary Love” to a rhythmic “The Sweetest Taboo,” Sade’s sultry voice was made for slow dancing in the dark. “Your Love Is King” is a mid-’80s staple and “Smooth Operator” will remind you of what they play on cruise ships after all the kids have gone to bed. Mixing smooth jazz, R&B, and island flavor, The Best of Sade will help you through the main course and then well into dessert. If you’re lucky, it will help steam up the windows later. Her cover of “Please Send Me Someone To Love” calls back to the jazz standards that have inspired her artistry and shows fans that her signature vocal effects are as voluptuous as they are versatile. Enjoy Sade with someone who gives you the “Kiss of Life.” Just don’t forget to blow out the candles. — V. Bormann

Roxy Music
Avalon
Virgin, 1982

The make-out album of the ’80s only grows sexier as the years progress. Smoothed over with atmospheric soundscapes (courtesy of a budding Brian Eno) and tempered with sultry shades of saxophone, the achingly fragile Avalon remains the definitive soundtrack of the New Romantic movement, which sprung up in response to the comparative nihilism of punk just a few short years before. The songs are a bit on the melancholic side (“Take A Chance With Me;” “True To Life”), but when beautifully crooned by Bryan Ferry — he of the immaculately tailored suits and expertly tousled hair — the sentiment is immaterial. This is the sound of yearning, heartbreak, and fulfillment wrapped up in timeless elegance. If the opening, gasping strains of “More Than This” don’t get the juices flowing, nothing will. Make that the make-out album of all time. — T. Bennison

He may have four names, but you only need to call him by this one: unforgettable. I drove past my destination because I was so wrapped up in this album — not once, but twice. Summer of Fear is an album of pain and sadness; it’s the work of a man who’s worn his heart on his sleeve for most his life. Remembering the past with a reverence one can only have when they’ve spent a lot of time in it, he takes us through loss, relationships, childhood, humanity, death, and of course, fear. “The Sound” will have you at the first chord, “Shake a Shot” will make you remember, and “Gold and Grey” will make it all okay. Robinson’s lyrics are honest, raw, and kind of depressing, but all of that comes in contrast to some ballsy Americana-rock which begs to be played somewhere without fear of reprisals. The bare-bones writing on Summer is the work of an artist who calls it like it is and holds your hand while you work your way through it. Sounding somewhere between Dylan and Petty, Summer of Fear needs to be in your life because it’s about your life.  – V. Bormann

The Avett Brothers
I and Love and You
Sony; 2009

I and Love and You, the Avett Brothers’ eighth full-length release, is the kind of album you put on to just focus on feeling. The title track will wreck you in all the right ways, “January Wedding” will make you wish you played the banjo, and “Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise” is a song for anyone who’s ever been scared to fall in love. “And It Spread” is a pitch-perfect ode to a broken heart, and “The Perfect Space” is about finding your place, while “Ten Thousand Words” is a pure writers’ song. And if “Kick Drum Heart” doesn’t make you dance, then you don’t have a pulse. “Laundry Room” is about the risks we take for love, “Ill With Want” will speak to anyone caught up in what they don’t have, and “Tin Man” is a theme song for the emotionally unavailable. Elsewhere, “Slight Figure of Speech” is a party song that will remind you of some of the Brothers’ greatest hits, “It Goes On and On” is about jumping off the cliff of emotion for someone else, and “Incomplete and Insecure” tells of being inspired to do better despite the urge for self-destruction. As always, the Brothers deliver a fully beautiful package. – V. Bormann

Paul McCartney
Good Evening New York City
Hear Music/Mercury; 2009

It’s not easy being a Paul McCartney fan. In the eternal battle being waged between the Lennon and McCartney camps, Paul usually comes out the loser, not so much for his sappiness, but for the pesky fact that he’s still drawing breath. How can he compete? With four times as many good tunes, is how. Despite their Tin Pan Alley schmaltz, McCartney songs, at their finest, have no peer. He still is the standard by which all songwriters should be judged, both for his prolificacy and his ear for catchy hooks. So how does he fare live? There’s little in the way of the spontaneity or off-the-cuff improvisation that makes the greatest live albums great, but the lack is made up for by the scope covered on this three-disc set (one’s a DVD). “Live and Let Die” appears, as do “Band on the Run,” “Hey Jude,” and “Let It Be,” but Good Evening is exceptional (it’s also his sixth live album since 1990) for its inclusion of comparative sleepers and rarities: “I’ve Got a Feeling”; the brilliant “Calico Skies”; “Mrs. Vandebilt”; “Eleanor Rigby”; “Paperback Writer”; “I’m Down”… the list goes on. At it’s best, Good Evening reminds us (again) that “The Cute One,” though jowly now, still has the power to move epic crowds in the way U2 will by proxy once he’s kicked the bucket. As it stands now, that’s Sir Paul you see up there on stage ruling the roost. – T. Bennison

