Los Lobos The Ride (Hollywood)
On The Ride, Los Lobos veer back and forth between their two main modes: the East L.A. band's catholic mix of rock, soul, country and Latin music, and its more recent dalliances with experimental textures. Along the way, Los Lobos pick up guest spots from some of their notable influences: Richard Thompson and Elvis Costello, gospel-pop queen Mavis Staples, Mexican American garage-rock legend Willie G., avant-folkie Tom Waits. There are some bumpy moments. A Neil Young-ish guitar workout ("Hurry Tommorrow," co-written with Grateful Dead lyricist Robert Hunter) is undermined by hippie mumbo jumbo that should have been saved for a Bob Weir album. But most of The Ride is smooth: Ruben Blades contributes smoldering vocals on "Ya Se Va"; old pal Dave Alvin delivers a gritty duet on the country song "Somewhere in Time." The Ride doesn't rank with the classic Los Lobos of How Will the Wolf Survive? or the experimental Kiko; instead, it contains aspects of both and is a tribute to the group's influences. (MARK KEMP)
The Magnetic Fields I (Nonesuch)
Last time out, the Magnetic Fields released the magnificent 69 Love Songs, which found resident genius Stephin Merritt (and a cast of little-known vocalists) delivering sixty-nine witty, catchy ditties that referenced Ferdinand de Saussure and compared love to a bottle of gin. With I, the Magnetic Fields' seventh album, Merritt narrows his focus, handling all the vocals himself and cutting down on his famously insincere role-playing. The appeal of these fourteen slow, pretty songs still lies in Merritt's ability to mix self-conscious confessions with the light charm of pre-rock pop. Over his band's usual pitter-patter (heavy on banjo, cello and piano), Merritt uses his deep croon to turn out memorable melodies and deep-feeling one-liners, sounding both wry and genuinely sad as he wishes he had an evil twin and tells an ex, "I thought you were my boyfriend." I doesn't have all of 69 Love Songs' expansiveness and droll humor, but there's no denying the bittersweet charisma of Merritt's pop craftsmanship. (CHRISTIAN HOARD)
The Divine Comedy Absent Friends (Nettwerk)
Fans of Neil Hannon's lush, literate brand of orchestral chamber pop who despaired over the comparative asceticism of his previous release, 2001's Regeneration (and the reported disbandment of the Divine Comedy) can now relax. With the first cascade of horns on Absent Friends -- reminiscent of a 1950's Disney soundtrack -- Hannon announces a return to doing what he has always done best: crafting songs that marry savvy, often coruscating lyrics with paradoxically luxurious harmonies. And those lyrics are as biting and observant as they ever were, whether applied to love ("You and I go together like the molar and the drill," he sings in "Sticks and Stones") or the perils of business travel (witness "Come Home Billy Bird"). By turns touching and exhilarating, Absent Friends presents compelling evidence that, as its title suggests, Hannon has been gone for far too long. (REBECCA FLINT MARX)
Elf Power Walking With the Beggar Boys (Orange Twin)
In the extended Southern family of the Elephant 6 Recording Collective, Elf Power sound like the middle child. Their first record in two years finds them caught between the psychedelia of cool, older brother Olivia Tremor Control and the harmony-pop yen of spunky, little sister Apples in Stereo. Michael Stipe, the drunk uncle, occasionally pokes his head in, too. Walking With the Beggar Boys is mostly earnest jangle pop with a few psychedelic and even prog broadcasts. While Elf Power handle all sides capably, crafting some stand-out melodies, it feels stale, an album that could've easily been released in 1995. On the plus side, "Hole in My Shoe" is propelled by a swift, tight lick and "Empty Pictures" is a gorgeously sun-dappled ballad. And "The Cracks," with its darkly coiling keyboard lash, can't be ignored either. But the rest of Beggar Boys goes by like so many flashbacks. Too bad it's from a decade that's still a little too close. (MARGARET WAPPLER)
Petey Pablo Still Writing In My Diary: 2nd Entry (Jive)
Petey Pablo, North Carolina's chief hip-hop export, divides his sophomore joint into two distinct halves: a party-up first act that loses some steam from its repetitive I'm-a-sex-mack vibe, and a finale highlighted by far more introspective (and satisfying) rhymes. Pablo gives love to his home state on "Be Country" and avoids typical hip-hop love-ballad mush on the surprisingly energetic "I Swear" (the album's A-list production, including tracks from Timbaland and Lil' Jon, is uniformly engaging). The clubs will bounce to the Chicago-sampled "What You Know About It" and the grindin' Missy Elliott duet "Break Me Off," thanks in large part to Pablo's gruff but fluid delivery. If he can contain his sexcapades to one or two chapters of his next Diary entry, Pablo may be on the track to southern MC supremacy. (PETE GLOWATSKY)
