Category: Music

The cream of this week’s musicalicious crop is oh, so creamy.

LittleHorse, Strangers in the Valley

I’ve been listening for the last couple of weeks to LittleHorse’s new album, their third, and it’s a keeper. (Also, judging from the somewhat lesser quality of the two songs they’ve remixed here from their previous CD, it’s probably the best.)

Led by two brothers, LittleHorse is a two-piano power-pop band that sounds a little like (take a deep breath) Queen plus a Latin band, and Billy Joel, backing up Joe Jackson, with Jellyfish on vocal harmonies. Or something. Whatever it is, it’s one of the year’s highlights – inventive but accessible, loaded with creamy harmonies, top-drawer musicality, and joyful fun. Highly recommended. Listen at their Myspace page, or at CD Baby where you can also buy it.

Eliza Lynn, The Weary Wake Up

Although I wasn’t terribly impressed with Eliza Lynn’s song on Putumayo’s recent Americana compilation, I like the label’s work so much that I almost automatically give a listen to anything from an artist they have included in the past. Lynn’s new CD turns out to be a solid, if not spectacular, set that embodies the term “Americana” in its broader sense, drawing on folk balladry, rock, blues, bluegrass, and jazz, but projecting a single characteristic voice.

Part of that consistency comes from Lynn’s literal voice, a cocky, cutting, but cloaked instrument that curls around cryptic lyrics like “You don’t know when it comes, cause it’s here before you’re ready. But if you walk it out the door, you’ll be begging it back on your knees.” In the brighter numbers, like “Hold My Breath,” “How Many Times,” and the Dixieland-style “Puddin’ Pie,” her smiling twang reminds me a little of Ellen McIlwaine, while her darker moments, like the trippy banjo-and-bass tune “Conrad” and the newgrassy “Bound,” express more of a snarly, Lucinda Williams sensibility.

“Intolerance Blues” is one of the more vivid political songs I’ve heard lately (and I’ve heard a lot). Lynn nails jingoistic country singers and right-wing hate radio with one swipe: “A country station is playing a song of vengeance, riding on patriotic hate… The country they sing of sounds like an angry drunkard – blinded and happy on his drug.”

And she picks a banjo as mean as her fights. Altogether, this is a nicely put together CD that grew on me with each listen. Sample the CD at her website or listen and buy at CD Baby.

Dave Sasscer, Quiet Mind

Here’s another artist who does a good job with a variety of styles.

First off: making relaxing soft rock that doesn’t get smarmy or sentimental is a neat trick, and David Sasscer pulls it off nicely here on several songs.

But as the set progresses one hears nods towards Santana, reggae, soul, funk, country, Eastern mysticism, and groovy, late 60s-style pop. Each song, though, has a simple, sweeping flow, even when rocking, which some of them do. The lyrics flow too, soulful and compact.

The only weakness, and it’s pretty minor, is that Sasscer’s singing, while sensitive, doesn’t have much power. Still it works all right in this easygoing, modest music. In fact just about everything about this CD is “all right,” in the best possible sense of the phrase. And playfulness does break up the meditative proceedings. The fun rocker “Dynamite” sounds a little like Jefferson Airplane, while “Jon Stewart is God” takes a good-natured poke at celebrity worship: “Jon Stewart is God / He made the earth and sky… from Genesis through Psalms / If you read between the lines / It’s Jon you’ll find.”

A lot of talented new indie artists mix and match from an assortment of musical styles. Not too many do it as smoothly and assuredly as Sasscer. Highly recommended. Hear and buy at CD Baby.

Riad Abdel-Gawad, El Tarab El Aseel: Autochthonic Enchantment

Living in New York City, I’m exposed to a fair amount of Arabic music. But I know very little about it. So I don’t have much context in which to place this recording by violinist Riad Abdel-Gawad. It sure sounds tasty and interesting, though.

Abdel-Gawad was born in Cairo, and although he was educated at Harvard and in western music conservatories, he explores his musical roots in the four pieces on this disc, mixing the taqasim (improvisational) tradition with tarab, the “performance practice of musical ecstasy.” Adbel-Gawad and his group use the oud (Arab lute), riqq (Arab tambourine), qanun (Arab zither), and nay (Arab flute), all traditional acoustic instruments, together with the violin, which has been co-opted into Arab music (replacing the indigenous two-stringed kamangah).

My untrained ears can’t tell for sure where composition ends and improvisation begins, or where the music adheres to historical forms and where it doesn’t, but I am enjoying it just the same. And on that latter point, Abdel-Gawad says something very interesting in his liner notes: before the advent of recording technology, it was the natural state of musical traditions to evolve. Afterwards, certain recorded performances became canonical, and so a distinction arose between historically “accurate” performances and “evolutionary” or “experimental” music. This is just as true of Western musical traditions as Eastern. And it is, in a sense, an artificial distinction.

I don’t have time to undertake a study of Arab musical traditions, and most likely you (dear Western reader) don’t either. What you can do is listen to these long, twisting, alternately trance-like and dramatic pieces, and I’ll wager you’ll find it a rewarding experience.

Ever heard of Maud Powell? I hadn’t, and I fancied myself at least a semi-knowledgeable classical music buff. My guess is that today’s classical music fans are much more likely to be familiar with the contemporary violinist Rachel Barton Pine, a renowned, award-winning soloist based in Chicago, than with Powell, the turn-of-the-last-century concert hall star to whom Pine pays glowing tribute in her new CD, American Virtuosa.

In these performances (and her liner notes) Pine argues for a place for Maud Powell in the violin pantheon with the likes of Jascha Heifetz and Fritz Kreisler. More detailed notes, by the Powell expert Karen A. Shaffer, explain how each of these selections was transcribed by, written for, or dedicated to Powell during the 1890s through the 1910s. In the process Shaffer makes the case for her designation of Powell as “the first great American violinist.” It’s pretty clear that she was, as Wikipedia puts it, “the first American violinist to achieve international rank.”

“At a time,” Shaffer writes, “when much of North America was still a vast wilderness and travel was dangerous and difficult, Maud Powell braved conditions that few would tolerate today in order to bring classical music to people who had never heard a concert.” By programming light, homey fare together with weightier works, Powell “built a bridge of understanding spanning from the simplest melodies to the large, complex sonata forms.”

By chance or not, these selections also comprise, for us, a good survey of the musical styles in vogue in the American concert halls of the time. (The CD also includes Powell’s only transcription of a true popular song, “Silver Threads Among the Gold.”) Great European composers like Chopin, Sibelius, and Dvořák are represented, but American composers dominate – Amy Beach, Percy Grainger, Cecil Burleigh, Marion Bauer – as do Americana pieces, like Max Liebling’s “Fantasia on Sousa Themes,” Herman Bellstedt, Jr.’s “Caprice on Dixie,” and most notably Bauer’s “Up the Ocklawah,” a sophisticated, modernistic piece which is also one the CD’s most beautiful and romantic.

