RIYL: early Nine Inch Nails, Massive Attack, Portishead

This is one branch in the music tree that we didn’t see coming: adult contemporary trip-hop. X: The Human Condition, the brainchild of Michael Nova, is a giant multimedia experience. There is a film, which tells the story of two people driven to change the world through art. The soundtrack of that film sounds like the kind of thing Trent Reznor might assemble if he were feeling vulnerable. The songs slink, bloop and bleep along like the soundtrack for an alt-spa (we’re not sure if alt-spas actually exist, but they should), and possess an ache that Massive Attack’s last album lacked. It doesn’t always work: “Mr. Happy” with its falsetto chorus is more corny than heartfelt, and anyone willing to name a song “The Creature from the Blackened Room” better prepare for some sniggers, even if the music for the track isn’t half bad. When the album’s on, though, it’s on; “The Human Flood” is just begging to be used in a movie trailer, and “Tag You’re It” explores funkier territory. Nova’s not the best singer in the world, and X: The Human Condition will not rewrite the music history books, but for anyone looking to come down from an already chill party, this will do the trick. (Hypnotical Entertainment 2010)

X: The Human Condition MySpace page
Click to buy X: The Human Condition from Amazon

RIYL: KT Tunstall, Squirrel Nut Zippers, Liza Minnelli

Sometimes great singers try a bit too hard to prove that they’re great. April Smith is not one of those singers. The arrangements on her latest and most impressive album Songs for a Sinking Ship fit her sultry voice like a glove and her songwriting is both playful and intellectual. April Smith is clearly capable of controlling the whole circus when it comes to vocal acrobatics but possesses the restraint to allow each song to shine as bright as her ability.

After numerous listens, I’ve yet to find a track that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy. A standout track on Songs for a Sinking Ship is “Wow and Flutter” which combines semi-dark theatrics with a refrain that could have found a home on a Ratt record. Odd, I know, but it totally works. Additionally, the closer “Stop Wondering” is easily the most delightful “fuck you” to a former lover ever recorded.

Aside from her glowing talent behind the mic and the pen, she’s clearly figured out the business side of things as well. She used kickstarter.com and her ever-growing fan base (acquired from near constant touring over the past few years) to fund this release. We always hear stories of bands collecting cash online to fund their latest projects but many of those bands were once privileged enough to receive that initial “major label” push. April did it her way from the start and we can only hope that in the years to come she will be recognized as the fearless trailblazer that she is.

There are no gimmicks on Songs for a Sinking Ship. Only great writing and performing which is a very welcome change of pace from your typical release. You’re going to want to sing along with April Smith but you had better stretch out before attempting it or you will most certainly hurt yourself. (Little Roscoe 2010)

April Smith and The Great Picture Show | Official Website
Click to buy Songs for a Sinking Ship from Amazon

RIYL: The Silver Seas, Ben Folds, The Grays

We’ll say this for Ryan States: his story is a unique one. It’s not every day that a press release includes the words “The Eagles,” “Queen,” “gay music” and “recorded on a circus train” (he’s a touring musician for Ringling Brothers), but that sums up States and his debut, Strange Town, as well as anything. He tells tales of being pressured to “fit in” (ahem, stop being gay) and married men hitting on him, but juxtaposes this modern-day lyrical freedom with a sound from days gone by. (Think Jackson Browne crossed with the Grays.) Guitars jangle and chime (and occasionally shred), the piano hops like a New Orleans beer hall, and he even gives a song a good old fashioned sax solo, while States sings in a baritone not unlike Rufus Wainwright or the Silver Seas’ Daniel Tashian. He doesn’t knock every song out of the park, but the arrangements are solid, and on “I’ll Give You (What You Want),” he resurrects a chord sequence just before the chorus that will stir the soul of any radio listener from the late ’80s, gay or straight. Had States been around back when this kind of music was popular…well, the album probably never would have found a distributor (only dance acts were allowed to be gay back then), but if it had, Strange Town would easily have saved the lives of a couple thousand boys coming to terms with their feelings. We’re guessing States would take that over a gold record any day of the week. (Drooling Class Records 2010)

Ryan States MySpace page
Click to buy Strange Town from Amazon

RIYL: Everything But the Girl, Basia, Anita Baker

Sade’s been releasing babymaking music for so long that the kids who were conceived to the strains of their first single, “Your Love Is King,” are old enough to have children of their own. You’d think they’d have run out of ideas by now – or, at the very least, run out of people willing to purchase their albums – but Sade’s last release, 2000’s Lovers Rock, actually sold more than its predecessor, 1992’s Love Deluxe.

