Twelve grueling years, five ehh-to-excellent studio albums, one deafening whimper. Such was Concrete Blonde's story back in '94, when the troika quietly packed up their dark, decadent, distinctly Hollywood groove. Various solo projects and a fine, if uneven, legacy ensued. Group Therapy, the original lineup's grab bag of a comeback special, wants to tap into the outfit's many moments of greatness. It does. It also wants to amount to more than a trip down memory lane. It doesn't. The dozen tracks are a buffet of the red-meat rock, operatic broodings and South-of-the-Border spices that defined the group's varied output. "Roxy" is "Joey" redux, Johnette's breathy vocals engaged in some spooky, sonic sex with Jim Mankey's piercing six-string. "Violent"? Think "God Is a Bullet" and all the catharsis that it implies. "True, Part III"? "True," only more stately. "Your Llorona"? A twilight trip down Mexico way, re-revealing Concrete Blonde as gifted at just about anything they put their collective talent to. And if the new material never quite achieves Cohesive Statement status, it is a grand, welcome survey of the schizophrenic ingredients that make these three musicians such a compelling animal. (STEVEN CHEAN)

Alan Jackson Drive (Arista/Nashville)

Over the next twelve months, artists in every musical genre will release songs written in response to the September 11th terror attacks. But with the first single from, Drive, Alan Jackson has already set the bar extremely high. "Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)," which Jackson debuted live on the CMA Awards last fall, might just be the purest distillation of post-9/11 emotions that may ever be set to music. With its simple litany of people's varying responses to the attacks, it says more about us as a nation than a hundred jingoistic anthems. But then, Drive is rife with such finely observed musings on the human condition. The title track, a tribute to Jackson's late dad, is a touching reminder of the bond not only between man and machine, but parent and child. And talk about man and machine -- only a gearhead like Jackson could turn a man's feelings for his car into a romantic number like "First Love." The George Strait duet, "Designated Drinker," might be the only male bonding song that urges listeners to get plastered responsibly. Yes, Drive could've used a few less generic love songs (and more offerings like the sly, war-between-the-sexes ditty "Work In Progress"), but if it's well-crafted traditional country you're after, Alan Jackson will never steer you wrong. (ANDREA DRESDALE)

Streetwalkin' Cheetahs Guitars, Guns & Gold (Triple X)

Riding the jetstream created by 1999's scorching Live on KXLU and last year's Waiting for the Death of My Generation, this Motor City-inspired, Hollyweird-based quartet continues to split the difference between Dee-troit punk and old-school heavy metal on this mixed bag of live cuts, studio tracks, originals and covers. No matter who's drumming or playing bass, founders/guitarists Art Jackson and Frank Meyer -- the latter does the lion's share of the lead vocals -- keep the band's signature high-energy sound moving at maximum intensity. (Like Led Zep's Physical Graffiti, it all sounds like it was recorded at the same session.) Highlights? The tossed guitar salad of the title track; that trio of smokin' O.P.s from L.A.'s legendary X, English metalmongers Iron Maiden and semi-forgotten U.K. punkers the Boys; and the seasonal side-splitter "I Wanna Die for X-Mas." The catchy "Generator" and "The Night Billy Wanted to Die" add a touch of melody; everythang else brings tha noize. (DON WALLER)

Dayna Kurtz Postcards From Downtown (Kismet)

More Austin than Lucinda Williams and more southern than Shelby Lynne, Jersey girl Dayna Kurtz has waited a decade for this opportunity, and does she ever take advantage of it on the superb Postcards From Downtown. The kind of singer-songwriter that other troubadours swear by, Kurtz displays the full arsenal here. From the anguish-filled explosive bridge of "Miss Liberty" and the heartbreaking minor blues sound of the steamy "Last Good Taste" to the gorgeous waltz "Fred Astaire" and the intense goth/country ballad, "Just Like Jack," Kurtz utilizes her dramatic, husky vocal range and gritty slide guitar playing to their fullest advantage. Though Postcards is her studio debut, Kurtz is hardly a new act. She was named the National Association of Songwriter's female songwriter of the year in 1997. How it's has taken five years since then for a label to realize her gifts is beyond a mystery. But, in this instance, later is truly better than never. (STEVE BALTIN)