Historical interest aside, on purely musical terms Pine’s recordings are wonderful. Dvořák’s famous “Humoresque” is weirdly slow and contemplative – perhaps that’s how Powell performed it – but on the whole, Pine renders the classical selections with impeccable taste to match her sweet, warm, but sprightly and crowd-pleasing tone. (Pine’s accompanist, pianist Matthew Hagle, deserves much credit for his careful contrasts and sensitive settings.)

However, the real high spots of the CD come from the west side of the pond. I’ve already mentioned Bauer’s piece. “Romance for Violin and Piano, Op. 23,” written by Amy Beach for Powell when both were only 25, is a knockout of a work, gorgeous and mature. Carl Venth’s “Aria” is filled with lovely, dramatic melodies, and Burleigh’s “Four Rocky Mountain Sketches,” while not compositionally adventurous, are full of American energy and charm.

Two transcriptions of African-American songs bear witness to Powell’s very unusual (for the time) championing of music from the black American experience. She was, in fact, the first white, classical music solo artist to perform an African-American spiritual in concert. Her transcription of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor’s “Deep River,” and Pine’s performance of it, approach the sublime.

Musically rewarding and historically interesting, American Virtuosa will be a fine addition to the shelf of anyone who enjoys great violin playing, and to the library of anyone interested in the history of American music. It illuminates a time we rarely think about any more when we think about the arts in America. Brava Maud Powell, and Brava Rachel Barton Pine for bringing her back to life.

An unusual amount of original-sounding music has burrowed its way out of my listening pile recently. See, in particular, the first two reviews below. But first a quick note for our New York readers: punk-pop dynamo Kirsten DeHaan, an Indie Round-Up favorite, is starting a residency this Thursday at Club Midway on Avenue B. I wrote about her last year here. Do check her out if you’re in town.

Kelli Hanson, Our Buildings

Contemplative but energetic, Kelli Hanson’s music is a strange bird. With a few exceptions – like “Foolish Champion” and the opening track, “Doesn’t Even Matter” – the songs aren’t particularly hooky, and between Hanson’s drawling pronunciation and the deep reverb on her voice it’s hard to make out the words. But the music draws you in with a mysterious power. One can detect touches of an acoustic singer-songwriter vibe, featuring Hanson’s woodsy guitar picking, as well as R&B, Europop, mystical she-magic, modernism, the obscure edges of classic rock, and other strands. There’s even what sounds like prepared piano on the captivating little instrumental “Fall in Canandaigua.” But Hanson is really her own animal. Her tunes might not follow you into the shower, but her thoughtful, atmospheric sounds very well might. I’m keeping this one.

Hear some full tracks at her Myspace page, or sample and purchase at CD Baby.

Mama’s Cookin’, Mama’s Cookin’

Hip-hop beats and rap-like lyrics merge with heavy blues and strong musicianship in the third album from the young Colorado quartet Mama’s Cookin’. The band has come up with a distinct sound, which is quite a rarity. Slide guitar, organ riffs, and live drums alternate with moody jangle and funk grooves, all propping up singer-guitarist Zeb Early’s impassioned vocals. It’s refreshing and worthwhile.

My only caveat: Early’s half-sung, half-rapped style works less well in some of the smoother tracks, like “Lampin'” and “Tough Times” – this sort of music recalls authentic soul sounds like Marvin Gaye’s, and, to my ear, seems to call for real singing. (Listen to Kevin So for a more fulfulling modern interpretation of this feel.)

By contrast, in the band’s higher-energy rock tracks, like “Run Up Quick,” “What I Am,” and “Black Reign,” the medium matches the socially and politically conscious message, and you can feel the power. Great stuff.

Sample the sounds of this original new band at their website or listen and buy at CD Baby.

The Beautiful Girls, Ziggurats

On their new CD, and especially on its first half, the Beautiful Girls indulge in a harsher sound than I was used to hearing from the band – more electric guitar, is what it comes down to. But they retain the precision ska-reggae feel and the sharp, straight-ahead songwriting sensibility that distinguish them from the pack of bands that take inspiration from the Islands.

The evolution works well, but still, some of the best songs come on the quieter second half of the CD: “In Love,” “She’s Evil,” and the gentle “Dela” among them. That’s not to detract from the harder tracks, like “Royalty” and “I Thought About You,” with their heavy riffage. I found them to be a positive development in the band’s sound, and this CD is certainly up there with the Beautiful Girls’ best work, as well as a good introduction to their music for those new to the band.

Hear some of the new tracks at their Myspace page.

Darius Lux, Arise

Darius Lux, an excessively talented one-man band, weaves textured, hooky power pop into coruscating R&B with strong tenor vocals and harmonies. It’s a winning musical recipe.

“Xtraordinary” and “Every Single Moment” are what used to be called radio-single worthy. So is the formulaic “You Take My Breath Away.” But every song on the CD boasts skilled arrangements and hooks, from “World Keeps On Turnin” with its tasteful acoustic guitar intro to the religio-political hidden track at the end, and from the forceful power pop of “The Great Unknown” to the spirited boy-band soul of “Life Goes On.”

The CD’s only problem is that the words are sometimes preachy, and often very cliched. Sappy sentiment sells, of course, and for the most part the positive, powerful elements of this work outweigh the obviousness of the lyrics. The overall feel suggests Seal, or more currently, Marc Broussard, and it’s right up there in quality. But my enjoyment of the CD would have been significantly stepped up if the lyrics weren’t so full of platitudes and “messages.” This is particularly frustrating when the music is so good.

Listen up.

The Passive Agressives, Reloaded

Liquid, almost twangy female vocals front this rough and ready dry-punk outfit. The contrast catches the ear; the funky, hard rock song constructions and Raggedy-Ann-in-the-gutter grit retain it.

“Evil Clown Song” sounds exactly like you’d think, while “Sweet Lisa” is a dark offspring of Heart’s “Magic Man.” I enjoyed the nearly tuneless “Casino” too. Lead singer Keren Gaiser’s back-and-forths with the other musicians’ shouted male vocals are fun, and guitarist Jose Santiago lays down bluesy licks over the rhythm section’s punked-out pounding.

Altogether the musicianship on this five-song EP is fabulous, and the production is clever, up front, and crystal clear – I really enjoyed the sound of the CD even when I wasn’t paying attention to the vocals. This is a highly promising young band. Hear and buy.

