Zwan Mary Star of the Sea (Warner Bros.)

Thirty years ago, the Last Poets saw it coming. "White man's got a god complex," they chanted -- and they hadn't even heard the Smashing Pumpkins yet. The Smashing Pumpkins were one of the most demanding bands of the 1990s, not because their music seemed hard to understand but because it seemed so easy. All you had to do was give in, let them take over -- that is, let him take over. Billy Corgan wanted you to feel helpless, if only so that you could feel the way he felt. Maybe he knew his rock & roll messiah pose was ridiculous, but he couldn't resist it, didn't even try: "Emptiness is loneliness/And loneliness is cleanliness/And cleanliness is godliness/And God is empty, just like me."

You need that kind of attitude if you're going to attempt something like Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, a two-disc immersion experience that often achieved the state of bliss Corgan loves singing about. But as the Smashing Pumpkins disintegrated, this attitude came to seem more like a nervous tic. That's what made Machina/The Machines of God so hard to sit through: The songs crashed and faded and built back up again, frantically reminding us of their own grandeur.

Now Corgan has a new band, called Zwan, and he has just recorded perhaps the most religious album of his career, Mary Star of the Sea. Look at the album credits, and here's what you'll find: drummer Jimmy Chamberlin, from the Smashing Pumpkins, alongside an army of post-punk veterans including guitarist David Pajo, formerly of Slint. As for that tall guy with the thin, high voice and the fuzzy guitar, the credits list him as Billy Burke, which also happens to be the name of a Florida evangelist who has dedicated his life to "touching the world with God's power." The frontman is a faith healer. So maybe you should listen to this album the same way lots of people read the Bible: Check out the amazing opening, skip ahead to the part where Jesus comes in, then convince yourself you've just heard the greatest story ever told.

The album starts with "Lyric," on which Corgan sings, "Here comes my faith to carry me on"; the real revelation is the chorus, which backs up his theology with a gorgeous vocal harmony. Then comes "Settle Down," which skips forward on Paz Lenchantin's bass line, and you remember that Zwan aren't a solo project -- Billy the giant has a posse. By the time you get to the album's lead single, a coy, Smiths-inspired love song called "Honestly," Mary Star of the Sea is shaping up as a classic.

It's not, or not quite. Zwan are more straightforward (and much less histrionic) than the Smashing Pumpkins, so a few of the songs in the middle are pretty but not very dramatic -- think of them as psalms. But then Jesus arrives -- that is, "Jesus, I/Mary Star of the Sea," the album's glorious conclusion. The first half is a mesmerizing reworking of the old hymn "Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken"; when the curlicue guitar line hits, at the two-minute mark, it might as well be a choir of angels. "God and heaven are all my own," Corgan sings -- and, yes, that's pretty close to how the original goes (it must be one of the most swaggering hymns ever written). A bed of noise makes way for a quiet guitar interlude that wouldn't have sounded out of place on a Slint record.

The second half lurches to life: It's that old Smashing Pumpkins guitar sound, and it sounds even better than you remember it. "Everything just feels like rain," Corgan sings, and a booming guitar matches his every note, like some sort of heavenly vocoder (a machine of God?) making it hard to figure out where the voice stops and the instrument starts.

After fourteen minutes, "Jesus, I/Mary Star of the Sea" finally ends, and there's an epilogue: a beautiful ballad called "Come With Me," driven by acoustic guitar and harmonica. "Won't you come with me?" Corgan asks, and the demand is the same as always, even if he's asking nicely: All you have to do is say yes. (KELEFA SANNEH)

Lou Reed The Raven (Sire/Reprise)

Lou Reed has called The Raven "a movie for the mind," and that description just begins to capture this double CD's phantasmagoric impact. Though it's based on the writings of Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven is less a strictly literary or musical work than a dreamlike evocation of Poe's obsessions: loss, guilt, violence, self-destruction and failed bids for redemption. Of course, those have been Reed's own obsessions for more than three decades. It's an artistic marriage that could hardly have been made in heaven -- the album's demonic power clearly emanates from the fires down below.

In that subversive spirit, The Raven will confound purists of every stripe. Most provocatively, Reed is far more faithful to the spirit than to the letter of Poe's work. He stirs verses from "Annabel Lee," "The Bells" and "The Fall of the House of Usher" into a hallucinogenic stew, boldly altering Poe's language and adding his own as impulse dictates. On the other hand, the readings by actors such as Willem Dafoe, Elizabeth Ashley and Amanda Plummer -- not to mention the serene deconstruction of Reed's "Perfect Day" by the otherworldly singer Antony -- will bewilder the rock & roll animals among Reed's following. (The more song-oriented single-disc version of The Raven, also out in January, is somewhat more palatable.)