Various Artists
In The Red Zone: The Essential Collection of Classic Dub
Shanachie, 1997

Dub was born in the early ‘70s of the Jamaican music business’s mean economic circumstances. It was cheaper to put one song on a single than two, so record labels encouraged engineers to liven up instrumental versions of the a-side with echoes, drop-outs, and all manner of studio trickery. The style caught on with the Jamaican record-buying public and expatriates took it to England, where it was championed by punks like The Clash and The Raincoats. Dub’s golden age ended in the early ‘80s when reggae producers turned to dinky-sounding computerized accompaniment, but in the ‘90s the crossover success of Massive Attack and the tireless championing of dub by post-rockers like Tortoise renewed interest in the style and spurred a plethora of reissues. If you want to sample the genre but don’t know where to start, consider this swell, clinker-free collection. It features all the key names and a few undersung obscurities, and it’ll give you a good handle on the virtues of dub as well as the variations worked by its leading practitioners. Using outrageously outmoded gear, Lee Perry processed horns and guitars into unrecognizably psychedelic sounds that swirled around steely bass lines and implacable drums. King Tubby preferred to accentuate unstoppable rhythm tracks by dropping everything else in and out of the mix, while Augustus Pablo essayed indelible melodica solos over gentler, more pastoral rhythms. –- B. Meyer

Bob Dylan

Is nothing sacred? The problem with Christmas In the Heart isn’t that it’s… a collection of Christmas tunes sung by Bob Dylan, for crying out loud, nor that it effectively kicks a doorstop under what should be a deadbolted portal into an exclusive, peppermint-scented room. (What’s next? Bono tackling Handel’s Messiah by his lonesome? Prince’s Christmas In My Pants?). No, the problem with this album is that despite its Mad Lib-inspired idea, it’s actually pretty damn good. Nowhere near the karaoke novelty it first appeared to be and not as solemnly reverential as you might alternately expect, Dylan treats these beloved standards (and a few klezmer/zydeco-styled comedic numbers) as part of the homegrown, populist lore that’s influenced everything he’s done. And if calling the whole thing “Christmas In The Heart” sounds suspiciously like a forewarning of their unimpeachable worth protecting them from Dylan’s increasingly Kermit-like moan, the title is only meant to strengthen the idea of each tune’s adaptability and universal appeal. Through Dylan, these songs become, once again, part of the true public domain — of kindergarten holiday programs and Vienna Boys Choir recitals; of neighborhood caroling and Dean Martin specials. Once you get over the obvious sonic incongruities of hearing him warble “Adeste Fideles” and “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” Christmas In The Heart settles down nicely with you beside the fire. Jolly good fun. — T. Bennison

JJ Grey & Mofro
Orange Blossoms
Alligator; 2008

If you’re in the mood for something a little down-home, a little dirty, a lot of sweet and a ton of fun, you need to stop and smell the Orange Blossoms. The fourth release from Jacksonville group Mofro, headed by JJ Grey, is just the ticket to warm up your soul during the Florida winter. Already well known for their “swamp funk” sound and their themes of life in the coastal South, this album brings their solid reputation to the next level by adding in a set of blues ballads, including “Dew Drop,” “I Believe (In Everything),” and “She Don’t Know.” A central feature of Mofro’s sound is the hip-moving, foot stomping crooning of Grey, whose almost gospel-like voice is guaranteed to have you closing your eyes in reverence. Complex and pungent, Orange Blossoms will get your joint jumping (see “On Fire”) and your heart strumming (see the title track). Straddling the line between blues greats like Muddy Waters and blues contemporaries like The Black Keys, Mofro strikes a pitch that local Brevard residents will recognize as on par with our own treasure, Josh Miller. — V. Bormann

