Johnny Cash - My Mother's Hymn Book

Johnny Cash's voice easily qualifies for the adjectives "authoritative" and "compelling." Country music itself has its roots in hymns. So when the two combine, it's a pretty thrilling listen. Cut around the time of Cash's American series of albums, My Mother's Hymn Book is exactly as its title says. Unadorned - just Cash and his guitar, these songs feel personal in ways that few albums can capture, let alone one not written by its performer. "I'll Fly Away" is joyful in ways that Cash's music sometimes avoided after the success of American Recordings, and many of these songs are a breath of fresh air. Meanwhile, "I Am a Pilgrim" sounds like something recorded in a private moment, such is its intimacy. Cash was never an  album artist - just about anyone who started on Sun Records wouldn't be. But among his handful of consistently strong studio albums, this would rank near the top.

Solomon Burke - Live at the House of Blues

Part preacher, part singer. Burke's baritone voice commands attention, whether he's giving relationship advice ("Don't beat her - drop the "b" and LOVE") in his many spoken interludes throughout this live album. It's a compelling listen, but not a starting point for a neophyte. Burke's force of personality is capable of bringing down the house, but it's a bit overlong for those not familiar with his work. For those who are into Burke's brand of gospel-charged soul music, his enthusiasm is contagious.

Passion Pit - Manners

Oh, dance-rock. So much fun, and yet, not all that great at setting itself apart sometimes. Passion Pit rides closer to the "rock" side than the dance side (compared to, say, last year's dash of dance-rock awesome, Cut Copy), but the synths and nimble drumming keep things perky, even if the lyrics say "Oh it's painful kneading/Yes, I lie and I wrangle with prospective angles" ("Make Light"). Singer/Songwriter Michael Angelakos has an impressive voice, especially because it's a high falsetto. While writing this review, I checked both Allmusic and Wikipedia to check who's the woman singing on here. There is no woman. Just Mr. Angelakos singing in a really high range. Melodically, each song is tightly constructed but sounds busy - synths whine or cascade in the forefront. Drums skitter or stomp where appropriate. Guitars enter when welcome. The lyrics veer into emo territory dependably, but if more emo bands sounded like a neon disco, people wouldn't deride the genre so much.

The Kinks - Muswell Hillbillies

The Kinks take on America by imitating Americana - sort of. They still sound like The Kinks, but with more piano and twangy guitars. It's an itneresting change, and it's effective in spurts. Opener "20th Century Man" is one of their best songs, and it sets the tone for Ray Davies' latest slant on alienation. "Uncle Son" is an effective blues ballad, and "Alcohol" sloshes and sways like a drunken song should. The country-rock makeover fits The Kinks, though, making them a looser band than in their orchestrated pop days. While those days ultimately resulted in better music, Muskwell Hillbillies is still one of their best albums.

Elvis Costello - Secret, Profane and Sugarcane

Last time Elvis Costello collaborated with T-Bone Burnett on an album, it was King of America, one of his best. This one is not. It's a relaxed, sweetly acoustic-based album that leans too heavily on those traits. It comes off as a friendly gathering of musicians playing.  Yet the atmosphere works against it. By being a ramshackle collection of old and new songs ("Complicated Shadows" and "Hidden Shame" were previously released Costello songs, four others were previously composed for a play that was never finished), it feels inconsistent. "Complicated Shadows" is exactly what one would expect of an acoustic version, for example. I do like "She Was No Good," though, despite a staged-feeling kind of rowdiness. "Sulphur to Sugarcane" is probably the most memorable thing on here. Much like Dylan's new album this year, it's not a work that shoots for the stars, so when it comes up short, it's not horrible.

Spoon - Girls Can Tell

Spoon has made its name on a very rhythmic, atmospheric kind of indie rock that coolly slithers rather than dances. It's in the sinister noir of "This Book is a Movie" or "Chicago at Night," the two closing tracks on this album. It's in the stuttering beat and "ba ba ba"'s of opener "Believing is Art." But it's undeniable that they have a way around a hook. These songs are infectious, tense and tightly-wound, though "Take the Fifth" proves that Spoon can let loose, too. It's the catchiest song on here, and while listening to too many Spoon albums can make you wish they'd learn some new tricks, on its own, Girls Can Tell is a major accomplishment.

