“Anger’s Candy” by BLAKE MORGAN

The powerhouse debut album by Blake Morgan, featuring a guest appearance by Lenny Kravitz!

Blake Morgan’s successes as a recording artist, as well as a producer, have paired him with Lenny Kravitz, Lesley Gore, Mike Errico, Phil Ramone, Terry Manning, and Phil “Butcher Bros.” Nicolo, among others. His work has taken him from The Hit Factory in New York to Sound City in Los Angeles, from Compass Point Studios in the Bahamas to Studio 4 in Philadelphia.

In 1997, after signing a seven-album deal with Phil Ramone’s label N2K (Sony/Red), Morgan criss-crossed the country for more than a year, promoting his album Anger’s Candy. Morgan shared stages with rock acts ranging from Joan Jett to Matchbox 20, garnering rave reviews for both the album and his live performances. However, and although he was the label’s most successful artist, the dissatisfaction of working under traditional record company control was undeniable. “But I didn’t want to become one of those recording artists who spend their lives complaining about their label.” Spotting an opportunity to, as he puts it, “break free,” Morgan did the unheard of: he told Ramone he wanted out of his long-term deal.

Defiantly, Morgan began inventing a totally different future for his music — launching what has become a phenomenon: the nationally distributed Engine Company Records home for himself and the growing list of albums and artists he produces.

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“Major Lodge Victory” by THE GIN BLOSSOMS 

If you liked their classic hits, the old Gins are back at it with their patented blend of jangly pop goodness.

Exactly 14 summers ago Arizona’s Gin Blossoms released New Miserable Experience, eventually going multiplatinum on the strength of timeless powerpop anthems “Hey Jealousy” and “Found Out About You.” A so-so follow-up (not to mention the alcohol- and depression-fueled exit of their principle songwriter), however, led to a subsequent split in ‘97. Now, after a 2002 reunion, comes Major Lodge Victory. Against all odds it’s a worthy successor to NME, evoking that album’s twinned vibe of ecstasy and melancholy.

Guitarist Jesse Valenzuela takes on the lion’s share of the writing — admittedly, he’s abetted by a song doctor, the Rembrandts’ Danny Wilde — in particular serving up the spirited, Beatlesque first single “Learning the Hard Way” and “Long Time Gone” (which contains striking “Found Out…” overtones). Vocalist Robin Wilson’s jangly thumper “Come On Hard” also joins the ranks of classic Blossoms compositions. And with Wilson’s honey-throated warble still as much a band trademark as the jangles, the album sounds familiar and fresh — the feel-good hit of the ‘06 summer.

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“Reaching for a Gun” by RICK HENRICKSON 

Slightly retro without that burnout of trying to be too cool. “Reacing For a Gun” is extremely hum-able with a very high replay factor.

Rick Henrickson is unapologetic about the influences that pervade his work. Frank Black, Jason Falkner, the Beatles: you can hear ghosts of their classics all over Reaching for a Gun, Henrickson’s debut album. That’s not a complaint, though. Henrickson’s truly talented in his ability to spin these internalized ideas into melodic gold. Quick, sharp and insanely catchy, these tunes (”Cool Dry Place,” “Surprise, Surprise” and “Two Hats” especially) are the sort of revivalism that’ll have you reaching back to the classics soon after Reaching for a Gun concludes. If you don’t find yourself playing it again, that is.

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“The Ultimate Jackie Wilson” by JACKIE WILSON 

Some music just lives on forever because it has that magic. Jackie Wilson transcended the worlds of pop and r&b and helped establish a bridge between the two that thrives today.

Like Sam Cooke and Ray Charles, soul singing colossus Jackie Wilson stood astride two worlds, with one foot in pop music and the other planted firmly in r&b. He was dubbed “Mr. Excitement” for his electrifying shows, but Wilson was hardly a slouch in the studio either, delivering such r&b classics as “Baby Workout,” “Lonely Teardrops,” “To Be Loved” and “That’s Why (I Love You So),” all of which appear on this electrifying compilation.

A Detroit native, Wilson made his professional mark at 19 when he replaced Clyde McPhatter in Billy Ward and the Dominoes, scoring a hit with 19tk’s “You Can’t Keep a Good Man Down.” Signing a solo deal with Brunswick Records in 19tk, Wilson was paired with another Detroit music man, songwriter and future Motown mogul Berry Gordy, Jr., who produced and co-wrote such signature Wilson soul hits as “Reet Petite” and “Lonely Teardrops.” Gifted with a tenor as sweet and clear as spring water, Wilson was soon enjoying two-sided hits such as “Night” backed with “Doggin’ Around,” with one side aimed at the pop market and the other toward r&b. Though the strategy at first paid off handsomely, making Wilson a star on both the r&b and nightclub circuits, by the mid ’60s many of his original r&b fans had all but abandoned him. Teaming with Chicago producer Carl Davis, Wilson regained his crown with such moving hits as “Whispers (Getting Louder)” and “(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher & Higher.”

Cut down in 1975 by an onstage heart attack that left him bedridden until his death in 1984, Wilson remains one of the towering vocal stylists of his era, and this 44-song compilation — covering all of his soul and pop hits and also highlighting such unexpected tidbits as his covers of “Eleanor Rigby,” “For Once in My Life,” “Danny Boy” and “Georgia on My Mind” — is a mesmerizing reminder of a singer whose abilities and soul transcended boundaries.

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“Challengers” by THE NEW PORNOGRAPHERS  

This indie supergroup puts together another collection of awesome tracks that’ll get a lot of play in your earbuds. “Mutiny, I Promise You” is just plain awesome.

Meet the new New Pornographers, same as the old New Pornographers. When Pete Townshend turned that phrase about bosses back in the Nixon era, it was a statement about complacency and spirit-crippling stasis. But where the New Pornographers are concerned, there’s little to rebel against; chief songwriter and singer Carl Newman is a benevolent leader, democratically doling out vocal parts to his almost-famous cast of indie-rock players: redheaded force of nature Neko Case, eccentric Destroyer bard Dan Bejar and Immaculate Machine’s Kathryn Calder (who also happens to be Newman’s niece). More important, the New Pornographers’ four-album reign — from 2000 debut Mass Romantic to the new Challengers — has been one of the fairest and most consistent 21st-century pop-album runs.

So it’s not like it’s incumbent upon Challengers to smash the system Newman has designed, a musical blueprint roughly inspired by Love’s orchestral-pop flourishes and choppy, Cars-like guitar. His songs are still constructed like rollercoasters, with multiple chorus peaks and melodic twists jammed into each three- or four-minute ride. It’s still thrilling to hear the mixed-and-matched vocalists; the best pairing this time out involves Calder and Bejar trading lines on the folk-rap shuffle “Myriad Harbour.” And when Case breaks into Latin on “Go Places,” it’s reminiscent of ABBA’s flight into “Fernando” territory, a fringed-outfit diva moment in the spotlight.

While it’s nice of the New Pornographers to show up once again with the musical goods, Challengers also addresses one of the band’s biggest problems: a perceived lack of unity. Part of this perception stems from the hired-hand stigma where Case and Bejar are concerned and part has to do with Newman’s lyrics. A student of the Robert Pollard school of abstract words that sound cool, Newman doesn’t do straight narratives, so nobody really knows what his songs are about. But great bands leave clues along the trail for their fans, so on Challengers, we get Newman singing “When John saw that number, he lied” — a nod to “John Saw That Number,” a track on Case’s 2006 album Fox Confessor Brings the Flood. It’s a smart way to eliminate division, huddling the band members’ estimable solo careers under the New Pornographers’ umbrella.

There’s also the continuation of the Pornographers’ most famous conceit: a new girl-group-style nonsense syllable for each album. For Challengers, it’s the title track’s chorus of “oh-la”s; past albums have given us “hey-la” (on 2005’s Twin Cinema), “na-na-na” (2003’s Electric Version) and “woo-ooh” (Mass Romantic).

But that isn’t the extent of the inside jokes: In an era of indie-rock one-album wonders, titling this record Challengers is a fine bit of rope-a-dope, if not a total wind-up. The New Pornographers are clearly the champs.

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“Transatlantic Ping Pong” by GLENN TILBROOK 

A touch of the old Squeeze magic graces this album as Tilbrook takes a solo turn with “Transatlantic Ping Pong”.

