Antony And The Johnsons - Swanlights

Word on the street is that the new album by my old friend / bitter balladeer / morose master Antony is actually more on the positive end of the rainbow. A change I don't have to be too afraid of. Yes, Antony does darkness better than most, but his falsetto wail could be just as effective in songs of praise.

One of the additions that may have lead to an emotional shift is that the Johnsons, a small set of multi-instrumentalists focusing on bass registers, have employed a full classical chamber orchestra. This is apparent on album opener, "Everything Is New"- which has no other lyrical dimension than just to set up the feel.

And that orchestra is fairly dynamic and adds a film score like quality to the proceedings. But Antony's lyrics this time around seem to be even more oblique than usual. Having said that, this album has two of probably the most straightforward songs of Antony's career. "I'm In Love"- almost sounding R.E.M.-like with the Mike Mills organ underlying the effort. And the previously released single, "Thank You For Your Love", which could have been a cast off from Ray Lamontagne's horn-soaked days.

So other than a little less than half, it's not overly "happy". But the songs are not so easily defined and the dynamics of both Antony's vocals and the chamber orchestra are too confined. I would have expected Antony, and the Johnsons, to burst in the light with as much aplomb that they wallow in the darkness. (2.5 of 5 stars)

Torche - Songs for Singles

Released as an EP, it's still 8 songs long. And I call that a motherfucking album. I saw these guys in a small bar last year and look forward to the jams this cold icy afternoon.

And Torche really brings it. They have two other full length albums and are a great example of uniqueness. They've got a stoner rock sensibility in their deep fuzz tones, but they play fast with ~1:30 length songs (not a lot of droning). Plus, singer Steve Brooks has a knack for catching a good hook and singing it well. He's not pop, mind you. His voice is reminiscent of Helmet's Page Hamilton. But within that range is a great pop smidge.

This collection is that kind of good. Fast blasts of greatness fill up your first half. "UFO"; "Hideaway"; "Arrowhead". You won't go wrong. Drummer Rick Smith comes from a Keith-Moon-via-Dave-Grohl school; which is meant to be a total compliment.



"Shine On My Old Ways" reminds me somehow of a pop-metal Priest song, "Solar Angels". I can't really explain it past that. "Face The Wall" is the one that does drone on a little bit. A bit too far on the side of tedium. The closer "Out Again" is nearly fantastic, with the biggest chorus, but rides the riff out for six minutes when it doesn't need to.

I'm nitpicking though. Break this out at your next backyard beer & bbq. Before the bonghits. (4 of 5 stars)

Jamey Johnson - The Guitar Song

Being late in my blog updates, I do get the benefit of knowing a reputation of some late-year releases that already have a good reputation. And this is going to be one of the rare country albums in this blog forever. So...

Come track 5 of disc one and nothing has blown me away yet. Nothing's offensive. I certainly appreciate a well-played minor chord in "Cover Your Eyes". Everything's generally smart and Jamey's vocals are true. He's a baritone, but it would be awesome if he were more gruff. But none of these songs on the "black" disc are really that dark. He misses his daughter, he drinks and dances to the classics and L.A. is a fake city. Whoopittee-doo.

A few more tracks and I still see the juxstaposition of a guy who uses phrases like: "You can take my word but you can't cash my checks" (good line) next to "the rooster crowin' reminds me I need to fee him" (dumb line). And I don't know what "Heartache" is. Kind of like that god-awful "Lullabye" song.

At the end of the day, I think everyone got so excited at an anti-Hollywood Nashville singer that they considered him the second coming. I was hoping for as much. What I got was just a mostly well-written country record. But... it's still country. (2.5 of 5 stars)

Fabienne Delsol - On My Mind

Retro-sounding '60s psychedelic pop, like Tommy James with a chick singer. Or take any one of your British pop songstresses from the 1060s: Lulu, Lesley Gore, what have you. Now, obviously Fabienne is French, but sings mostly in English. Her voice is sweet and fun, but doesn't jump around the scales too much. Not a requirement for this kind of music- just sayin'.

Listeners to this are going to fall in one of two camps. People who love this style in its entirety. They will see no wrong with any of it and will probably be girls. They'll even stick around for the ballad that really could have been skipped in this collection.

