(Matador)

matadorrecords.com

The frontman formerly known as Carl Newman final drops a solo plate, and the main statement it makes is that the well from which he draws the dense, witty and layered power pop tunes that have made The New Pornographers indie rock darlings will not run dry for a long time. So this isn't one of those solo albums where the artist is showing off a totally different side. It plays much more like I've got so damn many good songs that I can't wait for my bandmates, and, by gum, the world needs these songs.

Working with a different set of musicians, Newman still relies on some of the tactics that he uses with the New Pornographers, including a liberal use of female backing vocals. The biggest difference between this disc and the two New Pornographers albums is that the recording here is far more spacious than either of those LPs, and the guitar is not consistently up front. This allows for some different textures, and gives Newman a chance to try on a couple new things here and there.

In fact, the way he sequences the album is quite clever. The tracks that are most like New Pornographers outtakes start things off and as the album goes on, the songs showcase more facets. "Miracle Drug" and "On The Table", the first and third songs on the album, stand up with anything on the first two New Pornos discs. The latter is keyed by a piano part that is highly reminiscent of Steve Nieve's work with Elvis Costello and the Attractions. Newman's guitar counterpoints the piano while the rhythm chugs along. In the bridge, Newman uses dynamics and a cool arrangement (the piano following the melody of his vocal), and after the second bridge, a ready made chorus -- "all the play-alongs/are playing along with you."

"Miracle Drug" is just an excellent display of what makes Newman's music so special. It's not just his songwriting. It's how he layers everything. Much as the creators of *The Simpsons* realized how many jokes they could cram into 22 minutes of air time, Newman has found a way to record his songs with a variety of sounds and textures, yet the songs never sound cluttered. On "Drug", there are acoustic guitars, a variety of keyboard sounds, from flourishes to what sounds like Morse Code, along with a bevy of distinctive lead guitar figures.

Then there's "The Battle for Straight Time", which almost overwhelms with the number of catchy bits throughout the song. First, there's the weaving whistling keyboards and the accompanying jangle lead guitar line, interspersed with some twang guitar, before a crash of rhythm guitars, a la Pixies, which set the refrain in motion. Coming out of the second chorus, Newman concocts a slow guitar interlude that is cool enough that it could support a song on its own. Here, it's just one more delight in a four minute package.

As the record gets into the second half, Newman begins to reveal a strong kinship with Jeff Lynne. A few of the songs owe a distinct debt to Electric Light Orchestra. Perhaps the most obvious one is "The Town Halo". The song starts with heavy cellos, as did many early ELO classics. Of course, Newman isn't going to just ape anyone. The classical music part overlays an insistent rocker, with Shane Nelken banging on his piano. In this song, Newman shows his mastery of marrying a rhythm driven verse with a chorus that is super melodic.

The Lynne influence might not be as obvious on "Better Than Most". So listen to this track, and then break out New World Record, and compare it to "Above the Clouds" and "Shangri-La". This song slots perfectly between them. Newman casts his voice in reverb, giving it a bit of resemblance to Mr. Lynne.

Likewise, the intro of "Come Crash" is Lynne by way of McCartney, and then Newman turns the melody downward, just like Jeff would. Again, Newman isn't just imitating. This is the most poignant song of his career. Newman augments the piano with a guitar part that is like a more barbed George Harrison. His guitar then stabs in the simple chorus – in the midst of the somber, quiet music, it has tremendous impact. There is a beautiful horn interlude, that adds to the mournful exquisiteness of the song. There is mystery in the fatalistic lyrics which only makes the song all the more beguiling. This is one of the best songs I've heard all year.

Newman had already proven that The New Pornographers were no flash-in-the-pan. With this album, he now states a convincing case that he is one of most talented artists in indie world.

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Marah
20,000 Streets Under The Sky

(Yep Roc/PHIdelity)

yeproc.com

I remember when Graham Parker and the Rumour hooked up with Jimmy Iovine on the 1980 album The Up Escalator, some folks complained that it moved Parker's music closer to the bombast of Bruce Springsteen (who sang some backing vocals on the album). In retrospect, that claim just doesn't hold water. If anything, Iovine may have highlighted some areas where Parker's muse and Springsteen's style happened to intersect.