That kind of longevity has always been exceedingly rare in pop music, especially for acts who, like Sade, tend to take a decade or so between releases – but then again, most artists don’t enjoy the kind of cool consistency Sade has displayed over the course of its career. From a certain point of view, you could say that if you’ve heard one Sade album you’ve heard them all; it’s probably more accurate, though, to say that the members of the band know exactly which kind of music they were born to make, and they simply play to their artistic strengths more strongly than most.

Whichever way you look at it, Sade’s sixth studio album is a lot like the five that came before it: Plenty of languid R&B, heavy on the machine-driven beats and moody synths, topped off with a little sax, a little guitar, and a whole lot of Sade Adu’s coolly smoky vocals. She doesn’t look or sound like she’s aged a day since 1984, which is exactly what Sade fans want to hear – you don’t listen to this music looking for radical change, you turn to it for comfort, and to hear the sound of impeccably crafted, grown-up lust. (Seriously, Adu is 51? This woman cannot be human.)

That said, there is a bit of change afoot on Soldier of Love – but just a bit, and it’s most noticeable on the strutting title track, which finds Adu’s lithesome vocals wafting above a booming beat, stabbing rhythm guitars, and martial percussion samples. Though still recognizably Sade, it’s the equivalent of a more restless band changing genres completely, which might be why the rest of the album is much more in line with the group’s previous work. For most other artists, this would sound like creative drought; for Sade, it’s as comfortable as falling back into the sheets. Long may she moan. (Epic 2010)

Sade MySpace page

RIYL: India.Arie, Des’ree, Roberta Flack

Corinne Bailey Rae’s self-titled debut was a Starbucks hit, selling nearly two million copies on the strength of the immediate chord it struck with fans of vaguely jazzy, vaguely folky pop singers like Norah Jones. It also took its share of lumps for being yet another in the chain of politely soulful albums that have flooded the marketplace over the last five years or so; though it showed flashes of real talent, VH1-ready singles like “Put Your Records On” put Rae across as pleasant at best.

Well, whatever else you might be able to say about it, Rae’s sophomore effort, The Sea, isn’t pleasant – like the body of water it’s named after, this is a collection of songs that might sometimes seem placid on the surface, but which boast unfathomable, often stormy depths. It’s an album steeped in grief, shadowed by death, and wrapped in yards of delicate, folk-and-jazz-tinged arrangements. Even on the album’s more up-tempo tracks, such as “Paper Dolls,” there’s an overwhelming sense of something – probably Rae – about to break. Even if you just play The Sea in the background, you’ll catch hints of its disquieting vibe.

All for good reason, of course – as you may recall, Rae’s husband died unexpectedly in 2008, and many of these songs find her coping – seemingly quite directly – with her loss. It’s always a mistake to treat albums like these as the artists’ personal diaries, but when the first track is titled “Are You Here” and features lines like “Are you here? Because my heart recalls that it all feels the same”…well, you get the idea.

So yes, The Sea is a rather dark and stormy record, but it’s never maudlin; partly on account of Rae’s vocals, which are lighter than air at their heaviest, the music’s grief never threatens to overwhelm the songs. That being said, a little overwhelming might not be such a bad thing – Rae’s aesthetic is one of slight shifts and slighter melodies, and if you’ve previously dismissed her work, it’s hard to hear much here that’ll change your mind. Perhaps more importantly, if you loved Corinne Bailey Rae, this album’s darker tone might be off-putting. Rae deserves applause for pouring so much of herself into these songs; still, even after you’ve plumbed its depths, it’s hard not to wish The Sea’s surfaces weren’t so calm. (Capitol Records 2010)

Corinne Bailey Rae MySpace page

RIYL: David Mead, Roy Orbison, Paul Carrack

With his debut, 2007’s Separated by the Sea, U.K. singer/songwriter Findlay Brown penned a love letter to ‘70s MOR pop with a modern sheen, delighting fans of artists like Ron Sexsmith and Josh Rouse. Those fans might be a little perplexed by Brown’s sophomore effort: Recorded after an auto accident left him with nothing to do but spin old records while recuperating from his injuries, Love Will Find You is a conscious step back – back about a decade, to be specific, toward the Sun Records school of reverb-laden lonely hearts fronting angelic choirs with lead vocals to match. To modern ears, Brown will come across here like a sock hop-headlining version of David Mead; older listeners, meanwhile, will hear more than a hint of Roy Orbison in Love’s tremulous refrains. And as far as pastiches go, this is pretty smart stuff – thanks in part to producer Bernard Butler’s way with a tinny AM string section and perfectly cavernous reverb, Brown comes across as legitimately steeped in the music of the era, rather than just another cheeky coattail-rider. Nonetheless, it’s still a pastiche, and no matter how smoothly Brown and Butler have honed it, Love floats away like the scent of your grandfather’s Old Spice once it’s done. At best, it’ll make you want to get a hold of a list of the albums that inspired Brown; at worst, it’ll keep you suspiciously tugging at its seams, looking for the real Findlay Brown behind the pompadoured façade. It’s to Brown’s credit that Love Will Find You never unravels, but it’s hard not to wish he’d brought a little more inspiration along with his sterling sense of songcraft. (Verve Forecast 2010)

