Few rock bands have adored and explored the orchestral vocabulary and singing ring of the electric guitar with the commitment and distinguished touch of the Church. For founding members singer-bassist Steve Kilbey and guitarists Peter Koppes and Marty Willson-Piper, the art of jangle has been a life's work: After Everything Now This is the Australian group's twelfth studio album since 1981 and true to precedent in its rippling gleam. After Everything is also a masterpiece of stealth, a quiet killer in which subtle exquisite shocks of tonal theater -- the doomsday ticktock and gently abrasive fuzz in "Numbers"; the ice-water drip of the arpeggios in "Chromium" -- puncture the reverb without scarring it. The seamless-dream quality of After Everything is no small accomplishment; the Church, with drummer-producer Tim Powles, made the record in studios on three continents. But in these songs of dislocation and disconnection, intoned by Kilbey in a silken-lava baritone, Koppes' and Willson-Piper's guitars are a seductive counterweight, piercing the tension with an elegantly disruptive twang in "After Everything" and the interlocking dread of airplanelike hum, breathy strum and the insistent static of a guitar pick scraped against a string in "Invisible." In fact, After Everything is virtually free of classic-rock riff ego; the electricity in the Church's wraparound shimmer is in the accumulation of sculpted detail, like the trebly shiver and spritz of backward guitar framing the bullish distorted lead in "Reprieve." It is a sound, and grace, that the Church have pursued for more than two decades, and maybe you've heard it before. But you've rarely heard it better. (DAVID FRICKE)

Sade Lovers Live (Epic)

After an eight-year hiatus, Sade delivered 2001's Lovers Rock and took her band on a three-month tour of the U.S., resulting in the magical Lovers Live. Recorded post-September 11th during stops in Anaheim and Inglewood, California, the disc opens with a jubilant, bass-anchored rendition of "Cherish the Day" and closes with the crowd-rousing torch song "Is It a Crime." But all points in between are just as thrilling. Sade's vocals have become richer, and live Lovers Rock favorites such as "Somebody Already Broke My Heart" (which fluidly melds into "Never as Good as the First Time") and the poignant "By Your Side" are revitalized, and classics like the haunting "Jezebel" and the rapturous "Sweetest Taboo" sound fresher than ever. The latter even inspires the audience to chant, "Go Sade, Go Sade," and the listener can almost imagine the seductress coolly sashaying across the stage to the exotic, percussive beat. Before launching into the spirited "Kiss of Life," Sade tells her audience, "I don't know what's happening outside, but it feels like sunshine in here." Even in these uncertain times, Sade still wraps us up in the color of love. (TRACY E. HOPKINS)

Robert Bradley's Blackwater Surprise New Ground (Vanguard)

Robert Bradley's Blackwater Surprise are essentially a heartland American rock band with a bluesier bent than most, largely courtesy of their frontman's R&B vocal slur. He and his mates use modern technology better than most such outfits do, particularly on "Profile," where the eerie hip-hop percussive tinges actually enhance the track instead of sounding like obligatory commercial concessions. The tight execution of the rock-funk-blues grooves can't totally cover up the largely ordinary material, and the soulfulness of Bradley's vocals don't wholly compensate for some too-ponderous lyrics and phrasing. Never does it become more over-earnest than in the closing "Born in America," one of the many plainly patriotic songs that have become in vogue among recording artists in late 2001 and early 2002. Most of the album is earthier than that finale, but the title to the contrary, it doesn't plow new ground. (RICHIE UNTERBERGER)

John Paul Jones The Thunderthief (Discipline)

Though John Paul Jones's greatest claim to fame is the mighty bass and keyboard work he contributed to Led Zeppelin, he's a master musician and plays most everything (various basses and guitars, plus exotic relatives like the autoharp and koto) except drums on Thunderthief -- and does so with swashbuckling verve, detonating the massive groove of the title track as artfully as he ignites the tender, twangy, "Down the River to Pray." Thanks to his adept piano, the impressionistic "Ice Fishing at Night" hovers between Debussy and Pete Townshend's introspective Scoop recordings. Most of the album is instrumental, but when words surface they are as deftly crafted as the music. "Angry Angry" is a scathing rant that turns punk's attitude problem onto itself; "Freedom Song" seems a traditional Celtic folk ditty, but the stylized, unassuming vocal diffuses a wry fantasy about escaping the clever, confining gadgetry of modern life. Illuminating and electric, Thunderthief strikes like lightning. (SANDY MASUO)