Down the Line, For All You Break

Down the Line is a warm, friendly, acoustic rock band with a soothing sound you can also bop your head to. They take a bit from the Allman Brothers’ sound in “Midnight Rider,” add vocal harmonies from flower-power era pop and CSNY and Jackson Browne and especially bands like America and the Guess Who, and stir it up with modern musical precision and construction. High points often come courtesy of the band’s excellent four-part harmonies, especially in the rockers like “Slip On Through.” But the lead vocals could use more oomph, and ultimately the CD feels rather bland, with unexceptional lyrics and tame hooks.

A couple of tracks that rise above that feel are “She Wears the Sun,” where the band takes more musical chances and ends up with something that stands out, and the soul-flavored “I Can’t Break Away,” with its Freddie Mercury-inspired vocals and sha-la-la harmonies. The guys in Down the Line have talent and taste, but I’d like to see them hit a few more shots cross-court.

Big record labels have to mine their catalogs; these days it's the only way they can stay in business. With Aretha Franklin, the Queen of Soul, there's plenty of material to draw from, and not just from decaying archives. But this collection of collaborations further demonstrates what we already knew: duets between stars are usually far less than the sum of their parts.

The good stuff on here includes a few well-known recordings, like the hit "Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves" with Annie Lennox, and some new numbers, like "What Y'All Came To Do," a repetitive but crisp dance number with John Legend in which the nu-soul crooner shows some uncharacteristic spunk, singing the chorus and bantering with Aretha. Backed up by Bonnie Raitt and Gloria Estefan on "Natural Woman" and by Mariah Carey on "Chain of Fools," the legend sounds great, but how could anyone (especially Herself) screw up those classics?

Two duets with Mary J. Blige turn out well, especially the gospel track "Never Gonna Break My Faith." But a lot of the rest is just '80s (and 80s-style) hokum, bland songs with no purpose but for a singer to exercise his or her lungs. One could imagine Aretha teaming successfully with the likes of Elton John, Whitney Houston, Michael McDonald, Luther Vandross, and George Benson, but one will have to keep imagining. Without a halfway decent song to sing, what was the point of wasting the time of all those musicians and engineers (not to mention ours)?

Of note, but not in a good way, is the disappointing new duet with Fantasia, who can light up a stage on her own terms, but comes off as a lightweight when trying to match vocals with the Queen of Soul. And the less said about the grafted-on duet with Frank Sinatra's recording of "What Now My Love," which was crappy in the first place, the better. Aretha sounds great on it, but it was very, very far from Ol' Blue Eyes's finest moment, and whoever decided to resurrect it for this purpose should be stripped of his or her license to practice A&R.

The disc ends with Aretha's famous rendition of "Nessum Dorma" from the 1998 Grammy Awards broadcast, when she stepped in for the ailing Luciano Pavarotti at almost literally the last minute. Aretha sang the aria, in the tenor's key, with a 72-piece orchestra, and brought down the house. It was a truly magic moment in the history of music, one of many Aretha has given us – but given us, virtually always, entirely on the strength of her own matchless voice and peerless soul. This CD ain't gonna change that.

Syndicated through Blogcritics to the Advance.net network and Boston.com.

From a Beatles tribute by a venerable classic rock band, to a DIY New York City crooner, to a singular bluegrass-jazz fusion project from up Colorado way, there's probably something for nearly everybody in this week's round-up. Read, click, and enjoy!

Pete Wernick & Flexigrass, What The

This appropriately titled CD comes as a nice surprise to the unprepared listener. A truly unique fusion of bluegrass and old-time jazz, it's a showcase for banjo picker extraordinaire Pete Wernick, vibraphonist Greg Harris, and clarinetist Bill Pontarelli. They're supported on a well-chosen set of standards and originals by an able rhythm section, with Joan Wernick adding uninflected but curiously charming vocals.

The head picker in charge wails on his instrumental composition "Traveling Home," then steps aside for tasteful solos by Harris and Pontarelli. A celestial vibes introduction leads into a fun version of the old fiddle tune "Blackberry Blossom." A few other highlights: the fast-steppin' "Leavin' Town" (written by Pete Wernick), the softly insistent "Snowbird," and, on a mellower tip, "Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams."

Forgive the obscure reference, but in spirit this reminded me of Pierre Gossez's alloy of Bach and jazz. And genre-mixing aside, the CD is suffused with such good feeling that it's hard to imagine it failing to cheer you up when you're blue.

Firefall Acoustic, Colorado to Liverpool: A Tribute to the Beatles

The veteran band Firefall's acoustic Beatles covers are reverential, but distinctive enough to provide an original and happy listening experience. The duo of Steven Weinmeister and Firefall founding member Jock Bartley have chosen a varied set of Beatles songs that thrive under their stripped-down but polished, 70s-soul acoustic sound.

It has to be said, of course: songs like "Within You Without You," "Girl," "Norwegian Wood," "Here Comes the Sun," "Eleanor Rigby," "Come Together," and "I'll Be Back" have long since proven their timeless brilliance, and you'd have to work pretty hard to screw them up. Early Beatles, late Beatles, Lennon & McCartney or Harrison, it doesn't matter, these consummate musicians do right by 'em.

Telling on Trixie, Telling on Trixie

A solid combination of crunchy rock, power pop, and organ-fed soul, Telling on Trixie's debut album comes out roaring with "Halfway Back to Sane" and "Dumb Boy." The two songs powerfully describe the two sides of the heartache coin. Derek Nicoletto's vocal flair puts one in mind of soulful rock singers like David Bowie and Chris Robinson. He sings with heart and soul and you can still understand all the words. (Coincidentally or not, the long electric guitar notes in the ballad "Orion's Light" and other places resembles Robert Fripp's feedbacking guitar on Bowie's "Heroes.")

On the last two thirds of the album the songwriting starts to get a bit pedestrian. The snaky groove of "Devil's Best Friend" and the plaintively dark acoustic ballad "Your Silence" are something of a return to form. So, while this isn't a great album through and through, the band's best work is excellent and it's no surprise these New York indie rockers are getting themselves some TV licensing spots and prestigious gigs. Check them out at their website or Myspace page.

James Vidos, Bed, Bar & Beyond

For a slice of low-key, jumpy urban angst, James Vidos is your man. The first two songs, "One I Wanted" and "Draw Me a Picnic," are the best; in "Let's Promenade," Weill-like oompah verses alternate with soft, flowery choruses, with Vidos's airy, languid baritone nicely drawing out the vivid, vaguely apocalyptic imagery. Think Nick Cave.