Others of us will see some pleasantness here. We'll put a song or two in our iPods, especially the French-language songs, play it at parties. Our friends will be impressed. Especially once Wes Anderson puts a song or two in a movie (he simply has to)- proving we're ahead of the game. But we will also know that overall, the style of each song doesn't change too much and not a lot to differentiate one song to the next.

Or maybe you're a full on rocker, who isn't into sweet pop. Check out "I Feel So Blue" for some jammin' surf guitar riffs. Fun will be had. (3 of 5 stars)

Film School - Fission

It's been a while since I heard something new that was also a Pitchfork darling. I've been turned off of the "scene" for a while which is why you're seeing reviews of Zakk Wylde, über-popular Arcade Fire and one of my faves, Eels. Film School I know only by reputation and anyway, not much else of interest was released this week.

And when the opening chords started to play, I rolled my eyes and prepared for another boring upbeat chipper-guitar indie pop-rock collection and songs about nothing. But then the first verse kicked in on "Heart Full Of Pentagons" and I saw a change. Just a kicked over tempo, but it seemed to breathe some eccentricity to the proceedings.

Film School certainly has Jesus And Mary Chain leanings and the distorted wall of sound makes that most apparent. It's not all guitar and it's not all rock. Plenty of synthesized chords and drum machines. And all of this is executed well. Hell, "Meet Around 10" is a fucking jam on par with Radiohead's "National Anthem".

Where you're going to lose this writer, and I can assume many of this writing's readers, is the undercut, undermixed and underwhelming vocals. Krayg Burton seems to be channelling alternative and new wave singers of yore with his melodies; but is not stepping up to bat in the performance level. All of those guys like Gahan and Robert Smith and Morrissey still had some effervescent delivery. The closest he gets out of his closet is on "Distant Life"- maybe because he thought it was a cover of "American Girl". And when the chick sings, it's no better.

So if you like your background music to have jangly guitars and nicely toned dance beats, this is for you. (2.5 of 5 stars)

Eels - Tomorrow Morning

A trilogy is completed with this effort, which follows Mark's paranoia of Hombre Lobo and sorrowful (excellent) End Times. This one, as you can imagine from normal storyteller lineage, is more of a rebirth. A rejection of the burdens that were carried by the men in the previous albums.

Just like me, your enjoyment of these albums will come if you enjoy classicist pop and rock structure; done largely by one man with a studio and the appreciation for simple gestures. Also just like me, you'll rank each release based on which of your moods dominates your definition of "self". I'm not just wasting words, I think it's important to point out before I make a blanket statement like "Tomorrow Morning is not as good as End Times". Because that's not true in any sense other than I relate more to the wallowing, blurry-eyed sad sack on End Times more than this new guy with the praise in his heart over the girl with the bearded-man tattoo.

The music on Tomorrow Morning is still very good. Mostly shiny electronic lightness (as opposed to the fuzz of Hombre and acoustics of End Times.) But E's voice is just as gruff and sincere as ever. The highlight is the sexiest Eels song ever, "This Is Where It Gets Good". Romantic and builds to a classic crescendo and even sticks around past the foreplay straight into some of the good stuff.

On the other hand, there's a couple of sappy or silly inclusions. The Baptist gospel-tinged "Looking Up" - which is too obvious an expression of rebirth than is needed for this collection. Also, the closer, "Mysteries Of Life" is a prime example of why you want women to keep leaving good artists. Because when they're so satisfied that they're singing full choruses of "La la la"s- you want to smack them like a clown that is acting alone. But those are minorities. Still a great bookend and a great ending to a tragic/warm/inspiring story. (4 of 5 stars)

Ray LaMontagne - God Willin' and the Creek Don't Rise

I've never been a big fan of LaMontagne. While the overall feel on the songs generally paint that gruff warmth that I can usually get behind; I've also always been distracted by Ray's voice. Girls may love it, but I find it overly breathy, contrived, unnatural and way too far up in the mix. However, all that aside, I heard a new song that I liked on the radio and just, on a whim, decided to check out the album.