Andrew WK - I Get Wet

If you're not down with Andrew WK, you might be overthinking things. I once said for blink-182 that "gusto goes a long way," and Andrew WK is the living embodiment of gusto. Sure, I could delve into how "Party Hard" has a chorus that blows the doors down, enters your brain and starts headbanging and partying. Or I could mention how the keyboards throughout I Get Wet are so insistent they're infectious in and of themselves. Or that Andrew WK is so positive and so life-affirming that it would make me feel bad to criticize the music as being shallow. It is, but it's without the sexism and mean-spiritedness of, say, your standard Kid Rock or Motley Crue track.

Todd Rundgren - A Wizard, a True Star

You know what an acid trip sounds like? I wouldn't know for sure, but I would guess this album. Not very song-based, but much more like a soundscape where there are no rules, Rundgren followed his pop masterpiece Something/Anything with this. Some tracks are bursts of seemingly random sound effects and tape noises. Sometimes, it seems like a joke, like on "Dogfight giggle." Sometimes it is a joke, such as "Rock and Roll Pussy." It's noise-art at its finest, though, abstract enough to draw you in for the sheer "wtf" factor before it wallops you with the same great pop songwriting of its predecessor. While most of side one is tape experiment weirdness, it does contain "Just Another Onionhead; da da Dali" and "International Feel," songs that challenge you to get them out of your head. The second side is a bit more conventional, but the jerky rhythms of "Does Anybody Love You?" remind you that it's only relative. I'd rate this a masterpiece, though, in the same way that Radiohead's Kid A is a masterpiece. Is it willfully weird for the sake of being weird? Probably, but it's performed by a master capable of pulling off this kind of weirdness in a compelling fashion.

Robert Randolph & The Family Band - Unclassified

"Curse those handsome devils!" Bart Simpson once said. Listening to this album, I can't help but echo the sentiment, except I direct it towards James Brown, Sly Stone, George Clinton and Prince. Those four artists are arguably the faces that would make it to a Mount Funkmore, guys with personalities so big that no five minute single can contain them. So when someone like Robert Randolph comes along, sometimes it can't help but feel flat. Randolph is an absolutely incredibly Pedal Steel player; his lead lines on this album are absolutely electrifying. And yet, it feels undistinguished. No matter how loose and fun it is, Unclassified never feels quite as great as the playing is. It is passionate, though, with the single "I Need More Love" being a classic rave-up. "Soul Refreshing" is a lovely burst of melody. There is one thing they do better than the masters, though: they have a better sense of songcraft. This isn't funk driven by 20-minute jams; these are songs, none longer than five minutes. Maybe that's enough to set them apart.

Aerosmith - Rock in a Hard Place

This shit borders on unlistenable. And "shit" is the best way to put it. Nothing is memorable on here after it plays. Steven Tyler's voice is a nasty mess. He tries to hit the high notes on the first section of "Joanie's Butterfly" and misses. I will give them points, though - "Joanie's Butterfly" ranks somewhere given that it's one of the few Aerosmith songs that has multiple sections "Cry Me a River" tries to stomp but kind of slogs. The whole mix sounds muddy, and Jimmy Crespo and Rick Dufay (replacing Brad Whitford and Joe Perry) don't have the kind of chemistry that makes Aerosmith great.

Beck - One Foot in the Grave (2009 Expanded Edition)

In Beck's oeuvre, this one ranks pretty minor. A suspect part of the reason this was released at all was to not pigeon-hole the guy as some kind of postmodern slack-rock enthusiast (it was released around the same time as his debut, Mellow Gold and the lo-fi freakout Stereopathetic Soul Manure). It's a pleasant listen, though. Most of it is acoustic guitar-driven (aside from bursts of distortion on "Burnt Orange Peel"). Songs like "Outcome," "Asshole" and "Sleeping Bag" point the way towards the softer side of Beck's future on Mutations and Sea Change. As with those efforts, the hipster ironic kind of humor Beck employs on Mellow Gold is missing, but what's left is the melodic foundation that forms the backbone of his musical identity.

The Smiths - Meat is Murder

Of the Smiths' four proper studio albums, this one is the worst. "This Joke Isn't Funny Anymore" and "Barbarism" are highlights, though, matching the material from their debut. "How Soon Is Now?" is probably the best song here, but it wasn't even included until the CD print. Nothing here is as bracing as anything from The Smiths, nor as flamboyant as The Queen is Dead. A sophomore slump.

