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John Doe Dim Stars, Bright Sky (iMusic)
John Doe (born John Duchac) now makes his living primarily as an actor, appearing in everything from Boogie Nights to Carrie 2. But before he was cast in roles such as "Deputy" and "Welder" and "Amber Waves' ex-husband," he was the co-leader of X, L.A.'s best-loved punk band. His previous three solo albums swung between punk and country (the magnetic poles of X); Dim Stars, Bright Sky is just a pleasant acoustic presentation of eleven of his lonely-hearted songs, with help and harmony vocals from a long list of friends, including Aimee Mann, Juliana Hatfield, Joey Waronker, Jakob Dylan, and even Go-Go Jane Wiedlin. For all the guest starpower, however, the results sound as anonymous as Doe's chosen name. (GAVIN EDWARDS)
Jackpot Shiny Things (Surfdog)
Rusty Miller sings in a voice naturally wise and a bit broken. It might be a punchline -- Miller's lyrics rely on quick, sardonic wit -- but it still sounds like bad news. Jackpot, his Sacramento quartet, doesn't let him dwell long on hard luck. The acoustic guitar track "When You Leave" and the piano ballad "Bring on the Chimes," are both reminiscent of Paul Westerberg's loneliest efforts. But most of the band's third album features sharp, high-energy pop arrangements that keep things moving briskly along even when Miller sounds like he'd rather be alone. "Throw Away Your Misery" and "Fleas on the Tail of Time" deliver funk-inflected rhythms with skeetering guitar solos and loosely controlled keyboard lines. The New-Wave chug of "Far Far Far" and "Hide in the Frequency," where Miller placates his demons with soothing harmonies and guitars, redefine what it means to be a miserable success. (ROB O'CONNOR)
Tin Hat Trio The Rodeo Eroded (Atlantic/Ropeadope)
Music critics love calling something "indescribable" and then trying to explain it. Thankfully, the third album from San Francisco experimentalists Tin Hat Trio is absolutely describable - the problem is that the descriptions of the group's music defy rational thought. Eastern European folk music mixed with scratchy Tin Pan Alley melodies, circus tuba bopping along behind a folksy acoustic guitar riff, dustbowl bluegrass sidling up to a sensual tango. At the hands of lesser talents, The Rodeo Eroded would be nothing more than a mess. But guitarist Mark Orton, violinist Karla Kihlstedt and accordian/pianist Rob Burger have created something warm, welcoming and entirely unique through their melding of the avant garde with something much more familiar - including guest turns from Willie Nelson, drummers John Fishman (Phish) and Billy Martin (Medeski, Martin and Wood). From the waltzing melancholy of "Bill" to the Nelson-sung "Willow Weep For Me" and thirteen other tracks of comparable depth, The Rodeo Eroded reveals an alternative world to an audience who might also own CDs from Ryan Adams, Aimee Mann, Brad Meldhau, Wyclef Jean and Bruce Springsteen. No mean feat in an age when "R-O-C-K" is back. (ANDREW STRICKMAN)
Layo and Bushwacka! Nightworks (XL/Beggars Group)
Layo and Bushwacka's debut album, Low Life (1999), is a multi-faceted work that features a different mood on each track from tech-house to straight house, ambient-y trip hop to drum-n-bass, breakbeats and tribal rhythms. On their latest release, Nightworks, the break-tech duo hone their musical chops using all the varied elements on Low Life, but having every genre represented on each track. Keeping the album under an hour in length, the two say their piece precisely and concisely in a low-key manner that slips smoothly through styles and tempos. Relying on a powerfully rumbling bassline, subtle movements of soft chords and the occasional vocal whisper, these simple factors are highly effective in creating the hypnotic mood of Nightworks. Filled with emotion, subtle feel-good anthems such as "Love Story" and "Let the Good Times Roll" do their crowd-pleasing thing with finesse rather than obvious banging about the head techniques. Structured much as a DJ's set would be, Nightworks shifts moods up and down with a crafty balance of beats that would work loud in a club and low in your headphones. (LILY MOAYERI)
Faultline Your Love Means Everything (Elektra)
The best vocal performance by Coldplay singer Chris Martin this year does not appear on his band's excellent A Rush of Blood to the Head, but on the latest release by leftfield British producer David Kosten. Recording under the name Faultline, the studio buff has a reputation for eclecticism, even by dance music's loose standards. The title track of his 1999 debut, Closer Colder, sampled Dennis Hopper and featured a song built around a death threat left on his answering machine. Faultline's new disc boasts vocal contributions from the Flaming Lip's Wayne Coyne and R.E.M.'s Michael Stipe. But it is Martin's gloriously lusty turn on "Where Is My Boy?" that sets itself apart, approached only by his follow-up appearance on the mesmerizing piano ballad, "Your Love Means Everything Pt. 2." The rest of the disc is saddled with flatulent electronic noodling and a cinematic air that never reaches the same emotional heights as the vocal tracks, and Stipe's soporific work on "Greenfields" is best left unmentioned. (AIDIN VAZIRI)
John Parish How Animals Move (Thrill Jockey)