For a guy who apparently got into music after hearing Stephen Stills, this is probably the most Stills-ish thing he's released. Ray adds "Pariah Dogs" as a name for his backing band on this one, certainly to drum up visions of a southern style folk rock band. And it is. The opener "Repo Man" rocks more than anything else on the record. It's more expansive in sound than his almost-alone debut. And nothing here touches upon his soul leanings that he took in follow ups.

After "Repo Man" wallows in some Grateful Dead style rave up jam, Ray kicks back and becomes a one-voiced version of CSNY. My favorite, the single, "Beg Steal Or Borrow" borrows heavily from "Old Man". Another highlight shows Ray singing about a relationship in the phase of separation and very cleverly relating it to the distance between "Rock & Roll And Radio".

And other than that, everything is a derivative of music of old. Nothing has originality, even the nuggets of creative lyrics. Which is okay. I appreciate interpreters as much as originators sometimes. And one day, Ray's going to break through with something really unique and blow everyone away. This isn't it, but it's perfect for your backyard beer-glossed bonfire. (3.5 of 5 stars)

Black Label Society - Order Of The Black

If there's one thing that Zakk Wylde will never get wrong, it's riffs. Either he was born with the genius-at-riffage gene or he has enough metal knowledge in his caché to fake it. I've seen him play, I assume the former. But it seems on this latest album, he's taking the Bad Company road. And not that anything here sounds like BadCo., it's just that I think of them as some of the mellowest, simplistic rock in the genre. It's not bad, just... typical. And if this album was a review of just riffage, BLS would be pulling a A-.

But the songs though, are not following through. All of them follow a perfect rock pattern of verse-chorus-verse-chorus-solo-chorus-chorus. All the lyrics paint a a broad portrait of oppression, strength, power, darkness, struggle. All without really making a point about anything. He's definitely channelling Ozzy in both songwriting and throat work.

There are three ballads on the album that are a little more lyrically realized than the rockers. But again, they suffer from songwriting redundancy. Zakk's emotional output is clear, but I've heard him be more thoughtful than this before. All of this plus an excellent 50-second acoustic solo called "Chupacabra" leave us with an album that's "good"- but nothing you'll feel enticed to spin repeatedly. (3 of 5 stars)

Arcade Fire - The Suburbs

Before your eyes roll and you get all ho-hum about another blogger espousing some magic bean fairy dust miracle savior baby praises upon the new Arcade Fire release, be aware of this: I never really cared about Arcade Fire. Hadn't really listened to them, but saw them on the late night shows and thought: okay, sure, whatever. Usually, I do that, and the darlings in question leave the door the arrived in. (I'm looking at you, Vampire Weekend). But since Arcade Fire seems to just be getting bigger, I'll try again. When I've made these value re-judgements in the past with Beck and Radiohead, I was pleasantly surprised. So...

I still really don't care about them. I can certainly appreciate the conceptual theme of youth reminiscing in the calm safety away from a city, where cops have nothing better to do than to shine lights in curious kids' eyes. But it also seemed too precious. It doesn't challenge the listener like a "Jesus Of Suburbia". It doesn't bring the true love like a "Summertime". It doesn't inspire anything in me but the thoughts that Modest Mouse has done all of this much more interestingly. Except for that one song that sounds like Queens Of The Stone Age. Brightest corner of this town is below: (2.5 of 5 stars)

Social Studies - Wind Up Wooden Heart

While Menomena's new one hasn't been given to the online resources, I opted for an unknown instead. ("unknown" = they don't even have a wikipedia page!!! *gasp*) I'm trading Portland experimental rock without boundaries to a San Francisco chick-fronted outfit.

Alright, it still has its experimental moments. Being compared to Deerhoof is not out of place. Opening strong with dirgy two-step complimented by a strong break-back back beat. "Charioteers" and "Drag a Rake" are indicative that someone in the band has some world music knowledge and is bringing it forth in the arrangement. Hooray for fiddles and people on roofs!

But that is too often replaced by a keyboard purchased by someone who wanted to recreate Sega video game music and a singer who sounds like a virginal Nina Persson. "The Good Book" for example is a good definition of the whole record. Good song with a great arrangement being performed by completely bored kids who need a drink, smoke and lay before tackling this thing called performance.

