THE NEW PORNOGRAPHERS - Together

The recent May 4th release date of new albums by two of Canada's most celebrated indie music superpowers—Broken Social Scene and The New Pornographers—was a readymade compare-and-contrast fest for music-reviewer types like us: messy Torontonians and their kitchen-sink rock vs. perfectionist Vancouverites and their oblique gumball pop. And while there's certainly not much of a real rivalry to speak of (Kevin Drew and Carl Newman looked pretty comfy together singing backups for Feist on Letterman a couple years back), it does say something nice about the state of Canadian music that this pairing got as much press in the New York Times and The Guardian as it did in Now and Eye.

As its title would suggest, this fifth effort by the Pornos is a more unified one than the mid-tempo sugar crash of their last effort, Challengers. But Together isn't exactly the full-on funfest some fans are craving, either. Principal songwriters Newman and Destroyer's Dan Bejar have seemingly used the groundwork set by Challengers to establish a new parameter for the band's sound. And, to be fair, given how well it works for Destroyer (not to mention Newman's solo work and his underrated past band, Zumpano), why not?

The extra guitar guts of "Your Hands (Together)", Bejar's kookily hooky "Silver Jenny Dollar", and the marvelously brassy chorus of the Neko Case-sung "Crash Years" are ample proof of the enduring appeal of the group. True, their records don't quite leap from the stereo in the same way that their first three did, but there's really no reason for tears. The New Pornographers remain an exceptional pop band who just slowed things down a touch. It's still a damn fun party.

VA - Deutsche Elektronische Musik: Experimental German Rock and Electronic Music 1972-83

Aside from a bunch of outrageously-named collections from a few years ago (Kraut! Demons! Kraut!, for example, or Obscured by Krauts, to name but two), there has been a surprisingly small industry dedicated to this highly-fetishized era of German progressive rock and electronic music. Leave it to Soul Jazz, then, to not only do it with authority, but to have the nerve to stretch the timeline into the early '80s, when the genre had been largely abandoned by its diehard fans. Heck, even today, the umbrella term “Krautrock” (conspicuously unmentioned in both the title and subtitle of this set) and its main proponents are largely unknown to most Germans.

Key events of the last couple of years have precipitated this release, namely the recent tours of Cluster and Faust; the remastering of Kraftwerk’s definitive catalogue and release of an unauthorized but leagues-deep DVD, Kraftwerk and the Electronic Revolution (check our shelves!), which documented both the band and the development of the scene as a whole; and Black Dog Publishing's Krautrock: Cosmic Rock and Its Legacy book from last winter (we’ve got that one, too!).

Soul Jazz serves up a double-disc survey that kindly summarizes the key players (minus the preciously protective Kraftwerk) that would satisfy neu-comers and vets alike. Sequencer-meisters Cluster and solo members Dieter Moebius, Hans-Joachim Roedelius, along with Kluster's enigmatic Conrad Schnitzler (who shows up on the cold wave “Auf Dem Schwarzen Canal”) are here; so is the more hippy flute-crazy wing (Kollectiv, Ibliss). Of course, there’s also Can (post-Mooney/Sukuki), Faust, Harmonia, Neu!, Ash Ra Tempel, and Amon Düül II. And then there are late entries La Düsseldorf and E.M.A.K., who both underline how key the Teutonic influence really was on rock's New Wave.

A highly immersive experience, replete with fine liners and wonderfully garish packaging, Deutsche Elektronische Musik is wholly mind-expanding, and a mere scratching of the surface of an oft-referred-to but underheard world of music.

MINNIE RIPERTON - Perfect Angel

Before recording Perfect Angel in 1973, the late Minnie Riperton’s career was already on the wane after spending the late '60s with the Rotary Connection and then going solo with the Charles Stepney-produced Come To My Garden in 1970. Coaxed back to the studio three years later and driven by the guiding hand of Stevie Wonder on a bunch of key tracks, it was a slow build on the sales front, mostly because of its broad scope, covering rock (opener “Reasons”), weird jazz-soul (“Take A Little Trip”) and, of course, the twee-est soul track in history (“Lovin’ You”). It was the latter, originally a melody to soothe her daughter (former SNL cast member Maya Rudolph), that audaciously dropped drums in favour of Fender Rhodes, chirping birds, and those earth-shattering whistle-range notes, and guaranteed the album its place in the pantheon of hard-to-place R&B records. Nearly 40 years later, it still holds up as strongly as material from like-minded artists like Syreeta and the great Jon Lucien. Oh, and dig that delicious cover, too! 