Open-minded listeners, however, will revel in The Raven's impurities, its Poe-like perversions. Heaven and hell collide in Reed's raucous duet with the Blind Boys of Alabama on "I Wanna Know (The Pit and the Pendulum)," and he revisits the purgative roar of Metal Machine Music on the instrumental "Fire Music." On "Who Am I? (Tripitena's Song)," meanwhile, he delivers some of the most personal lyrics of his career. "One thinks of what one hoped to be," he sings, "and then faces reality." The reality here is that Reed has once again stretched the boundaries of popular music and, in doing so, has honored Edgar Allan Poe's illustrious legacy, along with his own. (ANTHONY DECURTIS)

Loose Fur Loose Fur (Drag City)

Loose Fur brings together Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy, Chicago session drummer Glenn Kotche and Jim O'Rourke, the songwriter, producer and multi-instrumentalist who made major contributions to recent albums by both Wilco and Sonic Youth. This collaboration sounds a bit like a stripped-down version of Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, full of found sounds and atmospheric haziness but infused with a whimsical, free-flowing vibe you'd expect from laid-back indie rockers just doing their thing. The Tweedy-sung "Laminated Cat" and "You Were Wrong" both get by on pretty melodies and pleasant folky textures, while the nine-minute "So Long" is strung together mostly out of random blurts of sound. Plenty of good ideas here, but with just six cuts and a glut of experimentation, Loose Fur could use a little grooming. (CHRISTIAN HOARD)

Erasure Other People's Songs (Mute)

Vince Clarke reigns as one of New Wave's all-time nattiest songwriters -- first with Depeche Mode, then with Yaz and then with vocalist Andy Bell in Erasure, penning synth-pop swoon classics such as "Blue Savannah" and "Victim of Love." So Other People's Songs is an audacious concept: oldies covers in a vampy Eurotrash style that could give you third-degree Eighties burns. There's one absolute comic masterpiece: Andy Bell camps up the Johnny Mathis ballad "Ebb Tide" over perky mall-disco beats, hitting a histrionic falsetto for the big finish. Erasure do the Ronettes' "Walking in the Rain" almost as well as Cheryl Ladd, they do Buddy Holly's "Everyday" better than James Taylor, they prove that one man and one man only was meant to sing "Can't Help Falling In Love," and they tart up Peter Gabriel something fierce. (ROB SHEFFIELD)

Dirty Vegas Sound System A Night at the Tables (Ultra)

British trio Dirty Vegas rose to fame behind their smooth pairing of pop hooks and silver-suited soundscapes, a fusion (for better or worse) inextricably tied to an eye-catching Mitsubishi ad. Dirty Vegas' "Sound System" is the band's stab at asserting its dance roots. In a nutshell, A Night at the Tables sees Vegas -- Paul Harris, Ben Harris and Steve Smith -- working as an outfit of DJs, boosted by laptops and live drums. It's a tricky setup that bounds along as a merry, progressive-tinged mix, but one lacking ingenuity. The group is torn between their pop leanings and dance roots, and ends up mixing ill-fitting tracks like Kylie Minogue's "Love at First Sight (Scumfrog Beauty and the Beast Vocal Mix)" with the daft house track, "Dark Beats" by Oscar G and Ralph Falcon. The track sends the compilation on a downward spiral from a smooth, upbeat, pop-infused mix into a collection of frivolous, novelty songs. Elsewhere they muddle through stale turf, blending the ubiquitous dance tracks "Keep On Moving," by Frankie Knuckles' and "Be Yourself," by Celeda, adding flare, if not vigor. The lack of originality on this mix makes it a tough sell, even behind the guise of the "Sound System" billing. (JOLIE LASH)

Jesse Malin The Fine Art of Self Destruction (Artemis)

For Jesse Malin, New York is sanctuary; it's the place he grew up riding the subway, hanging out on rooftops and in nightclubs, and cavorting with an endless cast of characters. While moving in and out of Manhattan's long shadows, Malin evolved from pre-teen punk (Heart Attack) to glammy growler (D-Generation) to reflective singer-songwriter. The Fine Art of Self Destruction is his love letter to New York, one that conveys the notion that the most alone a person can be is in a city of millions. Some of these songs have been circulating for a couple of years, but Malin's pal and producer Ryan Adams galvanizes them into a unified effort, using classic flourishes to give them a familiar sound. In "Queen of the Underworld," the guitar soul-thwack and breezy "ooohs" (provided by Melissa Auf der Maur) of the verses gives way to a jangle-pop chorus, and dueling piano and organ build the yearning mood of "Brooklyn." But it's Malin's personal reflections, such as growing up a child of divorce in the Seventies in "Almost Grown," that give Fine Art its soul. With a voice that seems to tumble straight out of his throat, his emotional directness is yet one more example of just how fine the line is between punk and roots rock. (MEREDITH OCHS)

Ry Cooder and Manuel Galban Mambo Sinuendo (Nonesuch/Perro Verde Records)

