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: Quirky, comedy infused classic holiday vocal music

There really isn’t another group like Straight No Chaser. All they do is holiday-themed music, and they do it their own way – that is, a cappella. With their new one, Christmas Cheers, the follow up to 2008’s Holiday Spirits, the group took even more risks than before. The soulful, R&B-infused vocal runs, techniques and harmonies are all there, and they effectively weave comedic bits into classic material without skipping a beat. That’s all well and good, but the novelty has worn off with just 12 months between releases, and some of these tracks tend to run into one another. The opening track, “The Christmas Can-Can,” is really funny with terms like “Shop until you lose your mind.” And some of the other really pretty classics include “Christmastime is Here” and “O Holy Night,” and there is a hilarious yet nicely done version of “You’re A Mean One, Mister Grinch.” But maybe the best track of all is the studio version of “The 12 Days of Christmas,” a track the group released as a live take last year and which has become their trademark. So give Christmas Cheers a fair listen, but be warned – you may not make it past two or three listens before January. (Atlantic 2009)

Straight No Chaser MySpace Page

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: Graham Nash, America, Poco

Despite his indelible imprint on several generations of Southern California soft rockers – from Poco to the Eagles and various side duties along the way in support of his like-minded peers – Timothy B. Schmit has only rarely taken the solo spotlight via a mere handful of individual albums over the expanse of the past 40 years or so. With Expando, Schmit does what he’s always done beast, offering up a set of unassuming, inoffensive mid-tempo pop songs that spotlight his lilting vocals and amiable, good-natured melodies.

Indeed, if the new album reflects a burnished, distinctly ‘70s feel, its for good reason; Graham Nash, Levon Helm, Van Dyke Parks, Jim Keltner and the ever-present Benmont Tench are among the venerable old school stalwarts lending support. Not surprisingly, Schmit’s most impressive offerings are those that find him testing his upper register – specifically, “Ella Jean,” “A Good Day” and “Secular Praise,” a song that finds the Blind Boys of Alabama providing gospel accompaniment. The latter can also be found on the Blind Boys’ new Duets LP, where it also stands out as among the best of that bunch.

In fact, the only time Schmit seems out of his element is when he delves into a hint of blues and funk, respectively – as on lead-off track “One More Mile” and the tongue-in-cheek “White Boy From Sacramento.” Here’s a hint as far as the latter is concerned – the title tells all. (Lost Highway 2009)

Timothy B. Schmit website

RIYL: Aretha Franklin, Christina Aguilera, Sly & the Family Stone

British soul singer Joss Stone’s fourth album finds her mining some familiar territory, but also stepping out with a variety of collaborations that touch on fresh ground. Opening track and lead single “Free Me” sets the tone with a feel-good, funky soul rock number that Stone does as well as anyone these days. Later tracks like “Incredible” and “You Got the Love” also mine upbeat funky grooves where Stone’s dynamic voice really shines. The sounds of the early ’70s are well represented on R&B lament “Could Have Been You” and “Parallel Lines,” which opens with some electric piano funk that recalls Stevie Wonder’s classic “Superstition.” No less than Jeff Beck adds tasty guitar fills while Sheila E. provides the backing vocals for one of the album’s best tracks.

“4 and 20” is a playful ballad not about the sweet leaf, but Stone’s desire for a man to prove his love 24 hours a day. Raphael Saadiq chips in vocals on “Big Ole Game,” a funky mid-tempo tune with a sexy vibe, while hip-hop ace Nas helps Stone out on “Governmentalist,” a socially conscious number with a dirty blues-funk sound that would fit right in on the “Dead Presidents” soundtrack. “Trying to find the truth behind the lies,” sings Stone, before Nas comes in to talk smack about cops, the FDA and others who try to keep the people down – “Governmentalists killed the Kennedies, I heard that Joss Stone got the remedy,” raps Nas. David Sanborn contributes some big sax lines to the old school Bo Diddley-type blues of “I Believe It to My Soul,” and Jamie Hartman trades vocals with Stone on moody ballad “Stalemate.”