The tunesmithing doesn't always measure up to the meticulously developed atmosphere. As a whole, the material would benefit from stronger vocals too. But for stumbling through the streets of the Lower East Side in the wee hours of a rainy night, this will be a fine accompaniment.

Hear song samples here

Suzy Callahan, Freedom Party for Insects

Feeling extremely white, and slightly weird? Open up your heart to Suzy Callahan's happy melodies and up-front, pretty voice, which mask an ever so slightly twisted sensibility. From the title track: "I watch you but who's watching me? / Not the beetle or the bee / They're all going to the freedom party without me." You never find out what the freedom party is, or represents – you just have to draw your own conclusions.

Callahan sings plainly of simple emotions but has intriguing ways of framing them. The narrator of "Southern Belle" changes from a strong, modern woman into a weak-willed, helpless female when she encounters an attractive "wild man." It's a story that any number of women might tell, but Callahan's image of the strong woman isn't defiant, triumphant, or entirely satisfied. Rather, "I was down in a trench for days / Air nor light could penetrate / Digging alone, bone on bone… Thinking of home, but not my own."

She's drawn comparisons to Neko Case and Lucinda Williams but in some of her drama I was even reminded of Katell Keineg – e.g. in the chorus of "We Had a History" – or Liz Phair in the disturbingly baby-like simplicity of "I Smile".

Hear extended clips here.

Sacha Sacket, Lovers & Leaders

Sasha Sacket fortifies his earnest, adult alternative music with bursts of power-pop energy and dense electronic orchestration. The rich buttery sound is appropriate since most of the songs on his new CD are avowedly about love, and it has the distinct flavor of a concept album. So, although the songs work individually, the CD is best experienced as a whole, which is saying a lot, because many of the songs are quite strong in and of themselves, despite a tendency toward scattershot lyrics.

The success of this music is not about the sense of the songs, so much as the feeling stirred up by Sacket's keening vocals, which suggest Thom Yorke, and his haunting melodies and piano-heavy arrangements, which sometimes resemble Sarah McLachlan, or Neil Finn's most contemplative solo work.

Listen at the artist's website.

‘Tis the season for sprawling three-disc surveys of American music. Hot on the heels of Murder Ballads & Disaster Songs 1913-1938 comes my copy of Janet Reno’s Song of America. The former Attorney General, with her nephew-in-law, Nashville pro Ed Pettersen, and two other co-producers, has put together a 50-track survey of American history in song as interpreted by an assortment of talented artists of various levels of renown.

Disc 1 (1492-1860) has the largest amount of inspiring stuff. Three a capella numbers – “Lakota Dream Song” sung by Earl Bullhead, the Blind Boys of Alabama’s gorgeously harmonized slave-era spiritual “Let Us Break Bread Together,” and the the Fisk Jubilee Singers’ steely version of “Go Down Moses” – are soul-stirring, and John Wesley Harding’s harshly off-kilter brass band arrangement of “God Save the King” vividly evokes the war pains of revolutionary times. But more often, modern stylistic choices undercut the songs’ power. Often these choices reflect the 20th century fashion for confession in art, where smallness, quirkiness, and meekness are the rule. Elizabeth Foster sings a haunting arrangement of “Young Ladies In Town” (or “Address to the Ladies”) in a chillingly beautiful, quavery voice, but she swallows so many of the lyrics that the meaning is lost. (Some of them can be found here.) A vivid splash of history, the song was a pre-Revolutionary call for women to wear only homespun clothing and not British imports.

Malcolm Holcombe lends gravitas (and gravel) to “The Old Woman Taught Wisdom,” a plea for reconciliation between Britain and the Colonies, while Harper Simon, who sounds like a more psychedelic version of his father Paul, was an inspired choice to arrange and sing “Yankee Doodle.” But producer Ed Pettersen’s soporific take on “The Liberty Song,” Steven Kowalczyk-Santoro’s goopy “Hail Columbia,” and Beth Nielsen Chapman’s languid, affectless version of “Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child” are more typical of the collection’s overall low energy. (“Jefferson and Liberty” is done as a lively bluegrass tune by The Wilders – but what’s the point without the words?) Backed by The Mavericks, Thad Cockrell sings the usually march-like “Dixie’s Land” as a slow swell, but in that case, the re-imagining of a traditional song works.

Marah’s rough-and-ready “John Brown’s Body” is a welcome blast of energy to start Disc 2, which covers 1861-1945. Jake Shimabukuro wails the “Stars and Stripes Forever” on his ukelele. The Black Crowes and their father Stan (billed as the Folk Family Robinson) deliver an honest and moving reading of Woody Guthrie’s “Reuben James,” one of the great topical songs of the 20th century. Old Crow Medicine Show, my favorite of the new crop of Americana bands, does a nice job with Woody Guthrie’s plangent lyric about illegal migrant workers, “Deportee (Plain Wreck at Los Gatos).” And Janis Ian sings the grim “Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye” – perhaps the saddest song ever written in the English language, at least prior to the oeuvre of Harry Chapin – a capella and with all due reverence. The song benefits from the quiet treatment. So does “Over There,” chirped with effective hollowness by – speaking of the Chapin family – Jen Chapin, over Stephan Crump’s mournful sawing on the bass. Instead of a rousing call to arms the song becomes a thoughtful consideration of the business of war.

The early Jazz Age is represented by Andy Bey’s smooth, moody version of “Brother Can You Spare a Dime” and a jaunty “Rosie the Riveter” from Suzy Bogguss, who isn’t a jazz singer but does a decent job. Classical soprano Karen Parks contributes a lovely, art-song version of “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” and Danielson‘s “Happy Days Are Here Again” is refreshingly nutty. But for every well-done or interesting track, there’s a colorless, tepid one. These sleepy versions of what have always been significant, meaningful songs are disappointing.

Disc 3, 1946-present, is also a frustrating mix of the fresh and the tired. It’s great to have Elizabeth Cook and The Grascals’ new recording of the Louvin Brothers’ “Great Atomic Power,” and having Devendra Banhart take a crack at the 1960s condemnation of suburbia, “Little Boxes,” was an inspired idea. But the recasts of very familiar rock-era songs like “The Times They Are A Changin’,” “What’s Going On,” I Am Woman,” and “Say It Loud, I’m Black And I’m Proud” don’t add anything much, though they’re mostly nice enough. Kim Richey having a calmly joyous time with the 60s anthem “Get Together” is something of an exception, and the Ben Taylor Band’s sleepy take on Neil Young’s great protest song “Ohio” is curiously affecting. Bettye LaVette comes off well, taking Bruce Springsteen’s “Streets of Philadelphia” to soulful heights the Boss’s own inexplicably Oscar-winning version didn’t even approach.