As the frontman and half of Squeeze, Tilbrook is a master craftsman of the British pop/rock song. His melodies on this recent solo album are as strong as Squeeze’s quintessential 1980 hit “Pulling Mussels from a Shell” (check out the addictive “Untouchable” and the funky “Lost In Space”) and with well-orchestrated arrangements Tilbrook creates the classic drums-bass-guitar-organ-vocal sound that essentially defines the art of great British singer-songwriting handed down from Lennon and McCartney. Here, he’s comfortable enough to joke about somewhat pornographic references but also discusses more standard fare, like past lovers and present flames. It’s hard to create such fine performances and perfect melodies; Glen Tilbrook’s gift is that he makes great songwriting seem easy and effortless.

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“Come Dancing with The Kinks” by THE KINKS 

A great package containing all the essential hits by The Kinks. If you don’t already have an album by the brothers Davies, then start with this one.

A Kinks-sized collection of Carter-era essentials from this truly classic rock band.
When the Kinks signed with Arista Records in 1976, Ray Davies effectively abandoned the village greens of Britain for the basketball arenas of America. For the next decade, the band’s theatrical concept albums took a back seat to sleek, radio-friendly slabs of mainstream rock that won the Kinks a new generation of Stateside fans, even as they alienated rock critics everywhere. While it lacked the timeless charm of the Kinks’ late-’60s work, their Arista period still produced some of Davies’ finest (and most underappreciated) songs, as evidenced by Come Dancing With the Kinks, a compilation of hits from 1977 to 1984.

Dated production values aside, “Full Moon,” “Misfits,” “A Rock N’ Roll Fantasy” and “Good Day” (in which Davies muses on romantic strife, nuclear holocaust and the death of actress Diana Dors) are among the most heartbreaking ballads in the Ray Davies canon. “Sleepwalker,” “Destroyer” and “Do It Again” rock harder than anything the Who or the Stones released in the same era; ditto for “Father Christmas,” possibly the angriest holiday song ever waxed. Throw in the glorious “Better Things,” a live “Lola” and the disco goof “(Wish I Could Fly Like) Superman”, and you’ve got a collection no true Kinks fan should be without.

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“Karmacode” by LACUNA COIL

Lacuna Coil was Evanesense before Evanesence. Their exotic melodies and driving hard rock rhythms are truly hypnotic.

Many fans of prog metal would like to believe that once upon a time, the dramatic mood and operatic self-importance that define the genre came as a natural result of the music’s compositional influences, and only recently has the over-the-top tone taken priority over musical quality. Whether or not such a magical time ever really existed, Lacuna Coil hearkens back to those possibly imaginary days with their 2006 release Karmacode. The Italian sextet’s songwriting and instrumentation directly reflect the original naming of metal as a separate mineral from rock & roll, with a seamless blend of classical music and modern rock. As a result, the disc seems refreshingly self-possessed. The band doesn’t intentionally shy away from the stylistic qualifiers that have come to exemplify progressive metal, it just allows the theatrical elements to emerge on their own. The album’s goth voice, for instance, is readily apparent without desperate or forced attempts at spooky compositions, because it shines through in truly inspired melodies that just happen to be ethereal, exotic, and chilling. Likewise, Karmacode achieves communion with its power metal roots in songs written in an epic fashion, from the bottom up rather than through lyrics about dragons and elves. Karmacode seems immune to even the gloomier and more widespread trappings of metal, expressing emotion in ways that sound almost freakishly earnest and genuine. In addition to all of this potentially boring integrity, the disc is highly listenable. Though obviously unconcerned with finding a place in the mainstream, this release just as cool and catchy as anything by Evanescence, a band who took the causal switch between tone and musicality one step further, creating a pop version of an already diluted brand of metal. At least some generous chunk of the record’s compelling nature can be attributed to singer Cristina Scabbia’s enthralling timbre — her reverberating call over the repeating choruses toward the end of the group’s “Enjoy the Silence” cover makes this disc worth the price of purchase. The frontwoman was born with a strong, unique voice and would probably create bizarrely charismatic renditions of show tunes if that was her chosen art. Lucky for prog fans, her interests lie far from Broadway and with a style to which she brings dexterous technical skill, as well as a refreshing delivery. Despite Scabbia’s attention-grabbing sound and stage presence, the album still has each bandmember to thank for its success, not to mention producer Waldemar Sorychta; they have done their jobs so deftly that one could easily opt out of paying attention to the sophisticated and complex nature of their creation and just enjoy the ride.

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“X Tracks: Best of Andy Summers” by ANDY SUMMERS

Police guitarist extrordinaire, Andy Summers shows off his jazz leanings. Though I’m generally not a fan of “best of” collections, this album has a nice continuity to it and shows off a lot of serious chops.

X Tracks: Best of Andy Summers covers the years 1997-2002, essentially his stint at RCA. If you haven’t followed his post-Police career, you might be somewhat surprised at his jazz leanings. Texturally, he flirts with smooth jazz at times, but his penchant for dissonance keeps him out of that camp. There are a handful of original compositions alongside pieces by Monk, Mingus, and Wayne Shorter. Q-Tip’s reading from Mingus’ Beneath the Underdog on “Goodbye Porkpie Hat” does little to add to the tune, beyond differentiating it from Jeff Beck’s version, but the way Summers handles Mingus’ “Boogie Stop Shuffle” with an added horn section is great. Similarly, Sting’s turn on vocals on the overdone “‘Round Midnight” is serviceable, but the way Summers digs into Monk’s bag of dissonance and crazy intervals on “Think of One” shows a deep understanding and feel for Monk’s music. The Wayne Shorter tunes are beautifully done, and the album opens and closes with Summers in jazz power-trio mode, rocking things up just a bit (even quoting “White Room” in “Big Thing”). X Tracks: Best of Andy Summers is a good summary of his post-Private Music/Windham Hill years, and would make a fine starting place for someone interested in what Summers has been up to since the Police.

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“Memory Almost Full” by PAUL MCCARTNEY

Possibly the best McCartney solo album in a long while, “Memory Almost Full” harkens back to a younger, more melodic (some would say slightly Beatle-esque) sound.

Thanks to a song he wrote when he was in his twenties, there must have been no human being in history as self-conscious about turning 64 as Paul McCartney. Life hardly ever works out the way you thought it would, and sure enough his 65th year was hardly the vision of senescent domestic tranquility that he’d imagined. So McCartney did what any good artist would do: He made an album about it. As Memory Almost Full amply attests, when you’re 64, breakin’ up is still hard to do, but you’re also not too old for love to put a spring in your step. But most of all, when you’re 64, it’s a sure bet that you don’t have all that much time left, and time itself is going faster and faster.

McCartney has reached a point in life where he’s OK with wrapping his memories around him — and us — like a comfy old coat. So while a lot of this masterly, arty and yet unpretentious pop music is as fresh as he’s ever done, there are also unabashed musical hints and references, particularly to Abbey Road, the early solo albums and prime-slice Wings; long-time fans will have a field day. Sometimes it’s undeniably gloomy: McCartney’s typically obtuse rockers (”Only Mama Knows,” the Pink Floyd-y “House of Wax”) brim with dread and even the ostensibly whimsical “Mr. Bellamy” has a dark side. But much of the album is emotionally affecting without getting overly sentimental — Memory Almost Full examines the past but not with the corny nostalgia of songs like “Penny Lane” and “Your Mother Should Know.” This time, it’s done with the benefit of actual age and hard-won wisdom.

McCartney recorded the album over a span of three and a half years with co-producer David Kahne (the Bangles, Tony Bennett, the Strokes), and it’s an amalgam of the raw and the cooked — plenty of fuzz and home-brewed performances, and yet meticulously crafted, with stacked vocal harmonies, sophisticated string arrangements, impeccable musicianship. And that’s all great, but the wonderful thing about it is, McCartney actually has something to say. For years, the billionaire rock icon, blissfully wedded to the love of his life, seemed so insular and indulged that there was little grist for his songwriting mill. But the events of the past ten years have left him well gristed — he’s also working hard to curtail his hankering for the mawkish and the treacly. Not coincidentally, he’s made much more spontaneous, creative and compelling music ever since 1997’s Flaming Pie, made as his beloved wife Linda was dying of cancer.

Opener “Dance Tonight” is a folksy stomp, an invitation to a party delivered in prototypical dance-music terms (“Everybody gonna dance tonight / Everybody gonna feel all right”), and yet it comes off wistful, almost melancholic, and it’s not just because of the minor key or the mandolins — it’s actually a bit of foreshadowing, and later on we’ll learn the implications of partying at Paul’s place. It’s really “Ever Present Past” that sets the theme: In search of lost time. “I hope it isn’t too late/ searching for the time that has gone so fast/ The time that I thought would last,” McCartney sings, still preternaturally boyish. The synthetic hurdy-gurdy feeling of the track reminds of XTC’s 1989 Oranges and Lemons while the keening one-note guitar lick recalls Guided by Voices; then again, both of those bands can sound an awful lot like… Paul McCartney.