Edith Piaf
“La Vie En Rose” Original Soundtrack
EMI Classics; 2007

“La Foule” made me fall in love with Edith Piaf. A circus-inspired and regal sounding song about being thrown into a dance with a man just as quickly as a maddening crowd takes him away, it represents the jovial element of her work. At once haunting and beautiful, violent and delicate, strong and feminine, Edith was a complex contradiction and her prolific career demonstrates her inner self in equal measure. The “La Vie En Rose” soundtrack is a collection of her greats. From the infamous title track (which has been covered by artists such as Louis Armstrong, Cyndi Lauper, and Donna Summer) to the war song “Heaven Have Mercy” and the passionate “Padam Padam,” we experience the songs that play through and with her life. To listen to her music is to understand her existence, even if one doesn’t understand a word of French. Her work can be navigated by emotion so eloquently that speaking her language is secondary to just listening and allowing yourself to feel its effect. This soundtrack is as much her biography as the movie from which it derives, and to experience Edith is to be let into the life of one of the world’s most unique singers. — V. Bormann

Martin Newell
The Wayward Genius of Martin Newell
Cherry Red; 1999

The Greatest Living Englishman is more polished and concise, and A Summer Tamarind more recent, but The Wayward Genius of Martin Newell does a better job of introducing England’s unofficial songwriter laureate to a forgivably ignorant public. Writing in the vein of Lennon and McCartney (“Blue Swan”), Davies (“Miss Van Houten’s Coffee Shop”), and early Townshend (“The Popular Girl”), Newell builds wonderfully melodic, poetic vignettes aroundthe peculiar banality and eccentricity of English life. Culled from the fruits of a prolific career that began in the early ’70s and briefly blossomed in the ’80s with The Cleaners From Venus and The Brotherhood of Lizards, these songs — by turns amateurish and impeccably produced — show that Newell wields and uncommon command of melody and insightful lyricism. Though slightly famous in Britain as a memoirist, erstwhile TV presenter, and weekly fixture in The Sunday Express poetry section, Newell the musician is largely ignored among his countrymen due in part to his understandable disdain for the mainstream recording industry. But it’s this very intransigence that makes Martin Newell so worthy of discovery and appreciation. Encumbered with the overwrought treatments the bigwigs would surely suggest, songs like “Julie Profumo” and “Girl On A Swing” might make adequate hits, but only at the expense of losing their enchanting luster. At their simplistic best (“Clockwork Train”; “Jangling Man”), these are songs a child could master in a few days — and charming enough to make them want to. — T. BennisonCD

Mark Knopfler

If ever there were an under-the-radar musician, it would have to be Mark Knopfler. Sure, there are plenty of other deserving artists who slog away in unfair obscurity, but few have the former Dire Straits frontman’s professional cachet; even fewer have produced as much consistently pleasing material. Since he set out on his own in 1995, Knopfler has enjoyed almost unanimous critical praise for inimitable songwriting that favors subtle insinuation over eager showmanship. Guitar nerds revere him for his fluent, sinuous fretwork; others admire his pithy characterizations and insightful vignettes. From Dire Straits and numerous solo projects to soundtracks, supporting slots and production credits, Knopfler seems to thrive best in the shadows. And though he’s hardly unknown, his unique songs always merit wider exposure and deeper appreciation. The gorgeous Get Lucky, Knopfler’s sixth proper solo album, distills all of his impressive talents into a kind of mellow rumination on his entire career. Knopfler’s voice — somewhere between a drowsy Johnny Cash and Dylan with clear sinuses — carries as much weight as his trademark fingerpicking on tracks like the loping “Cleaning My Gun” and the Celtic-tinged “So Far From The Clyde.” Ultimately, Get Lucky suggests that under the radar is a beautiful place to be. — W. Tyler

Dan Auerbach
Keep It Hid
Nonesuch; 2009

Usually when you think about “half” of something, you think about that something being “half as good.” One half of The Black Keys, Dan Auerbach, is an exception. Marked by a soulful voice and highly skilled Delta-blues guitar work, Auerbach’s vacation from his other half, Patrick Carney, is hardly a substitution. From the Southern “Trouble Weighs a Ton” to the spooky, groovy “I Want Some More,” Auerbach gives us the shrimp n’ grits business without so much as a knowing flinch. Playing most of the instruments himself, he’s still made room for friends, including Jessica Lea Mayfield, his uncle, James Quine, and his father, who wrote “Whispered Words.” “Keep It Hid” tilts somewhere between seduction and bashful sentiment, and the adult-lullaby “When The Night Comes” reminds us of the lengths we’ll go to find a hand to hold as we fall asleep. “Goin’ Home” is a goodbye waltz that closes the album in perfect pitch: “Forget about the things you want and be thankful for all you got.” Auerbach’s first solo project proves he’s a man who sings with the conviction of someone who doesn’t regret being half of anything — and despite the rumors, The Black Keys are anything but over.  — V. Bormann