THE NATIONAL - High Violet

In 2003, Britney Spears released an album called In The Zone. It was enough to make one ask: Is there a difference between a zone and a rut? It’s all in the details, I suppose.

It's now 2010, and The National have released a new record, their fifth, called High Violet. But they could've called it In The Zone, because this is a band that is locked in—and from a distance, their 'zone' can certainly sound like a rut. Midtempo, melancholic, and thoroughly steeped in Matt Berninger's black tea baritone, this quintet offers few breaks in style and even fewer surprises. But again, those details... Like a seasoned novelist, The National are masters of them. And High Violet is their Pulitzer Prize-worthy epic.

For many, rock’n’roll exists to create an escape from the ordinary, and it carries out this mandate through endless parties, dangerous and beautiful men and women, idealized vistas and maybe even a dragon or two. The National instead burrow deep into the ordinary, dwelling in it completely until this saturated perspective yields the characters, situations, and nicely-skewed metaphors that make up their songs. Their plain-clothes music succeeds time and time again thanks to the careful presentation of its musicians. All four instrumentalists in this band possess hands blessed with wit and precision, allowing them to construct song after song from every shade of grey.

And then there are the words: Berninger is a particularly astute lyricist, likely knowing that with a voice as monochromatic as his, what he sings better be spectacular. High Violet is maybe his best suite of words yet, dancing and weaving beautifully between the dry and the absurd like a veteran boxer. When in “Conversation 16”, he surprisingly sings: “I was afraid I’d eat your brains”; the effect is both comic and poignant, especially when followed by this swelling, concluding admission: “’Cause I am evil.”

Just as Sloan saw the “good in everyone”, The National see the bad we all share, and—brain-eating zombies aside—they do it without shame or shock. We fall and fail and fail again, but pick ourselves up, because there is still beauty out there to be found.

The pessimist often defends his position with the phrase: “I’m just a realist.” These guys are the ultimate band of realists. Their world is dark, heavy, sometimes scary and very ordinary. You know it well. You’ve just never heard it described, documented or defended as well as this. Or as beautifully.

LETTA MBULU - Naturally

After recording her first two albums with David Axelrod (Letta Mbulu Sings, and Free Soul, in 1967, and 1968, respectively), then one for Hugh Masekela’s Chisa label, South African exile Letta Mbulu recorded this record for Fantasy. Unlike fellow expat Mariam Makeba, Letta, along with her husband Caiphus Semenya (who wrote and arranged most of this album), fully embraced the fusion of the sounds of her homeland and those of her adopted home in the US. Her more famous Axelrod records were hard to classify beyond their upbeat party numbers and jazzy go-go tunes, but by the time she recorded Naturally her sound had matured in a way that was less uptown and more of an honest, and yes, natural, blend of her roots with that laid-back, folky, gospel-soul stew that, by 1973, she and her husband had a better command of.

On one hand was the killer horn section of Jazz Crusader Wayne Henderson, plus the Adderley brothers, Nat and Cannonball, who set songs like “Hareje” on fire with its deliciously sunshiny mixolydian brass riff in one of the most uplifting tracks you’ll hear this year. Mbulu busts out some deep church 3-part harmonies on “Learn to Love” and “Never Leave You,” while setting some smooth spiritual jazz grooves on “Setho.”  Only an idealist would think such a beautiful merging of American and Soweto idioms could have had a greater influence, but those with clear hindsight will dig this as a rare treat indeed.

BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE - Forgiveness Rock Record

Some bands are great live; others are great on record. The best are able to do both. Toronto's own Broken Social Scene have built for themselves a rabid worldwide underground (and occasionally overground) fanbase by doing just that, albeit with a distinctly different approach in each medium. On album, BSS have been beguilingly mysterious and steeped in heady self-sabotage, usually at the expense of their most poppy and accessible songs. In concert, however, the same songs that were obscured on record by gauzy production and profane choruses were elevated to arms-wide-open stadium rock that ripped entire pages from Bono and Chris Martin's playbook.