The album’s long gestation would probably explain why there are both love songs and break-up songs here. The gospel-flavored “Gratitude,” with McCartney in full-on soul singer mode over resounding piano chords and a deliberate Ringo-esque chug, would seem to be about Heather Mills: “I was living with a memory,” he testifies, “But my cold and lonely nights ended when you sheltered me.” (Then again, the song seems to be as much about McCartney simply savoring singing the word “gratitude.”) Likewise, there’s “See Your Sunshine,” an unlikely love song to sing, much less write, in the midst of such a toxic clash; it’s a bit saccharine, but hats off to him for keeping it on the album (even if a cynic might presume it a calculated act of spin control or a way of mollifying a legal adversary). But then there’s “You Tell Me,” a ballad recalling idyllic days gone by in a series of questions like “When was that summer when the skies were blue/ The bright red cardinal flew down from his tree,” each ending with a withering “You tell me.” Conveyed with the sweetest bitterness, it packs all the emotional whiplash of having something very good turn terribly sour, and it’s kind of devastating.

McCartney gets back to contemplating mortality in a suite of songs (sound familiar?) near the end of the album. “Vintage Clothes” offers seemingly contradictory advice: “What went out is coming back/ Don’t live in the past, don’t hold on to something that’s changing fast” and the arrangement, channel-changing from Carole King-like pop to haunting, jazzy clutter to an ELO-like middle eight follows the advice. The straightforwardly autobiographical “That Was Me” rocks an irresistibly jaunty swing, summoning up scenes from boyhood (”at the Scout camp, in the school play”) and beyond (”Merseybeatin’ with the band”). It really nails that feeling when, once you’ve lived long enough, you begin to have the strange sensation of looking back on your youth and feeling as if that was a different person, even though life is a seamless continuum. For McCartney, it’s the odd, probably mindblowing, realization that that overachieving moptop was “the same me that stands here now.” Of course, McCartney’s life is truly phenomenal, but he makes being a Beatle into a good for metaphor for any life lived, painted in with achievements and experiences.

“The End of the End” specifies how his memorial should be conducted — with jokes, stories and music — and that he’ll be going to a “much better place — no reason to cry.” It’s about as maudlin as it gets here, and yet it’s absolutely moving, watching McCartney put on his brave face. There’s a little whistling solo, but is he whistling for joy or whistling in the dark?

Strangely, it doesn’t end there, on that natural note of finality. With its steady eighth-note piano pulse and offbeat guitar skronks, aptly titled rocker “Nod Your Head” sounds like Sir Paul has been grooving on Spoon’s Gimme Fiction, but then it’s off to a stomping, “Kashmir”-like groove and squalling, dissonant guitars. As a coda, it’s on a par with jarring non sequiturs like “Her Majesty” from Abbey Road or the infamous run-out groove of Sgt. Pepper.

McCartney has dodged the question, but “memory almost full” happens to be an anagram for “for my soulmate LLM,” or Linda Louise McCartney, an almost unbearably poignant fact. It also may be the only real reference to the turmoil surrounding his divorce; “memory almost full” means you have to delete something you don’t need so you can keep functioning — or maybe it’s that he feels he’s reached the point in life where memories are no longer created, only reviewed.

What’s coming around the bend? What’s it going to be like when it gets here? We look to friends and loved ones for clues, but we also look to artists. Countless others have reflected on life, loss and mortality since time immemorial, but Paul McCartney is on the cutting edge of exploring it on behalf of baby boomers (and the ensuing generation that perpetually gets caught in their massive slipstream), a group of people famously loathe to acknowledge their own middle age, much less senior citizenship. Memory Almost Full is not as deep as Dylan’s Time out of Mind, but it’s a hundred times as catchy. Even better, it follows an important rule: write about what you know. And what Paul McCartney knows now is something we’ll all find out for ourselves later, so pay heed.

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“Code Fun” by BLACK TIE REVIEW

No shirt or shoes required. Imagine the Ramones meets the Cars and you have Black Tie Review

Formed in 2003 by Pittsburgh natives and friends Anthony Badamo and Ian Glinka, Black Tie Revue had a variety of lineup changes (especially in the drumming department, where they saw no less than five different players before they issued their first EP), though the core lineup — singer/guitarist Badamo, bassist Matthew Hanzes, and guitarist John-Paul McCormick (who originally played keyboards); Glinka left in order to pursue a career with the national Democratic Party — did manage to remain the same. After the departure of Glinka in 2004, Jesse Ley joined Black Tie Revue on keyboards (prompting McCormick’s move) and the band (at this point with drummer Jackie Robin), who, with their mixture of Ramonesy chord structure and Cars- and Big Star-inspired melodies, had been creating a buzz for themselves in their native city, decided to self-release their three-song EP Introducing in early 2005. This was enough to get them on the docket for the SXSW Festival in Austin, despite a lack of label backing. Though BTR had plans for a full-length release later that year, more drumming changes, plus a signing to Gearhead, delayed that, and it wasn’t until spring of 2007, with Paul Felty on the kit, that their debut album, Code Fun, which contained all the songs from their EP plus seven new ones, came out.

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“Sad Wings of Destiny” by JUDAS PRIEST

Rob Halford’s vocals soar and tear through the melodies and the twin guitar assault of K.K. Downing and Glenn Tipton cut like a buzzsaw. Arguably, “Sad Wings of Destiny” is the greatest Judas Priest album ever.

After an inauspicious start, Judas Priest took heavy metal to a new level of precision and darkness with Sad Wings of Destiny, an epic album that balanced technical musicianship with take-no-prisoners brutality. The record opened with the textural nuances and complex guitar work of “Victim of Changes” which immediately shattered the stereotype of metal musician as unsophisticated rube. Tracks like “The Ripper” and “Tyrant” proved they could also destroy like unsophisticated rubes. Only Iron Maiden would have equal influence on the next decade of metal.

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“Love Everybody” by THE PRESIDENTS OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

TPUSA is back and kicking it in the new millenium with more of their brand of stripped down, quirky and memorable rock.

Is Lump fast asleep, or rocking out with the band? The year: 1995. Mauled by the grunge animal, the nation embraces a different sound from Seattle — a new leadership — one with eight steel strings to its name and a clutch of songs about kitties, peaches, and lingering last in line for brains. The Presidents of the United States of America hit Mach 2 with their wry punkish platform, and rode it all the way to platinum before quietly disappearing. While the band’s sound had fit perfectly into the screwy ’90s, it was a novelty memory by the 21st century. Which is too bad, because 2000’s under-the-radar LP Freaked Out and Small was pretty damn good, and 2004’s Love Everybody is even better. A little older and rocking the family life, two-string “basitarist” Chris Ballew, guitarist Dave Dederer, and drummer Jason Finn have focused the beam of their wit laser on their tightest melodies yet. The sound’s as stripped down as it ever was — dry punk-derived chording with peppy basslines and consistently propulsive drumming. But the new songs’ chorus harmonies are more consistently inviting, and the occasional keyboard flourish keeps things interesting. The Presidents have also settled into a sort of sardonic humanism. They still write songs about animal eyes in the gooey darkness (”Munky River”). But “Zero Friction” considers a drum machine as a metaphor for the meaning of life, and “Poke and Destroy” celebrates little boys’ universal need to break stuff. “You gotta love everybody,” the opening title track directs, “and make ‘em feel good about themselves.” “Some Postman” is the perfect Presidents song, with its simply effective mix of acoustic and electric guitars and that energetic chorus. But it’s also a love song, its quirkiness fueled into clever lyrics about a long-distance relationship. Other Love Everybody highlights include the ruckus-raising “Clean Machine” (dig that fuzzy tone), the almost Spoon-sounding “Vestina,” and “Shreds of Boa,” which harks back to their 1995 style, but is just a stronger song all around. Love Everybody is an enjoyable and welcome return for the Presidents of the United States. As it turns out, the peaches are even sweeter on the other side.

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“Body of Song” by BOB MOULD

Former Hüsker Dü frontman, Mould returns to rock with a strong collection of emotionally charged songs.