But Scott Kempner, Martha Wainwright, Gary Heffern, The Wrights, Matthew Ryan, even John Mellencamp, seem just plain sleepy. Maybe the songs are still too iconic, or too current, for newer artists to want to update them in any interesting way. Pettersen and co. should take a listen to Neil Young and Crazy Horse’s “Blowin’ In The Wind” (on the live Weld album) to hear an example of how a classic can be rebuilt with enough originality and power to draw even deeper waters from an already deep well. In any case, the result here is a set that seems too much like a dry history lesson, rather than the exciting rainbow of historically meaningful songs it could have been.

Education is actually one of the main purposes of the compilation, and Discs 1 and 2, at least, will be good teaching tools. But less postmodern, shoegazing gloom and more rock and roll spirit would have given the whole collection more color, both as a musical tapestry and as a way of interesting kids in American history from the standpoint of those who struggled and still struggle. And speaking of struggles: Native American and African American songs and interests are pretty well represented, but the lack of any Hispanic material is a serious omission.

Serious…that’s the right word. Too much of these tracks just feel too darned hands-off and serious.

Syndicated through Blogcritics to the Advance.net network and Boston.com.

From the wreck of the Titanic through the Great Depression, American folk musicians regularly communicated stories of disasters and murders through song, often adding religious morals. New technologies, especially in transportation, had created a whole new category of disasters that singers and pickers could recount. They still retold the old stories, but they also wrote new, topical songs using old musical forms (and sometimes famous old melodies). Tompkins Square‘s new three-disc collection of these American murder ballads and disaster songs is an extensive, though by no means exhaustive, sampling of what Tom Waits calls in the liner notes the “oral tabloids of the day.”

Disc 1, “Man V Machine,” includes many songs about railroad disasters, from famous stories like the Old 97 and Casey Jones to obscurities like Ernest Stoneman’s tale of a fellow named Talmadge Osborne who died trying to get on a moving freighter, and Alfred Reed’s “Fate of Chris Lively and Wife,” whose wagon got hit by a train. There are auto, airship, and airplane crashes, and a weird reworking of the John Henry legend called “Bill Wilson” by the Birmingham Jug Band. The Titanic is well represented, most curiously in a recording of a traditional Hebrew prayer recorded in 1913 by Cantor Joseph Rosenblatt, and a stream-of-consciousness spoken word ramble by Frank Hutchison written fifteen years after the great ship went down.

Disc 2, “Man V Nature,” deals with “natural” events like fires, floods, drought, pestilence, and disease. (Times haven’t changed all that much since Old Testament days, have they?) The great Mississippi flood of 1927 weighs heavily in this group; rock fans will recognize the basis for Led Zeppelin’s classic “When the Levee Breaks,” recorded here in 1929 by Kansas Joe and the great guitarist Memphis Minnie. But there was a great variety of disasters to sing about. Charlie Patton’s compelling first recording, “Boll Weevil Blues,” is here, contrasting interestingly with Fiddlin’ John Carson’s take on the same subject. Charlotte and Bob Miller’s rendition of “Ohio Prison Fire,” written just three days after the dreadful 1930 blaze that killed more than 300 prisoners, includes an extended spoken dialogue between a grieving mother and the warden, while Blind Alfred Reed’s “Explosion in the Fairmount Mine” uses an unusual minor chord to dramatize a child’s premonition of that 1907 disaster.

The styles range from early country music to rural proto-blues to some more indefinable, eccentric sounds, but the majority of the troubadors are white singers from the rural south. As the liner notes explain, black artists were generally classified as “blues” even if they were doing music that resembled that of their white counterparts, so that relatively few ballads and disaster songs were released for the black audience – ironic considering the magnified hardships faced by rural black folks in those days. (But note the significant exceptions, like Son House, Furry Lewis, the aforementioned Charlie Patton, and singers in the early gospel “sanctified” tradition.)

The songs on Disc 3, “Man V Man (And Woman, Too),” recount violent deaths at the hands of cops, angry lovers, crazed fathers, outlaws, lynch mobs, and the State. Most were real events of the 19th and early 20th centuries, but the stories are exactly like those of today. Plus ça change is the clearest message these musical tales send to us in the 21st.

The handsome packaging and liner notes include background on the songs, the recordings, and the artists, many period photos, and selections from the lyrics. Famous disasters and familiar characters like Tom Dooley, Stack O’Lee, Bruno Hauptmann, Casey Jones, and even Pretty Polly mingle with obscure local tales and the nameless (but, through these songs, not forgotten) dead of disasters past. The music isn’t consistently great, and some of it is readily available elsewhere, but it’s all interesting; taken together, it’s a fascinating treasure trove of doom, and an enjoyable lesson in how American history played an intimate part in defining the popular music of the period – music that gave birth to the forms and songs we listen to today.

Big pile o’ CDs. Can’t see over it. Good part: nobody can tell I’m here. Anyway this week a bunch of quickie reviews. Using sentence fragments. Dive in!

The Milwaukees, American Anthems Vol. 1

Solid, well-written new Jersey rock with a late 70s/early 80s sensibility and a vocalist, Dylan St. Clark, whose upper register sounds like Huey Lewis. Hard-rocking guitar licks and sprawl. Rocker tunes characterized by a certain melodic monotony, St. Clark using only one mode: shout-it-out passion at the top of his lungs. Fortunately also a variety of gentler songs where he shows range, plus “Save Me.” Suspect these guys are very good live. Hear extended clips here.

Diego Sandrin, A Fine Day Between Addictions

Italian, but sung in English, European pop-dramatic flair and gentle glam crossed with shy form of American alt-rock baritone ice. First song didn’t grab me – seemingly gratuitious profanity, for one thing. Plainspoken, mostly uninflected, vaguely yearning singing seemed too unemotional. All made sense later in the context of the whole CD’s disillusioned focus: “All I can be is this hole that you see / And I’m over your pitiful wall…” sings Sandrin in “My American Friend,” “…your god must be a banker, an accountant, / A brand on your shoes / I’m strung out again / It’s this godawful wind / I wrote ‘motherfucker’ on your wall / And I can’t wait till you cast me out.”

Zinger choruses rubbed in moody, mod grit. Quietly bracing, especially to listen in the morning, like a splash of bay rum on the hot old face. Song titles like “From Music to Nothing,” “Lest I Find Some Dissonance,” and “Pigeons” sum it up. Italian yet somehow New York. Nick Drake fans will probably like too. Listen and buy.