Well, whatever the actual excusing of past sins that drove them to title this album Forgiveness Rock Record, make no mistake that BSS is finally coming clean—folks, this is a rock band and they're singing to all of you ("That's right, even you guys in the back, lemme hear you!!!") For the first time, those choruses and epic hooks that they write so well are allowed to register with honest directness. Sure, there are detours, left turns, moments of noisy disintegration, and Kevin Drew still can't resist populating some of the catchiest tracks with swear words ("Texico Bitches" and "Ungrateful Little Father", for example). But no matter what he and his many cohorts are singing, you finally hear every word with crystal clear fidelity.

More than ever, the 'weirdness' of the band comes not from production, but from the actual songwriting. "Chase Scene" is a perversely entertaining genre-study of, well, soundtracks to cinematic chase scenes. The aforementioned "...Father" shifts beautifully from stone-skipping stream-of-consciousness indie folk to a shimmering sheet of ambient synth tones. And the completely incongruous hoedown that derails the glam-jam of "Water In Hell"—well, it's definitely weird. Producer John McEntire is a big part of this sonic revelation. He’s certainly not without his own bizarro tricks, and he uses them to great effect. But by parting ways with You Forgot It In People and Broken Social Scene producer Dave Newfeld—whose production and mixing were master classes in molasses-thick impressionism—the band stands in front of its listener with a nakedness that is both unexpected and refreshing.

The big question, then, is: when populist rock anthems like “Forced To Love” and “World Sick” (songs that are direct cousins of past hits like “Cause = Time” and “7/4 (Shoreline)”) are stripped of their arty window-dressing, will the blogging elite stand by their man, or will they cry “Sellout!” and shift their love to another band more willing to throw Pollock-esque tantrums over their pop music? Maybe yes, maybe no, but whatever the final verdict, I’m willing to bet that once people hear these songs live, none of it will matter anyway. And you know what? It’s still one weird hour of music.

THE TALLEST MAN ON EARTH - The Wild Hunt

For a record that is so free of frills, it makes sense that a review of it should follow suit. Kristian Matsson is a Swedish singer/songwriter who has made a record of ten direct and really terrific songs. There's barely anything beyond a voice and an acoustic guitar throughout—only the closer, "Kids On The Run", switches things up by using a piano, and that's hardly an offspeed pitch. The Wild Hunt really comes down to the quality of what Matsson is selling. He's a compelling vocalist of limited tools, but generous expressiveness and energy. All of these ten tunes find ways to quickly make your acquaintance without ever resorting to tricks (save an attention-grabbing swear word or two in "You're Going Back"). It's folk music that feels current rather than retro, and it's one great little album.

CARIBOU - Swim

The term polymath is something that we tend to use to describe the dead, past masters whose deft skills in a number of disciplines rendered them above the fray of mere mortals: Da Vinci; Al-Razi; Benjamin Franklin. Perhaps it's because we're so much more comfortable canonizing those whose lives are done, especially with a term that rings with such intellectual regality. Even after his death, Dan Snaith (a.k.a. Caribou), will likely never be called a polymath. But as both a master mathematician and musician, he's definitely anything but ordinary. And as someone who utilizes IDM traditions and computer composition techniques to engage, not shun, pop music, he is a true trailblazer as well.