In 1998, after the release of his album The Last Dog and Pony Show, Bob Mould announced he was hanging up his electric guitar and exploring other musical avenues outside of rock & roll. More than a few fans expressed some trepidation about Mould’s career choice, and that buzz became a roar after Mould released Modulate in 2002, which found him diving head first into electronic music. At least in America, the vast majority of rock fans have not been able to come to terms with the rise of electronica, and regardless of the album’s virtues or flaws, few listeners were willing to look past the hard, kinetic surfaces of the music and give the songs a fair hearing. It would appear this prejudice did not escape Mould’s notice, as 2005’s Body of Song was widely hyped as Mould’s return to rock, complete with electric guitars and a live rhythm section. But a spin of the album suggests the album isn’t so much a step back to the sound he pioneered in Hüsker Dü and Sugar as an attempt to have things both ways. (The fact that Mould spins regularly at a dance club in Washington, D.C., suggests he hasn’t lost interest in electronic music as a creative form.) Many of the cuts on Body of Song sound as if Mould is still thinking club music, but is filtering it through the framework of a three-piece rock band; “(Shine Your) Light Love Hope,” “Always Tomorrow,” and “I Am Vision, I Am Sound” are dominated by echoed textures, lockstep rhythms, and vocoder-processed vocals that wouldn’t be out of place on a house track, but with a live drummer (Brendan Canty from Fugazi on most tracks, who is predictably excellent) and Mould adding a layer of guitar over the top. And while Mould frequently bellows his lyrics with an approximation of the fury of his best-known work, most of the songs on Body of Song deal with deeply problematic relationships and on paper speak more of sorrow, confusion, and misplaced hope than the rage suggested by the bitter wailing he uses to bring them across. Body of Song ultimately feels more like an attempt by Mould to please both his audience and himself than a coherent and confident effort; while it’s hardly a failure, it lacks the courage of the admittedly flawed Modulate while falling short of the power of his masterpieces with Sugar and Hüsker Dü, existing in a strange middle ground that doesn’t do this talented artist many favors, though there’s enough emotional resonance in quieter tunes such as “High Fidelity” and “Gauze of Friendship” to remind you he still has plenty to offer when he knows where he’s going.

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“The Donnas Turn 21″ by THE DONNAS

Young, hot, loud and awesome. The Donnas are definitely the Ramones meet the Runaways.

Aspiring to nothing more than a good old-fashioned rock & roll party, the Donnas won a cult following and considerable media attention in the late ’90s after scoring a record deal right out of high school. Early on, they were invariably described as “the Ramones meet the Runaways,” with a definite emphasis on the former (they’d even adopted identical first names as a tribute). But their bratty high-school-delinquent image was clearly indebted to the latter, as their songs concerned themselves mostly with boys, booze, drugs, and hated classmates. As the Donnas grew up and polished their technical abilities, their music evolved into a distinctly female take on cock-rock metal, drawing more from AC/DC, Kiss, and Mötley Crüe than from punk. Some critics praised their cheerfully crude adoption of male sexual bravado; others complained that the band’s music never transcended its vintage influences, and remained suspicious that their naughty-girl packaging was a bigger part of their appeal. The Donnas were originally formed in May 1993, when all four members (all born in 1979) were still in the eighth grade together in Palo Alto, CA. Calling themselves Ragady Anne at first, they played covers of groups like R.E.M., L7, the Muffs, and Shonen Knife, and entered a junior-high battle of the bands just one month after forming. During high school, they kept practicing virtually every afternoon, and soon moved into riot grrrl territory with inspiration from bands like Bikini Kill and Bratmobile (though it was more musical than political). In early 1995, Ragady Anne released a 7″ EP on the local Radio Trash label, but soon changed their name to the Electrocutes and adopted a trashy jailbait image and a loud-fast-rules aesthetic. They gigged around the Bay Area that year and were spotted by Darin Raffaelli, a onetime member of trash-punkers Supercharger and head of the small Radio X label. Raffaelli had written a cache of Ramones-style songs for a hypothetical girl band, and approached the Electrocutes about recording them. Deciding that the songs didn’t fit the Electrocutes’ metal-queen style, the girls created Ramones-worshipping alter egos known as the Donnas, even going so far as to mock them in Electrocutes interviews as though they were different people. Thus, vocalist Brett Anderson, guitarist Allison Robertson, bassist Maya Ford, and drummer Torry Castellano became Donna A., Donna R., Donna F., and Donna C. Before 1995 was out, they played their first gig as the Donnas, and released their first single under that name on Radio X. Two more followed in 1996, the last one on Raffaelli’s new imprint, Super*teem. Meanwhile, they hadn’t yet abandoned their identity as the Electrocutes, and in fact recorded an album called Steal Yer Lunch Money during 1996; however, it wasn’t released until three years later, when Sympathy for the Record Industry acquired the rights in the wake of the Donnas’ eventual success. In 1997, the Donnas recorded a self-titled debut album for Super*teem, using songs ghostwritten by Raffaelli. Critics charged that Raffaelli was acting as the band’s Svengali, likening their relationship to that of Kim Fowley and the Runaways; both sides vehemently denied that was the case, and eventually severed their professional relationship to avoid fueling more speculation. Following the release of The Donnas, the group took a week off from its senior year of high school to tour Japan. After graduation, they postponed plans for college and accepted an offer to sign with Bay Area indie Lookout, the original home of Green Day. Their label debut, American Teenage Rock ‘n’ Roll Machine, was released in early 1998, and did feature some uncredited songwriting input from Raffaelli. The Donnas quickly became underground punk favorites, and even landed some attention from mainstream media like MTV. The Donnas’ third album, Get Skintight, appeared in 1999 and marked the first time the band composed its material with no outside assistance. A distinct hard rock influence began to creep into their compositions, underlined by their cover of Mötley Crüe’s “Too Fast for Love”; they even opened a show for Cinderella. That year, they also appeared in the teen comedies Jawbreaker and Drive Me Crazy, the latter as the Electrocutes. In early 2001, the band issued The Donnas Turn 21, which continued their move away from punk and toward the hard rock mainstream of 15-20 years previous (this time the cover was Judas Priest’s “Living After Midnight”). The album received some of their weakest reviews to date, generally from critics who felt that their party-hardy subject matter was starting to feel forced. Nonetheless, the Donnas caught the attention of major label Atlantic, who signed them up in late 2001. Launched with a new wave of publicity, the Donnas’ label debut, Spend the Night, arrived in 2002 and became their first album to break into the Top 100 of the pop charts. It also earned them their biggest radio hit to date in the single “Take It Off,” whose video also got some MTV airplay. In the summer of 2003, the Donnas played the main stage on the revived Lollapalooza tour. That September, after a full year and a half of touring and promoting, the girls took a break to rest up. When the foursome reunited in 2004, they made a conscious decision to shake the Ramones comparisons by making a record that drew from their various other influences. They entered the studio with Butch Walker (Avril Lavigne, Injected) and created the highly polished and semi-poppy Gold Medal album, released in October that year. The following album found the group embracing their hair metal influences, resulting in a record heavier than their last, but cleaner than their early punk efforts. With the help of producer Jay Ruston (the Polyphonic Spree, Meat Loaf), they released Bitchin’ on their own independent label, Purple Feather, in September 2007.

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“The Day I Turned to Glass” by HONEYCUT

Imagine Squeeze produced by Trent Reznor and Timbaland and you have just the beginning of what this album brings to the table.

Only occasionally do you find a group or album that manages to incorporate diverse influences into a unique sound and still remain absolutely accessible, be it to the casual radio listener or the die-hard record collector. Honeycut is such a group, and their debut, The Day I Turned to Glass, is one such album. Comprised of by-now fixtures in the Bay Area music scene Bart Davenport, Tony Sevener (who, though he uses both live and programmed drums on the record, plays — as in, taps out each snare hit, each cymbal crash — the MPC during shows), and Hervé Salters (whose keyboard work is found on many Quannum releases), the band weaves its way through soul, funk, rock, bossa nova, and electronica without ever stopping firmly on one, instead creating something that’s very much their own. Salters’ key grooves are biting but warm, moving from hard-edged riffs to lush chords, while Davenport’s vocals stay clean and smooth the entire time, which isn’t to say he’s lacking in versatility. He reaches easily into a falsetto in “Silky” and “Tough Kid” but stays lower in songs like the fantastically sinister yet somehow very bright and fun “Shadows” and “The Day I Turned to Glass.” It is, in fact, the darker, faster tracks on which Honeycut truly excel, where the talents of the three members come together most effectively and excitingly. Spooky chords and a key vamp haunt the title track as Davenport croons, “So what if you send me a bill/Don’t mean I’m gonna pay/You could send me a piano/Don’t mean I’m gonna play,” with confidence and swagger, both of which continue throughout the entire album. “Baby I’m so glad that your mama gave birth to you,” he sings in “Crowded Avenue,” doing his best Prince imitation, then switching to purposeful didacticism for the jazzy bittersweet closer, “Fallen to Greed.” Salters mixes live horns and strings into his keys, the whole record a fusion of near contrasts, like the name of the band itself, giving Honeycut an almost unclassifiable vibe about them that makes them entertaining and danceable while retaining their musical integrity. The Day I Turned to Glass is the kind of record that’s good for almost any situation; it’s quick but controlled, welcoming but with a mysterious edge, and, most importantly, always really funky, which makes for something pretty great, and very, very fun.

