Madness
The Dangermen Sessions, Volume 1 (v2)

The Dangermen Sessions, Volume 1 marks the return of Madness with the entire original lineup on board. However, anyone expecting a return to the "nutty sound" will be letdown, as this is really more of a tribute album than a comeback attempt. This record consists entirely of covers, but those wondering what influences were lurking under Suggs and company's sound all the time will gain some interesting insights, some expected (vintage reggae and ska) and some surprising (Diana Ross, Jose Feliciano). And though it isn't an essential record, there are some great individual cuts, including a strong version of Max Romeo's great "Iron Shirt." Most of all, The Dangermen Sessions, Volume 1 seems to have been recorded first and foremost for the band's gratification, and that's pretty cool. --Andy Smith

THE MAGIC MAGICIANS
WISHING WHAT I WRITE MIGHT BE READ BY THEIR LIGHT (SUICIDE SQUEEZE)

Offering much more upbeat and catchy fare than their respective "regular bands," John Atkins (764-HERO) and Joe Plummer (Black Heart Procession) have come up with a languid, off-kilter pop record that occasionally disintegrates into gleeful 80s-like dissonance. The Magicians called in Sleater-Kinney's Janet Weiss and Justin Trosper of Unwound for some studio help, and the resulting album comes off fitting nicely into the Built to Spill/Death Cab for Cutie club. At times approaching something resembling rock abandon ("Action," "Cascade Express"), at their best moments the Magic Magicians present edgy pop rock in the vein of Gang of Four or Guided By Voices. A few careening spots of not-quite-reckless abandon aside, however, the duo doesn't come up with anything close to the work of the artists referenced in their bio--Husker Du, the Minutemen, and the Replacements. While it's great to give the nod to your heroes, in this case it would lead you astray if you filed your CDs believing that admiration leads to imitation. While the record is above average, there still isn't much to distinguish the Magicians from all the other college bands playing out-of-tune guitars to illustrate their disregard for established musical forms. The two move away from their standard modus operandi to offer catchy one-string "riffs," faster tempos, and angular rhythms, but they retain the brokenhearted-smart-guy vocal delivery that's at once earnest, ironic, and whiny. The quieter moments gain depth with repeated listens, and the album as a whole comes recommended to fans of the genre. Just don't file it next to your old SST records. (miss bonnie)

Magnapop
Mouthfeel (Daemon Records)

Too long out of the spotlight, Athens' pop sensations Magnapop return for the first time in an eternity (nine years to be precise) with a strong platter of smart, dynamic guitar-driven power pop. The band's offhand harmonies and indelible hooks, courtesy of ex-Oh Ok Linda Hopper along with Ruthie Morris and Scott Rowe, are in evidence from the opening salvo, "We're Faded," which functions as both frothy singalong and self-deprecating commentary. They needn't be so negative, though, as Mouthfeel is a substantial addition to the band's repertoire, a prime, late-in-the-game slice of southern pop goodness. --Charlie Sands

Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks
Face The Truth (Matador)

Fascinating, frustrating, and engaging as ever. Malkmus throws a minor curve with the B-52’s-on-Uranus opener “Pencil Rot” but it’s just a far-out tease, and he quickly regroups with “It Kills,” a lovely guitar ballad about longing and discovery. Malkmus' knack for intricate song structure handily wins out over more experimental indulgences, and that makes his third solo release his most realized work. There’s the organic rap of “Kindling For The Master,” the prog-rock epic “No More Shoes” for Pavement fans, and the beautifully obtuse “Freeze The Saints,” which features his most assured vocals. It's refreshing to find a lyricist so in love with wordplay that he doesn’t worry about being mistaken for a traditional poet, while his melodies are rich (when he wants them to be) and the Jicks are tight. Hard to ask for more, though one day Malkmus might take himself seriously and ask that his fans do the same, and that might really be something worth languishing over. – David Pyndus

Mamadou and Vanessa
Nacama (self-released)

Mamadou Sidibe is a noted Malian musician who has been actively touring and recording since the early 80's, and is currently living in the San Francisco Bay Area. Nacama is the first record he has recorded with his wife, Vanessa, who has been quite active in the Bay Area world music scene for a number of years. Sidibe's primary instrument is the 8-stringed kameln'goni and his skill on it is dazzling. Vocally, his husky tenor voice glides over the tracks as his fingers play the skittering, rolling rhythms and melodies on the kameln'goni. Vanessa's contributions are mainly vocal with more mixed results. On certain tracks, such as "Sawa," she finds the right groove and adds an interesting ingredient to the song, but on many of the other tracks, she struggles to match Mamadou's style and the English words are an odd match with what Sidibe is singing. Hopefully her comfort level with the style will increase on future releases. (Andy Smith)

MANGOLD
COLON (MANGOLD)

Mangold presents an iconoclastic, bracing arrangement of lucid lyrics and sudden tone and tempo changes. There is a great similarity here to the early dadaist-situational opuses of Frank Zappa, like 200 Motels or Thing-Fish. Like Zappa, a wicked sense of wit is rife in Colon. With a sneer and a guffaw, their sardonic cynicism is framed in hairpin turns around sophisticated sounds of a horn-section-backed rock combo. Mixing patent offense with slick music tricks, Colon is one for the jaded. Mangold is not particularly clever about their choice of targets, though. They attack Christians and lawyers, for instance, with no topical relativity to contemporary events. Another Mangold target is musicians lacking in talent. This and the general tone leads one to believe the musicians behind Mangold (also behind the kids' TV series, The Chip and Vince Show) are similarly frustrated artists that happen to be talented and venomous as well. While not noted on the disc, the man behind the recording is Charles Mangold. After some unsuccessful bands in Boston (Ernie's Food) and New York (The God Lodge), Mangold landed the guitar slot for Sinead O'Connor's band at the infamous 1992 Bob Dylan Tribute at Madison Square Garden (O'Connor's papal protest overshadowed all else). He's also performed with and written for Chaka Khan, as well as contributed four songs to Swamp Boogie Queen's N2K release. (TTS)

MANIKIN
MANIKIN (SUPER SECRET RECORDS)

Austin's always good for throwing out a great band or three that you've never heard of. Relatively recent arrival Manikin blends distorted surf-crazy guitars with a good ol' 1977 punk chug to fairly thrilling results. There's an unmistakable SST Records-type vibe here, an independent (and in this case, barely produced) spirit that runs through the songs that's utterly unpretentious and completely devoted to developing a sound. A press clipping pegs their trip as Dag Nasty crossed with Joy Division, though I don't really hear the latter, unless its in the paranoid disconnectedness of the lyrics. But the real story is in Alfonso Rabago's skipping, reeling guitar runs, which rampage with glee throughout in a twisted echo from the catalogs of Link Wray and Chuck Berry to Greg Ginn and Curt Kirkwood. Worth a listen. (Luke Torn)

MANISHEVITZ
City Life ( JAGJAGUWAR)

This is one of those records I kept trying to write off throughout the fall. But every time it reached the CD player, it became clearer that this third album by Chicago outfit Manishevitz is something special. From its opening salvo, with singer Adam Busch's Bryan Ferry yelping, and the band falling in line like some weird marriage of prime Roxy Music, pop-era Eno, and so many post-punk pastiche's of staples like the Beach Boys and the Velvet Underground (other influences have been bandied about as well, from Robert Wyatt/Soft Machine to Van Dyke Parks), Manishevitz are riding quite a few trends burbling in the pop underground circa 2004. But Busch has a strong, grounded folkish songwriting streak in him, and within the formal Roxy intimation lies one of pop's more unique and original voices, expansive arrangements, and a willingness to let the music find its proper place. Intriguing and addictive. (Luke Torn)

MAKTUB
KHRONOS (OSSIA)

Seattle-based soul brothers Maktub (pronounced "mock-tube") deal in deep grooves, smoking vocals, and a pinch of psychedelia to round it all out. Their new album may have a few flaws, but you'll be hard-pressed not to love it because when things go right they are dead on target. "You Can't Hide" is as rootsy and funky a song you'll hear, and showcases vocalist Reggie Watts' range and Daniel Spils' soft touch on the keys. The band slides into a more forceful guitar sound with "Give Me Some Time," and the raw energy of the chorus helps pick up the softer passages, which are a touch out of place. Another highlight is the smooth crooning "Baby Can't Wait," which owes as much to Chic as to Marvin Gaye and here the band lays a Hammond organ and sitar break in with great results. The only real misstep is Maktub's psychedelic-laced cover of Led Zeppelin's "No Cover"; it's a solid choice and their take is undeniably unique, but at times the slashing guitars don't quite match the reverb-soaked keys and for a moment it produces an odd sense of vertigo. It's a minor complaint that's easily forgiven, though, when the rest of the album is so solid. (Boon Sheridan)

MARCONI UNION
[Distance]
All Saints
Sometimes you can totally love a recording but have no idea how to describe it. What makes that even more fun is when a band gives almost no information about itself anywhere, and prefers it that way. Some things I have learned are that Marconi Union are a duo from Manchester, UK, have another recording that is supposedly quite different, and were signed by Brian Eno to his label. Eno likes them so much, in fact, that he asked them to oversee the remastering of his reissue series. Their music--mostly electronic, but adding the odd acoustic instrument (piano mostly) to the mix, resembles in many ways, that of Mr. Eno. While it is ambient in nature at times, it is also music that moves, but never in a way that would encourage something as brash as dancing. While there's nothing particularly personal or, for that matter, recognizably unique (i.e.,  no Hopelandic “singing” ala Sigur Ros’), [Distance] displays an emotional warmth and availability that makes it endearing. Where a lot of albums scream of easy tag-abilities Marconi Union are a quiet conundrum of open-ended questions, peacefully capturing at least part of my attention. With music like this, it’s almost better that you don’t know much about who’s playing it.  --d.n.l