Colour Me Free finds Stone, still just 22 years old, continuing to expand her sonic palette in a world that would seem to be her oyster. The fact that she’s also willing to take a deeper look at that world on a tune like “Governmentalist” shows that she’s got a lot more happening upstairs than most of her pop contemporaries as well. (EMI 2009)

Joss Stone MySpace page

Although Lisa Donnelly is but unknown at this point, there’s something uncannily familiar about her solo debut. Having fronted the L.A. outfit A.M. Pacific and after mining the Hollywood club circuit, it’s only natural that she should exude the air of a veteran, and indeed the confidence and ease with which she delivers her material belies any hint of relative inexperience. If anything, Donnelly may be too ambitious; We Had a Thing suggests she may be trying to cover too much ground for a first outing. And in fact, with songs that run the gamut from ethereal ballads to propulsive hip-hop, it’s hard to get a handle on Donnelly’s true essence. Try Sarah McLachlan meets Madonna. She even throws some sitar into the mix with the song “Blue,” suggesting a psychedelic spin that quickly turns into a meditative mode. Still, the most telling track on the album – both literally and figuratively – is the leadoff tune “Laugh,” an intriguing narrative about a dinner party encounter with a psychic who preps her for the future. Being that she’s a bit derivative, it’s difficult to read Donnelly’s chances for success based on this album alone. Still, it suggests there’s plenty of potential for ongoing endeavors.
(BT Media 2009)

Lisa Donnelly MySpace page

A cappella music is supposed to be the domain of fun-for-a-minute novelty acts like the Nylons or the Blenders, and even the best of the genre often sounds as though it was recorded by the same grinning, finger-snapping, vest-wearing nerds you laughed at during spring assembly in high school. The last time anyone cared about an a cappella single was in 1993, when Huey Lewis and the News scored a fluke hit with a cover of Curtis Mayfield’s “It’s Alright” – and when a genre’s last taste of success came from Huey Lewis, you know it’s seen better days. Into this cultural vacuum steps the six-member Los Angeles outfit known as Sonos, and although their press materials contain all the dreaded buzzwords used by makers of terminally unhip music – “push the envelope,” “redefine a genre” – their self-titled debut is actually far better than you might expect, especially given their über-hip taste in cover selections (Bjork’s “Jaga,” Radiohead’s “Everything in Its Right Place,” Imogen Heap’s “Come Here Boy”) and/or the presence of AAA radio pox Sara Bareilles, who contributes vocals to her own “Gravity.” It helps that they aren’t a straight a cappella outfit – many of the tracks incorporate light instrumentation, and they aren’t afraid to chop and twiddle with their vocals – but what really puts Sonos across is the ease with which the group manages to substitute a cool modern feel for the stereotypical Up With People vibe. No vests here, in other words – and if Sonos is still a novelty, it’s one that’ll take a good, long while to wear off. (Big Helium 2009)

Sonos MySpace page

Andy Rosen received his first major label deal in the late ‘90s as a one-man band called Goat, whose sample-heavy sound offered a mildly sunnier, dancier take on the Soul Coughing aesthetic. Although his 1998 Epic release, Great Life, disappeared with a whimper, the title track resurfaced a couple of years ago in a Kia commercial – and now Rosen himself has popped up again, this time as jazz guitarist/singer Andy Scott. It’s certainly one of the odder musical makeovers in recent memory, but his new incarnation’s debut, Don’t Tempt Fate, doesn’t suck; it’s actually an enjoyably understated collection of minimally arranged originals, performed with understated grace. If you remember “Great Life,” you know Scott isn’t anyone’s idea of a great singer, but he does a fine job of playing to his strengths here, recalling the charmingly weathered vocals of latter-day Bob Dorough, and the whole thing has a nice coffee-shop vibe, good for late nights and Sunday brunches. It’s obviously a passion project, with minimal financial backing, but it’s well worth seeking out for fans of low-key vocal jazz combos – and fans of Scott’s friend Madeleine Peyroux, who pops up here on guitar and ukulele, and delivers a typically sultry vocal cameo on the title track. (self-released 2009)

Andy Scott MySpace page