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“Go” by VERTICAL HORIZON

Like a lot of people I made the mistake of thinking VH was a Christian rock band. Regardless of what others may think the band states that their big hit “Everything You Want” is not about Jesus. LOL.

In 1999, Vertical Horizon didn’t have much with which to follow its breakthrough single, “Everything You Want.” And yet the song’s percolating groove provided enough sustenance for listeners led astray by Secret Samadhi, Live’s pompous follow-up to Throwing Copper. Now, Vertical has returned with Go, an album in which “When You Cry” stands in for “Everything You Want” and introduces the album’s catch phrase psychotherapy, with Matthew Scannell singing “I can’t wait until you let me down.” “I’m Still Here” seems to cross the band’s 1999 hit with Michelle Branch’s “Everywhere,” which was produced by Go helmer John Shanks. “Echo” is at once the album’s hookiest and most opaque moment, applying the familiar acoustic/electric, quiet-loud formula. “I don’t want to be just another echo,” Scannell sings. [This version of the album includes the bonus track “Better When You’re Not There.”]

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“Black Licorice” by CONVOY

Alt-Country is not just some kind of keyboard command in Nashville, it’s a style of rock made famous by bands like the Stones and carried on by the boys of Convoy.

If the Jayhawks had taken less influence from the Byrds and more influence from the Beach Boys, they’d probably sound a lot like Convoy. Their debut release for Warner Bros., Black Licorice, is essentially a revved-up version of their earlier collection of demos (1999’s Pineapple Recording Sessions) with the addition of several new tracks. The studio re-recordings are crisper and have more punch than the earlier versions, and, for the most part, are more successful. The anthemic “Weekends” launches off the runway like a pop 747, while the earthy “Is He in Your Heart Tonight” evokes the intimate spirit of Gram Parsons. Unfortunately, either the band or the label saw fit to revamp some of their tracks, transforming the tender “Caught Up in You” and the sunny “California Girls” into stop-start, radio friendly alternative rock clones, sounding more like Sugar Ray than the warm country-influenced rock that pervades the rest of the album. Luckily, the highlights outweigh the flaws, including the chunky “Gone So Quick Tomorrow” which jumpstarts the album, and the Stonesy “Loosen it Up” which could’ve been ripped from the Exile on Main Street sessions. Since their earlier release was a collection of demos, Black Licorice holds together better as an album, but in some cases the refreshing looseness of the Pineapple Recording Sessions has been stripped away, to the detriment of the songs themselves.

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“Andy Pratt” by ANDY PRATT

A look inside an artist’s mind shortly before a nervous breakdown forced him out of music.

Andy Pratt’s self-titled album is a very quirky, idiosyncratic album that definitely establishes Pratt as a major force in the singer-songwriter arena. He also sounds very depressed as many of the song titles indicate (e.g. “Inside Me Wants Out,” “So Fine, (It’s Frightening)”). However, this doesn’t diminish the album’s power or the particular style that is very much Pratt’s own. The highlight of the album is the near-hit “Avenging Annie.” Sung mostly in Pratt’s falsetto voice, it is a tale of a mythical heroine told from the woman’s point of view. The fast piano technique is impressive, as are some other production touches (such as the cat sounds and descending guitar line). The song deserves its classic status hands down. The next number, “Inside Me Wants Out,” is in the running as one of the most dismal songs ever recorded, and could seriously be used as a study tool for a psychology class — Sigmund Freud would have a field day with it. It also has a strong hook, and is another top-notch cut on the album. There is a strong jazz element in several of the songs, particularly “Sittin’ Down In The Twilight,” with its almost funky trombone solo. Pratt’s falsetto voice is also a strongly felt presence, though its sometimes shrill quality may not be to the liking of all. Though this album is not nearly as polished as Pratt’s “Resolution,” and has a very different, more home-made feel, it is nearly as powerful.

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“Paleophonic” by THE RUBINOOS

Produced by the late, great Kevin Gilbert, Paleophonic shines like a jewel in the pantheon of indie rock.

The first real Rubinoos recordings in over ten years, this delicious platter picks up where their classic recordings left off. With all original members present and accounted for (Jon Rubin on vocals and guitar, Tommy Dunbar on guitar and vocals, Donn Spindt on drums and vocals, and Al Chan, who joined in 1980, on bass and vocals), this is pure pop for all people. More Raspberries than Beatles, the Rubinoos play music from the heart filled with memorable hooks, glorious harmonies and honest sincerity. Although many years passed between the last time that these four recorded together, it seems that time stood still between those sessions. Immaculately produced by the late Kevin Gilbert, TV Dunbar comes up with another fine batch of songs that will melt your heart when Jon Rubin wraps his voice around ‘em. It’s great to hear the magic again.

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“Pasadena” by OZMA

L.A.’s Ozma is one of those bands you’ll hear and wonder why they aren’t humongous.

Many fans of southern California alt-rockers Ozma were disappointed by the band’s last album, considering Spending Time on the Borderline a weak-willed attempt to break into the new wave revival. Coming nearly four years and one breakup and re-formation later, Pasadena reverts to the straightforward indie pop of Ozma’s earlier material; it even features a re-recording of one of the previous album’s better songs, “Eponine,” in apparent atonement. These 11 songs are as crisp and bouncy as the best material on Rock and Roll Part Three, with a newfound lyrical maturity and a more wide-screen sound that better incorporates the synthesizer parts that started to overwhelm the rest of the band on Spending Time on the Borderline. (See “Incarnation Blues.”) The album’s true highlight is the simply outstanding “Heartache Vs. Heartbreak,” a dramatic, Electric Light Orchestra-influenced duet between lead singer Daniel Brummel and guest star Rachel Haden that sounds like a great lost New Pornographers single; if she’ll have them, Ozma should consider asking Haden to join the band permanently. Surprisingly considering the indifference towards their last album, Ozma have returned to active duty with perhaps the strongest work of their careers.

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“So You’ve Ruined Your Life” by GET SET GO

No punches pulled lyrics and vocals by lead singer Mike TV makes this an incredible hook-driven album.

Get Set Go specialize in a style that is equal parts Weezer (their love of snappy guitar-driven pop) and the Violent Femmes (their quirky lyrics), as evidenced by their 2003 full-length debut, So You’ve Ruined Your Life. The group is essentially singer, guitarist, and songwriter Mike TV, who is joined by a revolving cast on-stage and in the studio — usually musicians who are part of their local Highland Park, CA, scene. While they’ve been known to also play largely acoustic-based tunes, So You’ve Ruined Your Life focuses on primarily melodic rock. Some may be quick to lump Get Set Go in with influx of pop-punk bands of the late ’90s/early 21st century, there’s certainly something more “left of center” about this lot, as evidenced by such song titles as “Jesus Christ Wore Leather,” as well as such up-tempo standouts as “Twenty One,” “One with the Numbers,” and “VKFD (The Fire Truck Song).” While the majority of the album is an adrenaline rush, the group surprisingly opts to close the album on a mellow note, with “What I Love About You” (which includes some very interesting lyrics) and “Wait” (no, not a cover of the White Lion song of the same name). Get Set Go prove that not all pop-punk has to sound like Good Charlotte.

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“Let it Bleed” by THE ROLLING STONES

Arguably one of the greatest rock albums ever, it’s now available on eMusic! Get it free with your trial membership!

On the very Sunday morning I sit down to write this review, there is on the cover of Parade, the inoffensive family supplement (”yummy no-guilt desserts”) that comes with the local paper, a familiar face grinning out at me from the cover: How Mick Jagger Still Gets What He Wants. Nearly 40 years after the Stones told us that we get what we need, it seems we still want and need them, or vice versa, and Let It Bleed is the reason why.