Janelle Monáe
Metropolis: The Chase Suite
Atlantic; 2008

Metropolis, envisioned as a multi-part concept album, tells the story of Cindi Mayweather, an “Alpha Platnium 9000 Android” who’s fallen in love with a human and must flee her planet. Monáe uses Cindi as a way to both explore her imagined Shangri-La and exorcise her demons, singing her way through themes like drug addiction, STDs and of course, mothers. Metropolis, based on the 1927 silent film of the same name, is a vaudevillian adventure, but it’s also a complicated and deep sonic project. In a nice pairing with the album’s unabashed fantasy element, Monáe uses the last two tracks (as herself) to send a working-class message to the president and cover the classic song “Smile” — proof enough that within the span a mere seven songs, she can take us to an unsettling planet and then bring us gently back down to a hopeful Earth. Like a harmonic bird from another time with a voice like a harp, Monáe uses her imagination to explore both the human condition and social action. No matter which world you prefer, this close friend of Outkast’s Big Boi will have you seeing stars. — V. Bormann

Sly & the Family Stone
There’s a Riot Goin’ On
Sony; 1971

By the time of Riot’s release, Sly Stone’s steady retreat inward was becoming increasingly apparent to those around him, as his dealings with the outside world became marked by disinterested cynicism. The same man who had given inspiration to so many with the positive message of his hit singles (“Stand,” “Everyday People,” “I Want To Take You Higher”) seemed to be methodically destroying the reputation he had worked so hard to build. The concerts that were once like a funkified electric church would start hours late, if at all, inspiring vilification and even violence in his steadily shrinking audience. After two long years between albums, Sly was back — but with a whole new kind of soul. Riot’s charting singles “Family Affair” and “Runnin’ Away” were only moderately representative of the density and darkness that lurked in the record’s grooves; others hint at the dissolution of a band that had spent the five previous years drawing up the blueprint for modern funk and soul music. Despite, or perhaps because of, all of these seemingly disastrous elements, Riot is a masterpiece. The introspective, yet political lyrics, the hard and dirty funk grooves, the inspirational, yet depressing songs — all of these elements would come to influence not only peers like Marvin Gaye and James Brown, but two generations of rappers and funkateers who paid homage to Sly’s vision by making his samples and beats an essential backbone of their own innovations. Sly’s riot is still goin’ on. — D. Rosen

Imogen Heap

Someone recently handed me a yellow Post-It with the words “bodies disengaged/our mouths are fleshing over” (from Imogen Heap’s “Last Train Home”) written out and told me to listen to Ellipse, her latest album. I’m here to pass the recommendation along — minus the Post-It. Ellipse is a fantastically magical exploration of what happens when you meld the organic and the inorganic. Heap’s voice and lyrics are of the soil, yet her use of technology is out of this world. After listening to these tracks, I dare you to believe she’s a one-woman act. It goes almost without saying that Heap is a master at the mixing board, but it’s her lyrics that will make her talent for chemistry even more obvious. “Wait it Out” is about the time between a break-up and a new-beginning, and “Earth” is a call to action for our planet, while “Between Sheets” is about the best part of falling in love. “2-1″ is a haunting reminder that “things are not always as they seem,” and “Canvas” seals the album by telling us that  “the more you look, the less you see/so close your eyes and start to breathe.” From the first single to the last song, Heap addresses major themes, all with the ethereal feather-touch of a sweet bird in your ear. – V. Bormann

Arctic Monkeys
Humbug
Domino; 2009

It’s disconcerting that after three solid albums and an impressive EP that Arctic Monkeys (called rock saviors even before the release of their 2006 debut) are still facing questions of legitimacy. It appears that if you’re a band these days — especially a British one — you’re damned if you repeat yourself and damned if you don’t. Humbug, their latest album, has drawn derision for being too “experimental” and “atmospheric,” and faces claims that they’ve abandoned their old hit-loving fan base in favor of a more discerning crowd. But as a “third album,” Humbug is merely meant to test the faithful, and much like another famous third album, Led Zeppelin’s III (“Gallows Pole,” anyone?), it’s the sound of a good band evolving into a great one. What is exactly at issue here? For one: the unorthodox “Crying Lightning,” admittedly an odd choice for a first single, but one that intrigues enough to incite closer examination of what it is they’re exactly up to. As with much of the Monkeys’ music, it’s less the bluster that turns your head than the gentle shoulder taps of down-tempo tracks like “Cornerstone,” “Secret Door,” and elastic closer “The Jeweller’s Hands,” all of which showcase a canny ear for sonic drama, lilting melody, and songwriter Alex Turner’s increasingly brilliant lyricism. Overall, Arctic Monkeys are a fine example of a band that has both little and everything to prove — a conundrum Humbug tackles with admirable aplomb. – T. Bennison