Cannibal Ox - The Cold Vein

Another El-P production, this time with rappers Vast Aire and Vordul Megilah. Strangely, it's not as abrasive as El-P's productions for Company Flow or his own work, featuring a sparse futuristic kind of shine that's as subtle as any of his heavier stuff. Synths drive the sounds here, adding a melodic touch to the album's sound. As for the rapping, Vast Aire and Vordul Megilah are both smooth rappers with a more stream of consciousness bent than others (read: some of it doesn't make much sense), and some of it is brilliant, such as on "F-Word" and "Battle for Asgard." Plus, there's some honest-to-God DJ scratching on some of these tracks. How often do we get that on hip hop albums these days? It's a dense album that asks for multiple listens, and I'm still processing it. There's a lot to love here, though.

Rhett Miller - Rhett Miller

Took me awhile, but I'll concede that this is his best solo album. Maybe not by far - I'm still really partial to The Believer - but its consistency has won me over. Without looking for a big song like his previous efforts' "Our Love" or "My Valentine," he's crafted an album that's quietly pleasing without being bombastic. That doesn't mean it lacks fast songs: "Happy Birthday Don't Die" rocks hard smack in the middle like a T. Rex song. The bulk of the album is quiet moments of simple pleasure, whether it's the gentle high note Miller hits on the word "says" in the phrase "Nobody says 'I love you' anymore" or the quiet backing vocals on "Like Love" (notice a pattern here?). Nothing here hits quite as hard as the aforementioned songs or "Firefly" (or The Old 97's, for that matter), but Miller's album would be perfect with a beer on an autumn afternoon.

Black Sabbath - Master of Reality

This has always surprised me: in parody and sometimes in practice, metal is sometimes painted as satan-worshiping and demented. Black Sabbath, by most accounts, are the roots of modern metal. Yet on this album, Sabbath have a strangely Christian perspective on the world. While "Lord of the World" takes the perspective of Satan, the song's message is clear (choose "love" instead!). The riffs, as always with Sabbath, provide a strong, devastating backbone. This time, they're punctuated with some sweetly acoustic pieces ("Embryo" and "Orchid"), which show Tony Iommi's skills at doing things other than riffs filled with dread. And, of course, Ozzy on these albums is unmatched for his frail brand of haunted wailing.

Who critiques the critics?

Interview with Harry Owings about the pitfalls of the blogoverse. That's a word, right? I can use it? For the record, I have no industry connections and wind up reviewing albums I own. That's why there are no ratings... cuz very few things would get an F.

LA Times: The sorry state of Music Criticism

Related: The interview is conducted by Christopher R. Weingarten, who's reviewing 1,000 albums on Twitter.

Chris Weingarten's twitter

TruTV: The Life and Tragic Death of Motown's Marvin Gaye

I got the Marvin Gaye box set The Master (1961-984) this weekend, and I'll be listening to that today. And while it's true that he was one of the most brilliant and versatile singers on Motown's roster, the man had some demons in the closet. Sometimes this stuff can get lost as a superstar dies young and is sainted (*cough*Michael*cough*johnlennon*cough*cough*). This one is a long read, but it's pretty fascinating to those interested.

TruTv: The Life and Tragic Death of Motown's Marvin Gaye

50 Cent - Get Rich or Die Tryin'

One of the most hyped hip-hop debuts ever, and what were we to expect? The second coming of Snoop Dogg? In a sense, the comparison is apt. The Dr. Dre brand of gangsta rap can sometimes be steeped in talking lots and saying not much. On this album, though, 50 Cent isn't quite the test audience-neutered version we know now. He's still streamlined by the standards of gangsta rap (I mean, compared to Ice Cube... not compared to Snoop Dogg of the 00s), but he's determined. He's slightly gritty, and his lyrics alternate between clever boasts and witty jokes. He hangs with Eminem on two tracks, and while 50's rhymes aren't quite as inventive or rapid, he shows that he has enough charisma to keep him afloat. As for the beats, if Only Built 4 Cuban Lynx recalls The Godfather, consider Get Rich... to be Heat: more 'splodey, less meaty, still good. It's surprisingly varied, too, with the strings backing "In Da Club" seeming at peace with the steel drums on "P.I.M.P." It's shallow, sure, but Get Rich of Die Tryin' is the sound of 50 Cent mining gold from a shallow river.