Why do I mention this? Because this album actually sounds like the love child of a hook up between ‘70s Graham Parker and ‘70s Bruce Springsteen. To some extent, it comes across as a breath of fresh air, due to its decidedly anachronistic approach. This is pretty much a state of the art 1977 rock and roll album, with all of the virtues and drawbacks of recordings of that era.

They certainly know the style well. This record remembers that rock and roll used to be drenched in soul. Whether it's the background chicks singing "shimmy shimmy koko bop" in the background of the rousing "Freedom Park" (maybe Little Anthony & the Imperials homages will become all the rage) or the pure soul ballad structure of "Soda", this record is never too far from Detroit, Memphis and, of course, Philly.

As long as I'm the subject of "Soda", this is the one song where I really hear a similarity of Graham Parker. By that I mean: a) David Bierlanko sounds a fair amount like our beloved Graham, and, b) this song is good enough to be on one of Parker's classic albums on Mercury. This is a tale of a Puerto Rican boy and a Chinese girl in love in a city where not everyone understands, and the toll this takes on them. The music is pretty, Bierlanko nails the tone, and it's just nice to know that some folks still believe that rock can be epic and mythic and romantic. Of course, that's where the Springsteen comparisons come in.

Now, I can't deny that by working in the same territory as the Boss, Marah could be accused of being contrived. But where would rock music be without contrivance? There would be no Ziggy Stardust, for example, or Dr. Funkenstein. It all comes down to the execution. If the execution is lackluster, I guess the best you can say about the music is that it is contrived. But if it's focused and passionate, then you have an inspired work. And Marah is nothing if not focused and passionate. Even I find some of this a bit corny, but as long as they believe in what they're singing, and there is not a single moment that I doubt their commitment, then I'll happily listen. So when they sing about the transvestite prostitute in "Feather Boa", they invest in it enough that I'm empathetic, rather than rolling my eyes. The funky street corner blues of "Pizzeria" is a fond reminiscence, and not just empty nostalgia. The traditional rock music they play makes their lyrics come alive, in a way that no other soundtrack could. You just can't sing "Pizzeria, I still see ‘ya/even though you turned Chinese/I still hear your boombox blaring/rock and roll in air conditioned breeze" over the music of someone like Radiohead or Flaming Lips.

And there's nothing like rock and roll to make you want to raise your fist in the air and shout along. Marah specializes in those tunes. "Going Through the Motions" and "Pigeon Heart" are great fun, even if "Motions" is noting the treadmill nature of working class life. Hey, if you got to live that way, you might as well stay and party.

As some of you may have seen, Marah has some pretty vocal backers. While no one has declared them the future of rock and roll, they are seen as the standard bearers for the greatness of rock's past. Well some has to do it, so it might as well be Marah, since they clearly know what the hell they are doing.

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timewellspent
timewellspent

(Parasol)

parasol.com

This band is well named. The phrase ‘time well spent' is indicative of things that have already happened, which often means reflection is in order. When you are not specifically in the present, you are then evoking the past. And this record is evokes both sensations of great music of the past, but evokes a wide range of sensations in the present.

Putting aside the music itself, this record is so much about mood. Some of the best pop music manages to mix intimacy with a grander sense of scale. I suppose Pet Sounds is the premiere example of this blend (or is it a tension?). The music is large and layered. However, the vocals and the laconic, precise lyrics are direct and oh so human. The cover is blue hued, which is the only way this could have been packaged.

Casey Fundaro and Christopher Moll are the duo behind this record, with help from various musicians. Moll produces the record and Thom Monahan of Pernice Brothers mixed the record. Getting the sound right was clearly a priority. Moll plays a lengthy list of instruments, and a lot of good decisions were made here as to when space needed to be created, what needed to be emphasized, and so forth.

The softer side of ‘60s pop provides the obvious foundation for the collection. Only in a few instances can you point out a specific point of inspiration. Only on "Probably" is the debt made 100% obvious, with its Bacharach-inspired intro a perfect lead-in to this mild bossa nova tune. This track is a good example of the timewellspent working method. As the second verse begins, more instruments get added. Bells and vibes double up or work in sympathy with the central piano part, and then when the chorus hits, the Bacharach part is reintroduced. The song even ends with a nice touch, as a burst of Hammond organ subtly plays during the fade.