SYD MATTERS
Syd Matters
v2
Parisian Syd Matters, aka Jonathan Morali, uses his eponymous American debut to cull highlights from his previous French releases on Third Side Records, presenting a sampling of the gamut of baroque pop. Granted, the influences reach beyond Nick Drake–Radiohead seeps from “Someday Sometimes” and “English Way,” which may owe a little too much to “Karma Police” for some tastes; “What Are You Looking At?” with its long rock instrumental buildup, channels some of the thicker moments from Mercury Rev’s Deserter’s Songs; “To All Of You,” which made its way onto The O.C., is strangely catchy, almost danceable, like Ian Curtis performing one of the clubbier numbers off the Flaming Lips’ last record. But the record’s most shining moments are certainly the more delicate, quiet songs. The supple “Lost Bird” makes great use of vibraphone alongside Matters’ acoustic simple picking, and “Flow Backwards” washes in an understated fullness. In these songs, Matters establishes an atmosphere akin to Brian Eno’s Another Green World: all at once subtle and lush, making no bold moves but giving birth a lulling, yet unsettling ambiance. --Allen Thurtell

MILTON MAPES
The State Line ( ASPYR MEDIA)

A re-release of their 2001 debut, The State Line captures the duo of singer/guitarist Greg Vanderpool and Roberto Sanchez (since expanded to a full band lineup) in the beginning stages of honing their Americana pedigree. It's a solid approach, too, with Vanderpool’s weathered semi-growl being the perfect narrator for the alternately plaintive, stripped-down acoustic fare and conventionally rocking jangle-twang arrangements. The problem, then, is that they call a few too many plays out of the Springsteen/Earle/Farrar playbook, failing to emerge with anything even vaguely original in the process. Tough-minded and literate, but altogether too comfortable, Vanderpool lifts too many images and phrases out of the stock language of the Americana genre, leaving him to blaze a trail already scorched by far more notable songwriters. Not that the songs themselves suffer from lack of substance or production value; they’re consistently and cohesively stitched together with every reverberating riff and lonely mandolin lick. But their strengths simultaneously become their weaknesses, as the careful calculation of the arrangements trumps the sincerity and humility with which they ostensibly are imbued. In the end, all of the elemental pieces were in place at this stage, but it wouldn’t be until their next release, 2003’s Westernaire, that they’d come closer to putting it all together. (Matt Fink)

GRAIG MARKEL
THE GOSPEL PROJECT (RECOVERY/PATTERN 25)

As one of the primary creative movers and shakers behind goth indie rockers Tagging Satellites, Graig Markel has succeeded by recognizing the spaces between notes and ideas and players. On his two solo albums, last year's Hard Grammar and his latest The Gospel Project, Markel has broadened his understanding by eschewing his well-established goth tendencies to explore the intersection of the slinky vibe of 60s Motown/70s R&B and soulful contemporary indie pop. Where Markel manages to incorporate his goth experience is in the spectacular restraint that he perfected with Tagging Satellites. In Markel's hands (and they are his hands alone; he plays everything on The Gospel Project), the results of his delicate genre mixing are everything great soul music should be: romantic, heartfelt, smart, and meticulously arranged. If Greg Dulli had more fully comprehended the idea of boundaries and holding back, he could easily conceive of something as gorgeous and energetic as The Gospel Project. Combining the pop edge of Francis Dunnery ("The Last Monarch," "Finer Side"), the melancholy beauty of Joe Pernice ("These Desert Eyes," "Shanghai"), and the swinging twisted soul of Eels ("Relics of Reaction") with the smoldering magnificence of the era's best soul signatures, Graig Markel has made an album as groovy as a late night DJ's record collection, as sexy as a striptease, and as smart as an indie record shop clerk. (Brian Baker)

MAYDAY
I KNOW YOUR TROUBLES BEEN LONG (BAR/NONE)

Just as some may cite their emergence as yet further evidence that the ever-multiplying bands of Omaha, Nebraska, have plans to completely take over the indie rock universe, Mayday here cast themselves as willing conspirators with this, their second release. Led by former Lullaby for the Working Class/current Cursive guitarist Ted Stevens, the band has crafted the successor to their far-too-overlooked masterpiece, 2002's Old Blood, leaving the safety of their incestuous home label (Saddle Creek) to join the adventurous Bar/None fold. Still following their creaky lo-fi muse, the album is awash in arcane country-folk mannerisms and fractured bucolic narratives, with Stevens cast in the role of starry-eyed narrator. More than any other constellation in the Saddle Creek galaxy, Mayday is willing to immerse themselves in the paranoia and naiveté of stereotypical rural America, adapting fiddle and banjo and vaguely doomed prognostication for the slight country balladry of "Little Tremors" and inhabiting a toothless grin for the coyly swaying "Crawfish River," a song rife with the vernacular of brutish and boorish figures. Similarly typical is his rendering of a petty family feud in "Old Blood," with whispered threats piggybacked on menacing fiddle and shadowy clouds of pedal steel, and the rollicking, kick-up-your-heels stomp of "Running Away." While Stevens' singing style is only a slightly more controlled variant of Bright Eyes' Conor Oberst's pained yelp, it's generally difficult to decipher whether Stevens wants his characters held up for pity or irony. Mostly, though, he gets away with this apparent patronization because his sonic foil is so compellingly and consistently rendered, leaving his observations to fall under the guise of nostalgia, his characters either reflecting on their childhoods or displaying a child-like innocence themselves. Still, to focus only on the caustic elements would be to miss an album with an impressive sonic scope. Approximating a Solomon Burke groove, with sprightly tapped piano and slight gospel intonations converging in a crazed cryptic soul arrangement, the triumphant tone of "Dyzfunctional Cuzin" takes on a life of its own, past its doleful character sketch. Further balance is added with the moonlit trumpet lines and elegant guitar twinkle of the trite "Lost Serenade" mixing with the tensely crashing guitar rock escapism and a doomed runaway love story of "Virginia." In the end, it 's not a genre-defining nor a brilliance-confirming release, but it's more than sufficient to establish Mayday as a band worthy our collective attention. (Matt Fink)

THE MAYDAY MURDERS
MAYDAY MURDERS (FIRE)

England's Fire Records was, in the 80s, the home of the notorious psych/rock ne'er do wells Spacemen 3. So it's entirely appropriate that Fire also house the Mayday Murders, a European four-piece that specializes in much the same low-rent garage psych. "Don't Wanna Know" and "The Outcome" motor along the same dirty, two-chord highways as vintage S3, with simple riffs, even more simple rhythms, and rudimentary hooks. "Shut Down" and "Everyone Everything" prove the band's mastery of the winsome pop tune, not unlike another British psychedelic rock legend, the Bevis Frond. "Sonic Vendetta" cranks the noise and aggression, living up to its title. The band's efforts are all captured in glorious low-to-mid fi production. The singer's plainspoken vocals remain steady for the most part, but start to fray appealingly at the edges during peak excitement, as the band keeps a stranglehold on melody despite the low-fi grunge. And at five songs, this disk is just the right length, ending before the bargain-basement shtick begins to wear out its welcome. Not a bad introduction to a right fine band. (Michael Toland)

THE MC5
HUMAN BEING LAWNMOWER: THE BADDEST & MADDEST OF THE MC5 (TOTAL ENERGY RECORDS)

It must be very frustrating trying to get into the MC5. Seems like every week there's two or three new compilations of live MC5 stuff that sounds like it was recorded by some six-year-old holding a mic out his bedroom window while the band plays two blocks away. Or yet another cache of previously unheard studio recordings, with sound quality that seems to be from a fifth generation cassette. Long-time fans know that while the Five were without question THE best live band in America in the 60s, they never made an album that really lives up to the legend. Kick Out the Jams has always suffered because too much of their best material from the early years wasn't included; as a live improv album, it has moments of brilliance coupled with moments of tedium. Back in the USA served as the blueprint for both the New York Dolls' and the Ramones' debut albums, but was so sanitized by producer Jon Landau (who went on to be Springsteen's guru) that it's only partially successful. Only the final album, High Time, revealed a glimpse of how good the band could be. Rhino's 2000 compilation The Big Bang! The Best of the MC5 has only recently emerged as the one CD you could really recommend to show the greatness of the Five. Now there's a second disc that I can whole-heartedly recommend to those who bought the Rhino comp and want more. It's the wilder, more experimental side of the Five, with jazz improv and spoken poetry amid the chaos and carnage of their high voltage live act. It's also a bit of a "best of" culled from the many compilations released under the supervision of Wayne Kramer and former manager John Sinclair over the years. Included are several stunning outtakes from the October 1968 recording of Kick Out the Jams, including the incendiary (pun intended) version of "Motor City's Burning" previously found on Icepick Slim and a version of "Rama Lama Fa Fa Fa" that blows away the more familiar version. Add to that magnificent outtakes from High Time (wilder renditions of "Skunk" and "Gotta Keep Movin'" and the best versions ever of some of their James Brown numbers), along with very cool packaging, and you've got the first really significant MC5 release for fans in years, and one of the best on the market for newbies as well. (Kent H. Benjamin)

JANA MCCALL
SLUMBER (UP)

Former bassist for Seattle grungemeisters Dickless, Jana McCall's second solo LP is much like her first--lugubrious, plodding, downtrodden. With music and arrangements provided by the Ruby Doe, Slumber's forlorn songs glide along in an icy sort of way. Nothing wrong with the wall of sound McCall conjures here, but since Slumber rarely varies the tone or rhythm, and McCall's vocals fade into the ether, nothing really stands out, either. Worth looking into for those battling an intense case of morosity; otherwise steer clear. (Luke Torn)

Delbert McClinton
Cost Of Living (New West)

An easy New Orleans piano line opens up his first studio release in three years, and it filters through the record even though Delbert leaves the Crescent City sound behind for a wide-open territory of barroom blues, swingin’ shuffles, and rock ‘n’ roll. Interestingly, McClinton begins Cost Of Living with “One of the Fortunate Few,” the title of his 1997 album; it suits him well in this age of evaporating mutual funds, although the true cost of living he sings about concerns the fairer gender. McClinton wrote or co-wrote (with several folks, including longtime collaborator Glen Clark) this diverse gumbo, and with so many stylistic changes, his heavy cover of the Jimmy Reed chestnut “I’ll Change My Style” could be an inside joke. No matter, as McClinton has always been hard to pin down. What does matter is that McClinton, who stands at the precipice of retirement age, sings with as much relaxed conviction as ever, his smooth baritone softened by the piano-fueled heartache of “Midnight Communion,” with its fellowship of fools, and the rocking tail-shaker “Two Step Too,” with its steel guitar abandon. A guaranteed favorite is the Texas blues of “Down Into Mexico” with its Doug Sahm-inspired angst. – David Pyndus