Gurf Morlix Fishin' in the Muddy (Catamount)

Like John Fogerty, Gurf Morlix is not Southern by birth, but he understands the South's swampy terrain and conjures it in his music. His second album, Fishin' in the Muddy, digs deep into the primordial soup of Americana, but never drowns in it. As a guitarist and producer, Morlix has worked his mojo for the likes of Lucinda Williams, Jimmie Dale Gilmore and Robert Earl Keen. On his solo albums, he proves he's equally adept at crafting songs. "Big Eye" pairs Sacred Steel-inspired guitar with cheeky, seductive lyrics. "I Ain't Goin' That Way" has one foot planted firmly in Sun Studios. And "My Lesson" is a morning-after yarn, coasting on a slippery slope of carnivalesque banjo. But for every rootsy nod, Morlix shows off broader influences with "Center of the Universe," a Kinks-like rocker with a Beatles bassline, the Secret Agent Man-invoking riff of "I'm Hungry and I'm Cold," and the soulful pop of "How To Be." With some help from drummer Rick Richards (Georgia Satellites) and organist Ian McLagan (Small Faces), Morlix connects it all with the subtle twang of his guitar work, never loosing sight that the song is just as important as the sounds. (MEREDITH OCHS)

Daniel Ash Daniel Ash (Psychobaby Records)

It's always wise to approach Daniel Ash with a whiff of caution. The Love and Rockets frontman hit his creative and commercial stride in the mid-Eighties with classic singles like "So Alive" and "All in My Mind," and he's been playing catch-up ever since. His last solo album, 1992's Foolish Thing Desire, was a close enough approximation of his erstwhile band's gothic-techno blend, but it was never going to be the real thing. Ten years on, the flimsy synthesizer beats and electronically enhanced vocal tricks of songs such as "Hollywood Fix" and "Sea Glass" prove that little has changed, although the shift to a microscopic independent label has done away with even the most basic layer of quality control. Exactly one track -- "Burning Man" -- passes without inviting an immense sense of embarrassment for the pallid Bono doppelganger on the album cover. (AIDIN VAZIRI)

Deepsky In Silico (Kinetic Records)

It's been a few years since the Los Angeles based duo of J. Scott Gianquinta and Jason Blum graced us with their spacey break beats and gurgling, trancey rhythms. In fact, the wait for this group, originally from Albuquerque, New Mexico, to grace us with their debut has been a rather lengthy one: ten years. While their peers like BT and the Crystal Method -- all early-period MTV Amp stars -- are already several efforts into their career, Deepsky stayed on the quiet tip, instead releasing individual production tracks, which found happy homes in the record boxes of some of the worlds top DJs. Their dance floor dues paid off, because it allowed them to craft In Silico into a well produced, varied patchwork of electronic accessibility. The opener, "View From a Stairway," is a deftly worked, luxurious Spanish-flavored trance gem, with "Metro" and "Atia" taking on similar feels. Others like "Smile," featuring former Republica singer Safron, with it's slightly gothic-electronica leanings, aren't quite as snug a fit but don't stop this from being a choice debut album. (JOLIE LASH)

Rob Ickes What It Is (Rounder Records)

That Rob Ickes' third album is a pure jazz effort should come as no great surprise. The Blue Highway dobro wizard kept it trad on 1997's Hard Times, but two years later offered up a randy mix with Slide City, which found a common language between the likes of Jimmie Rodgers, Steve Winwood and Herbie Hancock. After 2001, in which he kept it bluegrass with a Blue Highway record and sporadic backing stints for Dolly Parton, Ickes and his instrument have committed to swinging and shuffling through eleven tracks, backed by reeds and pianos and organs, drums and bass. Bluegrass purists may pass, but the truth is bluegrass and jazz have held hands since their respective inceptions. Ickes is equally comfortable bringing the funk ("Sheerhorn Shuffle," "Stanford and Son"), slowing it down for a ballad (a cover of Mike Manieri's "Self-Portrait," "When We Were Leaving") or using the fluxy swing of his unorthodox six-string to bop away ("Blues for Sammy"). This is jazz, by a terrific acoustic instrumentalist disinterested in borders. (ANDREW DANSBY)

(February 4, 2002)