His previous record, 2007's Andorra, was a high watermark for Snaith. Its Zombies-inspired sunshiny psych pop was his most direct foray into actual songs yet. Leaving his beatscape, mash-up sound sketches behind, it opened its arms wide to embrace not only a larger audience, but the 2008 Polaris Prize as well. Swim is equally as trippy as its predecessor, but it is consumed by a distinct darkness. This is the nighttime to Andorra's day, where fear and regret replace love, nightclub techno replaces AM-pop, and slippery texture replaces crisp definition. Snaith as been widely quoted as wishing to make "liquid dance music" this time out, and in this respect, Swim is a masterpiece. The record shifts its visual colours like a melting kaleidoscope (see the excellent "Sun" for a perfect example of this)—even for someone as pan-happy and beat-shifty as Caribou, it's new territory. It also sees him slink slightly away from the 'songs' of Andorra, a move that will no doubt disappoint some. But that doesn't stop a track like opener "Odessa"—with a sample hook that sounds like a Muppet mating call from Fraggle Rock—or the gently-pulsing "Leave House" from making immediate impressions. In short, Caribou has earned the right to have your trust, and that trust remains in good hands. Meticulous, tuneful, surprising, and always finding a deep groove, Swim is yet another brilliant work by a true master.

ANIBAL VELASQUEZ - Mambo Loco

Before Lucho Bermudez and Pedro Laza, the first Colombian giant I fell in love with was Anibal Velasquez, via a bunch of surprisingly high-quality (despite the tacky packaging) Latin compilations released by the Charly label in 1997. Velasquez’ aggressive, piercing accordion sound worked perfectly with his tough-as-nails small ensembles that, against all expectations of danceable music, de-emphasized the bottom end in favour of an almost abrasive approach to groove—totally opposite to everything I hated about the slickness of some Latin styles. I needed more, but couldn’t find any. I resorted to ordering straight from Discos Fuentes in Colombia, but couldn’t find a whole lot. Turns out he preferred to move from label to label, earning himself the nickname "Anibal Todo Sello", or "Anibal all labels", which sounds cool, but not if you're the one seeking out his tracks for buying or compiling. Add to this the fact that he has been recording since 1952, and you’ve got a bit of a hunting and licensing nightmare to deal with! 

Well, along comes Analog Africa, taking a surprising turn away from their eponymous continent towards none other than El Mago himself. This set shows off the massive influence of the frenetic Cuban guaracha on his style, and puts more spotlight on the instrumental prowess of his bands. One listen and you’ll understand why both Analog Africa and I dig Velasquez’ heaviness. Savour it until Soundways finally drops the long-delayed follow up to their 2007 Colombia! comp.

LAWRENCE ARABIA - Chant Darling

The wonderful thing about discovering an artist like James Milne and his solo project Lawrence Arabia is that not only do you have a certifiable classic-pop gem of 2010, but teasing out and tracking down related projects reveals a trove of great music. From his beginnings with The Brunettes to more recent touring duties with Feist and Okkervil River, he has also been a key member of fab outfits like The Reduction Agents and The Ruby Suns. On his second solo album, Milne mines similar ground as local champs Zeus, cranking out a string of killer cuts that show off his skill at crafting songs that tie his native New Zealand and Swedish (he did some recording there) indie with nods to the soaring harmonies and dramatic chord changes of ELO and the Beatles. Check the reference to “Because” 32 seconds into opener “Look Like A Fool” and the eerie vocal similarities he shares with solo John Lennon. It’s both subtle and bold, but he pulls it off with aplomb. See where this shows up my personal year-end list! 

LOVE IS ALL - Two Thousand And Ten Injuries

I admit to having just caught the bus on these guys, but it’s easy to develop a cautious armour of protection against buzz bands who fail to clinch the brass ring. Being from Sweden doesn’t hurt their hip factor, nor does their clearly dance-y post-punk aesthetic, but how unique is that alone these days?  Luckily for Love is All, they deliver the goods with bold interplay between guitar, bass and skronk sax, and, most prominently, the distinctive vocals of Josephine Olausson, who carves out her own niche beside such like-voiced singers as Poly Styrene, KatieJane Garside, Clare Grogan, and Annabella Lwin.  Yes, what stands out in Love Is All is the conviction with which they attack each song, and, listening back to their previous releases, they know better now when to ease of the intensity button and lay back a bit. So while “Early Warnings” and “Bigger Bolder” maintain their frenzied signature sound, “Kungen” amusingly references the Turtles, and “Take Your Time” closes the album with a theme based on Johann Pachelbel's “Canon in D”. 

