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: Donovan, Marc Bolan, Veviter

Toiling within the ranks of the indie underground, Devendra Banhart has managed to elevate himself into the highest ranks of the so-called “freak folk” hierarchy. His last album, Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon, made a pitch to expand that tag, with Banhart attempting to meld his obtuse approach with the idyllic imagery of the L.A. environs that spawned such ‘60s lynchpins as Neil Young, CSN, the Mamas and the Papas, Joni Mitchell, and various others that made music in those hallowed hills. Likewise, his recruitment by the majors – in this case, Warner Bros. records, home to many of those aforementioned icons – seemed to indicate a concerted effort to break through the barriers.

Indeed, while Banhart’s new label affiliation might seem a concession to commercialism, in truth, the results are every bit as eclectic…and, for that matter, every bit as eccentric…as his earlier efforts. The songs are sung in both English and Spanish, and rather than the clear, coherent melodies identified with the so-called Southern California elite, Banhart still shifts his set-ups – often radically and in the space of a single song. Consequently, “Rats” has a somewhat foreboding start before segueing abruptly into a state of kinetic jubilation. The jazzy inference of “Chin Chin & Muck Muck” morphs several times before the song hits its stride. Likewise, “Angelika” might have succeeded as a soothing serenade had it not accelerated midway through into a sizzling Latin samba.

Still, for all his abrupt turns, Banhart retains a decidedly old school stance. His melodies may seem somewhat amorphous, but his quivering vocals and loping tempos frequently recall the pixie-like warble of Donovan and Marc Bolan. A couple of tracks might bode well for future sing-alongs, specifically “16 & Valencia Roxy Music” and the gentle Spanish serenade called “Brindo.” As an album that’s magnified by ambition and grand designs, What Will We Be may well be his best yet. (Warner Bros. 2009)

Devendra Banhart MySpace page
Click to buy What Will We Be from Amazon

RIYL: Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon, Janis Ian

It seems but a blink of the eye when in reality it’s been three decades since Rickie Lee Jones scored her breakthrough hit, “Chuck E.’s In Love,” and subsequently garnered her Grammy for Best New Artist. In the 30 years since, Jones has mostly flown below the radar, at least in terms of her commercial appeal, but her sassy, soulful style continues to leave its imprint and make her a recurring staple. Jones has always seemed most comfortable playing the role of both barfly and ingénue, crooning twilight ballads with a knowing air of cool and sophistication, while also taking sharp turns at practically every juncture.

Its not surprising then that those disarming glances haven’t necessarily helped tug Jones back into the mainstream. So consider it fortunate that her new album, the uniformly pleasing Balm In Gilead, again finds her at the top of her game, vamping with versatility through a surprisingly disparate set of songs. No longer the shadowy chanteuse, she proves here that her pull is still intact. Encompassing songs that were written years, and even decades, before, the album gathers some of the best songs she’s authored in years. While her devotees will find the smoky barroom vibe of “Old Enough,” “The Moon Is Made of Gold” and “Eucalyptus Trail” akin to a reassuring refrain, her country croon on “Remember Me” and ambient drone of the stirring “His Jeweled Floor” show an obvious willingness to expand her parameters into more accessible terrain. Toss in some beguiling ballads – “Bonfire,” “Wild Girl” and “A House on Bayless Street” – and Balm In Gilead becomes a soothing salve indeed. (Fantasy 2009)

Rickie Lee Jones web page
Click to buy Balm in Gilead from Amazon

RIYL: Denison Witmer, Jeff Buckley, Adam Cohen

A chip off the old rock? Well, not exactly, although admittedly Sam Shrieve shares his dad’s penchant for making a mark at an early age. The elder Shrieve was, of course, the frenetic drummer for the first Santana band, the youngest musician to play Woodstock and the piercing on-camera presence that practically stole the show from his colleagues. Young Sam takes a more refined route and while his glamorous good looks are obviously destined for full exploitation, his music is considerably more cerebral than either dad’s tribal tempos or than the typical pinup poser. Consequently, Bittersweet Lullabies proves an apt title for these pleasant soft pop musings, alternately celebratory (“Beautiful,” “”Kiss You,” “I’m Sorry”) and unabashedly sentimental (“Welcome to Your Life,” “”I’ll Be There,” “”Sanctuary”). An aching take on the oft-covered “Hallelujah” actually cuts through the competition and fits perfectly in the mix, as sure a sign of Shrieve’s proficiency as any of his originals. A solid support cast, including veterans Bill Frisell and Lyle Workman, lend additional credibility, but Sam’s the man when it comes to carrying the bulk of the musical weight. Dad must be proud, although wondering where the rhythm went. Nevertheless, this impressive initial outing carries a weight all its own. (Colorburst Soundfield 2009)

Sam Shrieve MySpace page

RIYL: Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Daniel Johnston

Documenting a solo concert in San Francisco, Vic Chesnutt revisits his roots and goes back to basics with this stark example of shadowy introspection. Accompanying himself with mostly a subdued strum of his acoustic guitar and the incidental input of the enigmatic Jonathan Richman on guitar and harmonium and drummer/percussionist Tommy Larkin, he meanders through a troubling set of dark and dire melodies. Yet, despite this turgid set-up, Chesnutt populates his rumbling, meandering narratives with oddball hi-jinks, from the bizarre homage entitled “Dick Cheney” to the roll call of weirdos delineated in “Worst Friend” (“Your friend likes to get peed on in sexual situations… Your friend dresses up like Little Bo Peep… Your friend claims to have taken a dump in the White House…”). Likewise, the palpable anger that ripples through “My New Life” affirms the depth of these ominous overtones and moots any connection with the crowd. Quirky yet austere, Skitter on Take-Off provides what’s best described as an intimidating encounter. (Vapor Records 2009)

Vic Chesnutt web page