The Goodnight Loving - The Goodnight Loving Supper Club

Another of the big-instrumentation folksy collectives that are permeating all over Adult Alternative radio right now. Magnetic Zeroneans doing countrified waltzes with indie-rock vocalists. Minimalist songwriters who, because they've invited extra friends to the party, get credited for being musical landscapists. Someone remembers that echo and reverb are important to create "texture".

So what are the songs like? Pleasant, really. Unobtrusive and without anyone getting emotionally attached to anything. There's a song about a fish's perspective as it becomes lunch. Another one about those earworm songs. "Candy Store" has a fantastic riff straight out of Duane Eddy's songbook. BUT... it's about babies picking shit out in a candy store. Nothing coy nor clever.

Sometimes the pare it down to a minimum of garage rockers, not unlike the Jayhawks, but the sound basically still remains the same. I'm left without the excitement of a garage party. "Ramble Jamble" gives us some fun sixties Hullabaloo romping; but it's too little and too late for this collection. (2 of 5 stars)

Mystery Jets - Serotonin

British pop rock with some quality and style. But in comparing it to other British pop-rock, it either over-shoots the mark or glides completely by you. The first two tracks for example...

The album opener, "Alice Springs" blows up like a Pulp Top 10. "I'd stand in the line of fire for you..." has the rocked-up singalong chorus and the sentimental lyrics, but I still feel like we're just writing a modern day "Oliver Twist" musical. Too much.

The second track, "It's Too Late To Talk" - glides over you without digging in anywhere. It's verses are wordy without reason, which you forget all about when we pass the "doo doo doo doo" bridge and arrive at the one-line-title-repeated-four-times chrous.

That and the third track smacks cool into smooth synth-pop of old Spandau Ballet. And then, the album begins rocking less and driving up the pleasant pop. And that's not bad per se, but the choruses do get awfully repetitive in pop this poppy. And if keyboards aren't riffing or droning, they tend to grate on me. These '80s synth effects don't add anything to the songwriting- which really isn't bad.

A great example is a song called "Melt" which is simple, nice. "All I want to do is melt, melt, melt, melt into you..." The hook is total fun. They just drive it around too many times. They rarely dive into the deep end of the shit waters

Outside the synth effects, I'd be remiss if I didn't say that "Waiting On A Miracle" is a straight up Coldplay throwaway. Avoid.

The best track is clearly the last, "Lorna Doone". And it's about a movie character. Remember when I asked for droning, before? I got it. The Jets provide an Arcade Fire inspired break up song that hits all the right notes, takes itself seriously and walks away when its supposed to.

Dirty Little Rabbits

With very little being released mid-summer, I pulled an unknown out of the hat. Come to find that Dirty Little Rabbits are a side project of Shawn Crahan, who is a percussionist in Slipknot. ("The Clown" - not the dead guy, who was "The Pig") I would have expected that a sideman in Slipknot would follow the singer's direction and take up a more commercial group and collect bigger songwriting royalties. And while DLR is farther away from metal than even Corey's Stone Sour, I'd still be hard pressed to call it commercial.

Joining Crahan (who is playing drums here) is an organist named Michael Pfaff and a very dynamic/enigmatic chick singer named Stella Katsoudas. Guitar/bass round things out, but the arrangements are clearly led by Pfaff; and Stella is so clearly the band leader that even Jeff Beck would sit back and take direction.

But on a first listen, I must admit, I'm at a bit of a loss for words. Crahan is not afraid to beat the skins, but leans back when he's supposed to. The organ takes me back to Billy Joel's pre-fame heavy metal effort Attila. 70s, Deep Purple, power rock. And then, to throw everything for a loop is Stella.

First of all, she's WAY over the top in the mix. Vocals are never muddled. She runs the gamut from cute and poppy like Letters To Cleo... to wordsy and poetic like Fiery Furnaces or Dresden Dolls... to just full on annoying like Juliette Lewis.
I think I like it. (3 of 5 stars)

Peter Case - Wig!

An old power-popper has a intrusive heart operation and comes back with an unexpected response. A bare-bones garage blues rock recording from one day-long session.

It's hard to differentiate these recordings when talking about this album project. There's not a lot of room for experimentation during a day-long session. "New Old Blue Car" for example is an update from Case's own "Old Blue Car" from 1986 but ends up sounding like Tom Waits' "Goin' Out West" with Robin Zander on vocals.