ROB MCCOLLEY
JUICY (LEGAL RECORDS)

Prepare to be confused. It's ok--McColley's confused, too, and that's part of the fun, if your idea of fun revolves entirely around confusion. On this, his fourth album, McColley continues celebrating the ultimate mutability of his identity (either that, or he's a sociopath crippled by the torturous vagaries of all existence). His first CD, fittingly titled Pseudonymous, was released under the name Laurie McColley; by his third effort he'd really gotten back to basics by paring it down simply to Laurie. With Juicy, the whole joke's on the listener, since the packaging makes it near impossible to determine either artist name (Rob Laurie? Rob McColley? A Boy Named Laurie?) or album title (Juicy? From The Devotions? A Boy Named Laurie Sings Songs From The Devotions?). You get the idea, even if the point continues to elude. In terms of sonic backdrop, McColley crafts hook-laden, grand pop arrangements, and the production quality--brought to us courtesy of Champaign-Urbana mainstay Adam Schmitt--remains impressively diverse and consistently engaging. His lyrics are eccentric--sometimes giddy, sometimes disturbed--and he lifts openly from other rock luminaries, citing in his liner notes that, "all artistic works herein are the exclusive creations of the artist, except those which are lifted, verbatim, from other, artier works." Take the cheery album closer, "The Best Time," which cops a verse from the Jesus & Mary Chain and juxtaposes it with Beach Boys-like harmonies. Better yet, there's the flute-laden Beatles-meets-Radiohead lament, "While My Paranoid Android Gently Weeps," which is actually one of the album's stronger tracks. Juicy's standout cuts are "Green For Danger," a 60s lounge-surf romp that might find a happy home in the Pulp Fiction sequel, and the trance-like, "I Wish I Was A Smoker," whose dark, digitized psychedelics (backwards reverb and all) might just mesmerize some into fits of involuntary physical inhalation. Too often, however, McColley stoops to controversial subject matter without any clear delineation of intent. Whether such songs are meant to shock, horrify, disgust, or humor remain anyone's guess. "One Aardvark" tells the bizarre story of a man on a violent crime spree (larceny, incest, mass murder-- typical fare), who is only brought to justice after raping an aardvark ("I'm going to jail for that one aardvark"). Demented satire? Campaign for bestiality? Seething commentary on our upside-down justice system? "Turning Curious?" comes complete with vivid details on human anatomy and bodily fluids, proposing that men who've grown weary of women's idiosyncratic behavior should simply (as suggested repeatedly in the chorus), "have gay sex with men." Reeking simultaneously of misogyny and homophobia, one can easily envision hordes of burly frat boys swilling beer and singing along with utter glee. In fact, much of Juicy treads a thin line between the superficial veneer of female bashing (check out "You C**t") and coming to real grips with solitude, loneliness, and fear of intimacy. Despite the bawdy verbiage, one sometimes gets the impression that he's quite serious. But with unclear motives come unclear meaning, and until McColley's dares to cross that line, most listeners are bound to simply be baffled, even as they find themselves helplessly singing along. (J.J. Benson)

SCOTT MCGILL/MICHAEL MANRING/VIC STEVENS
ADDITION BY SUBTRACTION (FREE ELECTRIC SOUND)

This trio got together for a project pushing the limits of jazz-rock. At times they gel into a formidable prog-rock machine, but at others they are loose and directionless. The result is an uneven art-rock jam band. Still, this is an important chapter in the new jazz-fusion. Scott McGill, on electric and acoustic guitar, put the one-off trio together in October 2000 with bassist Michael Manring (Attention Deficit) and drummer Vic Stevens (Gongzilla). Guest keyboardist is Jordan Rudess of Dream Theater. With all this talent on board, it is no surprise moments of lucid virtuosity occur throughout. Often, however, as on "Vicodin Shuffle," Stevens and Manring lose the other two (and perhaps themselves) in contesting polyrhythms. The melody instruments sit back until the whole mess gets straightened out and the listener is once again presented with top-notch progressive sounds, for a time. The moments when McGill presents a solo acoustic guitar interlude, as on "Euzkadi," stand out on this album. (TTS)

ADAM MCINTYRE
ROCKSTARS & SUPERHEROES (HEADPHONE TREATS)

Maybe it's the thundering sound of dirty guitars, or perhaps erstwhile Shazam guitarist Adam McIntyre's self-assured way with gorgeous pop melodies, but Rockstars & Superstars is one beautiful sounding power pop collection. While the record does have a few quieter pieces, like the subtly twangy "Friend or Lover," mostly it's power chord heaven, with traces of glam, like on the T. Rex-strut of "High," manic Shoes-like rockers like "In Stereo," and the spidery blitz of "I Quit." In fact, Rockstars evokes quite an early 70s-type vibe throughout, as if time froze when the Sweet were still a force on the charts and Alex Chilton and Chris Bell (see "So Good Together") were plotting the return of pop music to the pop charts. "This is for the kids/Who never gave up/When someone said you ain't good enough," sings McIntyre like a true believer on the infectious manifesto that is the lead track "Kids." "That's what they said to the Beatles and the Stones/That's what I love about rock 'n' roll."

Adam McIntyre
Nothing Means Anything (Headphone Treats)

This is one I know little about. McIntyre's from Nashville, this appears to be his second release, he writes and plays almost everything himself, and one song was co-written by the highly talented (but little known) Nashville songwriter Pat Buchanan. Still, this is highly enjoyable, crunchy modern power pop. The songs are all quite catchy, good melodies, good playing, and while you've certainly heard it all before, it's still quite an enjoyable album that deserves to be heard more widely outside the hardcore power pop cognoscenti. --Kent H. Benjamin

THE MCKAY BROTHERS
The McKay Brothers ( TEXAS ARCHIPELAGO)

Having already performed with each other for some 13 years, it seems somewhat strange that only now would the McKay Brothers be releasing their debut, but it appears that the incubation period was time well spent. Expertly produced by roots wunderkind Gurf Morlix, the duo revels in smart arrangements, good-natured songwriting, and first-rate instrumentation, running down the checklist of proper Americana. Blending Tex-Mex with country-folk, the album’s 11 tracks are endlessly classy, from the brotherly harmonies to the crack team of backing musicians they have assembled, from Morlix himself to accordionist Joel Guzman. And even though they play their troubadour roles well, they deftly handle such potentially mawkish topics like domestic bliss (the swinging “Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is”), fidelity in old age (the incredibly genuine “Great Big Oldsmobile”), and family nostalgia (the nimbly finger-picked “Hey Old Man”). Of course, their ethic is certainly time-tested and not terribly original, but there is certainly room for albums that aspire to the hallmarks of the genre as well as this does. (Matt Fink)

LORI MCKENNA
PIECES OF ME (CATALYST DISC/SIGNATURE SOUNDS)

With a sound that is mostly folk but crossed with an unmistakable country twang, Lori McKenna's first nationally distributed release, Pieces of Me, features her considerable songwriting abilities and aggressively emotional and passionate vocals. A better lyricist than vocalist, McKenna's voice nevertheless grows on the listener, because what it lacks in polish is amply made up for with emotion. A mother of four young children, McKenna's lyrics hint at a woman who has been disappointed more than once in love and life, but one who has a guarded willingness to take new chances and risks in order for an opportunity at the potential emotional rewards. Family, life, and love are recurring themes in songs that sometimes hit this listener pretty close to home. "Fireflies" was previously featured on the 1999 Respond benefit album, which garnered Album of the Year honors from Billboard that year, and it may be the catchiest cut here. However, others, such as "Instead," "Never Die Young," and "This Fire" are stronger tracks overall. Pieces of Me is a solid effort from a genuinely talented lyricist. (Richard E. Glover, Jr.)

Meanwhiles
The Nights Rewind (Duct Tape Productions)

Unlike most of New York's bands, Brooklyn's Meanwhiles doesn't seek to glorify New York City, "but rather," according to the band's website, to recall "the exhausted beauty of the people continually caught up in its whirlwind." However, on the band's debut album, The Nights Rewind, Meanwhiles gets swept up in that whirlwind and never finds a base of emotional support. Vocalist Josh Allen sings like a warm Thom Yorke with a pinch of Live's Ed Kowalczyk thrown in for caterwauling drama. Instead of crying out against humanity being devoured by society's cold mechanisms, he dramatically cries out for exhausted beauty. The overwhelming problem, in short, is that The Nights Rewind is too damn dramatic: every song sounds like Allen is a nice boy forever lamenting some relationship with that wonderful girl that fate cruelly brought to a premature end. And while not every song is about unfortunate relationships; well, actually every song on The Nights Rewind is about the unfortunate difficulties with relationships-"And I'd still never trade your lies for mine" ("Kinder"), "What's the difference anyway tonight?...If I can't be kind to you./Goodbye" ("Trouble"), "All my love has turned to blame" ("In Between"), etc.-Allen's emoting brings it to an unbearable teenage crush of a focus. Sometimes it's possible to look past the sophomoric adolescent poetry, like on "Ecstasy," which mirrors the Velvets' "Ocean" in that it's a slow-moving catharsis set to a 1-4 chord change, and there are a couple of moments that aurally recall Mark Linkous' backwoods genius. But the bulk of this album, sadly, is caught up in a whirlwind of adolescent pining and hack poetry. (Allen Thurtell)

A Melodic Daydream
s/t (A Day Away/Hapi Skratch)
Primarily a duo consisting of singer Lnz Schilling and guitarist/multi-instrumentalist Chris Newton, the Denver-based A Melodic Daydream delivers an impressive record with its self-titled debut. Newton's guitar playing is lush and textured with an excellent sense of both melody and dynamics. Schilling's voice is powerful and commanding and blends well with Newton's playing. A couple of highlights are the "Baba O'Riley"-esque outro on "Psychopath Trash" and the big chorus on "Fiddling With Nero," which is the record's catchiest song. The band's sound might be too middle-of-the-road for a lot of indie kids, but a lot of young bands could use it for lessons in both songwriting and musicianship. (Andy Smith)