A Farfisa organ begins my favorite track on the album, "Effigy". While more associated with garage rock, Moll blends the Farfisa with some twang guitar, the Farfisa carrying the melody into a brief quiet passage, Fundaro singing over his drumming, before the song swells with guitars, keyboards and harmonies in a joyous release. The string interlude after the second chorus is a jawdropping surprise. The overall effect of the song is of a collaboration between Elvis Costello and the Attractions and The Left Banke, with the Banke taking the song over in the end.

The music takes a turn towards a more urgent form of pop on "Sitting By the Window", which fits in well with some of the recent music from Pernice Brothers and Granddaddy. Yet it manages to be a bit more rocking than either, while remaining a bit more delicate than either. Moll's Farfisa is again a star, though you can't overlook drummer Mike Federline's refined pounding – he drives the song without overwhelming it.

Throughout the record, Fundaro sings at the high end of his range. As a result, he has an extremely vulnerable quality. This matches up well with the simple lyrics, that are haikus of hope and regret. For example, in the aforementioned "Window", in about 15 short lines, he quickly details the story of a broken hearted lover who observes (and may be spying on) an ex – it's a "never ending blow", though it also seems self-inflicted. On the pretty "I Want to Tell You", Fundaro sharply gets at the heart of intimacy, and how opening up may "set [you] free", but it takes a lot of trust: "Is who I see now who you are?"

One thing that I think separates the softer side of rock from the mellow sounds of the pre-rock era is the blues. So even when rock songs tend towards beauty rather than riffs, they have a decidedly personal component missing from the Tin Pin Alley hits of the ‘30s and ‘40s. Sometimes the personal is specific and the pain autobiographical, other times, as on this album, the experiences being sung about are more universal. Nevertheless, whether glistening or haunting, the songs on this album grab the ears and reach for something deeper. Fundaro and Moll have made an album that isn't just catchy, it translates feelings into music.

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Slow Jets
Remain In Ether

(Morphius)

morphius.com

The third Slow Jets album finds the band expanding its focus just a bit. On the first two Slow Jets albums, the band demonstrated a proclivity for writing perfect art-pop songs that combined a minimalist approach on par with Wire with a skewed melodicism in the vein of The Embarassment and Hypnolovewheel. The songs were pithy and punchy.

These characteristics are still intact on this long player, but the band stretches ideas out. This means that while the surface appeal remains, the immediacy diminishes. So this album manages to reorient the band's sound to something that is more atmospheric and somewhat psychedelic. It moves their music a bit closer to Flaming Lips and Grandaddy (and, for that matter, the latter day Archers Of Loaf). The Jets pull this off pretty darn well. While I don't think this album is quite as winning as their first two, it is still quality stuff.

Still, the differences here are relatively subtle. The obvious changes are that the band slows down the tempo on some songs, and keyboards take on a greater role. This doesn't dull the edge on their playing so much as sheath it from time to time. One new influence that appears to crop up on a few songs is The Cars. Not the snappy hitmaking side of The Cars, but the nocturnal cool side, where the proto new wavers built on Roxy Music's translation of the Velvet Underground into something haunting. On "Country Under Canada", the introduction is in the vein of The Cars' "Moving in Stereo". As the song moves into its second movement (of three listed on the back cover), the more familiar guitar sounds come to the fray, while they throw more flowing keyboard sounds into the mix. Marc Berrong pushes the section along with some precision drumming, and the final section of the song is a pretty two guitar interlude that hints that maybe these guys have a "Marquee Moon" lurking in them. The song itself posits America as a place "where we bury the stars" – a cryptic notion fitting the mysterious and compelling music.

The cryptic nature of Slow Jets' lyrics is worth discussing. On the short choppy tunes that dominate their first two albums, the sometimes impenetrable lyrics were not too much of an issue. The band usually managed a memorable phrase or two, and their love of the internal rhyme and rhythmic nature of the words themselves fit the music well. As they stretch out more on this album, their lyrical approach remains unchanged. And this doesn't always serve the songs. Not that it hurts them, so much as it renders the lyrics a nullity.