A lot of the album has that same feel. Electric blues, electric piano, amplified/distorted harmonica. You can imagine Case sweating these out live and it feels great. I also just wondered then why he didn't cross the line and record it in front of a barroom full of friends.

The slow, acoustic Lead Belly cover, "Thirty Days in the Workhouse" breaks up the album into halves before we enter "Ain't Got No Dough", which (purposefully?) rips off the piano riff to "Money (That's What I Want)".

The album's end gets acoustic again with "House Rent Party", which may be my favorite of the set. The whole thing was great fun, and I'm sure I'd love to see Case live at the Slippery Noodle. But from an album, point of view, it will suffer in my eyes to what all of modern electric blues suffers from. Sameness in style that unless your adding an element to get lost in, can lose you. This is better than most, though. Don't let me fool you. (3.5 of 5 stars)

22-20s - Shake/Shiver/Moan

I thought I remembered the 22-20s from hearing at least a song before, and I remembered it being more garage-y. Maybe I made that up in my head, because the 22-20s rarely get rambunctious on this latest disc. And nothing is remotely sexy enough to make me want to shake, shiver OR moan.

Now, I love Arctic Monkeys, and I wouldn't call them a garage rock band either, but at least Alex seems like he's always half in the bag and is only coming around to have a go at your girl.

The problem seems to mostly stem from singer Martin Trimble. When he doesn't seem tired or bored, he's at the very least too proper for a rock band. Standing him next to Jack White would be like standing Hugh Grant next to Marlon Brando (1950). The answer is obvious. Also, production is entirely too clean. For his part, the drummer is trying to let go and rip it up here and there. But even on those tracks, like "Oceans", he's masked by a producer who wants everything to be heard a little bit. Every strum, every cymbal hit. No distortion whatsoever.

The benefit to playing and singing this lazy is that when you have a slow, lazy, snake-in-the-desert-sand song, it works. "Bitter Pills" is included for your enjoyment. Otherwise- spiritless. (1.5 of 5 stars)

The Gaslight Anthem - American Slang

After seeing The Gaslight Anthem at Lollapalooza last year, I finally caught up not too long ago with their breakthrough, The '59 Sound. And it's true that I got caught up in it. With the look and every bit as much intention as Social Distortion; their sound was considerably more whispy, even poppy. If they get too big, there will be a backlash and people will start calling them girl punk, but that'll be a misnomer. Yes, Brian Fallon is pretty and his voice emotive and clean. And yes, the songs are hooky. And yes, the songs have a sentimentality about them. But it goes back to the whole Jersey aesthetic- this idea of honoring your home and family, even as you are leaving them.

On the new record, we get more of the same formula. Only this time I feel a little less connected to it. It feels like the characters that are being sung to are the ladies. "The Queen of Lower Chelsea" as one of the titles goes. Nothing as ferociously heart-straining as the full-speed eulogy of the last album's title track.

No real low-points per se, just way fewer high points. Like a new collection of songs that were probably worked on 5 years ago and not completed. But hey, ya gotta keep workin'. One high point brings my favorite track to the front. "Orphans" is another lost-children anthem that we come to this music for. "We were orphans before we were ever the sons of regret." It's a line as worthy of our attention as "Tramps like us, baby we were born to run".



And it's true. These songs were created for us to form a kinship with. And even if the kinship is stronger with your kid sister, you should still invite 'em to the table. At least they're not 30 Seconds To Mars. (3 of 5 stars)

Villagers - Becoming A Jackal

Not a lot going on this week. I almost made my review this week of new releases by Christina Aguilera or maybe even Hanson. But opted instead for an artist I'd never heard of before. Based only on the description of "alternative singer/songwriter" and "Irish".


Good thing. Because these are some well-written songs. Songwriter Conor O'Brien is certainly alphabetically close to Conor Oberst. But you would have resembled the two anyway. The latter being among indie-folk's most prolific entities this past decade. But beyond their love of wordplay, Villagers employ some of the dramatic build-ups of orchestration that I've recently heard from other British-isle exports like Frightened Rabbit and the Rumble Strips.