THE MELVINS
HOSTILE AMBIENT TAKEOVER (IPECAC)

Eighteen years in the business has done nothing to curb Buzz Osbourne's appetite for freakass, jackhammer sludgecore. Almost two decades after he began, influencing the likes of Kurt Cobain and Black Francis along the way, Osbourne (who goes by King Buzzo) is still cranking out impressive work with amazing freshness and frequency. At the tail end of the 90s, Buzzo & Co. (longtime drummer Dale Crover and longest-lasting bassist Kevin Rutmanis) were severed from their only major label, Atlantic. They landed on their feet, though, joining ex-Faith No More frontman Mike Patton's gastro-explosive Ipecac label. On it, they released what was intended as a four-album opus, though, for marketing reasons, it was trimmed to a series of three studio albums. The fourth came as a live recording, stupendously titled. The Colossus of Destiny. Now comes Hostile Ambient Takeover, and the CD lives up to its name. Nine tracks mark the course of the Melvins' forays into sonic exploration, giving new meaning to "ambient" as a musical sub-genre. "Dr. Geek," the second cut, starts with power-chord driven muscle, but measure by measure devolves into carefully orchestrated feedback chaos. It's massive and monstrous Big Bang feedback, make no mistake, setting the tone for an exploration of oozing, testosterone-y metal. That is to say, it's the Melvins, baby. The masterworks are "The Fool, the Meddling Idiot," "Foaming" and "The Anti-Vermin Seed." Each track exceeds eight minutes (the last clocking in at 15) and excavates miles of sonic swampscape not present in normal post-punk outfits. But then again, the Melvins are anything but normal. (John Stoehr)

The Merediths
A Closed Universe (Debauchery Records)

The Merediths is a young Louisville, Kentucky band playing a Beatles/Grandaddy influenced pop style. Their five-song EP, A Closed Universe, displays these influences prominently and shows that the band has a knack for tunes and interesting arrangements. The overall sound is rather derivative, and the band struggles when they try to rock hard, but they do show potential if they can find a more original take on the well-traveled musical road they have chosen to travel. (Andy Smith)

LYNN MILES
UNRAVEL (OKRA-TONE)

On her fourth album, Canadian singer-songwriter Lynn Miles finds strength in plaintive and emotive solemnity. With many tracks dipped in an ether of haunting echoes, the album offers an interesting contrast in the distance between the passion of the performance and the emotionally neutral production. And even while much of the disc is steeped in somber tones, with the creeping dust-blown balladry of "Now I Understand" and weary piano and pedal steel of "Brave Parade," moments within the driving folk/rock of "Undertow" and the muscular guitars and big choruses of the title track offer necessary balance. Much like Emmylou Harris' work with Daniel Lanois, the songs achieve an undeniably sober beauty but take a few listens to make an emotional connection with the listener. Ultimately, one gets the impression that Miles might be better suited to more organic textures. Although the end product comes off a little predictable by contemporary singer-songwriter standards, Unravel is a solid and accomplished set that establishes Miles as a credible, if somewhat indistinct, talent. (Matt Fink)

PAUL MINOR AND THE SUPEREGO ALL STARS
LOW OVERHEAD (NICKEL $ DIME RECORDS)
Album number four from this revered Austin group, and the pop just keeps on coming. Led by Paul Minor, long a fixture on the Texas rock scene (anyone remember the Urge? Roman Candles?) and host of the legendary Rock Œn' Roll Free-For-All parties down at the Hole in the Wall, Superego traverses a wide range of pop and rock styles on Low Overhead, from the guitar-driven muscle of "Violent Crown" to the meditative roots rock of "Red River" to the retro soul/pop of "Merry-go-round." Minor handles (almost) all of the songwriting duties, while plenty of friends help out on instrumentation, including guest appearances by members of Fastball, Sexy Finger Champs, and others. The production's a bit thin (hey it's a labor of love), but this is good-timing rock Œn' roll with its heart in the right place. (Luke Torn)

Miss TK and the Revenge
XOXo (Gern Blendsten)

More evidence that music moves in 20-year cycles; new wave anyone? Though I’m not sure whether it is a good thing to be announcing the return of Missing Persons or the Motels, because really any Blondie comparisons will be incidental. Sure, Miss TK and the boys have the sound down pat with the synths, the clipped guitars and the monotonous drumming, but XOXO is still painfully light in the melody department. (Kevin Mathews)

MISSING JOE
HIGHWAY SONGS (CATAPULT RECORDS)

The Boston-based quartet Missing Joe's second full-length album is a satisfying pop-rock record that should earn them many more fans. Well-crafted and catchy numbers dominate Highway Songs, which actually does sound pretty good riding down the road. In listening to Highway Songs, the first comparison that came to mind was the Gin Blossoms. If you liked that group in its early 90s heyday, you are almost sure to dig Missing Joe. While the vocals of Matt Rafal often more closely resemble Edwin McCain's better work, many of Missing Joe's songs--right from the strong opening track, "Headphones"--sound like they could have just as easily been Gin Blossoms tracks. A nice surprise at the end of the album is "Fold It in a Letter," which has a distinct Elvis Costello feel to it. Overall, this is a well-constructed pop-rock album that may lead to some radio notice for a talented, up-and-coming band. (Richard E. Glover, Jr.)

MISSION OF BURMA
The Obliterati
Matador
The Mission of Burma reunion, belated as it was, cannot be seen as a one-off thing any longer. So many bands get back together and record simply to have something to commemorate the occasion with the efforts palely imitating the original output. 2004's ONoffON was news that the Burma guys were serious about this comeback thing even if that record showed some rust after over 20 years apart, but The Obliterati is on the edge of being a bona fide return to this incredibly influential band's former glory. The older (and certainly wiser for realizing that they needed to play again) quartet (which includes Jim O'Rourke replacing Martin Swope as tape manipulator and sound effects man) seems to be in complete mastery of their craft. This means that the newer material is less clangy and maybe a little less thrilling than the stuff from 25 years ago, but it is also warmer and delivered with something resembling precision. Individual songs like "Donna Sumeria," "1001 Pleasant Dreams," "13," and "Man In Decline" rank with the best of their best. Old MOB devotees should be very, very pleased.--Andy Smith

Mister Neutron
Mister Neutron Loves You (Deep Eddy)

This Cranford, New Jersey-based trio fronted by brothers Damian and Tony Fanelli plays an interesting rootsy style that blends straight-ahead garage rock with roots and surf elements with Damian's nimble and tasteful guitar playing deserving extra praise. They also wrap the whole package with a hefty dose of oddball and irreverent humor as evidenced in songs like "Atomic Supermen" and "Go, Stinky Monkey!" The record sprawl across 19 songs, which might be a bit too much for an initial dosage, but there are several songs here that are worthy of attention. (Andy Smith)

MR. TUBE AND THE FLYING OBJECTS
Listen Up
Sweet Nothing
The back story to Mr. Tube and the Flying Objects is so ridiculous that it’s either completely true or a beer bong fabrication. To wit: Four years ago, Black Heart Processional multi-instrumentalist Paulo Zappoli takes his TV in for repairs and meets Freddie Dillinger, owner/operator of Tube Heaven. Dillinger, known to various and sundry as Mr. Tube, has apparently been writing songs for nearly 50 years while doing time as a carpet salesman/zoo janitor/undertaker/TV repairman not to mention frontman for the unrecorded ’60s/’70s band Freddie Feelgood and the Real Good Feelings. which later became Mr. Tube and the Flying Objects. After hearing gig tapes of the Feelings, Zappoli vows to resurrect a version of the Flying Objects to perform Mr. Tube’s songs in an appropriate yet at least somewhat contemporary manner. Whether you accept this as gospel or appreciate it as fanciful fiction, Zappoli and the Flying Objects have got it going on with the band’s “overdue” debut, Listen Up. Whatever the origin of the songs (“Is this a put on, baby,” Zappoli sings on the album’s opening track, “Put Me Back on Yr Side”), Mr. Tube’s band of merry pranksters serve up a smoking, horn-drenched blend of banging blues, raw jazz, Latin soul and hip hop rhythm as reconstituted and executed by Soul Coughing on a Nyquil binge. Mr. Tube’s story may entertain your head, but the music will move your ass.     --Brian Baker

TRICIA MITCHELL
Purple Room (TRICIAMITCHELL.COM)
The girl powrrr precociousness displayed on assertive opener “For This” gives way to a wealth of styles and moods. Tricia Mitchell’s not afraid to tackle Texas country (“Bobby Joe Plays Violin” and “Never Say I Do”), though the Houston native really excels at new wave power pop (“Valerie,” “Learn You Like A Book,” or what could have been a fine Blondie B-side, “Crybaby”). Produced by Colin Boyd, who also supplies guitar, bass and harmony vocals, Mitchell’s heart seems to reside with a singer-songwriter ethic, though when she gets too personal things get shaky. Her tale of spousal abuse “Twenty Years to Life,” which earns points for descriptions of physical pain but misses the mark emotionally, is a prime example of a song that doesn’t work despite hard won integrity. Purple Room is an album of self-expression (many songs were recorded in a purple room of her South Texas home) that proves some of the most unexpected surprises can come from just about anywhere. – David Pyndus

MOCCASIN
Last Leaf
Invisible Cities
Moccasin are a band that surpasses any expectations of what a band from Denver sounds like. Aside from Fluid, at their prime, I can’t think of anyone who has managed to channel that mile high air into such sonically impressive sound. A number of bands closer to sea level come to mind, though, as musical kinfolk: Comets On Fire and, to a degree, Dead Meadow. They are neither as inventive nor otherworldly as some of the bands quoted in the press as possible influences (My Bloody Valentine, Spacemen 3), but if it helps any, they do resemble other bands from that era, namely Loop (nobody ever name-checks them!) and Thee Hypnotics (double ditto!). Ryan Sniegowski’s vocals are nicely phased in just enough echo to create a presence in the sound, but never enough to overpower with the bass heavy, double guitars, and drums behind it. That suits me fine, because I’m not all that sure anything important is being sung. Truthfully, it’s better to just focus on the impressive racket being made by the guitars anyway, and let the singer catch his breath. --d.n.l