The Dave Matthews Band
Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King
RCA; 2009

From the first saxophone note, you’ll discover that the heart of the Dave Matthews Band hasn’t been lost, even if one of its founding members has been. Saxophonist LeRoi Moore passed away during the making of GrooGrux and it’s easy to tell that DMB released this album, containing the last sax notes Moore would ever play, partly as a memorial. However, this is no funeral. Moore may no longer be with the band, but his energy and passion for jazz still serves as their backbone. From “Shake Me Like a Monkey” (which I bet you can’t not move to) to “Alligator Pie (Cockadile)” and the tribute “Why I Am,” it’s clear the remaining members are carrying on with the infectious funky blues-soul they’ve become famous for. The softer side of the album shows a vulnerability you’d expect, yet still arrests in contrast to the preceding tunes. Beautiful poetic ruminations about God, flying, friends and love bring big questions and few answers. In this way, GrooGrux (which was Moore’s nickname) is perhaps more alive than ever. In “Funny The Way It Is,” we’re reminded that everything and everyone is connected as “someone’s broken heart becomes your favorite song.” – V. Bormann

Van Morrison
Astral Weeks
Warner Bros./WEA; 1968

Backed sensitively by jazz veterans such as Richard Davis, Connie Kay, and Jay Berliner, Van Morrison offers a brooding, melancholy, introspective, and mature debut record in the classic Astral Weeks. In fact, he must have stunned listeners who’d come to expect the R&B-influenced work of Them or the simple pop of “Brown Eyed Girl.” Morrison shoots for a mood and an atmosphere, and he carries it through the album. Most songs feature simple, repetitive two- or three-chord structures that give Astral Weeks a trance-inducing, hypnotic feel, and until you enjoy a few listens, it almost sounds like one long song. The intensity builds on “Sweet Thing” as elegant strings hover in the background and Morrison engages in a beautiful fantasy of love and lush scenery. Simple song foundations act as springboards for the musicians, who gracefully fill in the colors on tracks like “Cypress Avenue” and “Ballerina.” Even Morrison’s vocals seem improvised, with their unique phrasing and dramatic repetition, qualities that make Astral Weeks a delicate sonic painting. – M. Greilsamer

Heartless Bastards

If The Heartless Bastards’ last album, All This Time was about defining home, this album, their third, is about what you do when you’ve lost it. Aptly titled “The Mountain,” the title track sets the tone for the next 10 songs: coping with and exploring curiosity and desire in life, taking risks and kicking ass. A moving metaphor for growing up, change and adventures yet-to-be-had, it’s incredibly timely in our current national state of rebirth and transformation. If you’ve lost your job, if you’re trying to “figure it all out,” if you’re starting over, this album needs to be on heavy rotation. “Be So Happy” is a determined mantra about looking on the bright side and cowboying up. Motivating without ever being wimpy, weepy or weak, you might not make it through “Hold Your Head High” before you’ve pulled yourself out of bed and into some shoes. “Wide Awake” will be a familiar-themed tune for anyone who’s heard the band’s other Fat Possum releases, and like those, this one will not disappoint with their signature gritty blues-rock. Starting over is a common theme in the Bastards’ songwriting and no one delivers reality-centered rock-poetry quite like frontwoman Erika Wennerstrom. From the banjo and violin in “Had to Go” to the earthy and raw vocals in “Sway,” The Heartless Bastards have their fingers on the pulse of what we need to hear and how we need to hear it. The Mountain reaches into your heart and pulls at those strings which send reverb into the brain, asking you to look inside, and look a little closer at how happiness is a choice; to make it, “just let go…” I can’t think of a better album to make some resolutions and do some beach-walking, soul-searching to. Come out to play, life is waiting, and The Heartless Bastards won’t stop until they get you “Out At Sea” again. — V. Bormann

