Back in the nineties, Courtney Love aptly pegged Stephen Malkmus as "the Grace Kelly of indie rock." With his second solo album, the former Pavement frontman proves he can grow old gracefully even while his cultivated guitar poetry becomes increasingly far out. Pig Lib is Malkmus' loosest set of songs ever, an elegantly meandering head trip underpinned by the kind of tuneful, world-wise romanticism that's won him the hearts of English majors everywhere. Touched with more than a hint of prog-rock weirdness, songs such as "(Do Not Feed the) Oyster" sound like the work of some genius burnout from the early Seventies, deftly merging surrealist verse and Malkmus' sumptuous guitar ramblings. Sandwiched between these mini-epics are some of Malkmus' prettiest songs ever, including "Vanessa From Queens," an up-tempo winner on the middle ground between late Velvet Underground and early Neil Young. Long may you run, gentle warrior. (CHRISTIAN HOARD)

The Libertines Up the Bracket (Rough Trade)

It's always been a tricky thing, making rock & roll that stands up and falls down at the same time. And as more generations stumble upon a tradition that goes back to the early Beatles, the trick gets harder and harder to pull off, especially in a new way. London's Libertines do it in a new way. At first you may be skeptical, because, like most shambolic post-punk bands, they sound scrawny. Egged on by producer Mick "Not the Foreigner One" Jones, Carl Barat's voice breaks and blurs and runs out of breath, guitar amps cry out for replacement cones, and tunes hide their heads in their hoodies. But if you have a taste for loose, the Libertines -- grabbing hold perhaps with the Johnny Thunders-on-methadone solo of "Boys in the Band," or the "Please kill me" that turns into "Don't kill me" and back again in "Death on the Stairs" -- will persuade you to have another go. And eventually every song will kick in from a slightly different angle, including faux folk and cracked ballad. Even the one where (talk about old traditions) "all the money" goes "straight up her nose" fits into the only cultural context that supports this kind of desperate glee: the international youth bohemia of temporary living arrangements and too much fun. Are they selfish assholes down deep? Libertines usually are. But they can make you real glad to be alive. (ROBERT CHRISTGAU)

The Allman Brothers Band Hittin' the Note (Peach/Sanctuary)

These southern-rock road warriors' first studio album since 1994 is surprisingly solid: Returning guitarist Warren Haynes -- the best axman to pass through the band since Duane Allman -- plays with a steely, tensile power, while youngblood Derek Trucks (drummer Butch Trucks' nephew) counterpoints with mellower, more even-keeled lines. It's an effective restatement of the original chemistry between Duane and ex-guitarist Dickey Betts. The other pieces are in place as well: Gregg Allman's gruff, soulful vocals and cool Hammond organ, Oteil Burbridge's melodic, groove-laden bass work, and the rhythmic sizzle of three percussionists. The freewheeling "Instrumental Illness" lets the guitarists riff, climb and, well, hit the note for another dozen minutes. There's nothing radically new going on here, but the level of engagement is noteworthy. (PARKE PUTERBAUGH)

Band of Bees Sunshine Hit Me (Astralwerks)

Like a Peter Sellers movie in which Sellers plays multiple, wildly divergent characters, the debut album from U.K. knob twiddlers Band of Bees is a showcase for inventiveness and versatility. Sunshine Hit Me is full of languid treats that don't run short on melody: The slinky single "Punchbag" is reminiscent of Ween at their clever best; "No Trophy" evokes Studio One skank; and an Os Mutantes cover, "A Minha Menina," is a sweetly oddball bossa nova. Best may be the album-ending song of longing, "Sky Holds the Sun": The melancholy resonance of lines such as "I want to hold you like the sky holds the sun" suggests Sunshine Hit Me draws its strength from the memory of summer, rather than the sun itself. (PETER RELIC)

MC Lyte The Underground Heat Vol. 1 (SGI/CMM/iMusic)

Together with Roxanne Shante and Queen Latifah, MC Lyte helped prove female rappers could come with skills matching or surpassing those of any man. But her first album since 1998's flop Seven and Seven was apparently recorded in only four days and sounds it: Lyte's skimpy nine songs rhyme without hooks or reason. "U Got It" borrows too liberally from Missy Elliott, and comedian Jamie Foxx's crooning during "Where Home Is" generates unintentional yuks. And on a remake of "Boy Like That," from the classic musical West Side Story, Lyte lives up to her name. (BARRY WALTERS)

Taking Back Sunday Tell All Your Friends (Victory) Amityville, New York's Taking Back Sunday have all the trappings of an emo-by-numbers band: a two-singer front with one wounded guy and one slightly mental lung-scraper, a pretentious name and rousing songs of heartbreak that beg for ubiquitous audience sing-alongs. Something funny happened on the way to this potential Amityville horror, though. The band's debut, Tell All Your Friends, sidesteps many sad-sack emo pitfalls with bracing pop-infused hardcore and enlightened, dramatic lyrics about heartache that teeter on a razor's edge between despondency and dark vengeance. "You could slit my throat and with my one last gasping breath/I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt," singer Adam Lazzara yelps in "You're So Last Summer," a typical TBS blitz of chunky guitars, overlapping vocals and push-and-pull tempos. Lazzara's vocals are shadowed by guitarist/singer John Nolan's shredded rasp -- his sense of vein-popping melody helps keep songs such as "Bike Scene" and the band's breakthrough single, "Cute Without the 'E' (Cut from the Team)," on the harder edge of such peers as New Found Glory. A mumbled lyric from "There's No 'I' In Team" best captures Sunday's credo: "Irony is for suckers." (GIL KAUFMAN)