MODEL ONE
Rooms EP
self-released
If the picture on the inside of the Rooms EP is any indication, Model One is comprised of four well-scrubbed guys who wear earnest facial expression and have command of hair styling products. Musically, the six tracks are poppy and sincere, but both musically and lyrically on the lightweight side. It's the aural equivalent of shopping at the Gap. --Andy Smith

Modern Skirts
Catalogue of Generous Men (self-released)
Modern Skirts hail from Georgia and are another young southern band basing its style around the piano, although calling them disciples of Ben Folds would be too narrow of a pigeonhole. There are moments of excellent saoring pop especially the songs "Pasadena" and "City Lights." However, the record gets too bogged down in its earnestness at times and crosses over into the dreaded drippiness territory, but then again it may have more appeal to a younger crowd than us cranky middle-aged rock critics. (Andy Smith)

MODEY LEMON
S/T (A-F RECORDS)

Certainly Modey Lemon stands the best chance of breaking the Pittsburgh scene for world domination if anyone does. As a duo playing garage rock, they've already weathered comparisons to the White Stripes, but as they're both guys, not married, and not related, maybe we should look for other reference points instead. Two that come to mind right away are Pussy Galore and Psychocandy-era Jesus & Mary Chain. Phil Boyd sings, and plays guitar and moog synthesizer (sometimes all at the same time), and Paul Quattrone plays drums and a big ol' piece of scrap metal. Their music has that raw authenticity that both of the above-mentioned bands gleaned from the high energy of early Stooges, Grand Funk Railroad (when they were hungry), and MC5. Their music, while seemingly simple, actually isn't that simple, considering how well two instrumentalists fill the void. Boyd's guitar acts as lead, rhythm, and bass, and Quattrone is that special kind of sloppy drummer that brings a smile to the face of Keith Moon's ghost. They've also got ambition. Taking early Grand Funk's strong work ethic as a model, they work nearly every day on their music, currently touring to places where nobody knows their name. I don't think they'll be quite so unknown next time around. (d.n.l)

Modulator
Don't Hold Out On Me (Self-released)

Modulator is a young five-piece band from Houston seeking to incorporate a heavy synthesizer presence into their punchy commercial college rock. This CD is essentially a three-song demo produced by Ed Buller who has worked with Brit-pop bands Suede and Pulp. The CD sounds great and obviously has some money behind it, but it's too short to get any more than a passing glance at what Modulator has to offer. The songs are meticulously constructed with interesting interplay between the two keyboards, while the guitar, bass, and drums maintain a firm rock presence. There is nothing particularly noteworthy or innovative here especially in the clunky lyrics, but they seem all primed to make a run at the big labels' brass ring circus. I guess someone have to give that a try. (Andy Smith)

MOLECULES
23 Factory Slaves
self-released
Molecules display an ambitious sound on 23 Factory Slaves. The dynamics are big, and so are the emotions with lots of keyboards and big guitars and drums, although a number of the songs get bloated and too long. When you throw in song titles like "The Stranger By Camus" and "The Etymology of Evol" it just ends up sounding a bit overdone in its delivery and erudtition, like English grad students gone wild. The production quality also suffers in places which ends up making the musical peaks sound muffled. Still, there aspects of it to genuinely admire. "L'homme" sounds a bit like Stereolab, and Molecules makes interesting use of the male/female vocal contrast. Perhaps a little restraint and more attention to detail in the studio will yield a better result next time. --Andy Smith

mono
ONE STEP MORE AND YOU DIE (ARENA ROCK)

The non-sound of still pools of water, the explosive force of volcano, gentle hum of wind racing across canyon walls. Listen and close your eyes, see what is deeply hidden, make your own story, be swept away by torrential rain, an orgasmic climax building, teasing, whispering. Their second album belies orchestral attention to every detail, tone, and nuance. There is no note wasted, no time wasted on amateurish poses. Formed in 2000, mono is Takaakira Goto (guitar), Tamaki (bass), Yasunori Takada (drums), and Yoda (guitar). Each band member is equally important and equally responsible for assuring the overall perfection of the performance, each absorbed into the sound, each a master of scenery--and of the myriad effects that have become part of their instruments. Similar keys and melodies echo in several of the songs to provide a thread throughout the work, but rather than showing limited range, it reveals a symphonic theme supported by evocative and ever-changing soundscapes, artfully executed while retaining a savage, dark, and primal growl. This is music you can walk into, wander around in, grow gardens and cities in. Like love it begins, tranquil and lovely, building into tension and passion, then engorged to the point of bursting, the lovers suddenly know each other's secrets: the floodgates open to reveal the dark and primitive places within, a banshee released, a demon unchained. This is mono. (miss bonnie)

MONO'KIRI
Surviving On Dreams and CasualSex!
Kinky Star
Mono'Kiri is actually just Caroline Werbrouck, Belgian musician who was previously a member of the garage punk band Hara'Kiri. Mono'Kiri is more of the electronic club music variety, but not in a pulsating dance way. This is more of the soundtrack for a subterranean adventure through nightlife in a some European capital. Werbrouck comes up with some really cool results on some tracks, even if the overall record is a bit uneven with some parts sounding more like sketches than fully realized songs. "Crash" is a splendid, hypnotic track while "Condemned Love" makes good use of both digitasl instruemtns and conventional guitar sounds to deliver its plaintive ballad. "Player In Disguise" is really cool song with distorted guitar set against a skeletal bass and drum backing. --Andy Smith

MOONBABIES
The Orange Billboard ( HIDDEN AGENDA)

A duo from Sweden, the Moonbabies' second album, The Orange Billboard, tumbles through crisp strumming, noisy pop atmospherics, and beautiful interlocking male/female vocals. An album recalling the classic days of My Bloody Valentine with its warm distortion and shoegazing appeal, The Orange Billboard opens with the tangy "Fieldtrip USA", a perfect percussion-heavy pop song with a killer chorus, and "Sun A.M." with its equally magnetic lines that are easy to sing, easy to sway along to. The album is not a knot of happy fluff though; songs such as "Slowmono" ride along a shadier soundscape with more electronic fringe and excitable outbursts, while "Wyomi" is a short, passionate interlude leading into the title song and highlight of the album. Prepping the ear for the culmination of the work, "The Orange Billboard" employs all of the above characteristics for a lengthy, poetic and sophisticated ballad. Sometimes trippy and sometimes just sweet, the Moonbabies' sound should appeal to anyone with a taste for semi-distorted, chocolate dipped, dream pop. (Antonia Santangelo)

THE MOONHANGERS
Home Grown
WALTER DANIELS WITH CHILI COLD BLOOD
Trashcan Parade
Bloodchili
Ethan Shaw and Doug Strahan are the men behind Chili Cold Blood and their honky-tonk-loving alter ego the Moonhangers. Home Grown showcases a dozen laidback, well-done Hanger originals. An inside photo shows Shaw and Strahan sitting around a patio in cowboy hats talking and drinking a 12-pack of High Life, and that’s pretty much the vibe the music inspires. Waylon and Willie as well as Doug Sahm and Joe Ely are definite touchstones for the Moonhangers on songs such as “You Don’t Love Me Anymore,” “Tumble Down Whiskey,” and the album-opening “Drivin’ Home.” The nifty instrumental “Bouncin’ Buds” and “For Bein’ in Love” showcase Shaw’s sweet steel playing, an album strongpoint. CCB teams up with the legendary and prolific Walter Daniels on Trashcan Parade. While not as memorable, it is no doubt a hell-raising, demon-taunting trashy good time. Ted Roddy contributes harp to two cool instrumentals, “Groovy Gravy,” and “Blowtop Jones,” and the wacky take on the classic bad-taste ode “Terrible Operation Blues” is the perfect soundtrack to oiling your chainsaw. A Texas twofer definitely worthy your time.   --Andy Turner

Andrew Morgan
Misadventures in Radiology (Sonic Boom Recordings)

Playfully haunted by the spirit of a certain Elliott, Misadventures in Radiology is eerily reminiscent of the melancholia mastered by the friendly ghost. Whether Andrew Morgan would exist in this exact capacity without the omnipotent coxswain will never be known, but the resulting recording is positively reverential of his friend and cohort's life and death. A eulogy? Perhaps. To serendipitously quote the Misadventures liner notes, "as selfless, kind, intelligent, and humble as he was talented, his presence and music were, and will continue to be, a source of refuge and inspiration to countless people. The making of this album, both in its writing and recording, owe Elliot and incalculable debt." Morgan's effort is obviously far beyond a mere replication of his predecessor's repertoire. Gratuitously expounding upon said foundation with an adventurous architectural flare, the endlessly swelling, intertwining orchestrations revisit the experimental crux and intricacies of 1960s pop music. The melodic complexities are compounded by Morgan's verbal encyclopedia, as massive as a J. D. Salinger character. Morgan understands the past and proves that he is worthy of the crown which he is primed to inherit from the dear friend who now smiles upon him from the netherworld. --Don Simpson

King Britt presents Sister Gertrude Morgan
s/t (Ropadope Records)

The story of Sister Gertrude Morgan is an almost magical epic of Americana and days gone by. She roamed the French Quarter of New Orleans dressed in a nurse's uniform, singing and bringing the Word of God to all who would listen, her tambourine her only accompaniment. Her street corner singing became a staple of the sounds rushing through the crowded streets. Recorded in 1970, Let's Make A Record was released on Preservation Hall with a limited run, but became famous for its raw emotion and was re-released to much fanfare in 2004. Producer/remixer King Britt decided to tackle this material, but it may be too grand a project. He's shown a better hand at single tracks -- as overall this collection is weak in many ways and threatens to collapse under its own weight. Sadly, while the source material is bright and uplifting, the music is often too dark. Artists like Tangle Eye have worked with historical source recordings effectively, evoking different moods without sounding so forced. "Live Like Jesus Told You" wastes the original vocal by pushing it too far back and drenching it in reverb. "Power" is a stomping revival with wild-eyed proclamations of Jesus' glory, but the reworked 'Voodoo Version' is too dark in evoking a Santeria feel and seems at odds with the original. A few songs meld well but they're the exception. "Precious Lord Lead Me On" matches a simple acoustic guitar with the tambourine shakes, layering keyboards and more percussion to a satisfying climax. It's a most fitting end to the musical portion of the album, but it's a mystery why others don't deliver the same result. Finally, while I can understand why the producers would want to add some interludes or other modern touches to the album, the six "scenes" sprinkled through the album do nothing but detract from the music. There's nothing gained from the spoken vignettes or snippets of sound other than forcing multiple pushes of the skip button on the CD player. This album was an ambitious project but I can't reasonably call it a success. --Boon Sheridan