David Pavia, Songs for Soft Machines

Raw crunchy album rock inspired by psychedelia and Stones, classic Strat sound. Voice a high keen like a subset of Jimmy Page’s, sometimes early Mellencamp, or a Black Crowes or ZZ Top howl: can get a bit tedious, but powerful in best rockers like “Here We Go Again,” “Love Is All Over Me,” “Come To Life.” Not so much in some of ballads. But still like them.

Unexpectedly soulful but grokkable lyrics. A very assured debut; a keeper. Listen and buy.

Beth Hirsch, Wholehearted

Soothing jazzy pop. Is much soothing jazzy pop in world. Here more.

Much keyboard. Also some well played guitar work and well planned strings. Also a touch of folk-rock sheen in the writing and eerie throbbing ecto-electronica.

Bored me in the late afternoon. Listened again next morning, found it quite… soothing. Voice like velour. Chord changes like a lava lamp.

A subtle record. A mood record, a time of day record. Be soothed.

Built By Snow, Noise

Not a subtle record.

Gotta be honest with you – I popped this in only because of the cool cover design. Seven-song EP inside not too bad either. Emotional-mechanical. Stuffy-nosed singer sounds like Ric Ocasek (but sometimes overdoes I-don’t-care’-how-yucky-I-sound attitude).

Analog synths!

First two songs are best, “Sleeping Machines” also good. “Juliana” an effective punky ballad. Still – synth-rock style calls for raising of overall songwriting level. Can these guys do it?

Hear. Buy.

Jarez, To the Top

Innocuous smooth jazz and funk-lite from an accomplished saxman. Title track cops the horn hook from the Stones’s “Bitch.”

Jarez toured with his cousin, the rapper Coolio, so he knows some stuff, I guess. But his smooth jazz is worlds better than his ashen r&b.

Sample and buy.

Melissa Giges, Far Beyond the Pacific

Warm, sensitive, jazzy chamber pop with pleasing harmonic motion.
“Surrender” has Bacharach flavor while “Stand By” evokes more jazzy Tori Amos. I dig “Find Some Time” and “Who Will I Be” and the lush ballad “Lay My Head Down” and others.

Good variety of feels and energy levels, but the hooks don’t match the sweet arrangements. Still, above average for the style. If only there weren’t so much of the style around…

Hear and buy at her website.

All done. See you next week, when we return with our regularly scheduled program of complete sentences.

Have you seen the annoying TV commercial where that hideously peppy girl checks her cell phone and sees that her very first paycheck has cleared? If I’ve ever pitied a fictional character, it’s that poor boyfriend of hers as she snaps his neck in her heedlessly peppy embrace.

Roger Hodgson‘s new (and first) concert DVD puts me in mind of that commercial. Not because his songs are unusually happy-sounding, although many of them are, especially some of the hits he wrote with Supertramp. No, it’s because the band’s Breakfast in America was the first album I ever bought with money I’d earned, as opposed to gift or allowance money. That’s not something a guy forgets, even if it doesn’t make him kick his legs and leap into the air like Mary Tyler Moore on PCP.

For those of you only casually familiar with Supertramp, Roger Hodgson was the one with the really high voice. He wrote and sang the majority of the band’s hits as they sold 60 million records worldwide. (For those of you not familiar with Supertramp at all, you can stop reading right here – this DVD will not interest you, and your life has little meaning anyway.)

Many of those hits are included on this set, recorded at a recent Montreal concert with a smiling Hodgson presiding like a beneficent god of peace over an audience of awed middle-agers. (To be fair, some of them have brought their kids, who seem to be enjoying the music too.) Playing keyboards and twelve-string guitar, accompanied only by a sax player (and possibly with the subtle assistance of a Mac laptop, but it’s hard to tell), he comes pretty close to evoking not just the emotional energy but also the spectacular arrangements that made Supertramp one of the biggest bands of the late 1970s.

An Amazon.com reviewer called this a “feel-good” concert in the way certain movies are “feel-good” movies, and I’d have to agree. An artist at the top of his game, an adoring audience, and excellent video and sound editing add up to a concert DVD that should please even picky Supertramp (and Hodgson) fans. Hodgson’s unmistakable voice seems, if anything, to have strengthened since the early days, without losing any of its stratospheric range.

The concert includes most of the best-known songs associated with Supertramp’s glory days: “Take the Long Way Home,” “Sister Moonshine,” “Dreamer,” “Two of Us,” and “Give a Little Bit” (which you youngsters may know from a Gap commercial of a few years ago, or the Red Cross tsuanami relief campaign, or maybe the Goo Goo Dolls cover. And here’s Hodgson doing it with Ringo’s All-Stars in 2000. The list goes on.) Don’t worry, he doesn’t leave out “Breakfast in America” and “The Logical Song.”

Hodgson also does several songs from his solo efforts, including “Lovers in the Wind” and “Love is a Thousand Times.” Yes, there’s a lot of love in these songs, and a whole carnival of it in the concert hall. Man, do they love him in Canada!

Fans will probably think of a song or two they wish he’d done. He doesn’t do two of my favorites, “Lady” and “Babaji.” But this is a concert DVD, not a greatest hits collection (or a “Sobel’s favorites” collection, for that matter).

There are a few short clips from a different concert in an entirely different format: with a full orchestra and full band. Bits from “Even in the Quietest Moments” and “Fool’s Overture” are notable. Many dinosaur rock acts have tried out the orchestral thing, from the Moody Blues to Metallica, with varying success. Supertramp’s music was pretty heavily – and very carefully – orchestrated, so these pieces work well and one wishes they were complete songs.

The extras also include some fan interview footage and a little more soundcheck and backstage action than necessary. The latter show Hodgson to be an exacting musical director, but generous and appreciative when greeting fans and friends. More interesting are the two short interviews, where he discusses his creative process, how he “was always a solo artist within a band,” the sound of the twelve-string guitar, and a little about his charity work. The details about how and when he wrote some of the biggest hits will interest fans. “My songs are as alive for me today as the day I wrote them,” he says. That’s got to be a key attribute for any popular artist who wants to maintain a career over decades, and you can tell from the performances here that he means it when he says it.

Technically, the concert is smoothly recorded and edited, the sound is high quality, and the authoring is fine. Having already gone double platinum in Canada, this DVD should please American fans just as much. Total running time: 140 minutes. Audio options: Dolby Digital Stereo, Dolby Digital 5.1, DTS Surround Sound.

Sam Baker, Pretty World

When Sam Baker was in his early thirties, a terrorist bomb blew up the train he was riding in Peru. Eight died in the attack. Among many other injuries, Baker lost all hearing in one ear and partial hearing in the other. Because of this disability, his gravelly, blurred singing sounds very odd, even disturbing at first. But a couple of songs into his marvelous new CD you begin to appreciate the contrast between the ragged, pained sound of his voice and the bright arc of his talent.