David Mead Indiana (Nettwerk)
David Mead left New York City for Nashville, his childhood home, for a change in perspective. Growing older and out of sync with the big city's youthful pulse, Mead settled down to write his third album from a quieter corner of the world. His airy tenor -- reminiscent of Bread's David Gates -- perfectly syncs with the wistful, reflective, part folk, part adult-contemporary pop tone of the album's eleven tracks. The tunes travel around the country while its author sorts through the misplaced pieces of the puzzle. "Nashville" is served up as the perfect escape only to be displaced by the lonely, barren night of the title track. By album's end, Mead's restless soul hooks up with a string quartet and directs his soon-gone lover to the "Queensboro Bridge," where his ambivalence can't rescue the relationship but guarantees a path past any potential writer's block. (ROB O'CONNOR)
Salim Nourallah Polaroid (Western Vinyl)
Discovering a singer-songwriter who can stop time is rare, but Salim Nourallah is such a find, a sleepy-headed wonder whose lo-fi songs conjure worlds of dysfunctional family life in carnival-like settings. At times recalling the music of the Flaming Lips or the Eels, Nourallah's small-scale songs breathe in a quirky, wondrous fascination with existence and all its gooey bits. Opener "Everybody Wants to Be Loved" revolves slowly and a little scarily, like a Ferris wheel about to collapse, the song's sweetly ascending chorus providing uplifting release. "1978" reminisces over blissful Sunday drives with a tambourine-shaking groove and Beatle-esque backwards guitars. Polaroid is moody and magnificent, unearthing an inner life many would rather forget. (KEN MICALLEF)
Amy Farris Anyway (Yep Roc)
Don't be fooled into thinking this is a straight country album. It ain't. Sure, classically trained violinist/singer-songwriter Farris has deep roots in the genre, but her nimble fingers are in a lot of other pies (Sixties pop, rock & roll, swing). The beauty of Anyway resides in these added textures. The title track harks back to the girl groups of yore, "My Heart's Too Easy to Break" borrows a little surf music guitar and gets it drunk and "Let Go" is pretty much what Marlene Dietrich would've sounded like if she'd gone to Nashville. There are plenty of traditional country songs here too -- Bruce Robison's "Drivin' All Night Long," the snappy "Pretty Dresses" -- and a good rocker in "No Exit." This one will take you down home and all the way back again with some fun detours. Farris is a refreshing talent who's a good bet for big things. Lend her your ears. (ADRIAN ZUPP)
The M's The M's (Brilliante)
On their debut, Chicago quartet the M's create a grab bag of psychedelic pop nuggets. Mining the Kinks' late Sixties triumph Something Else, they find Vox-tastic guitar and organ riffs and street-corner shuffling beats and fills. But the tunes tend to be inward-looking and brief, with a dreamy perspective and no attempts at Ray Davies' wry social critiques. The M's grandiose side, however, conjures bubblegum pomp on the idyllic "Riverside," "Break Our Bones" shoots for end-of-the-party anthem, while "Maggie" and "There is Work" rave-it up. Every tune is tailored to a stylist's specs and put forth with ease. The M's might be guilty of using a pre-existing template here and there, but they deftly trim out fitted patterns with more vintage paisleys than American denims. Durability isn't everything. (JOHN DUGAN)
Pink Nasty Mule School (self-released)
Kansas native Pink Nasty -- a.k.a. Sara Beck -- ain't exactly Midwestern wholesome. No, on her endlessly fun debut, Mule School, she tells quirky, revealing, sometimes bitter, love stories, crammed with priceless lines like "You're somebody's bitch now/Daddy won't bail you out/Disgraced your family name/But you've only got yourself to blame" ("Trauma in the Bahamas"). Mule School drifts comfortably between simple barroom country and carefree rockers, while pianos, pedal steel and backing vocals -- provided by producer Black Nasty, her brother -- bolster the tunes. If there's a problem, it's that by album's end Pink Nasty's Americana is somewhat repetitive. But, strangely loving lines like "Tiger's having a seizure on the TV/Shut your eyes/They just like scaring you/But I don't" ("What the Fuck") always seem to save her. To be sure, though, Pink Nasty is no novelty. Mule School is a bold and addictive debut: plenty spicy, but with the hooks to match. (BENJAMIN FRIEDLAND)