THE MORNING BENDERS
Loose Change
Portia
The Berkeley-based Morning Benders play a sunny, slightly skewed pop style the befits that storied but gritty college town. And although the overriding sentiment seems to be pretty carefree, underneath the bouncy tempos and strummy songs lurks something disheveled and unsteady, and the positive attitude takes on an "in spite of" quality. Musically, there will be comparisons to the Strokes and Shins, but the Morning Benders remind these ears more of the Kinks during the Something Else/Village Green Preservation Society period and for a more recent, the Libertines. With only six songs, this EP doesn't give a comprehensive view of this band, but what Loose Change does show is that this band has a strong grasp on its individual style. Hopefully future records will show them doing even more of what they have done here. --Andy Smith

Morning Recordings
Music For Places (Better Looking Records)

Morning Recordings is the project of multi-instrumentalist Pramod Tummala, who along with a talented group of collaborators, conjures up a record full of delicate, lilting sounds on Music For Places. With sparse, gentle vocals melodies that evoke the ghost of Elliott Smith on top of intricate but subdued instrumental arrangements, Tummala succeeds in creating a record that is both relaxing and compelling, sort of like Iron and Wine but with organs and harmonium instead of acoustic guitars. (Andy Smith)

Morning Spy
The Silver Age (Keep Records/Abandoned Love Records)

Let me preface by saying that this is a perfectly nice, pretty record that is certainly worth a listen, but The Silver Age really comes off as another indie rock record that you’re supposed to listen to in the wee hours of the night, coming down from a busy night into one of those 4am revelations from college. Granted, there are strong moments on this record, such as “Ask Us To Dance,” which feels eerily like “Coney Island Baby,” but without vocalist and songwriter Jon Rooney longing to play football for the coach. “Foggy Filter” should have been produced by Mitch Easter; Allison Goffman’s vocals add to the joyful bounce of what sounds like great IRS jangle pop, as Rooney channels Faye Hunter and Mike Mills through his bass. Goffman also shines on “Honeysuckle Baby,” where she sings sweetly, but more Georgia Hubley than Mo Tucker. “Two Horses,” particularly with Rooney’s best Frank Black imitation, sounds like a Pixies song featuring Dean Wareham on guitar. Everything has a sharper sound than Galaxie 500 or Luna, slightly more digital and Surfer Rosa, but it’s clear the band studied hard in a Dean Wareham-by-numbers program: listened to The Velvet Underground for inspiration, some light strumming, a little drippy atmosphere, an e-bow solo to mix it up here and there, and voila! a gifted indie rock band. Look, I don’t mean to get cynical over a nice little record full of all those good Luna conventions and some good songs. I certainly own Penthouse, This Is Our Music and The Velvet Underground—those are three absolutely great records that I have played to death at many points in my life, so much so that my CD player’s laser has practically burned holes in them. That being said, when Morning Spy makes a record drenched in the ambiance of those records, I just feel like I know better. --Allen Thurtell

MORNINGWOOD
Morningwood (CAPITOL RECORDS)
Morningwood is starting to gather quite a buzz -- another high energy NYC band playing sugar-frosted hard rock veering towards bubblegum, with a female singer who (on record at least) falls somewhere in between The Runaways and Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. The band is a duo comprised of Chantal Claret on lead vocals and Pedro Yanowitz on bass and vocals, who presumably play live with backing musicians. It's a good sign when friends have already complained to me 'you don't really like that CD, do you?' Um, yep. With catchy, frothy li'l numbers like "Televisor," "Jetsetter," and their live favorite "Take Off Your Clothes" they're like the female equivalent of Louis XIV. To be fair, only about half the album grabs me, and this could easily get annoying if you heard it too often, but considering that I like rocxploitation records as well as genre exploitation films, this will certainly have at least a temporary place in my stereo. But probably not by next year. --Kent H. Benjamin

Morrissey
Live at Earls Court (Attack/Sanctuary)

"Money Changes Everything," proclaimed the title of an old Smiths instrumental. It doesn't, of course. These days Morrissey might reside in a mansion just off Sunset Boulevard (previously owned by Clark Gable and F. Scott Fitzgerald), but it's still raining in his heart and this document of his triumphant 2004 return to performance in Britain shows he's still miserable after all these years. And we wouldn't have him any other way since his arch pronouncements on how terribly disappointing and insufferably dull life is never go out of fashion. That said, on last year's You Are the Quarry, Morrissey occasionally bordered on self-parody: rather than offer a camp performance of banality and ennui, several tracks simply were banal and boring. Here, live versions of "Let Me Kiss You" and "I Like You" offer no improvements. Fortunately, the real Morrissey stands up on renditions of You Are the Quarry's better tracks, such as the (im)modest "I Have Forgiven Jesus" and "The World Is Full of Crashing Bores," which vents spleen at a litany of the usual suspects. However, the most memorable material is older solo fare like "November Spawned a Monster" and muscular makeovers of Smiths classics such as "How Soon Is Now?" and "Bigmouth Strikes Again." Overall, although this release finds Morrissey in exceptionally fine voice and doesn't diminish his status as one of the finest lyricists of his generation, it does highlight the fact that his most recent work can't quite equal his past glories. --Wilson Neate

MORRISSEY
Ringleader of the Tormentors
Attack/Sanctuary
I am a grudgingly devoted Morrissey fan and completely understand why people I know and respect simply loathe the man, especially his often zenith and nadir solo records. However, you can't deny that he is a master at what he does well, which is to write endlessly lovely songs with lyrics that careen between brilliant and laughably awkward but are never dull. He also has a great knack for choosing fantastic musical collaborators from Johnny Marr to Vini Reilly to his longtime guitarist companions, Alain Whyte and Boz Boorer. In addition to the last two, LA-based guitarist Jesse Tobias, who was replaced by Dave Navarro in the Red Hot Chili Peppers and also played with Alanis Morrissette, is a major writing partner on Ringleader of the Tormentors with the venerable Tony Visconti producing the big, bright rock sound he drew from David Bowie some 35 years ago. With all of these key musical factors in place, the record rises and falls with the strength of the songs and the quality of Morrissey's vocal delivery, which is fundamentally the same, but on his best, days, his singing is what adds the final essential touch. With the exception of the usual dud track that always seems to pop up (here it's "The Father Who Must Be Killed"), the songs here are solid from the opener grandeur of "I Will See You In Far-Off Places," the achingly lovely "Dear God Please Help Me," and the grand brooder "Life s a Pigsty." There's no new ground here for Mr. Moz, but at this point, he has the formula perfected so it's really just a matter of him trying to add to his already formidable catalog of great songs. There are no clear winners on Ringleader of the Tormentors but certainly some contenders for future consideration. --Andy Smith

VAN MORRISON
Pay the Devil (LOST HIGHWAY)
Van Morrison’s taken some wayward career paths in his now-epic recording career, mixing genius with throwaway as if they’re all the same in the end. But Pay the Devil is a startling session nonetheless. Of course, Dylan and Neil Young have had their dalliances with country music, and Van’s hero Ray Charles cut one of country’s all-time classics. But Van Morrison, the lifetime jazz, blues, and R&B aficionado, seems an odd pairing for a Stetson and cowboy boots. And, yes some of this is awkward, especially Webb Pierce’s “There Stands the Glass” and the superfluous backing singers on “Big Blue Diamonds.” Yet, when Van the Man leans into the lyric of George Jones’ “Things Have Gone to Pieces” or glides through the simple poetry of Hank Williams’ “Your Cheating Heart,” he sounds right at home. –Luke Torn

VAN MORRISON
Pay The Devil
Lost Highway
Irish honky-tonks have little in common with ultramodern Nashville, and this album’s grateful use of steel guitar, erstwhile fiddle and a sporadic backing choir hint at a warped veneer of cowpoke music. Which is to say it’ s a bit of a mess. Though that’s fairly irrelevant, as Van “The Man” Morrison can sing and record what he wants (somewhat like Willie Nelson) and if you can tolerate the kitschy section of this full-fledged “country album,” you’ll encounter the casual blue-eyed soul that defines Morrison (he’s become so prolific that 2005’s exceptional Magic Time was overlooked by all but the faithful). Opening with a trio suitable for longneck toasts with whiskey shooters (“There Stands The Glass,” “Half As Much,” and “Things Have Gone to Pieces”) was perhaps supposed to set a mood, but makes me think Van is just killing time with some personal faves he’s always loved. If the sound wasn’t so thinly muted or a contemporary producer had been brought in, Pay The Devil wouldn’t sound so stilted. Ultimately, Morrison wrote a few originals with country leanings and prob’ly thought he could engineer a hoedown by grouping them with bonafide classics. His originals certainly hold up with the covers (“Playhouse” could be a lost Elvis Presley number from 1956 and the title track is an angelic piano-driven highlight), but his love of honky-tonk comes off a tad askew, even for a man some call the Belfast Cowboy. By closing time, when Morrison sings “What Am I Living For,” the gospel-tinged song by Chuck Willis, and “Til I Gain Control Again,” the early Rodney Crowell hit, it’s easy to forgive him and sincerely tip your hat to the project. Pay The Devil is certainly no stranger than Willie Nelson recording an album of Celtic ballads, which come to think of it might be an interesting idea too. (Also available in a bonus edition with live five-song DVD of a Nashville concert). – David Pyndus

Morthem Vlade Art
Slow Wave Sleep (Luminal)

This compilation collects the work of the Parisian duo of Emmanuell D and Gregg Anthe from their three album released between 1998 and 2002. Without being 80s revivalists, they do harken back to the era of electro-pop industrial combos when Depeche Mode, OMD and Colourbox could still be considered cutting edge. Less intent on re-creating this era, they feed themselves the inspiration of what was and what can be improved upon with the technology we now have. One can also easily detect Bowie influences from both his Low and Heroes periods and his mid 90s electronica revivalism. The vocals take some getting used to, but they are, after all, French, and they've got their own European spin on Bowie and Peter Murphy's styles. "Crimson Lung" is all Gregg Anthe, the musician/composer side of the duo, and it's a nice piece of music. Even though it's not too difficult to get used to the vocals, the few instrumentals are even better. By the newer stuff from 2000's Organic But Not Mental, they seem to have discovered the NIN step in electro-volution and get a lot heavier and more intense. They did that well too, but one is left to wonder what came after 2002, and if they ever discovered how out of step they were with fellow French synth duos Daft Punk and Air (or, for that matter, if they even cared). (d.n.l.)