Having complimented that though, my favorite song is the mellowest, quietest one. "The Meaning of the Ritual" is a confession of our inherent selfish nature in the realm of love. A close second is the exploding "Pieces" - which starts out stark, with a minimalist clinking of a 1950's style doo-wop piano, but the dynamically shifts to a orchestration wall-of-sound overload; complete with Conor actually howling to a moon. It might as well have been followed by an excerpt of Paul McCartney singing about brushing his teeth or something.
(4 of 5 stars)

Gemma Ray - It's a Shame About Gemma Ray

A complete covers album by this neo-soul singer from England. The track listing is pretty eclectic, showing only 3 song titles (of 16) that I even recognize. Most tracks last under 3:00 and the production is altogether sparse. Apparently different than Gemma's previous soul works.

To that end, the "soul" end, I could hardly see how this Gemma would qualify. Her voice here is lilting and wispy. I could not imagine it carrying some soul backed effort, where some outward emotion is necessary. But Gemma sounds completely appropriate with her accompaniment here. Mostly a single guitar and the vocal echo chamber. It's clearly a distinctive eerie atmosphere, almost film music. To this point, check out the Mudhoney/Nirvana cover, "Touch Me, I'm Sick".

But if I'm not completely sold on these tracks, I'm sure I can revisit their original songwriters. "I'd Rather Be Your Enemy" has some drums thrown on it here, and sounds not unlike ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead. But more than that, it was well written and I went back to country singer's Lee Hazlewood's 1971 version and found a gem.

On the other hand, Buddy Holly's "Everyday" becomes morbid and therefore, lyrically ironic. It's a shitty and obvious way to cover a song, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was the impetus for this whole project. Because it is a successful effort, generally. But to take a ultimately happy song like this and turn it inside out just for the sake of doing so is weak. It's like when pop-punk bands cover '80s songs just to be douchey.

But that's a rarity on this record. It is mostly straight ahead mood music. Maybe you'll sit on your porch with rum runners and watch it rain. Or maybe you'll play while you make love to that guy who not-so-secretly hates you. Your tragedy becomes you. (3 of 5 stars)

Stone Temple Pilots

For their reunion album, their first in nearly a decade, the band get back together for probably the only reason that makes sense: They can't make anything else work. Sure, Velvet Revolver was successful, but Scott has clearly burned that bridge. For that reason, I'm going to assume that this album is going to sound hastily completed, with clichéd song structures that will exist more to feel familiar to the elder listeners than it will serve any progressive "let's be a band" purpose. They even told famed old-friend producer Brendan O'Brien to stay at home. And fuck, they couldn't even manage to muster up a title. But let's listen before we judge...

And from the first track / first single, I start to prove my point. Probably chosen because it hearkens back to days of greater risks. I have to admit, the line "You were my favorite drug even when we used to do drugs" is a good line worthy of the radio play it will surely receive. But other than that, it's fairly pedestrian and simple.

Not so of track two, which Weiland pushes well beyond his everyday range to great success. "Take A Load Off" also has an odd 6/8 time signature, so it falls around in certain places in a way that the listener has to catch up to. A much more satisfying boundary-pushing experience.

As we keep going, it's clear that STP are not above taking any chances, even if they don't stick the landing as hard as "Load". And sure, both may sound like Extreme song titles, but "Huckleberry Crumble" is some psychedelic storytelling and "Hickory Dichotomy" sounds like Aerosmith were back on the injectibles.

The absolutely awful "Cinnamon", which is destined for single release not on modern rock radio, but rather the Top 40 Owl City-friendly variety. A chorus which is nothing more than "Yeah- come on- come on now". This is matched with the "First Kiss On Mars" which sounds like the poppiest dreamiest Matthew Sweet track ever.

So, I admit that it's not as superficial as I would have originally expected. But on the other hand, I'm not going to give this a lot of listens either. Maybe I was hoping for more No. 4 and got more Tiny Music. That's all personal taste. Maybe you'll love it. (2 of 5 stars)

The Black Keys - Brothers

It's been two years since the Keys' last proper effort, but it's been a full two years. A couple of side projects (both of which I saw live) and the Blackroc collaboration (which I have yet to hear). And unlike that last effort, the Keys reign in all the psychedelic experimentation by adding themselves as producers.