The album is one of a quartet of late ’60s and early ’70s Stones albums that have since passed into discographic legend, Beggar’s Banquet through Exile On Main Street, ushering in that moment when the Stones were not only a band, but a cultural touchstone, a call-to-arms and a repository for our collective sense of sin and retribution: “We all need someone we can bleed on,” Mick sings in the title cut, and the echoing need from “You Can’t Always Get…”, so coupled with want and desire and the toll exacted — in addiction, in death by misadventure, in riot and ruin and perhaps absolution — was the Stones’ bargain with the Devil.

Let It Bleed, released as 1969 shuddered the ’60s to a close, is the one that made it all possible, bridging the gap between the Brian Jones years (Jones himself would be found at the bottom of his swimming pool in July of 1969, only two months after leaving the Stones) and all that would come after. It was a critical juncture for many ’60s bands — even a primal force like the Beatles would not survive the decade; but the Stones, renewing their vows with the addition of guitarist Mick Taylor, who could be counted on to remain self-effacing, seemed to find a new resolve, and produced some of their best-remembered standards. They would always celebrate the blues — “Love in Vain” is one of the most affecting performances of those who would follow in the passway of Robert Johnson — but “Gimme Shelter” with its sense of impending maelstrom, and “Midnight Rambler” with its Hyde to Jagger’s Jekyll (and Richards’ Hekyll) and Bryon Berline’s sawing fiddle on “Country Honk” and Keith’s croaking lead vocal debut with “You Got the Silver” and Mick’s self-bemused “Monkey Man” and the holler-along “Live With Me…” Every cut a classic.

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“Octane” by SPOCK’S BEARD

Huge vocal harmonies and evocative themes make this a great find for prog rock fans.

Spock’s Beard return to the music stores with their first record since Light [Bonus Tracks] in June, 2004. It’s an odd package. There are two discs here; the first is the album Octane. The first seven tracks are a conceptual suite entitled “A Flash Before My Eyes,” based on a story by John Boegehold. It’s about the experiences of a man in the process of experiencing a car wreck as it happens and watching his life flash before him as it passes out of him. He recalls everything from his parents’ separation on Christmas, high-school football games and meeting his wife and creating a life with her. It all ends at the end of the flash. The overture, “Prelude to the Past,” is all big prog symphonic rock Former frontman and guitarist Neal Morse’s gigantic presence is still missed, but the ambition here is sweeping. Nonetheless, drummer and frontman Nick D’Virgilio is putting forth the effort and he has a compelling presence as a singer, but his lyrics aren’t yet there, they still tell more than show. The contrast between Boegehold’s narrative passages and the song lyrics that illustrate them is harsh. The music, while more “accessible” than in the past and harder in its rock-ist intentions, still has plenty of flair and verve though one does miss the wonderfully labyrinthine passages and surprises of yore. The remainder of disc one and disc two is a collection of “other” songs, unrelated to the suite. Of these, the instrumental “NWC” and “Watching the Tide” work best. There is also a promotional video at the end of the second disc that offers a rather irreverent view of the making of Octane.

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“Age, Occupation” by ARI SHINE

A great indie rock EP that definitely shines. “Crank it Out” is outstanding.

Indie rock singer/songwriter Ari Shine made his recorded debut with the EP Age/Occupation in 2006. After gaining critical acclaim from the likes of Time Out and The Village Voice, he embarked on a touring schedule that helped him develop a fan base in both the United States and abroad. In addition to winning a John Lennon Songwriting Contest award for co-writing the Gaby Moreno tune “Escondidos,” Shine’s work has also been featured in Veronica Mars, Kyle XY, Viva La Bam, and Dance Life. His debut album, A Force of One, was released on Canada’s Bongo Beat Records in July 2007.

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“Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga” by SPOON

David Lynch, Phil Spector, Billy Joel walk into a bar…

To call Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga one of the year’s two or three best rock albums is to overstate how much it sounds like a rock album. There’s no mistaking its imperturbable swagger and seething refrains for anything else — Spoon still knows how to write a song that could fit into each of rock’s past five decades without tipping toward any one in particular. But even songs on Ga Ga that traffic in guitars don’t sound like they were written with guitars in mind. Spoon sounds more interested now in drums and empty space, both of which sparkle and boom in ways that make singer Britt Daniel sound positively electrified to be in their presence.

The sparse and experimental lean of Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga places it closer to the group’s 2002 breakthrough Kill the Moonlight than its bash-minded follow-up Gimme Fiction. “Don’t Make Me a Target” opens on a note of resignation and rage, with portentous guitar and piano that build toward a sort of atonal rockabilly jam about two minutes in. From there, though, the album takes on an air of mystery with “The Ghost of You Lingers,” a gorgeous and terrifying ballad in which Daniel’s distended voice duels with blasts of static and more reverb than could ever sound earthly. The jarring tonal shift into “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb” proves perverse but, as goes for most of Spoon’s moves at this point, not overly pleased with itself: After bells and slappy drums enter like Phil Spector as summoned by David Lynch, the buoyant tune takes over and lodges into that part of your brain where pleasurable pop hooks go and stay mum.

What sticks most on Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga is the grain and range of Daniel’s voice, which must have been miked a dozen different ways to capture his timbral moods in tracks as disparate as “Don’t You Evah” (Spoon’s most funky song yet, by a good measure) and “The Underdog” (Spoon’s most Billy Joel-like song yet, to the same degree). Nothing Daniel does has ever sounded labored, but Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga finds him and his band with a newly refined balance between craft and restraint.

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“Over and Over” by THE 88

No foolin’, this aptly named record by Hollywood’s The 88 will make you listen over and over and over…

L.A. power pop/rock never dies, it seems; it just slightly transmogrifies. So if the line of descent from Love to the Knack to Jellyfish to the 88 is more indirect and generalized than specific, the 88 are nonetheless heirs to a tradition, one that the band’s sophomore album does little to disrupt. Over and Over starts off with a clipped riff followed by Keith Slettedahl’s creamy/dreamy (and slight ghost of Marc Bolan) vocals, and by the time the band kicks in fully on “Hide Another Mistake,” the band’s many core strengths and unavoidable weakness — simply put, the 88 bring terribly little new to the table — are clear. Song for song, Over and Over is the bubblegum chewed because it’s so familiar rather than because it’s strikingly new: post-Beatles melodies here, glam swagger there, piano-led jauntiness courtesy of Adam Merrin everywhere (the unspoken roots of the band might actually be early Squeeze). That said, the members of the 88 are absolutely crackerjack at what they do, whether it’s the big beat stomp and wailed vocal break on “All ‘Cause of You” or the steady build in intensity of “Battle Scar,” each verse and chorus seeming more powerful than the previous. Ethan Allen’s production and engineering might just be the secret weapon throughout — he makes the rhythm section of Carlos Torres and Mark Vasapolli sound massive while never drowning out Merrin’s piano at the same time. The resultant balance of sound (and volume) makes for an immediately enjoyable listen, while the occasional curve balls add just enough variety as well — there are the unexpected percussion breaks on “Nobody Cares”; the near-epic wallop and slow, measured stomp of “Bowls”; the tender acoustic guitar and vocals of “You Belong to Me.” Over and Over won’t surprise anyone — but it entertains start to finish, flat out.

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“Alpacas Orgling” by L.E.O.

You will be stunned by both the production and songwriting on this album. One of my favorite records in a long time.

Alpacas Orgling is the sort of record that drives people who dislike the contemporary power pop underground scene absolutely out of their heads with rage. If those three letters look familiar, that’s entirely by design: LEO is an unabashed re-creation of the sound of vintage late-’70s Electric Light Orchestra on an indie rock budget. The album’s mastermind is Boston-based power popper Bleu McAuley, with key contributions from Mike Viola (formerly of the Candy Butchers), Papas Fritas’ Tony Goddess, Andy Sturmer of Jellyfish and members of Hanson, Chicago (!!) and Self. The ELO lifts are subtle but unmistakable, with direct nods to tunes like “Telephone Line” and “Mr. Blue Sky” mixed in with bits that cleverly nod to Jeff Lynne’s creamy pure pop goodness without actively ripping him off. It could possibly be the most clever album-length evocation of an established band’s sound since the Rutles. “But that’s all it is, right?” sneer the non-believers. “It’s nothing but a baldfaced ripoff of the sainted Jeff Lynne, and with a silly album title besides!” Well, there’s little defending the goofy album title other than the fact that it’s fun to say, but here’s the thing: Alpacas Orgling knocks McAuley’s polite, pedestrian solo albums into a cocked hat. In fact, with the possible exception of Papas Fritas’ unjustly overlooked second album, Helioself, a lost indie pop treasure of the late ’90s, Alpacas Orgling is the single best album any of its major participants have ever taken part in. And yes, that includes the hugely overrated Jellyfish, a band much more interesting in concept than in practice. Given the self-limiting task of channeling their own pop sensibilities through those of an earlier generation of craftsmen causes all concerned to step up their game: the songs are gorgeously arranged, with instantly memorable melodies and lyrics generally far less pretentious than the sort of claptrap Jeff Lynne himself often came up with. Of course, the most logical next step is for McAuley, Viola and company to take the lessons learned from this project back to their primary careers, but as long as one is clear on the album’s artistic intentions and is willing to approach this kind of wholesale imitation on its own playful level, this is an album any true lover of ’70s AM radio pop fluff should treasure.