The songs are so simply structured they seem naked, and the spare poetry of the lyrics quietly chafes your sensibility until you have to spin back and listen again. Baker sings of the American fringe: a prostitute, an orphan, a gambler, an oilman's ne'er-do-well son, "a woman who puts things in boxes." Using spindly folk idioms and few but choice words, Baker brings his characters to life like the best of Springsteen's creations, or like those of a short story writer such as Raymond Carver.

A few of the songs paint pictures rather than tells tales, but again sparely, with an almost haiku-like feel. In "Sweetly Undone," a man appreciates his lover: "I watch you at the pool / Slowly undress / Spread your towel on St. Augustine / Lay down and rest / Lay down and rest / Lay down in the sun / Lay down with your top / Sweetly undone." The power of the image is found not so much in the visual presence of the woman, but in its incantatory evocation by the poet. One can almost see his feelings as he describes her.

In "Days" the narrator draws a brief picture of women "laughing in the kitchen / Content with the house / Content with the family, / The candles, food, friends / The music / These December days / The shortest of the year / How beautiful they are." But then he goes on to describe "baking bread / Fresh coffee / And for tonight cold Mexican beer…" With just those two extra words, "for tonight," Baker suddenly widens the perspective: this isn't an unending life of domestic happiness but a frozen moment, with the unspoken implication that tomorrow might bring something quite different, maybe something terrible.

If this sounds more like a poetry review than a music review, that's not an accident. There is definitely sweetness in the music, if not in the singing. But without those pinpoint words, the music wouldn't be much more than pretty guitars backing a strange, honking voice singing wayward, halting melodies. If you like Townes Van Zandt and Gillian Welch and John Prine you'll probably like Sam Baker. There, I said it.

Hear some tracks from Pretty World at Sam Baker's Myspace page.

Peter Himmelman, The Pigeons Couldn't Sleep

Veteran rocker Peter Himmelman's latest CD is a concoction of drawling rock, blues, and folk with dark lyrics and a substantial nod to reggae. The ominous title track mixes Chicago blues guitar, reggae bass and keyboards, and vocals that sound like Bob Dylan on a good day. The song is about a relationship gone to hell: "I held out for the best, but then your letter came / I held it in my hand and I nearly died from shame." Why shame? He doesn't say, but we don't need the particulars – it's all in the song's dusky groove.

"Winning Team" is the CD's standout track. Himmelman threads a ska dance beat and Stones-like rock guitar under a catchy, shout-along tune: "I'm a bird-watching fool, my binoculars are clean / But just once I'd like to be on the winning team." Delicious stuff.

Other times the sound reminds one of grim Nick Cave or Lou Reed material, of David Bowie, of Delbert McClinton's blue-eyed soul, or even of Tom Waits, but Himmelman has his very own varieties of the styles he works in: not just smoky gloom but also dry, folksy Americana ("The Ship of Last Hope"), rueful piano balladry ("17 Minutes To 1"), gravelly blues ("Save a Little Honey"), and horn-fed soul musings ("There Comes a Time"), all fed by strong songwriting and smart lyrical phrasings and hooks. "It sure sounded like a good idea at the time." "There comes a time to mend your ways, and that time is now." "I'm never short on distractions, how about you?" Some songs are more memorable than others, and I found myself losing interest during some of the slower ones. But overall I liked the CD quite a lot.

Also included, at least in this early pressing, is a DVD with an hourlong video documentary about Himmelman, including archival footage of his early days with the band Sussman Lawrence (guys he still plays with). "When I was a young man my dreams were all about fame and hair. Now I don't have much of either," he narrates. "But I've got no regrets. I followed my dreams, and they led me here."

Here is really here and there and everywhere: a club tour with his old bandmates, another with an energetic young Israeli band, and some solo acoustic gigs. He talks a little about being an observant Jew and having turned down appearances on the Tonight Show and an opening slot for Rod Stewart because he won't play on the Sabbath. Judaism is about "trying to extract the miraculous from the mundane," he says, and that fits right in with the rest of his philosophy. "What passes for rebellion in rock and roll puts me to sleep," he says. "I was always searching for something far more frightening." Right on, Peter – being a Jew can definitely be frightening. (I'm not saying that's exactly what he meant, of course. But it resonates.)

Despite a perpetual sad mien, Himmelman is funny as sh*t – clowning on stage, making up songs as he goes along, taking a whole audience outside to continue a concert, with acoustic guitars, in a parking lot. Actually, his sad-clown countenance probably makes his antics more funny, and his musical impression of a pompous "rock god" makes Spinal Tap seem tame.

The DVD contains just the documentary, no extras – it itself is the extra. Professionally produced, it sounds and looks and flows very nicely. Don't watch it expecting extended stage performances – is has (with the exception of the rock god improv) only clips. They do give a good feel for the flavor of his songs and his performances, but it might have been nice to see one or two whole songs. Essentially, though, it's a character study in the form of a small road movie, and music aside, Himmelman is a fun character to spend an hour with. Students of rock music and pop culture will also learn a thing or two about life as a professional troubadour. (Himmelman actually supports himself by composing the scores for TV shows such as Judging Amy and Bones.) I found the film very amusing, and modestly enlightening, even though prior to this I had only a vague awareness of Himmelman's music.

Hear MP3s from the new CD here.

Why yet another Fats Domino greatest hits release? Why do record labels keep putting out repackaged versions of the same original recordings? Fats Domino – 50 Greatest Hits appeared in 1999. Fats Domino Jukebox (20 songs) followed in 2002. Now here’s Fats Domino Greatest Hits: Walking To New Orleans, with 30 songs on one CD.

The obvious reason, of course, is that the owner of the recordings – in this case, Capitol Records – wants to keep making money from them. Many superfans and completists will buy a new release even if they’ve got all the tracks elsewhere, while others, who may just now be looking for a greatest-hits set for the first time, will be more attracted to a fresh package even if the material itself is half a century old. But there’s another reason, though it might not be one the label has in mind. Sales aside, a new collection of old songs can generate new artistic and cultural interest in a worthy artist. And when that artist is as essential, and as enjoyable, as Fats Domino, that can only be a good thing.

The new release has as good a selection as most fans could hope for, within the time limits of a single CD, and it’s a very good introduction to Fats for those who don’t know him. Since Domino had more than 30 hits, old-timers might wish one or another had been included that wasn’t, but all the biggies are here, from his breakout boogie “The Fat Man” to his colossal hit “Ain’t That a Shame,” from “Blue Monday” to “My Blue Heaven” to his definitive cover of “Blueberry Hill” (the version Richie Cunningham was always singing on Happy Days), and from “Bo Weevil” and “I’m Gonna Be A Wheel Someday” to “I’m Walkin'” and, of course, “Walking To New Orleans.”