And while there is only so much a blues-rock duo is going to perform, I can still say that the guys do not completely revert back to a simple guitar-drums combo all of the time. They still include some overdubs and some simple song texturing, but certainly nothing as distracting as Attack & Release.

"Everlasting Light" for example, is as brilliant an opening track as I've heard in years. Not even a riff. Just a 2/4 break beat to keep the hand claps going doubled with chugga-chug guitar that lays the bed while Dan sings with falsetto what amounts to a sexy gospel prayer. It's got a jesus feel, but chances are you'll be fucking to it. Trust me.

But Danger Mouse is still in the house, and there are a couple of songs that feel like hold-overs from the DM-produced record. A poppy-mellotron slow jam that does not work me at all called "The Only One"... But then on the other hand there's one I like a lot, "Too Afraid To Love You", which employs some harpsichord-voiced instrument. Which may not even be necessary, but I still love Dan's vocal delivery anyway.

So there are several great songs on here with an excellent old-school garage vibe. But there are 15 tracks over one hour. I say this a lot: trim down your fucking record. Songs start to bleed under a full listen. You'll remember that there's an instrumental and an Isaac Hayes cover but the listener will confuse them with other tracks. It's a small request, especially with how good this record is, but people will be more willing to buy their records if the percentage of greatness is larger. (3.5 of 5 stars)

The Dead Weather - Sea Of Cowards

Less than a year after their debut, Jack White's 2nd side project gets another full release of basement blues jams. Or in this case, the band probably riffed these out on a mobile studio in soundchecks and bus trips. It's all on youtube via a posted concert on the band's official site. Go look that up.

While reviewing Horehound, I mentioned my aversion to chick singers and apologized for that in any less-than-positivity in my review. It's not that Alison was ruining anything, I just assumed that I was experiencing some unrelatability due to her decidedly feminine poise.

This time... fuck that, she's totally ruining something here. She certainly get some kind of Jagger swagger and a genuine sexuality. Her vocals are gruff and fit the fuzz tones of the dirty bass riffs. But her songwriting is lazy. She's "mad", she's the tired old woman that wants to be left alone... Great, but the thoughts aren't remotely formulated enough to even call it a song.

The jams require something to sing along with- and it should inspire something more than "I can't hear you... but I'm gonna take you to my house so I can hear you." The best track, "Gasoline" isn't poetry, but at least it conveys the sexiness in the lyric with the sexy vocal she's delivering with.



For his part, Jack White doesn't play anything as incendiary as "Hang You from the Heavens", but he keeps the blues on a heavy footed pace. Although when he gets out the synthesizer and the sampler and the scratch effects, it gets a little self indulgent. Which is fine... because its a side project. (2.5 of 5 stars)

The Hold Steady - Heaven Is Whenever

The Hold Steady return with their next album about the sentimental love between music lovers. They also inch a little closer to crossover territory from a success perspective, which changes the production a little but not too dramatically. At their heart, THS are still a bar band like the Replacements on E Street.
The album kicks off with an almost-Black Crowes vibe on "The Sweet Part of the City". An excellent tune to kick off where we introduce the guys as regular kids who partied with other lovable people before they "got bored and started a band."

The best track avoids Craig Finn's sentimental stories of youth altogether. "The Weekenders" focuses on some adults making some questionable decisions in their secretive relationship. "In the end, only girls know the real truth" Here is also where you'll hear some of that crossover effort I was talking about. Nothing as dramatic as the Kings Of Leon shift, but it's still features more background harmony vocals that previous albums.



And there are a couple of straight up poppier tracks that take us out of the bar and into the summertime car radio. The most obvious example here is where the album title comes from in "We Can Get Together". A near-ballad pace where "heaven is the whole of the heart" and the riff is actually a repeated angelic lady-vocal choir. This is also the track where Criag's legendary shout-outs reach it's most fevered apex. In one song, he references Pavement, Hüsker Dü, Meat Loaf and others.