KEN WILL MORTON
King of Coming Around
Fundamental
Ken Will Morton’s stacked resume includes the pop crunch of Wonderlust and the roots/punk verve of the Indicators, but it was his roots/blues 2004 debut solo album, In Rock ‘n’ Roll’s Hands, that had critical tongues wagging and musical palm readers predicting bigger things for the Athens, Georgia-based singer/songwriter. For his sophomore album, King of Coming Around, Morton delivers on his debut’s potential by simply painting his proven material in progressively deeper shades of his deeply held influences and broad musical experiences. With a gritty Dylanesque rasp and a passionate understanding of the common threads of roots rock, blues and country, Morton triangulates a position between the Bottlerockets’ full bore Americana (“Vainglorious”), Steve Earle’s edgy country roots (“Fit to Be Tied”), and the Drive-By Truckers’ similarly toned and tuned neo southern rock (“Make Believe Love”). Like a translator enamored of all of the nuanced languages he’s learned, Ken Will Morton taps into the very essence of the genres he knows and loves. --Brian Baker

SCOTT MOSHER
VIRTUALITY (SELF-RELEASED)

Scott Mosher is a one-man musical universe unto himself, and he's indeed ambitious. With the exception of appearances by guest vocalist Todd Corsa and bassist Mickey James, he not only provides all instrumentation and programming on Virtuality, but also optic dreamscapes (read: artwork) and a distinct moral vision of the future of humankind. Billing his sound as "ambient neo-progressive cyber rock," it is immediately apparent that Mosher has put an incredible amount of thought and energy into realizing his new-age cosmic vision of the "ambient mind." He embraces admirable political convictions as well, penning charged prog-rock anthems against "corporate idiocracy" fueled by issues like civil rights, education, campaign finance reform, and our respective roles in determining the ultimate fate of Mother Earth. Still, there are problems aplenty with Virtuality. First, although drenching everything in gobs of reverb during the production process might make things sound as huge and limitless as space itself, it should not be mistaken for ambiance--these songs are both as subtle and nuanced as a jackhammer to the skull. The progressive influences are there in blatantly derivative Rush-meets-Dream Theater fashion (hey, you don't gotta be no genius; it's right in the liner notes---vocalist Corsa's nickname is " Shreddy Gee"). And while Mosher's guitar hero histrionics might well be approaching the speed of sound (fully half the record is instrumental), he milks them to mind-numbing repetition, with the 12 tracks on Virtuality clocking in at a whopping 72+ minutes. Herein lies the biggest problem--despite Mosher's obvious talent, conviction, and penchant for intricacy, these songs fail to allude even once to issues of the human heart. Ultimately, he has succeeded in creating an ultra-science fiction utopia that looks as drearily banal as Huxley's Brave New World cross-bred with L. Ron Hubbard's Battlefield Earth. (J.J. Benson)

MOTOR
Klunk
nova/mute
Stark, monotonous and somewhat dark, the duo Motor are the alter-image of Xlover’s Mr. No (no relation to Dr. No) and Bryan Black. For crying out loud, even Suicide at least had vocals! Motor’s music consists mainly of Mr. No’s drums and rhythm patterns and Black’s synthesizer pulsations, with very occasional embellishment. No sign of melody, just relentless grooves, and not always danceable at that. Surprisingly or not, they’ve had several club hits already in the last few years--“Stuka Stunt” and “Sweatbox,” but “1 x 1" has gotten some play as well, mostly because of Nitzer Ebb’s Douglas McCarthy’s recognizable growling over the intense beats. Black, the American half of the duo, put in many years with Prince as sound designer and programmer at Paisley Park studio, and together they’ve also done some work with Felix da Housecat. They’ve also been remixers of choice of late for Depeche Mode, Marilyn Manson, and the Throbbing Gristle re-issues/remix project. While I can see the point in hearing this loudly in a darkened club, it’s not a listening experience that translates well to other situations. It’s rather two dimensional, almost cruelly single-minded, and yet you’ll either find yourself totally entranced thirty minutes in or you’ll have a headache. If you’re lucky, perhaps you’ll feel both!      --d.n.l

MOTORCADE
THE AUTOMATIC WINDOW (MTRKD)

The duo that makes up San Fran's Motorcade creates a big sound for just two guys. Reminiscent of the earlier Idaho lineup, when it too was a duo, Motorcade work hard at fleshing out singer/keyboardist Mark Lee's vocals, while guitarist/bassist Dermot O'Sullivan is responsible for much of the musical side of things. Augmented by a small cast of percussionists, Motorcade is reminiscent of a number of musical touchstones--Costello and Bacharach, David + David, even Mark Eitzel and Peter Buck (which is interesting when you consider that former American Music Club drummer Tim Mooney is one of the percussionists here). "SFO" bears a vague resemblance to the more recent semi-electronic tunes of Eitzel, but Motorcade's worldview is much softer, much more easy going. The lyrics all bear their place of origin and year of composition, making the point that the album has been a work in progress since at least 1996. That would explain why some of the tracks seem a bit dated, but it makes no real difference in the overall high quality and continuity of Motorcade's debut. Like Idaho, the band could only benefit from having a fixed lineup of regulars to accompany them. It's promising enough for starters though. (d.n.l)

BOB MOULD
MODULATE (GRANARY)

For the sake of analogy, let's compare Bob Mould's previous work with Husker Du and Sugar to Neil Young's more raucous moments with Crazy Horse. If that's the case, it's tempting to compare Modulate to Trans, Young's infamous 1983 detour/departure into synthesized sound. Chalk it up to either sonic adventurousness or brazen trend-surfing, but the better part of Modulate is pure, uncut electronica. Like Young, Mould has always marched to his own drummer and been wholly unconcerned with the expectations of his audience. And if Modulate doesn't alienate his long-time, guitar-worshiping fanbase, nothing will. Once you get past the initial shock of hearing Mould warbling through a vocoder on the opener "180 Rain" (which could pass for an outtake from Air's debut album), the question becomes: Is Modulate any good? And to tell you the truth, I haven't decided yet. Mould's sense of melody is just as keen as ever. Songs like "Lost Zoloft" or "Slay/Sway" are just as catchy as any from his early catalog, as long as you don't mind him sounding as much like the Human League as Husker Du. I'm not entirely kidding with that comparison, as to my ears Mould's homemade brand of computer pop owes as much to 80s new wave as it does to any of today's trendier electronicats. Ultimately you have to wonder for whom Modulate is intended. All but the most die-hard Mould fans will likely be put off by this radical new direction, and electronica devotees can easily find more imaginative and groundbreaking work elsewhere. One is left, however, with the unshakable belief that Bob is really enjoying himself on Modulate, and that he is happy with the results. Maybe that's all that really matters at this point. (Matt Murphy)

Bob Mould
Body of Song (Yep Roc)

Personally, there are very, very few people that I think more highly of than Bob Mould. What a career! Husker Du to Workbook and Black Sheets to Sugar to the Last Dog and Pony Show is an astonishing run of seriously exciting and often groundbreaking music. In 1998, he packed it in on the Bob Mould that we had previously known. He seemed to have hit an artistic cul-de-sac and was now switching tacks. Some thought that that was simply that, and Mould had retired once-and-for-all. Then 2002's Modulate appeared and seemed to herald a new direction. Now Body of Song has appeared, and Mould is still wrestling (pun intended) with exactly how to correctly match his electronic ideas with his old guitar roar. There's still a gap in his aptitude as a guitar player and his skill with electronic instruments. But the big step on Body of Song is that Mould seems to be finding common ground between the two, and he sounds positively rejuvenated. As far back as "Hoover Dam" on 1992's Copper Blue and all over Beaster, Mould was trying to find a way to make cool non-guitar sounds, but it never seemed as though he could get the tones he wanted. On Body of Song, he sounds much closer, if not totally there. The epic guitars are back in their full glory (THANK GOD!!) and he has another fabulous drummer in Fugazi's Brendan Canty, and these two factors alone make it worth listening to. His arrangement of keyboards and synthesizers is focused on strategic placement. The most noticeable electronic element is in how Mould treats his vocals. At the time Mould announced his "retirement," some speculated that the wear and tear of years of singing with reckless abandon had caused vocal chord troubles, but having seen him live just a couple of weeks ago, his voice sounds as powerful as ever. More likely, it sounds as though Mould really enjoys his vocal effects with just about every vocal part having some manipulation on it. In certain places, it doesn't work so well; on "(Shine Your) Light Love Hopes" he uses what sounds like the same effect used on Cher's vocals for that "Do you believe in life after love" song. But even so, it's interesting to hear him trying to discover something amazing. If Mould is still finding his way with this fusion, "Paralyzed" is on the right track. It's a good but not awesome song, but the vocal effects are present but enhance rather than encumber. The keyboard part is his best since "Hoover Dam." "I Am Vision, I Am Sound" could be a sign of turn more toward dance music, where it's not comepltely out of the question to see Mould considering a jump at Beck or Moby territory. But both the dirgy, minor key rockers "Circles" and the sledgehammering "Underneath Days" would have fit perfectly onto Beaster, which was my always my favorite Sugar record. Another high point is the slower "Days of Rain," which is one of the prettier songs he's ever done. Mould is one of the premier rock songwriters of the last 25 years, but he still has a restless need to push his music forward, which is truly admirable. Overall, Body of Song is not one of his best records, but it never fails to intrigue and sounds like a leap forward in Mould's continuing artistic evolution. (Andy Smith)