Goldfish
Caught in the Loop
Black Mango; 2006

Remember in the early ’00s when wallpaper jet-set music was everywhere? When songs from groups like St. Germain, Air, and Supreme Beings of Leisure floated with you through life? From buying new throw pillows to chop-sticking in the hottest new restaurant, this is what played while you were busy being fabulous. That music hasn’t left, it’s just grown up, offering new ethereality for our ears. Take Goldfish, for example, and their first self-recorded album, Caught in the Loop. This album skyrocketed the Cape Town group from their tiny tip of Africa to Ibiza, Tokyo and venues all over the world. Their music provides all the right ingredients when you’re looking for the perfect art gallery/cocktail party/red wine-and-a-bath mood. From the infectious and worldly “The Real Deal” and the jazzy “Mbira Beat” to the sexy “Obey,” they’ve covered the bases of bass and brass. While they’ve released a new album in 2008, Perceptions of Pacha, it’s Caught in the Loop that’s responsible for the passion they continue to spread. This college-buddy twosome pulls out all the stops on Loop, providing an array of tunes that are both culturally stimulating and emotionally resonant, and each employs a mind-blurring mix of electronic and live instruments that suggests a much larger band. “Times May Change You” is so cool I’m surprised it’s not in a car commercial yet, “Dream” rings like part of a superb soundtrack, and “The Four Forty Five Blues” is street-side funk in ethnic eclectic. “Highflutin’” metronome’s into a Middle-Eastern influenced James Bond theme, just as “Last Tango in Paradise” sways in bittersweet memories fading into the sunset as a boat leaves the shore. Overall, Loop is background music in its highest state — it doesn’t ask much of you, but if you want to really pour yourself into it, you’ll get a lot back. “From Zanzibar With Love,” Goldfish is here to take you away to where you are. — V. Bormann

Keziah Jones
Nigerian Wood
Warner; 2008

Born near Lagos, Nigeria to a Yoruba chief, blues and funk phenomenon Keziah Jones got his start busking in the streets and subway stations of London and Paris. On the strength of first single “Rhythm is Love,” from debut Blufunk Is A Fact!, Jones rose quickly through the ever curious French music scene to earn fame throughout his adopted Europe. Though ’92′s Blufunk successfully distilled his artistic vision of raw blues melded with kinetic funk rhythms, later releases African Space Craft, Liquid Sunshine and Black Orpheus saw Jones employing elements of traditional African music and American soul. Nigerian Wood, his most recent release, finds Jones weaving in upbeat jazz fusion, reggae, and stuttering flamenco guitar picking on tracks like “My Kinda Girl,” “Blue Is The Mind,” and “Lagos vs. New York.” Using an ingenious percussive guitar technique which incorporates bass-like slapping and fret strumming, Jones drives an impeccably tight backing band through 12 determined and bum-wriggling tracks that must surely have Prince quaking in his purple boots. Though Nigerian Wood is available through several download purveyors, a hard-to-find (and rather expensive) import gets you 10 additional bonus tracks that could easily comprise a strong album in themselves. That said, Nigerian Wood is worth both the search and the money, and is guaranteed to have you clamoring for more. — T. Bennison

Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli
Swing From Paris
ASV; 1990

Although Django Reinhardt was famous for his mood swings and volatile temper, his unique guitar work remains beyond reproach and nearly impossible to copy. A fire cost him the use of two of his fingers on his left hand, forcing him to adapt his style to accommodate his handicap. Partner Stephane Grappelli was no doubt frustrated by Reinhardt’s fiery demeanor and his nearly confrontational rhythmic support. Clearly, however, Grappelli translated this frustration into musical magic — the unlikeliness of the pairing was central to its amazing success. Featuring a rhythm section of two acoustic guitars and a bass, the Quintet of the Hot Club of France provides urgent support for the two stars, leaving them free to produce expressive and exciting improvisations. A furious “I Got Rhythm” kicks off this set, and immediately, the listener gets a sense of the duo’s contrasting styles, with Grappelli swinging gracefully on violin while Reinhardt plays aggressively and often frenetically. Grappelli’s creative melodic interpretation and Reinhardt’s abrasive chords highlight “Sweet Georgia Brown,” while the pretty “Lambeth Walk” contrasts nicely with a hard-driving “Them There Eyes.” On the latter, the two play a game of one-upmanship — both offer heated solos as the intensity builds to a blistering crescendo, Grappelli’s violin soaring over Reinhardt’s jagged rhythm. Reinhardt’s ballad style often used sarcasm as a tool while Grappelli, in yet another contrast, usually treated these melodies with more respect. — M.Greilsamer