But don't let me scare you; the album is not far enough away from classic bar rock that the Steady deliver with excellent song writing. The closer, "A Slight Discomfort" toys with the 7-minute epic format, but comes across as sounding downright "Afghan Whig-y" which is pretty awesome. (4 of 5 stars)

Gogol Bordello - Trans-Continental Hustle

"Gypsy punk" is what they call this. And it seems like a tremendous amount of fun. Eastern European/Russian folk traditional base, with polka rhythms, lots of violin and accordion. Mix this with some punk swagger, blast it through a PA and get it produced by the guy who did Danzig and all of a sudden the Americans sit up and take notice.

You'll draw comparisons to another European-folk based act, DeVotchKa. I may side of Team DeVotchKa because of their darker mood, but I also feel like their music is more direct influence stylistic choice than Gogol, who often feels more kitschy, like a fun gimmick. Like The Darkness instead of Sword. I'm aware of my inherent contradiction, as DeVotchKa is made up of Americans and Gogol is made up of straight-up Russian implants. But still, listening to a whole Gogol album and I keep waiting to find out that Eugene Hutz is actually being played by Sacha Baron Cohen.

Eugene is the party leader here. And while you don't need the video to make this distinction, it's easy to see that his presence is a heartwarming and fun as Borat's native cultural dance on the streets of American ghettos. Even when singing about revolution and loss of country in his broken English, the triumphant will of the human spirit comes forth and you'll find yourself dancing arm in arm with your neighbor. It will make for a great live setting, even if it doesn't lend itself to multiple listens in your headphones. (3 of 5 stars)

Roky Erickson - True Love Cast Out All Evil

I did not have the knowledge of Roky Erickson's history or music when I first heard about this collaboration. But I love Okkervil River. And Roky's tale of psychedelic-turned-schizophrenic made for a great enough redemption story for me to give this record a try.

What should have occurred to me immediately is that the reason that I love Okkervil, was for Will's songwriting. And, of course, he is not writing anything on the album. So there is no wordy-word-word over-done-it stories that include a million a minute references to hipster impressives. And that's okay, just different. Roky is doing his country gospel thing. So lines are repeated 3 times per verse and choruses are heavy.

But it fits the style of Roky's songwriting, and it's great. The opening track for example, "Devotional Number One" is an archived recording. Scratchy, cut up and distorted in its age. It would have been better if Will had produced the album with that same sense of lack. Instead, the vocals are clean and way up in the mix; when Roky is not young nor does his voice have the dynamics that it once did.

Funny, it seems that the biggest problem I have with the album is not with Roky, but the guy I was most excited to see. I would expect that Will Sheff would produce his own band with the crisp of sunny California soft rock or even Philly soul. But Austin acoustic gospel deserves to sound like it wasn't produced at all. (2.5 of 5 stars)

Please, Judge - Okkervil River...

Coheed And Cambria - Year Of The Black Rainbow

I was in the mood for something metal today, but my first two choices were not available on my trusty Rhapsody software. So I move on to the third heavy release. And I'm familiar enough with the C&C music factory, I just haven't listened to an album all the way through yet.

And yes, I know that this is a prequel, a fifth album in a storyline of the history of Battlestar Galactica or something like that. I realize that some of the lyrical themes may have been foreign to me. But a review on allmusic assures me that the themes are vague enough for the the average listener to latch onto.

All the while of course, knowing that the price of admission is really supposed to be going to the daring prog-rock instrumentation. The adventurous landscapes and broad Matisse paintings to embolden the colors in our ears' collective palettes.

So... where is this instrumentation? This is no ELP or Genesis or even Dream Theater. I can't see anything in this album to differentiate C&C from 30 Seconds to Mars or My Chemical Romance except that Claudio seems more like a Zappa-type storyteller than the Jared Leto or Gerard Way's version of frontman, which leans to the flag-waving pansy jihadist side.

"Pearl of the Stars" is nice enough turn on the ballad side, which even turns a hopeful-ballad lyric on its ear: "And when the world burns apart there'll be a place for your car." But other than that, it still follows basically the same path as any general alt. rock ballad track. It's scarcely different than that Hoobastank song.

And aside from the random cool riff here and there it's straight ahead emo rock. A high point is "World Of Lines"- but it's too slow a work in progress to build to that point only to have it drop to nothing again. Maybe I just don't get it, but if you want heavy and progressive... go here. Or shit... even here... (2 of 5 stars)