MOUNTAIN
CLIMBING!
NANTUCKET SLEIGHRIDE
THE BEST OF MOUNTAIN (all SONY LEGACY)

Mountain were formed in 1969 by ex-Vagrants guitar star Leslie West and Cream songwriter/producer Felix Pappalardi, just in time to get a slot at Woodstock. Their debut album Climbing! was released the following year, by which time they'd added Corky Laing on drums. In many ways, they were rightly seen as an American version of Cream, although in Pappalardi they had a real ace in the hole as a songwriter and producer (he was able to copy Cream's sound so efficiently since he'd helped create it). In "Mississippi Queen," they had a massive and immediate radio hit, but the newly born free-form FM radio was all over many other tracks, like "Theme From An Imaginary Western," "Never in My Life," "Boys in the Band," and the Woodstock ode "For Yasgur's Farm." The band's 1971 follow-up, Nantucket Sleighride, was the group's masterpiece, if only for the brilliant title track (written by Pappalardi and his wife Gail), an evocative ode to the whaling industry that captured early Americana as well as the much more celebrated Robbie Robertson. Both of these have just been reissued in nice packages, with a single bonus track apiece. The new edition of The Best of Mountain contains four extra tracks, and to be honest, includes every single great song the band recorded, making it the perfect one-stop for the group's legacy. Mountain tend to get relegated to the pile of bad proto-metal groups nowadays, but in West, they had a truly singular guitar talent, capable of brilliant work at times, and in Pappalardi, one of the great arrangers, producers, and songwriters from the period. At the time I was a big fan, but it had been nearly 20 years since the last time I'd listened to much of this music. It turned out to be quite a delight to rediscover how good (and how underrated) Mountain's best material still is. If you've only heard "Mississippi Queen," they just might surprise you. (Kent H. Benjamin)

MOUNTAINEERS
MOUNTAINEERS (MUTE)

This trio from Mt. Hope, Wales (their name refers to recreational gatherings on that mountain) checks in with a second self-titled six-song EP, their first for Mute. Very much in line with the Beta Band's Three EPs, this is more a calling card of different styles and ideas begging to be expanded into a full-length album. The first track, "Self Catering," is undeniably catchy dance-pop, as is "Chicken." They man the vocoder on "Radio Cat," which might be seen as a low-fi tribute to Daft Punk, while "Camped Out" is a creepy bit of folk via trip-hop, the kind of thing that would have made sense on Hot Shots 2. The sixth track, "Your Gunn Is Sett On Me," starts out as an acoustic tune, another track that would fit into Beta world, even when it breaks into a bit of weird disco (after a minute or so of silence). Mountaineers have an almost reckless joviality, one that seems to spark their creativity (one of the three worked in a factory for a year and gave himself mild electrical shocks to stay awake). They're from Wales, they're fairly demented, and you can tap your fingers to most of it. Sounds promising enough to me. (d.n.l)

The Muggs
s/t (Times Beach)
The Muggs play possibly the most authentically retro version of the early 70's FM hard rock of bands like Mountain, Grand Funk Railroad, and Bridge of Sighs-era Robin Trower that a lot of bands seem to be going for lately. Mixing fat Les Paul guitar muscle and bass lines played on a Fender Rhodes, Detroit's Muggs slam and stomp through their self-titled debut with a vengeance. Even though the band's own songs are just fine, the standout is a wicked version of Muddy Waters' "Gonna Need My Help." Some research reveals that the Muggs' story is actually pretty miraculous as bassist Tony DeNardo suffered a stroke in 2002 and has moved from a regular bass to a Rhodes to compensate for some lingering paralysis on one side of his body. You wouldn't have any idea that this was the case if you didn't look at the band's website. (Andy Smith)

Mark Mulcahy
In Pursuit of Your Happiness (Mezzotint)

Mark Mulcahy was once the singer for Miracle Legion, a Connecticut-based jangly guitar band that made some really interesting records during the 80's and 90's. They were unfairly labeled as an REM sound-alike and also suffered through the business difficulties of two of their record labels, but the band's catalog, which relied heavily on Mulcahy's collaborations with guitarist Ray Neal, has held up well over time. In Pursuit of Your Happiness finds Mulcahy sticking fairly close to the plaintive, heartfelt songwriting that Miracle Legion fans will recognize. Not surprisingly, there are plenty of pleasant moments here with the songs "I Have Patience" and "Nothing But A Silver Medal" standing out most prominently, and Lulcahy still has one of the finest lovelorn voices in the business. However, his songs miss Neal's guitar as a buoyant counter-point to the vocals, and as a result this record often drags into mid-tempo similarity. (Andy Smith)

MULL HISTORICAL SOCIETY
LOSS (BLANCO Y NEGRO)

It sure is lonely being a reviewer who just doesn't feel the love for a universally praised new act. The British press slobbered all over the advanced release of three Mull Historical Society singles that appear on LOSS, but unlike my colleagues across the pond, I found it hard to embrace the syrupy beach-pop and Yber-slick production of Mull Historical Society's debut. Colin MacIntyre's thin, high-pitched voice, mixed with a highly synthesized studio sound, has drawn comparisons to Abba, but at times it sounds like the bastard spawn of Christopher Cross and the Beach Boys. Some songs are indeed infectious, such as "Paper Houses" and "Animal Cannabus," a shiny, happy popfest with a funky synth track and singalong chorus. But other tracks, such as "Watching Xanadu," simply grate, and listening to the entire album in one sitting would likely test the saccharine tolerance of even the most rabid Abbaphiles. Still, it's an adventurous and inventive record, and the title track is amusing if only for the everything-but-the-theremin amalgam of instruments (a horn section, steel drums, and various other instruments all building up to a grandiose crescendo while MacIntyre repeats "Mull Historical Socie-teeeeee"). But at the end of the day, despite the songcraft and willingness to experiment, it's little more than a forgettable flight of whimsy. (Amanda Cantrell)

SHAWN MULLINS
9th Ward Pickin’ Parlor (VANGUARD)
Let’s not judge Shawn Mullins by his toothless 1999 radio hit “Lullaby.” There’s much more substance to the Georgia native than that. Mullins might not be as witty as folk hero Todd Snider or as deep-browed as relative newcomer Josh Ritter, but over the past decade he’s proven himself a songwriter with significant chops and a broad scope. Take, for example, the first three songs on 9th Ward Pickin’ Parlor – the aim shifts effortlessly from gentle acoustics to hooky rock 'n' roll to leaf-tobacco bluegrass. The bottom line is ratio of hits to misses, and for every gagging misstep into adult-contemporary schmaltz (“Find Love”), there are at least three keepers. “Blue As You” is everything “Lullabye” should have been, “Cold Black Heart” paints a murder ballad as thoughtful as Steve Earle’s “Carrie Brown” and the bonus track cover of “House of the Rising Sun” breathes new life into the classic song. 9th Ward Pickin’ Parlor is too sporadic to be a must-have, but it certainly shines light on Mullins’ considerable talent. –Brian T. Atkinson

MY MORNING JACKET
It Still Moves ( ATO/RCA)
Like Calexico, My Morning Jacket is an American band so attuned to 'Its Own Thing' that it shatters categorization, twisting rock, country, and any number of pop idioms into a genre bending whole greater than the sum. Each track unfolds carefully, displaying hidden treasures and different guitar layers gradually, anchored by assured singing from frontman Jim James, who wrote and produced the dozen tracks on this, MMJ's third album. Don't be misled by any southern rock tag, despite the chugging rock of "Dancefloors" which ultimately explodes with R&B horns before detouring into a piano shuffle. It Still Moves may have been recorded in a Kentucky barn, but these songs transcend regionalism, or more appropriately recall different phases and stages, often simultaneously and fleetingly, from rockabilly to surf to psychedelia. The Beach Boys-like harmonies on "Rollin Back" (and elsewhere) are so gorgeous that you wonder how or from whom they were conjured, and "Early Morning Rebel" has a Grateful Dead meets Bob Dylan vibe (with horns!) that makes it a standout. For all the nods to the classicists of rock, however, MMJ blended its own heady concoction whilst in the barn. (David Pyndus)

MY OWN WORST ENEMY
No Guarantees ( ELIS EIL RECORDS)

The Avalon Motel is located in Saugus, Massachusetts on 1529 Broadway. It has 26 rooms and the prices range from 51 to 100 dollars a night. In one of these rooms, Number 9 to be exact, lives the bassless trio My Own Worst Enemy. Not that much goes on in Saugus--some car shows, maybe some barbeques and well, there's a miniature golf place also located on Broadway. But for the most part the band members have to fend for themselves, killing time in their room playing cards, scrabble, and cuddling up with each other in bed. Togetherness is a good thing for a band, up to a point. So, when it all gets too much and that old ennui starts overtaking the room, the drummer drags his snare in from the car, the other two strap on their guitars, and they chase it away with music. What comes out sounds at times like a hybrid of X and the Patti Smith Group, which isn't surprising as the band has been known to while away the late night hours with records by those same artists, as well as in dreams of Grant Hart, Mia Zapata, Nico, and escaping once and for all the dusty doldrums of the Avalon Motel. (William Crain)

Mystery Jets
Flotsam and Jetsam EP (679 Recordings)
The Mystery Jets come delivered straight from England as a highly touted contender for a US breakthrough. The Flotsam and Jetsam EP doesn't seem to follow through on that hype; the band seems too quirkily British to become a big stateside success. However, this rather irrelevant observation should not get in the way of the fact that this is an excellent band playing a fine slightly irreverent, left-field pop music full of wit and interesting compositions. The best tracks on this five song are the obvious single "You Can't Fool Me Dennis" and the quietly insistent "The Tale." (Andy Smith)

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