ERYKAH BADU - New Amerykah Part Two: Return Of The Ankh

It's ironic that it's a video from this album (Badu's one-shot stripping stroll through Dallas for first single "Window Seat") that's the source of so much controversy—it is by far a more mellow installment than its New Amerykah predecessor. Where the first record (subtitled 4th World War) was an often angry album, Return of the Ankh chooses to fight fire with love.

It's not so much that the record is overly sentimental or saccharine, but rather that nearly all of the tracks find themselves directly concerned with matters of the heart. This focus imparts a far more settled vibe on the album, and it's hard not to feel just a little disappointed at first. Part of what made Part One such an exciting listen was its exceptionally unpredictable and fearless nature. Songs dissolved into bizarre left turns and absorbing segues—none more so than the awesomely bizarre trumpet-and-voice scat that closed "Me". Return of the Ankh instead lays its cards out on the table for all to see, which makes sense.

Where 4th World War aimed to confront, this album wishes to seduce. And once you become acclimatized to its objectives, the record nearly proves to be its equal. The mid-record double shot of "Gone Baby, Don't Be Long" and "Umm Hmm" is a sultry pairing, while "Love" uses a head-nodding J Dilla track to have Badu channel her inherent oddness in a way that perfectly suits the record. The album's tempo rarely breaks a sweat and its charms are coy and delicate in how they blossom, but this ends up being a very worthy partner to one of the better soul records of the past few years.

MGMT - Congratulations

It's a pivotal scene in Revenge of the Nerds VIII: The Geek Shall Inherit the Earth. The Alpha Betas are super-pumped to be holding a frosh week kegger bash. All the smokin' hot Pis are coming—and those nerds from Lambda Lambda Lambda are going to be too busy cleaning that cow manure from off their common room ceiling to make it. Score!

Even better, Ogre (who is now the Dean of Students) swears he's secured a “big time dance-pop crew” to play the party. Nice! Sure enough, the night is bangin’! Everyone's primed and Alphas and Pis are pairing up to work on some post-party "extracurricular credits"—and it's concert time!

Hold on...what the hell? That's not dance-pop!! It sounds like...some weird scene in an Austin Powers film. And a little like that Yes record my dumbass younger brother played me over the summer. And was that last song really twelve minutes?!?! Who are those guys anyway?

Oh no! NO!!! It's those two new Tri Lambs, Ben Goldwasser and Andrew VanWyngarden!! And am I dreaming...but the Pis actually like it! They're actually dancing to this geekfest. "I'm in love with a nerd!!" screams one swooning sorority beauty as she does the monkey to the climactic breakdown in some song called "It's Working."

"I told you this would work!" laughs Ben, oblivious to the three football captains waiting sidestage to pummel their heads. “Yeah,” says Andrew with a wide grin, “maybe we can have it both ways after all!” 

STRANGE BOYS - Be Brave

Though they have been on tour with Spoon and Deerhunter, Austin’s Strange Boys don’t fit comfortably into the indie scene. Yes, they are signed to Rough Trade in the UK, but with a resume of backing up cult R’n’B singer Mighty Hannibal and grabbing support slots with Roky Erickson, their Nuggets-styled press shots show their true allegiance to a looser, boozier, Stones-inspired version of back-to-the-basics rock’n’roll. 

What separates Strange Boys from the legion of other garage-y acts that have been cropping up in the American south and west is that they don’t go for primitive lo-fi crunch and hazy psychedelia, instead swaggering through a dozen tracks featuring the distinctive croak of lead singer Ryan Sambol (a perfect vocal fusion of both Neil Hagerty and Jennifer Herrema of Royal Trux), and most recently adding Jenna Thornhill (of the sadly departed Mika Miko) on honking sax and bg’s to the band’s ever-shifting organ-backed line-up.