This isn't true on every song. While I'm not really sure what the words in "Ether Remains"mean, much like Robert Pollard's lyrics for Guided By Voices, they are effective, and when the chorus hits, I'm singing along with Greg Preston, "to remain under ether/remain under ether trying." Which means that I'm singing along to an awfully cool and twisty melody, one that is distinctive to the band. This song also is a demonstration of another big musical advance on this album – the complex arrangements that they've developed with each album may have hit their zenith. The basic shell of this song is, well, basic. But Preston and Tim Baier weave in so many cool guitar parts, while Baier also navigates his bass into both the melody and the rhythm, supporting and contrasting, while Berrong guides the band so that everything flows perfectly.

The reason that I grade this album just a bit below the first two Slow Jets efforts is solely due to the fact that a few of the songs don't fully engage, not being catchy and/or compelling enough. But "Ether Remains" is just one example of why the band is clearly heading in the right direction, further challenging themselves in terms of their playing and composing skills.
I also love "Marching into the Ground", with Baier playing a rumbling bass line that initially is a bit reminiscent of the rhythm of Devo's "Freedom of Choice", with Preston's vocal carrying most of the melody in the verses, until he gets more support in the bridges. The song then takes an unexpected detour to where it almost becomes a campfire singalong (accompanied by Baier's wiggy keyboard bits, a la Pere Ubu).

"Move While The Door Is Open" starts out pulsing, and they juxtapose it with some dreamy reverbed guitars before hitting a very melodic chorus. Thumbs up to that. The six-string work on "Just Be Darker" is super cool – one of the guitar parts sounds like it's trying to beat the Dick Dale land speed record. And the refrain may be the most intense on the record.

Just by making to a third album, Slow Jets has gone farther than most indie bands. What is so encouraging is how they keep pushing their sound forward. I hope that they can stick around for a while, since I intend to follow them and hear where they go.

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Carolyn Mark and the New Best Friends
The Pros And Cons Of Collaboration

(Mint)

mintrecs.com

Mark is a sly and witty country singer who associates with good people like Neko Case (with whom she performed with in the Corn Sisters) and Kelly Hogan (who appears on this album). While she doesn't have a powerhouse voice to match those two, she has an expressive folk-country tone that can be sweet or rough, always in the appropriate places. Moreover, she has personality to spare, as illustrated by her fine renderings of her consistently sharp lyrics.

Nothing tops the neo-western swingin' "The Wine Song", which musically reminds me a bit of Tex Williams' "Smoke Smoke That Cigarette" (though she notes in the liners that Nick Lowe inspired the track). Mark declares that she could "never love a man who drinks white wine", because "you can tell a lot about a guy/by the colour of his jar". The lyrics are married to a fast picking rhythm, and Mark navigates the tune so that each word (and punchline) comes through loud and clear. I would love to hear her sing this with Asleep At The Wheel backing her. Things get a bit nastier on "2 Days Smug and Sober (Bourbon Decay)", where she kisses off a guy by telling him that she's "more in love with this cigarette/than I'll ever be with you." This song affords Gregory MacDonald an opportunity to beat his bass drum forcefully, while ivories are tinkled, fiddles are sawed and Mark is a tough chick in a smoky bar.

The New Best Friends generate even more energy on a cover of The Movie Stars' "Bigger Bed". Here, Mark has chosen a cover that I would have guessed was an original had I not looked at the liner notes. So it fits like a glove. This is a country cheating song, with Mark explaining to her man that he's got to stop, because three's a crowd and they can't afford a bigger bed. Clever, huh? I think that one of the skills in singing country music is managing to sell the cleverness of the lyrics, without giving a short shrift to the underlying emotions the song (humorously) portrays. Mark certainly has that skill. Her crisp phrasing on this song is quite matter of fact, so she's playing it straight, so to speak, and she let's the words do the work. A great tune and a great performance.