Bill Dahl’s very good liner notes draw heavily from Rick Coleman’s groundbreaking biography Blue Monday, which vividly recounts Domino’s long and eventful life, right up through his dramatic rescue from his flooded home town during Hurricane Katrina. The book established the star’s importance to the history of race relations in mid-20th century America as well as to the development of modern rock and pop, and I need not go into that here. Truth is, Fats’s music, which dominated the charts during the 1950s, is just as enjoyable today. Its happy simplicity and its indomitable beat just won’t get old.

Ain’t that a shame: the new incarnation of WCBS-FM, the venerable New York oldies station, has redefined “oldies” as hits from the 60s, 70s and 80s rather than the 50s and 60s the way it used to be. Since I was born in the 60s, and came of age musically in the 70s, that station, and a similar one in Boston, were the places I learned Fats’s songs and got “Ain’t That a Shame” and “Blueberry Hill” sewn permanently into my own skin. (A painless procedure, I assure you.) People listening to the new CBS won’t get any Fats with their Rod Stewart and their Mamas and the Papas.

Fortunately, they can get this new CD. The price is great and the recordings sound as good as 50-year-old singles can be made to sound on a modern CD. (The very oldest tracks sound a bit worn, but I’m sure that’s because of the limitations of the source media.) On most tracks Domino’s vocals jump out like he just sang them yesterday. His iconic piano triplets chug up your spine, and Herbert Hardesty’s classic sax lines surge out warm and rich. Capitol’s Ron McMaster deserves kudos for a great mastering job. If you’re looking for a single, high quality, more-or-less definitive Fats Domino hits collection, for a very nice price, this is definitely your best bet.

Syndicated through Blogcritics to the Advance.net network and Boston.com.

Corey Harris, Zion Crossroads

Perhaps more than any other artist, Corey Harris has mastered and synthesized the several traditions of African Diaspora music. A roots-music archeologist as much as he is a singer-songwriter and guitarist, Harris always reveals something fundamental about the music even as he puts his own wide-awake stamp on it, whether it’s blues, soul, Afropop or reggae.

Harris’s first Telarc release is a big change from Daily Bread, which came out on Rounder Records two years ago. That album ranged across several styles and traditions, and consisted mostly of humanistic or personal songs. Zion Crossroads on the other hand is almost pure reggae, and highly political. On both counts it’s an exciting set of music.

For an artist writing such socially aware songs, a sense of playfulness is important, to counterbalance the grim state of the world he’s describing and engaging. Harris brings just enough merriment to his writing and recording. Lively beats and melodies animate serious subject matter in “No Peace for the Wicked” (with guest vocals by Ranking Joe), “Keep Your Culture,” and “Afrique (Chez Moi)” – the last sung in fractured French.

High spirits give way to heavier hearts in songs like “Heathen Rage”: “Jah made us to live in a free world/Babylon take it and make it a he world/Leave out the mothers, daughters, and the females/Leave out the blacks and they left out the browns/Make them to build up your cities and towns/Steal their religion and turn them into clowns.” But injustice does not make the songs plod or sound bitter. To my non-African ears, Harris gets the reggae language and lilt down perfectly: “trodding inna Zion/children got to ride on/just like a conquering lion/true true African.” The CD is a worthy addition both to Corey Harris’s discography and to the reggae tradition.

Listen at Myspace and download a free track at the Telarc website.

Jack Foster III, Tame Until Hungry

“There’s no mythology in pain.” From the first lyric on Jack Foster III’s new CD, we can tell we’re not in for everyday prog-rock bombast. These thirteen complex, richly orchestrated songs, sung assuredly in Foster’s thick baritone and stretched high with grand harmonies, mine the varied terrains of hard rock, acoustic music, and melodic progressive rock. At the same time, they’re firmly layered in the deeper tradition of plain old song.

There is even a sense – a modest one – of a lighter touch than that wielded by many progressive-minded artists. “Civilized Dog” swings close to rootsiness, and “One Dark Angel” with its mellow harmonies even flirts with the heartland before devolving into a powerful sax solo (by David Hipshman).

Some of the songs on the second half of the CD get a little preachy, or prosaic. But almost always they’re rescued by a rave-up, a shredfest (though always musical), or a power-funk jam that lifts the song back to the heights of Foster’s best. And the musicianship is masterful throughout, with Foster’s brilliant guitar work joined by Trent Gardner’s keyboards and Robert Berry’s bass and drums. Both are top-notch musicians and veteran producers who’ve worked with big-name acts like Magellan, ELP, Dream Theater and Yes, and both are impeccably good.

Each song is fully imagined, like a well-written fantasy story. Yet, as promised in that initial lyric, they are not weighed down with mythology. This is grown-up, solidly original rock for thinking people.

Sea Dragons, Sea Dragons (EP)

Session guitarist and renaissance man Darryl Thurston formed the Sea Dragons to showcase his sparkly pop songwriting, which is based in the (mostly) happy-go-lucky sounds of the 60s and 70s. Think of the Rolling Stones without the pseudo-Satanic side, with a little George Harrison and bubblegum psychedelia thrown into the pot. “Sweet Delilah” is an obvious but irrestible pop nugget driven by an insistent tambourine, while “Come September” cheerfully evokes the Byrds with biting guitar blasts and close harmonies. “Stop Draggin’ Me Down” could be a lost hit by somebody like Three Dog Night circa 1970, while “Drown” evokes T. Rex. The EP’s introspective moment comes in the pretty love song “Fall Into You.” Each song tickles the pop funnybone in a slightly different way.

Listen at their website or their Myspace page, or purchase at CD Baby.

The States, The Path of Least Resistance

The States have a talent for interesting arrangements, multicolored three-dimensional guitar melodies, and vividly descriptive lyrics. “I spent days drawing up the plan. It was perfect, perfect. You can build where you don’t belong if you’re cautious, cautious,” sings Chris Snyder in “The Architect.” Unfortunately Snyder’s outstanding guitar work outshines his vocals. There are smart, creative minds in this band, excellent musicianship, and lots of parts to like. But pedestrian singing, and reliance on a manufactured sonic bravado that screams “corporate rock,” too often weaken the effect. It doesn’t help that the CD opens with its most derivative (and annoying) song, as if some unsmiling corporate overlord said, “Do one like this so it will sound like everyone else and you can get it on MTV.”

Hear some tracks here.