Deana Carter I'm Just a Girl (Arista Nashville)

Country music veteran Deana Carter has a sweet, babydoll voice and resembles a good 'ol southern version of Naomi Watts. She's also well-connected: Her daddy played guitar for Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson, and Dwight Yoakam sings with her on the bittersweet, lovelorn "Waiting." I'm Just a Girl's shining moments are sandwiched between weaker tracks that either cloud Carter's vocals with sugary arrangements or fall flat with trite school-girl diary lyrics. But when she does enter the light, it's glaring and unmistakable, as on the aggressively playful, guitar-heavy pop song, "Liar," and the tangy, tongue-in-cheek, "You and Tequila." Carter could benefit by taking more playful risks instead of worrying about, as she puts it, getting on the "Cover of a Magazine." (KERRY SMITH)

Songs:Ohia The Magnolia Electric Co. (Secretly Canadian)

Songs:Ohia, the moniker Jason Molina uses when he makes music, follows up 2002's penetrating Didn't It Rain with eight more lonesome highway songs on The Magnolia Electric Co.. Molina surrounds his down-home sincerity with guest artists like Mike Brenner, whose lapsteel guitar haunts the album with a barbed-wire shrill, and Scout Niblett, whose stunning lead vocals on "Peoria Lunchbox Blues" add a pleasing femininity to Molina's lyrics. Songs:Ohia is often compared to Neil Young or Will Oldham, and here again, especially in songs like "John Henry Split My Heart," such associations are inevitable. But Molina's lyrics are his own. When his voice buckles on "Just Be Simple," as he sings "Everything you hated me for/Honey there was so much more/I just didn't get busted," it wavers only because of the weight of his words. It's an eloquence that permeates throughout The Magnolia Electric Co., providing more than enough power to keep its listeners turned on. (DAVID MALLEY)

(hed) p.e. Blackout (Jive)

Though Blackout is only their third album, the nearly ten-year-old (hed) p.e. have actually been around longer than most of their rap-metal brethren, and have the skills to prove it. Frontman Jahred is a better MC than his counterparts in Linkin Park, while their music is as heavy as any pure metal band. Of the most mental Blackout tracks, "Bury" sounds like the Beastie Boys battling Biohazard, while the superior level of mike skills and the thrashing guitars of the title tune make it the kind of rap-rock Korn always claim to play, but don't. Not that everything here is so extreme: "Dangerous" and "Crazy" dabble in funk-rock, while "Getaway" injects some reggae into the proceedings. Conflicting influences might be counterproductive in lesser hands, but for these veterans, such contradictions are just the way it works. (PAUL SEMEL)

Kim Fox Return to Planet Earth (Oglio/Franklin Castle)

On her second album, Los Angeles transplant Kim Fox makes brainy pop with a beat reminiscent of fellow groovy Angelenos like Stew and Jon Brion (both of whom contribute to this record). But Fox is a native New Yorker, and beneath her soaring girlish vocals and sparkling piano, lurks the sounds of Big Apple, from Broadway musicals to the disco beat of the 1970s to shades of Laura Nyro. In setting her lyrics to music, Fox's sly sense of irony is charming. She tells the tale of a booty call over an innocent little New Wave keyboard riff on "Baby I Want You Back," decorates a self-pity party with ukulele, slide guitar and a drum beat as delightfully lazy as a sunny afternoon on "Feel Like Crying," and bemoans the bottom-feeding of mining thrift stores for scraps of nostalgia on the soulful, Burt Bacharach-inspired "Something Just as Good." Cameo appearances by SoCal indie pop heroes such as Margo Guryan, Roger Manning (Jellyfish/Beck) and Probyn Gregory (Wondermints/Brian Wilson) give the album an ensemble feel but never overshadow Fox's sophisticated songwriting. (MEREDITH OCHS)

Slobberbone Slippage (New West)

Their name is grossly distasteful, and Slobberbone retain the unrefined rawness and blistering guitars that are trademarks of early Nineties alt-countrymen. However, the band falls just short of its influences. Although produced by Don Smith (Bob Dylan, the Rolling Stones), Slippage lacks the vocal harmonies that notched Uncle Tupelo and the Jayhawks in so many's memories. Slobberbone are strongest on "Springfield, IL," where songwriter Brent Best emphasizes the alt in alt-country, capturing the essence of the Replacements: refreshingly sloppy, liquor-soaked punks who long to play live. (BENJAMIN FRIEDLAND)

(March 17, 2003)