John Parish knows how to set a mood. Best known for his frequent collaborations as a songwriter, producer and multi-instrumentalist with PJ Harvey, Parish's second record is an enchanting exploration of the sort of emotionally-gripping sonic terrain frequently inhabited by Calexico and the Dirty Three. A melancholy violin solo with the heavy-handed title, "Absolute Beauty Is an Absolute Curse" opens the album, a fitting introduction to the dark-hued themes that Parish mines throughout this memorable suite of tunes. A shambling, majestic orchestra brings a messy elegance to "Westward Airways" and "How Animals Move," but Parish never really alters the record's haunting tone until the final track, "Airplane Blues," a rowdy shot of early rock and roll that features Polly Jean Harvey doing her best Big Mama Thornton impression. There's a temptation to pigeonhole this mostly instrumental effort as background music, but Parish packs so much emotion into his compositions, they simply demand your attention. (DAVID PEISNER)
Ellis Paul The Speed of Trees (Rounder)
On his first studio album in five years sometimes-cloying-sometimes-brilliant pop-folk troubadour Ellis Paul does what he always does: reaches for the emotional stars -- missing a few and snatching a few. You have to admire his ambition and fearlessness, even though it's that fearlessness that allows him to taint a fantastic opening line like "She fell to the mattress with the grace of an actress," a few verses later with the mood-wrecking, "She smiled like the Mona Lisa." Other unevenness is from song to song: the tender "When We Begin" perfectly captures the mutual hope before a first date, and the pensive yet bop-y "Sweet Mistakes" resonates with redemption. Meanwhile "Roll Away Bed" and "Breaking Through the Radio" seem like indulgences. This is not his best album, but there's plenty of what sets Paul apart: his way with a story and his original voice. (TODD SPENCER)
Before Braille The Rumor (Liquid 8)
Emo-ish Arizona act Before Braille come across as a band with smarts on their debut album The Rumor. They've mastered a nice mix of alt-rock flavors -- from the eerie opening track "Prelude: Secret No. 7" (which would work well on the soundtrack of a German Expressionist film) to the slick and savory grooves of the single "Twenty Four Minus Eighteen" -- and there is no doubt that this is a talented outfit. But in their exuberance the Braille boys have run about fifteen minutes too long. It's as if they've tried to show all their moves in one shot, with the result that the album's impact has been diluted. Still, the highlights are pretty high. The rocker "The Spanish Dagger" mixes chugging axes and melodic harmonies to good effect, while it's hard to pass up the piano-driven and deliciously morbid "When the Feeling Fades." But other tracks don't flip the switch nearly as well. Fifty minutes instead of sixty-four would've done it. Sometimes less really is more. (ADRIAN ZUPP)
The Wondermints Mind if We Make Love to You (Smile)
The Wondermints' second album was an all-covers affair, and their excellent recreations of psychedelic power-pop is, of course, what led Brian Wilson to recruit the L.A. trio to be the core of his current touring band. With Mind if We Make Love to You, however, the Wondermints seem to finally be settling comfortably into their own identity. Granted, the references are still crucial -- from the "MacArthur Park"-isms of "On the Run," to the "I Just Wasn't Made for These Times"-isms of "Ride," to the Association-meets-Os Mutantes vibe of "Out of Mind." Still, one simply has to marvel at the musicianship on display. And "Something I Know" would deserve hit status in a perfect world. This band understands "hip" is a state of mind and, thus, aren't afraid to be reminiscent of everything from the Cowsills and Bee Gees to Klaatu, Jellyfish and Fastball. The ambition may still occasionally be greater than the result, but this wonderfully produced big album could give new meaning to the term "indie rock." (BILL HOLDSHIP)
Katell Keineg What's the Only Thing Worse Than the End of Time? (Field Recording Co.)
There's a theory that certain musical frequencies affect people emotionally. Katell Keineg has found them. It's damn near impossible to listen to her earthy and ethereal voice without feeling the spirit move you. The Franco-Welsh (she sings in English, but old-world Europe oozes from her throaty croon and gracefully gangly limbs) singer/songwriter's latest effort, the EP What's the Only Thing Worse Than the End of Time?, is a brief testament to her power to permeate. The standouts are a chilling live version of Nick Drake's "River Man" (Keineg is especially powerful onstage) and the celebratory "Beautiful Day," which sounds like a chance meeting between a Sixties-pop melody line and a white girl on a Caribbean island. What's the Only Thing seems to embody both of those worlds, suggesting that Keineg's travels over the past five years, during which she was AWOL from the studio, helped her find a balance between her poetic roots and pop sensibility. If What's the Only Thing is any indication of what is to come from Keineg, prepare to be seriously hooked by her frequencies. (ROBIN AIGNER)
Railroad Earth Bird in a House (Sugar Hill)
From the rubble of the obsolete Jersey fave From Good Homes springs this acoustic-and-proud ensemble fronted by singer/guitarist Todd Sheaffer. The seed for this collection of thirteen cuts was always there in FGH, but with Bird in a House, Sheaffer and Co. fully flesh out a string band jones with the loose, impromptu m.o. of a back porch pickin'. Less a trad bluegrass recording than a stylistic celebration of the roots that helped form bluegrass and folk, Bird has more in common with the Waterboys' Fisherman's Blues than it does O Brother, Where Art Thou?. The title track features some lovely Celtic-tinged instrumental interplay. And the funky "Like a Buddha," with its granola-crusted refrain ("there's a feeling running through ya/and you're smiling like a Buddha") has a modern tinge reminding that this album isn't a venture to collect fossils, so much as a cut into the marrow of a music that is as contemporarily vibrant as it is timeless. (ANDREW DANSBY)
(September 9, 2002)