Findlay Brown MySpace page

RIYL: The Byrds, Bob Dylan, Kings of Leon

Tom Petty set the standard for greatest hits compilations in 1993 when he released the aptly-titled Greatest Hits, which included 16 of his biggest singles, a soon-to-be-smash (”Mary Jane’s Last Dance”), and a very worthwhile cover (Thunderclap Newman’s “Something in the Air”). While some might argue that 1983’s “Change of Heart” (peaking at #21) and 1987’s “Jammin’ Me” (#18) were technically bigger hits than some of the singles that were included, no Petty fan worth his salt is going to argue that those two tunes held up better than the likes of “Listen to Her Heart” (#59) or “Here Comes My Girl” (#59).

Fast forward two years to Petty’s first box set, 1995’s Playback, which was a hodgepodge of hit singles, live tracks and rarities. The set wasn’t very cohesive, but it was important because of its excellent sixth disc (”Nobody’s Children”), which featured 11 leftover tracks from 1986 to 1993 – maybe the most productive span of Petty’s career.

Then there was 2000’s Anthology: Through the Years, which was essentially an expansion of the Greatest Hits disc, though, oddly enough, it didn’t include anything from post-Greatest Hits albums Wildflowers (”You Don’t Know How It Feels,” “It’s Good to Be King,” “You Wreck Me”), She’s The One (”Walls”) or Echo (”Free Girl Now,” “Room At the Top”).

So now we have The Live Anthology, which comes in several different formats – the standard set (48 tracks on 4 CDs), the deluxe set (62 tracks on 5 CDs, including a 14-track bonus disc, two DVDs, a Blu-Ray disc, a vinyl re-master of of the ‘76 Official Live Leg, and more, only available at Best Buy), and a vinyl deluxe box set (51 tracks pressed on seven 180-gram audiophile quality vinyl LPs). This review is of the digital version of the standard set, which is the first live release from Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers since 1986’s Pack Up the Plantation-Live!

Eleven songs in the set are live versions of tracks included on both Greatest Hits and Anthology. (Think big hits like “Refugee” and “American Girl.”) Most of these tracks are relatively faithful interpretations of the studio versions, save for the beautiful “Learning to Fly” and “I Won’t Back Down,” which Petty often plays in concert with a much sparser production. Both tunes are well worth a listen.

Nine album tracks from The Live Anthology also made my recommended Tom Petty Deep Cuts playlist, and are welcome additions here. It’s hard to pick favorites, but it’s nice to see “Angel Dream (No. 2)” and “Have Love Will Travel” get some live love, and “Dreamville” is an especially impressive live performance. “Southern Accents” is vastly improved from the album version since it’s without the irritating, echoing cross stick that was used in the studio.

Considering that the set has been culled together from hundreds of hours of live recordings from 1979 to 2007, the most impressive thing is how cohesive each disc sounds when played start to finish. It’s almost as if the listener gets four individual, hour-long sets from the Heartbreakers. The band has never been afraid to dive into a cover or two, as evidenced by the the presence of Fleetwood Mac’s “Oh Well,” the Zombies’ “I Want You Back Again,” Booker T. and the MGs “Green Onions,” the Grateful Dead’s “Friend of the Devil,” the Dave Clark Five’s “Any Way You Want It” and more.

The Live Anthology is by no means definitive, but it provides a good, in-depth look at one of the greatest live acts of the last thirty years. Moreover, it’s available at the band’s website for $18.49, which is a nice deal for almost four hours of music. (Reprise, 2009)

RIYL: 1950s rockabilly, 1960s pop, 1970s country, rock history in general

In honor of Elvis’ 75th birthday – we won’t get into whether he is “the late Elvis” or still rockin’ in the wilds of Michigan – Legacy’s issuing a bunch of records, this one being first up and coinciding with a Graceland bash. In a word, it’s great stuff, a career-spanning retrospective that covers the gamut of the good, bad and ugly from rock’s first real icon, its undisputed King. Elvis diehards probably have most of the 100 tracks spanning the almost 25 years of his recorded career, from the 1953 “My Happiness” demo to Moody Blue tracks; probably only the most manic completists among longtime fans will nibble at this.