JOAO GILBERTO - Chega de Saudade

To call this one of the most influential albums of the second half of the last century would be no exaggeration. Joao Gilberto’s 1959 debut may have been preceded on wax by Elizete Cardoso’s landmark Cançao Do Amor Demais by a year, but the influence of Gilberto’s bossa nova had already been stirring things up in since the erratic oddball began developing his sound in the previous years. While Cardoso’s album was undeniably beautiful, her occasionally melodramatic vocals and orchestral backing only hinted at what Gilberto perfected with Chega de Saudade, ditching all unnecessary inflection, ornamentation, and accompaniment, and establishing the blueprint for the next 50 years of a global phenomenon, rivaled only by reggae as the most influential non-American musical idiom of the past century. Most of these tracks are pure classics of the genre, from the ingenious minor-to-major melody of the title track to “Desafinado” and “A Felicidade”. El Records fills in the additional space with tracks from Gilberto’s first disciples like Bola Sete, Alaide Costa, Walter Wanderley, and, of course, Elizete Cardoso. Absolutely essential.

VA - Keb Darge & Paul Weller Present Lost & Found: Real R'n'B & Soul

The first eye-opening Lost & Found set, from Keb Darge and Cut Chemist, surprised everyone by ignoring the funk in favour of rockabilly (!) and jump blues, and helped forge the way for the micro-'50s revival niche. Darge, a former disco dance champ way back in the day known to collectors for being the supreme chief of deep funk 45s (his DJ sets are legendary), teams up this time with the Modfather, Paul Weller (whose unceasing recording career eclipses the fact that he has been a soul connoisseur for nearly 40 years) on Lost & Found take two. Both are expert selectors, and have been responsible for some seriously deep comps over the last decade. While both are in a relative comfort zone, you can imagine the smiles they shared when they agreed to the challenge of keeping things pre-1970.  

Darge takes the first slot, straying from the funk while not losing the feel for hard-driving numbers, whether they be Northern jumpers or '50s big-band blues. His choice to open with Big Mama Thornton’s “They Call Me Big Mama,” hardly a deep cut, shows that he is going for a vibe more than he is trying to display his cache of rare gems. He still wins on the rarities front, though, especially with the only A-side recorded by Big “T” Tyler, the rocking “King Kong.”

Paul Weller goes for the sweeter, skittering sounds of hidden sides from better-known singers like Tammi Terrell, Bobby Bland, and the Dells, and takes a chance on a couple of straight blues shakers from Albert King (the classic “Crosscut Saw”) and Slim Harpo. The end result of this matchup is a collection better suited for a party than for the dancefloor, but don’t be surprised if you hear a cut or two in the clubs played by a DJ clearly taking a cue from this excellent matchup. 

DUM DUM GIRLS - I Will Be

Sometimes you just need to keep things simple. And even if you could legitimately argue that 'simple' is all the Dum Dum Girls are capable of, I Will Be works by doing just that. In under a half hour, eleven songs skip by with effortless ease and yet, for such a brief encounter, they certainly make an impression. It's not unlike a fleeting glimpse of a particularly cool, attractive boy or girl on the subway—the main difference being that, unlike that now long-gone object of desire, you can bask in the glow of I Will Be again by pressing play (which you likely will do).

Their music is simultaneously approachable and aloof, awash in luxurious reverb, and abundant with an instantly palatable combination of Phil Spector girl-groupiness and Jesus and Mary Chain haze. "Blank Girl" even manages a kind of "Sometimes Always" (the JAMC's killer duet with Hope Sandoval) in reverse, with Crocodiles' lead singer Brandon Welchez (himself a big devotee of the Mary Chain) doing the deadpan Jim Reid honours.

And then there's that name. On the surface, it's seems a self-effacing and preemptive admission of their rather basic M.O. Yeah, yeah, they know, folks—their music is easy to play. But I love the percussive onomatopoeia of "dum-dum", a phrase that perfectly mimics the über-groovy drumbeats that drive I Will Be straight to the heart of hip-shake land. Call it plain. Call it easy. Call it derivative. Just don't call it dumb.

BRAD MEHLDAU - Highway Rider

It was getting hard to admit to being a Brad Mehldau fan. When Mehldau first began making waves outside all but the most ear-to-the-ground jazz circles, it was for his then-groundbreaking renditions of songs by Nick Drake and Radiohead. The effect was akin to Rick Rubin's decision to turn Johnny Cash loose on Beck and Soundgarden—suddenly a veritable gold mine of material had been opened to reinterpretation through an entirely different lens. Even today, Mehldau's readings of "River Man" and "Exit Music (From a Film)" are stunning masterclasses of intuition, feel, and raw talent.