Nitin Sawhney Prophesy (V2)

British East Indians have spent years trying to generate a new global funk hybrid by fusing traditional instruments with a contemporary beat. While innovators like Asian Dub Foundation and Talvin Singh have crafted worthwhile offerings, few match the emotional resonance of Nitin Sawhney's latest -- a robust fusion of classic jazz, clattering tablas and genuine inner-city soul. Like the soundtrack to some psychedelic surround-sound Bollywood epic, it bubbles with astonishing scope and seductive songs: "Acquired Dreams" matches symphonic strings with a wash of electricity, while "The Preacher" uses Terry Callier's bluesy voice to create the feel of a back-porch lullaby. In the hands of a lesser talent, a mixture of genres as diverse as bossa nova, new metal, trip-hop, opera and raw funk would probably be a disaster. But Sawhney pulls it off with nimble-fingered brilliance. (AIDIN VAZIRI)

The Anniversary Your Majesty (Vagrant)

Fans of the Anniversary's 2000 debut, Designing a Nervous Breakdown, may find their hopes dashed soon after cracking the cellophane on the band's latest, Your Majesty. No longer content to be the edgy, synth-happy rock band it once was, this Lawrence, Kansas collective inexplicably gives the heave-ho to the bulk of it's established sound. Crazy? You betcha, but the Justin Roelofs-steered bunch has gotten hip to the fact that you can't spend your entire life paying homage to the Rentals. The opener, "Sweet Marie," begins with a stuttering drum pattern and winds up giving a welcome shot in the arm of sugary rock, just as "Peace, Pain & Regret," with superb harmonies by keyboardist Adrianne Verhoeven, is as quirky and lovable as anything the New Pornographers have hatched. If the swirling, dreamy opus "Husam Husam" unfolds into a muddy exercise in the flaws yielded by having the courage to change, then the Jason Falkner-inspired "Crooked Crown" exemplifies all that's right in the Anniversary's world. Your Majesty may not master the art of reinvention, but it's a bold attempt at moving forward. (JOHN D. LUERSSEN)

Bolt Thrower Honour Valour Pride (Metal Blade)

Obviously proponents of truth in advertising, the guys in Bolt Thrower have always played the kind of thunderously heavy grindcore their name implies they might. Between their Slayer-heavy/Cannibal Corpse-speedy riffs, Sabbath-esque rhythms and intense, garbled vocals, it's hard to tell whether their music is the sound of Godzilla working out, or the music Godzilla works out to. Though from the sound and fury of this, their new album, the big lizard is getting quite buff. On it, such tunes as "Honour" slowly stomp and pound, while "Valour" speeds up the pile-driving rhythms just enough to lock into a solid, though still sludge-like groove. And while you could decry these guys for not believing that "variety is the spice of life" (only the truly faithful will find the subtle differences at work here), anyone who makes it far enough to notice the lack of variation probably won't miss it anyway. (PAUL SEMEL)

Dennis James Cristal: Glass Music through the Ages (Sony Classical)

Linda Ronstadt's had a habit of steering off the path, although forays into big band, mariachi and opera seemed to have some relation to a pop career. Not so of this effort, which she co-produced. A selection of music written for glass instruments (the seraphim, armonica and cristal baschet) it includes compositions written over the last three centuries. Some are solo works, but most sound like standard classical music with ethereal highlights. Ronstadt's own soprano enhances three tracks, and she is obviously using her name to expand the audience. Not that there's anything wrong with that. This is not classical music for dummies, rather an earnest look at a rare musical form. While Ronstadt isn't really front and center here, it is still her most compelling and convincing experiment to date. (CHARLES BERMANT)

(January 14, 2002)