Mark gets all contemplative and wistful on "Not a Doll", where she reveals a bit of a vocal resemblance to Natalie Merchant. This song is very relaxed and roomy, fitting its big picture nature. Mark is between a figurative rock and a hard place, wanting to make some big decision in her life (though Rush would point out that if she chooses not to decide, she still has made a choice) and just can't. The chorus is a lovely intonation that could be classified as a Zen take on defeatism: "Everything happens/either not at all/or at the same time." The song still has a bit of a happy tone, which works I think, because most of us have been at the point in life she is singing about. So her tone is one of empathy. Of course, some of us get stuck there, but I'm sure there's another song (or five or ten more albums) in that.

She visits similar territory on the piano piece "Hangover". As the title indicates, she has a bit better reason to not do anything. The delicate melody is appropriately forlorn, as Mark rues her sad condition. Her weariness and ache come through the speakers. She notes in the liners that the best line in the song is lifted from True Grit (the John Wayne movie). I'm pretty sure which line she's referring to, but it has got some keen competition from brilliant lyrics like "I could try/but I tried" and "No money/no friends/November/nothing to say/but after all/tomorrow is another day." The quietude is upset at the end by drunken choral vocals. This, like just about everything else on the album, works well.

In a crowded alt-country field, Mark easily stands apart. This is cool enough to impress your friends with, but country enough that my Dad likes it.

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Chris Richards
Mystery Spot

(Jam)

jamrecordings.com

This is my first long playing encounter with this power pop veteran. I will make sure it's not my last. Richards is a killer vocalist, who sometimes bears a resemblance to Robbie (Wonderboy, The Andersons) Rist. And he is an adept tunesmith whose musical hard drive is filled with gigabytes of knowledge of rock and pop going back to Buddy Holly. This is timeless stuff, folks.

Richards comes right out of the gate with a terrific song, "Is There Anybody Else". The verses are mid-tempo, right out of Pop Song 101. The urgency of Richards's vocals help sell this part. When he gets the chorus, the tempo picks up just a bit, and the lead guitars frame the ascending melody, and Richards kicks it up a notch. That seals the deal. A great way to start.

The best song on the album might be "She Belongs to Me", though there is a fair amount of competition for that designation. The song seems to be a mix of Raspberries excitement with a bit of skinny tie sharpness, and more of Richards's passionate singing. Richards shows how you build up a hook. The verse flows seamlessly into the pre-chorus which flows perfectly into the chorus, and each builds on the other, so that the chorus comes as a perfect release.

When dealing with a record that is so quintessentially power pop, having solid songs isn't enough. The riffs and influences are familiar. So what needs to be done are the little things. This is why I keep emphasizing Richards's vocals -- they automatically elevate the material (which is A-OK to being with). But this is accentuated by the arrangements and the playing. It's a very tight record. More importantly, the studio does not inhibit Richards and his playing partners. There is energy and immediacy on this record -- it's the next big thing to live. I write this as I listen to "Doesn't Sound Like You". I hear a little Cheap Trick here, something else I can't put my finger on there, but that's not the point. The point is that I'm hearing it the way Richards plays it, and that is fortunate for me. There is an art to making the timeless sound fresh, and that comes through on track after track here. (Note: kudos to Kenny Quick for superb bass work on this track).

This record also has a variety that is lacking from so many artists these days. A mix of tempos and instrumental approaches that prevents ‘didn't I just hear this' syndrome. I'll always tip my hat when a little R & B is thrown into the proceedings. Richards breaks out the electric piano on "Gracefully", which has a hint of Philly soul (somewhere between The Spinners and Hall & Oates), and he adapts his voice to the style very successfully. He also uses the word "wonderboy" in the lyrics, further cementing the Robbie Rist comparison.

Then there's "Don't Forget About Love". This has a different pop slant -- more rhythm oriented, with clever keyboard effects and some jangly guitars. Todd Rundgren and Brad Jones come to mind on this one. This is charming and joyful.

Well, if this disc is any indication, I have to seek out Mr. Richards's back catalog. This record reminds why I like power pop so much. Nick Hornby recently wrote (and I'm paraphrasing) that rock and roll isn't just music for the young, but music that evokes what it is to be young and alive. This record accomplishes that for me.

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