While new fans know Ry Cooder as the man behind the Buena Vista Social Club phenomenon, Cooder has a long and distinguished musical history as a guitarist -- from his classic slide riffs on early Stones' albums and sessions with Little Feat and Captain Beefheart to more recent pioneering fusion work with Indian musician Vishwa Mohan Bhatt. Cooder is at least partly in Buena Vista-mode on Mambo Sinuendo, where he teams with Cuban guitar legend (and sideman for many of the Buena Vista side projects) Manuel Galban. Mambo resurrects the sound of Cuban popular music from the Fifties, but gives it a modern spin. The mostly instrumental effort overflows with tasteful musicianship and languid, tropical grooves, the kind of feel David Byrne has gone after less successfully in his Latin-themed efforts. Galban, who doubles on organ, has a distinctive sound that calls to mind the great surf guitarists, and Mambo's dozen songs groove and sway as if the band were playing under the stars on the beach. (CHRIS RUBIN)

Brokeback Looks at the Bird (Thrill Jockey)

The latest from Brokeback -- Tortoise's Douglas McCombs and bassist Noel Kupersmith -- might be the last place you will ever hear the plangent sounds of Mary Hansen's voice. The ethereal, coo's and ooh's of the Stereolab member, who was struck and killed by a car in December, float above the surf jazz of "Name's Winston, Friends Call Me James," one of three tracks on which she performs. Hansen's voice is also a ghostly presence on "Pearl's Dream," the spare, heat mirage of a song that appeared on the soundtrack to the 1995 film, Night of the Hunter, with eerie lyrics about a woman who "flew away." Like Brokeback's two previous low-key efforts, the mostly instrumental Bird focuses on meditative instrumentals performed on double bass and the Fender six-string bass, twisting the post-rock of Tortoise with the high desert sounds of Calexico/Giant Sand. Fellow new jazzers Rob Mazurek (cornet), Aki Tsuyuko (reed organ, flute organ) and Tortoise's John McEntire (organ) sit in on several songs. "From the Black Current" sounds like the lost score to a Sergio Leone western, full of warm, languid high/low bass notes, while the cover of Tortoise's "The Suspension Bridge at Iguazu Falls," adds a spaghetti western/flamenco flare to the original's more ambient, vibes-driven sound. (GIL KAUFMAN)

K-OS Exit (Astralwerks)

K-OS' Exit is a moving global document. Within its melting pot of hip-hop, pop, folk, reggae, funk and eastern sounds, he sings with soul and raps with authority about the state of the world to the state of hip hop. Whether he's terminating the bling bling in the old school "Neutroniks," exposing hip hop imposters in "Freeze" or attempting to end the jiggy era in "Superstarr Pt. Zero," this guy's on a mission. The most gripping songs, however, are about the bigger picture. "It blows my mind just what we'll be reaping/And weeping/so help us God," he sings on the powerful "Call Me." And on the stunning "Patience," easily one of Exit's best cuts, "We hold the key deep in our souls." Indeed, many hold mikes and don't know what to say. K-OS does. (KAREN BLISS)

Mark Selby Dirt (Vanguard Records)

After gaining notoriety for penning hits recorded by Kenny Wayne Shepherd and the Dixie Chicks, singer/songwriter/guitarist Mark Selby earned his moment in the spotlight with the release of his own critically lauded 2000 debut, More Storms Comin'. His exceptional sophomore CD, Dirt, indicates that album was not just a fluke. Many of Selby's songs (some co-written with his wife, Tia Sillers) give vibrant life to romantic ruminations he keeps in his head, ("Willing to Burn," "Desire"). Favorable comparisons to Gregg Allman permeate this disc, not only in regard to Selby's blues-rock sound, but also his visual songwriting and slightly rough-hewn but engaging vocals -- especially appealing on the lead track, "Reason Enough." Psychedelic guitar effects add a hypnotic undercurrent to the gorgeous title track, but never detracts from the song's true grit. No need for bells or whistles here -- the music does all the talking. (GAIL WORLEY)

Bill Ricchini Ordinary Time (Transdreamer/Megaforce)

As a self-released, self-recorded demo of fragile homespun chamber pop Ordinary Time made word-of-mouth ripples in the underground before finding its way to New York City-based indie label Megaforce, and a wider audience. The genius of this CD is not just the pensive guitar, lush orchestration and evocative poetry across eighteen warm tracks of slow-core pop, but how the album as a whole captures a reflective, solitary mood. Broadcasting originals from his lonely bedroom to yours, this former music critic becomes the telepathic DJ with the perfect, intimate playlist. (TODD SPENCER)

Snowdogs Deep Cuts, Fast Remedies (Victory Records)

With "Average Kid," the London-based Snowdogs cast forth their sophomore album with a hard-charging rocker that superglues the Offspring's "Self Esteem" to Soul Asylum's "Somebody to Shove." While it's an infectious, radio-ready anthem, the song exemplifies what ends up becoming the trio's stumbling block over these dozen tracks -- a lack of originality. Deep Cuts, Fast Remedies shuttles listeners back to rock radio circa-1996 faster than you can say "Lump." Hell, vocalist Ville Leppanen even sounds like a dead ringer for old what's-his-name from the Presidents of the United States of America on the punky "Hell Outta Dodge." Like the Lemonheads a decade before them, Snowdogs also dust off a Paul Simon-penned number ("Boy in the Bubble") with positive results, but for all of it's appeal, these 'dogs most often reek of anonymity. (JOHN D. LUERSSEN)

(January 27, 2003)