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“B-Sides and Rarities” by CAKE

Their cover of Sabbath’s “War Pigs” is worth the price of admission alone.

It’s just like Cake to eschew the typical compilation route, instead opting for a collection of “b-sides of rarities.” The group has consistently gone against the grain of popular opinion and won each and every time throughout their career. Here, the group tackles a number of covers that would seem to be impossible for one band to perform (Barry White’s “Never, Never Gonna Give You Up,” Buck Owens’ “Excuse Me, I Think I’ve Got a Heartache,” Frank Sinatra’s “Strangers in the Night”?!?!?) and pull them off without a hitch. It’s a testament to their versatility — and their resilience in the face of trends that have come and gone many times over — that Cake is still standing. And excelling.

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“You Are All Diseased” by GEORGE CARLIN

You can find great comedy on eMusic and Carlin’s masterful observance of life’s little annoyances is entertainingly brilliant.

As the years progress, George Carlin only gets angrier — and, considering that the world is just getting more ridiculous, that may be the only response. Fortunately, his anger keeps him sharp, and that’s why he’s still fascinating and funny in 1999, when most of his peers have dried up. The key to his success is that he doesn’t continue to recycle his routines — he writes new material which illustrates that he’s not just a comedian, he’s a commentator. He tackles a number of subjects on You Are All Diseased, from familiar items like “Airport Security” to the silly cigar boom of the late ’90s, television, religion, and “American Bullshit.” Some of this is dead-on and some of it suffers from a delivery that is a bit too reminiscent of past routines, but it’s all entertaining and the best of it ranks with the best of his past work. Not many comedians could claim that their latter-day work is as good as the stuff that made their name, and that’s a strong testament to Carlin’s skills, talent and wit.

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“Jennie Bomb” by SAHARA HOTNIGHTS

Don’t listen to this album in the car unless you’re ready to get a speeding ticket. Driving rock from cool chicks. Hotnights, indeed!

Swedish rock vamps Sahara Hotnights spent their teenage years discovering music and making a band. They obviously paid close attention to the raw form of those who came before: Chrissie Hynde, Joan Jett, and PJ Harvey. Sisters Jennie (guitar) and Johanna Asplund (bass), Josephine Forsman (drums), and Maria Andersson (vocals/guitar) eventually derived a ’70s-inspired, guitar-driven sound by the time they reached their twenties. They arrived in America in fall 2002 to release Jennie Bomb, and the timing was perfect. Pop kids were mad for the likes of the White Stripes, the Hives, and the Vines, but Sahara Hotnights gave the new millennium rock push a bit more swagger. Jennie Bomb is a punk-glam mix and it’s a heavy disposition for such a young band, but equally impressive. There’s a lot of attitude as well, but in good measure. Album opener “Alright Alright” kicks things off with snarling guitars and quick-stepped drumming. Andersson is a vocal vixen delivering a tough impression with tough lyrics. “On Top of Your World” bounces with punk-styled pop, whereas “Fall Into Line” highlights Jennie Bomb’s undeniable elasticity. It’s infectiously energetic and free of modern rock’s catchy radio hit. Sahara Hotnights composed an entire album of sophisticated rock songs and it’s a solid effort, musically and vocally. They’re certainly giving the boys a run for their money, too.

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“Severed” by MUNK

Dark, brooding and dangerous. This album has hooks that will sink deep into your flesh and make you keep hitting the repeat button.

As the walls of the traditional record industry crumble down and artists like Radiohead, Nine Inch Nails and Madonna strike out to peddle their wares directly to the consumer, is there any hope for an up-and-coming independent artist to reach the status of “international superstar”? While the major label behemoth slowly lumbers to stop the bleed, just beneath the shallow surface of popular consciousness, New Media is in rapid, exponential growth, poised to surpass the business model of the old guard.

After the release of his beats driven debut, 2001’s ANIME SWEETHEART and the confessional, hard rock follow-up 2003’s SEVERED, [munk] was critically lauded in traditional press, regional major market radio and national college radio. The Boston Globe wrote, “[munk] crafts his music with intelligence and panache. Can superstar status be far behind?” He was invited by the program director at WFNX, Boston to perform alongside signed touring artists in the Phoenix Best Music Poll, was the listener voted feature artist on WBCN’s Buzzcut for two weeks and had the phone lines lit for a solid hour at WAAF after an interview and debut of tracks from SEVERED. Two songs from SEVERED received honors in the 11th Annual Billboard World Song Contest, noted as “demonstrations of the talent and dedication it takes to write a hit song” by Billboard Contest Director David Kindred. [munk] also earned Top 30 airplay on over 100 college radio stations around the country.

Make sure you check out “Blow Away” (the closing titles theme song to “Number One with a Bullet”)

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“Mouthful of Love” by YOUNG HEART ATTACK

Rock yer face off, balls-to-the wall, high octane tunes with great hooks. Drop this into gear and floor it!

It’s appropriate that Young Heart Attack hail from Austin, as their XL debut feels like a love letter to the kids in Dazed and Confused, Richard Linklater’s meditation on teenage kicks in 1970s Texas. Mouthful of Love is a mulletheaded rush of the Who, Led Zeppelin, and the Sweet’s “Fox on the Run” — it’s nappy, not slow, and likely narcotics-fueled. Daltrey-do’d vocalist/guitarist Chris Hodge shares the mike with slender Jennifer Stephens. It’s a weird mix, because Hodge is one of those guys who doesn’t so much sing as scream (see Brian Johnson), and Stephens wails with the high-pitched glee of a singer who can sing and who knows it. But the two make it work, painfully so — they demand Mouthful of Love be played through cabinet speakers, because that’s the only way their collective yowling and the din of two guitars won’t destroy the ears. In typical ’70s revivalist fashion, the introductory title track spends nearly a minute rocking before the vocalists come in, making their mark on the line “Boots are gonna knock now.” “Starlite” is a completely un-ironic love anthem (”Because you wear my jacket girl!”), a triumphant big block stomp decorated with a gorgeous chorus break from Stephens, and “Tommy Shots”‘ ridiculous thrill of crackling riff and flying spit foreshadows “Over and Over,” Young Heart Attack’s MC5 cover that builds an addition onto the phrase “over the top.” It’s all ascending “Do do do do do do do doo!” vocal squeals, Hodge’s clenched-eyelids lead, and caterwauling electric guitar baited by pounding snare. But as giddy as all of this is, YHA’s enthusiasm can work against them. Their songs contain so many relentlessly exciting chunks, it can be difficult for the band to build a dynamic beyond Rock! You! Right! Now! Ahhrrggh! Still, the loopy intro and subsequent Stones vibe of “(Take Me Back) Mary Jane” offer some levity, and make the double-time stumble of “Sick of Doing Time” even more satisfying. By the time closer “Misty Rowe” rolls around, you’re back to reveling in throbbing summer-night nostalgia. Whose summer nights? Who cares? A case of Shiner, loud guitars, and hot American metal through the ass of your jeans — that’s a Mouthful of Love, and it’s about to eat you for dinner.

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“Designs in Music” by BEN VAUGHN

Designs in Music is like the big hip movie score for the film of your life constantly playing before your eyes.