For the rest of us, however, it puts Presley’s work in context: There’s no denying the power of Young Elvis, who had an incredible combination of talent, charisma, and the stones to fuse music from black R&B records, gospel, redneck bluegrass, and loud guitars. When he walked into the Memphis Sun Studios and hooked up with label impresario Sam Phillips in 1954 to put down his brilliant first sides, he was just a singer who loved all the music he heard from both sides of the tracks and just didn’t particularly care what people would think if he did. Maybe I’m alone in this opinion, but I believe that all the stuff that came after – the politics, the goofy Graceland stuff, the Army, the movies, the drugs, the Comeback, stuffing his sweaty and overweight frame into sequined Vegas costumes, and finally, the overdose, were not of his doing but caused by external forces he endured, albeit willingly at times. The early songs still sound fresh and crisp: “Mystery Train,” “Blue Moon of Kentucky,” “Jailhouse Rock.” A powderkeg of testosterone and unbridled joy. Rock, undistilled. Then comes the ballads, the country, the gospel stuff…the brutal “Suspicion.” It’s all here, along with the 2002 techno remix of “A Little Less Conversation.”

Listening to this end to end, it’s bizarre to hear Elvis’ transformation from the white-hot beginning to the dying embers of a career when he finally ingested that deadly cocktail of prescription drugs. At first, he synthesized all these at-the-time disparate musical influences to create such musical magic. By the mid-1970s, however, he was clinging desperately to country, sounding like a second-rate Hank Jr. knockoff at best (who himself was a poor Xerox of his daddy). Elvis ended up the ghost of his 1950s and early-’60s heyday, barely recognizable and subject to all the ridicule that’s followed his 1977 death. The moral of the story? Elvis wasn’t larger than life; he was just another rock star, human after all. But just like the NFL has good quarterbacks and bad, as far as rock stars go, Elvis was no Kyle Orton; he was Brett Favre, the greatest statistical player – unstoppable at first but maybe should have called it quits before his career turned into a circus. If you’ve never dug Elvis seriously, check out this box. There’s a lot more going on here than Jay Leno punch lines. When he was on top of his game, he wrote rock history with a gorgeously powerful voice and a beguiling smile. This box remembers that part, best. (Sony/Legacy, 2009).

RIYL Cassandra Wilson, Grace Potter, Patty Larkin

Advance word to the contrary, Norah Jones’ fourth album shows a marked change in approach but little difference in attitude. Stirring up the ambiance with synths, effects, beats and a general trend towards more modern programming tools, Jones lays out a steady series of laments about traitorous lovers and ruined relationships with a distinct emphasis on disillusionment in general. Titles like “Stuck,” “I Wouldn’t Need You” and “You’ve Ruined Me” offer an early hint of her malfunctioning mindset, but lines like “If I touched myself the way you touched me…then I wouldn’t need you,” speak directly to her disappointment. Conversely, the carnival-like atmosphere of “Chasing Pirates,” the practically jaunty “Tell Yer Mama” and the propulsive duo of “Young Blood” and “It’s Gonna Be” prove a welcome respite from the deathly serious tact that Jones helped trademark on her three earlier albums.

And while there’s still ample evidence of that wounded, torch song set-up imbued in “Manhattan,” “Even Though,” “I Wouldn’t Need You” and “Waiting,” even her more sobering perspectives seem somewhat more illuminated, given fuller arrangements that detract attention from her solitary keyboard and instead steer the proceedings towards the emphatic strum of her electric guitar. Ending the album on a lighter note that finds her offering an ode to her dog – the winsome “Man of the Hour” – shows that for her all her trepidation and turmoil, Jones has the capability of picking herself up, no matter how serious the fall. Blue Note 2009

Norah Jones MySpace page

RIYL: Coldplay, U2, Greg Laswell

OneRepublic’s 2008 debut was full of the kind of middle-of-the-road, calculatedly inoffensive pop that’s groomed for multiplatinum success – and it found that success, selling nearly a million copies and spinning off a Top Five single in the Timbaland-assisted “Apologize.” You’d think finding its commercial stride so soon would be the only excuse a band would need to churn out a carbon copy of its debut, but give OneRepublic credit: Album Number Two, Waking Up, actually represents a surprising step forward for a band that, just a year ago, gave no indication it was even ready to learn how to crawl. Make no mistake, the band’s stock in trade remains slick, pointedly proficient pop – but the band has gotten much better at carving canyon-sized hooks out of the barren bedrock of its influences.

There isn’t a single moment on the album that could be described as unusual or surprising – heck, maybe not even strictly interesting – and that’s exactly what makes it such an easy listen. This type of music derives its pleasure from smart adherence to pop formula, and OneRepublic follows it brilliantly; what it lacks in true creativity, it makes up in the strict discipline of knowing how to get from Point A to Point B – carrying a 500-pound chorus or three – without getting lost or messy along the way. Expecting great things from OneRepublic is probably unfair. But big things? You’re listening to ‘em. (Interscope/Mosley 2009)

OneRepublic MySpace page