But as everyone from The Bad Plus to Christopher O'Riley began beating this trend into the ground, Mehldau went from groundbreaker to cliché in rather short order. Even the 2005 addition of peerless drummer Jeff Ballard to his trio failed to produce the same invigorating sparks he enjoyed earlier in his career. But sometimes it's not who's playing the song, as much as it's the song itself.

The worst thing that the Drake/Radiohead years did to Mehldau's career was to take him away from his own writing—it is with no exaggeration that I say that his self-penned 1999 solo piano album, Elegiac Cycle, is one of the best records I've ever heard. Highway Rider sees Mehldau 'the composer' come back out of hiding, and the results are stunning. It is also his first record with L.A. pop and soundtrack producer Jon Brion since 2002's crossover hit, Largo, and the pairing once again proves to be an inspired choice.

Recorded with his trio, sax man Joshua Redman, drummer Matt Chamberlain and a full orchestra, the double album may be loosely based around the narrative of a journey, but it plays like a gorgeous love letter to the bygone era of old Hollywood films. It's not at all a stretch to envision the likes of Greta Garbo and Cary Grant sauntering through your own private mental vistas as you take in Highway Rider. But there's also just enough dissonance in the compositions to keep things modern and unpredictable. Above all, for a double album of jazz/classical hybrid tunes, it's disarmingly melodic and hooky. You could point to a few factors—I'm very sure that Brion helped relax the proceedings immensely—but it really feels like Mehldau is becoming comfortable again with the quality of his own writing. And I say 'bravo' to that.

SHE & HIM - Volume Two

After hearing Zooey Deschanel’s end-titles duet with Leon Redbone in the Christmas comedy Elf, I hoped to hear more from her. More fool me, then, for missing the boat when she debuted She & Him, her project co-piloted by M. Ward. The attention (or lack thereof) that she receives thanks to her celebrity sadly obscures the fact that Deschanel is a charming stylist who mines the past much in the way Pete Molinari does with his slavish but unquestionably sincere devotion to the '50s and '60s. Not that She & Him eschew modern digital production, but the simplicity and directness of the songwriting and arrangements keeps things decidedly Brill Building and, at times, aims for the countrypolitan sound of '60s Nashville (just check the faithful cover of Skeeter Davis’ “Gonna Get Along Without You Now” for proof of this). Sweet stuff!

RUFUS WAINWRIGHT - All Days Are Nights: Songs For Lulu

Rufus Wainwright's self-titled debut in 1998 was a sudden rush of talent that floored both old-school music industry vets (Van Dyke Parks and Lenny Waronker) and emerging underground icons (Jim O'Rourke) alike. It was a complex, mature and uncommercial debut that—thanks to his envious pedigree and self-possessed confidence—was amazingly allowed to exist on its own esoteric terms.

Since then, however, Wainwright has often seemed stretched by his own ambition to be everything his heart desires. His back catalogue is extremely strong, but it is also defined mainly by its excesses and the wild extremities of its scope. Massive orchestras, two-part albums, full stage recreations of Judy Garland's cult Carnegie Hall performance—when someone of Wainwright's decadent tastes is allowed such indulgences, you'd be a fool to trust him to say "no".

Why point all this out? After years of excess, the man has finally used, as he calls it, "his ace in the hole"—a record of just piano and voice. It's not so much that All Days Are Nights: Songs For Lulu makes his back catalogue look bad, but if nothing else, it validates the virtues of restraint. And frankly, it is the best record Wainwright has done in years.

Like some homeopathic cleanse, it is a return to the purest state of this man's talent. Aside from the two-minute swagger of "Give Me What I Want and Give It To Me Now", the mood is decidedly introspective, centering on broken love, relationships, and most significantly, the recent death of his beloved mother, folk icon Kate McGarrigle. And though haunted, both he and the listener emerge from the album renewed and full of tender affection. If his last original album, 2007's Release the Stars, was some triple-whipped, caramel-topped, double-cream mochaccino, All Days Are Nights is a lone cup of espresso: strong, pure, classic, and damn near perfect.