While rock fans know Ben Vaughn from the handful of witty but rockin’ albums he cut in the ’80s and ’90s with his band the Ben Vaughn Combo, since the mid-’90s Vaughn has been making his bread and butter working as a composer for film and television, hitting pay dirt with his music for the shows Third Rock from the Sun, Grounded for Life and That 70s Show. For his first album since 1997, Vaughn has taken his inspiration from his current day job by composing and conducting 12 pieces for movies that exist only in his head. Recorded with a 16-piece studio band (complete with horns, strings, and a whistler), Designs in Music is a collection of instrumentals that harkens back to the era when film scores had personality and added atmosphere to a film rather than simply adding more rumble to the Dolby Surround mix. Vaughn appears to be having some fun with this stuff, and the shadows of such sonic eccentrics as Esquivel and Joe Meek can be heard throughout the album, but Designs in Music doesn’t sound at all like a goof; there’s far too much skill on display for this to be a joke, and Vaughn and his collaborators certainly do right by their influences; the spy flick ambiance of “The Stalker Pt. II,” the western pastiche on “Smoketree Serenade,” the European intrigue of “The Big Parade,” and the uber-cheery “Avanti” wouldn’t sound out of place in any number of late-show epics from the ’60s, while the arrangements (by Vaughn and Ryan “Shmedly” Maynes) are superbly inventive (facing the rattley twang of the bass end of a clavinet against a banjo shouldn’t work, but somehow they make it happen). Designs in Music is smart and engaging fun that honors pop music history while making just a little of its own.

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“Death by Sexy” by EAGLES OF DEATH METAL

No subtlety about it, this is rollin-down-the-avenue-windows-down music made for cranking out loud.

A super-stööpid name, a slumming superstar and a living caricature of mustachioed machismo — hell, everything about Eagles of Death Metal’s 2004 debut screamed “one-off.” But through no-brainer riffs and punchy production (think the tinny, overblown speakers of a make-out van), their second album Death By Sexy is a far meatier sleazefest. Unlike the costumed cock-rock of the Darkness, Death By Sexy pays no allegiance to era or scene, allowing for honky-tonk womanizing, tube-snake boogying and a drop of cold gin to cohabitate in the same moist sweep. Lead falsetto Jesse “the Devil” Hughes is on the prowl (”I can be your daddy/Be your rock and rolla/You can be my sugar, be my cherry cola”), but he remains hosed down by the mecho-maniacal Devo-styled drumming of Queens of the Stone Age lead brah Josh Homme — check out “Poor Doggie,” which mixes T. Rex stomp with innuendo so deliciously unsubtle that AC/DC would cringe. Or cheer.

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“The Else” by THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS

This quirky dynamic duo serves up another awesome helping of alt-rock yummy goodness.

“There’s only two songs in me and I just wrote the third/ Don’t know where I got the inspiration or how I wrote the words/ Spent my whole life just digging up my music’s shallow grave/ For the two songs in me and the third one I just made.”

On their first album, using a forum more commonly exploited for unmitigated optimism and boundless hubris, They Might Be Giants turned the greatest fear of musicians — that creativity is a natural resource all too easily depleted — into a genial blast of self-defeating whimsy. But more than a thousand compositions later, the two Johns show no sign of emptying the well of unpredictable originality that is their stock in trade. It’s kind of frightening, actually, that — quite apart from the Bob Pollard school of fragment-spewing melodorrheic shovelers — anyone has so many songs in them, and that so many of them are worth hearing. True, there was a time in this adult’s life when a combination of the slavish audience adulation and the unstoppable dada ingenuity of the Giants’ first flowering could induce witticism overload and sugary head pain, but if too much of a good thing is the strongest complaint one can mount against a gifted band, that’s no worse than (to borrow a title from The Else) an “Upside Down Frown.” And, as it turns out, time has been good to the Giants. They may not be aging at a pace found on any wall calendar, but the Giants of 2007 are definitely a little more mature and level-headed (but nowhere near stodgy or boring) than the Giants of the Reagan administration.

If The Else is not as eclectic or compelling a collection as 2004’s The Spine (the uber-prolific duo’s last “proper” album, which means overlooking a couple of kids’ records, a brilliant set of joke songs for Dunkin’ Donuts commercials, an insane project in which they wrote and performed a specific song for each venue they played on a tour and who knows what else), its 13 songs don’t skimp on melodic strength or lyrical imagination. A few of the ideas here are shockingly familiar (”Take Out the Trash” offers the same sort of dump-that-jerk suggestion as Fountains of Wayne’s “Leave the Biker”; “Withered Hope” is a skeletal lovelorn story), but the rest emerge reassuringly from the seats out past third base: “Bee of the Bird of the Moth” (with a horn line that threatens to quote Manfred Mann’s “Pretty Flamingo”), the sterling power-pop of “Feign Amnesia” and the grad-school vocabulary of “Contrecoup.” (Limerent? Look it up!). “The Mesopotamians,” which brings the album to a delightful conclusion, is the ingenious autobiography of a fictional (?) band.

“There’s only two songs in me and I just wrote the third…” That John Linnell and John Flansburgh haven’t written themselves up a tree, into a corner or simply out of ideas is a testament to just how wrong they were when they stopped counting at two. (Or three.) Where it all comes from, one can suppose, is The Else.

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“Shinola” by WEEN

A masterpiece of rock and roll weirdness that will grow on you like a fungus… the key word being “fun”.

Has there ever been a band weirder — album for album, song for song — than Ween? There might be a handful to consider for the sake of due diligence, but few groups could hold a weirdness candle to Shinola, Vol. 1, a collection of undated outtakes from Gene and Dean Ween’s vaults. The slapdash sweepstakes begin with “Tastes Good on th’ Bun,” which wraps jagged post-punk/goth riffs around a hissed vocal ode to hot dogs, dicks or both. That leads, naturally, into “Boys Club,” a hokey treehouse jam drafted over jazzy guitar chords, kiddie handclaps and glue-sniff harmonies. The next step would almost have to be… a slow and moody love song delivered with as much reverence as a love song could ever hope for.

Deliciously preposterous changes in tone and sound are typical of Ween, but Shinola ups the ante by doing away with the pretense of playing like a “proper album.” The songs sound like they could’ve been recorded at any point in the band’s career, and more than half stand among Ween’s best. “Gabrielle” is a monster hit from some secret unheard corner of ’70s rock. “Transitions” could light up an ’80s school dance (provided kids who would dig stepping on toes to lines like “Harry Truman is the holy son”). “The Rift” is at least as hypnotic and transporting as it is disarmingly funny. Only in the context of Ween could such songs sit alongside the dead-on Prince funk of “Monique the Freak” and the flute-strewn Jewish devotional “Israel.” The swerves make almost no sense by any conventional measure, which makes the odds-and-ends Shinola as good a Ween album as any.

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“Pictures of the Big Vacation” by MIKE ERRICO

Mike’s great songwriting and soulful voice will win you over and make you a fan.

Sounding like Dave Matthews crossed with the Wallflowers, Mike Errico delivers a flawed but promising debut with Pictures of the Big Vacation. Errrico’s roots may be in the contemporary folk underground, but the production has a big, glossy sound that’s ideal for adult alternative pop radio. Beneath that gloss, it’s possible to hear what made Errico a cult favorite on the East Coast. His songs are elastic, bending from verse to verse, occasionally stopping for a chorus. His voice is jazzy and fluid, stretching for unusual notes. His lyrics are often impressionistic and poetic, sometimes to his own detriment, since it feels as if he’s striving too hard for unpredictable juxtapositions. This would all sound a lot more immediate and captivating if the production was simpler, but it’s very smooth, as if Errico and his producer Susan Rogers were gunning for the more experimental portions of Matthews’ audience. And, at times the sound does work, particularly on the quieter moments of Pictures of the Big Vacation — but that only hammers home the point that Errico probably sounds better unadorned.

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“The Diamond” by THE SOUND OF URCHIN

Fresh-sounding Hard Rock that will really jump start your earbuds. I love this album.

New York’s the Sound of Urchin manage to borrow from rock’s recent past to create a diverse, energetic album called The Diamond that more often than not feels inspired and sounds unique. Produced by Fountains of Wayne’s own Adam Schlesinger, the disc gets off on the right note with “Police Helicopters Over Brooklyn,” an homage to hot asphalt that pulls elements of the Foo Fighters and Pavement into the approach. Blistering rockers like “The Jack-O-Lantern” — which features guest guitar by the band’s manager, Twisted Sister’s J.J. French — and the Mudhoney-esque fury of “White Dove” take joyous flight, while the peculiarly funny “There Are People in the Clouds” seems to be inspired by Ween. When the Sound of Urchin — singer/drummer Tomato 11, guitarists B. lll and Seahag, plus bassist Doo Doo Brown — head into the hook-laden alt-pop terrain perfected by the likes of Schlesinger’s band or, say, the Gigolo Aunts, they assert just how skilled they really are. The Sound of Urchin may be all over the map on The Diamond, but the band shines just the same.

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