Stacie Orrico - Stacie Orrico

Released in 2003, Stacie Orrico's major label debut now sounds quaint, due to a reliance on then-state-of-the-art productions. "Hesitation" apes moves from *NSYNC's last album, while the rest of the album sounds exactly like you'd expect pop music from 2003 to sound like. But Orrico's got a strong voice as a singer and emerges as a songwriter with potential. The hits, "Stuck On You" and "More to Life" are the best songs if you're into this sort of thing (which I am). Unfortunately, Orrico's roots as a Christian singer tend to give the whole enterprise a sleek feel, lacking tension or danger. It could be argued that Justin Timberlake's come-ons always feel forced, though, so it's somewhat refreshing that Orrico avoided at least that bit of teen popstar awkwardness. I just wish "That's What Love Is For" wasn't as corny as its title.

Nine Inch Nails - With Teeth

Nine Inch Nails, when more song-oriented than The Fragile or Ghosts, is an awesome proposition. Trent Reznor's most underrated skill is his devotion to songcraft, so With Teeth ranks as a success, easily. Maybe the songs aren't as passionate as those on his followup (Year Zero), and the production isn't as bracing as The Downward Spiral. Some of these songs ("All the Love in the World," "The Hand that Feeds," "Every Day Is Exactly the Same") are his best since The Downward Spiral. None of them are quite "Closer," but what is? With Teeth marks the end of Nine Inch Nails' music to brood to period, which took up their time during the 90s. Meet Nine Inch Nails of the 00s: noise rock arena stars.

No Doubt - Tragic Kingdom

No Doubt's breakthrough doesn't age all that well. I was late on the bandwagon, so I'm more of a Return of Saturn and Rock Steady man, myself. Here's an album with a reasonable amount of filler and some key tracks, the best of which are the hits. Aside from those songs (which I won't even name. You know them.), the best are the title track and "Happy Now." The rest is the sound of a band having fun, but that never necessarily meant that you're having fun, too. I remember a conversation I had in high school, about No Doubt, around the end of Eve/Gwen Stefani's hit and when "Hey Baby" and "Hella Good" were starting to gain some footing on the radio. A friend asked, "Can we at least agree that Gwen Stefani ruined them [by making them more of a pop outfit]?" I replied, "No, I kinda like Rock Steady," to which he said "Ah, sorry. I have really good memories of Tragic Kingdom." I think that sums it up.

Best of the 00s: Eminem - The Marshall Mathers LP

If this isn't a top 10 contender for the best hip-hop album of the decade, I don't know what is. At the point this album was created, Eminem had everything balanced perfectly: the beats by Dre, his flow was up to par, and he wasn't quite as over-exposed, making his shtick seem less self-involved (even if it was). The trick here is that he never draws a line between what's real and fake. After a brief intro, "Kill You" opens the album on a clearly hypothetical perspective, but the second song, "Stan," sounds so plausible and self-reflective, it seems genuine. The Marshall Mathers LP slings back and forth like this, so that by the time the domestic violence-cum-murder fantasy "Kim" rolls around, you can't say for sure if he plans to murder his wife. His flow is unstoppable: he slows it, rapping through gritted teeth on "The Way I Am," turns it into both sides of a nearly-natural-sounding conversation on "Kim" and speeds it up on parts of "The Real Slim Shady."

In the time that's passed since, Eminem's two followups have been nearly nakedly self-reflective and autobiographical, exploring the effects of fame on his life. Was he clowning when he put out his actual autobiography awhile back? Haven't his albums covered his long past, recent past and present already? All over the album, he raps about his mom, drug abuse, is wife, his kid, the price of fame, and harasses pop stars of the day. The act would get worn over the course of the decade, eventually resulting in the too-literal Encore and over-corrective steering that was Relapse, but for one album, Slim Shady, Eminem and Marshall Mathers balanced delicately to make a masterpiece.

Pulp - Different Class

One of the best albums of the Britpop era. Maybe the best. Maybe my favorite album of the 90s, too. The dance-ready synthesizers tart up some truly threatening sexual and social tensions ("Pencil Skirt," "I Spy"). And that's when the band is not blasting doors down with anthems ("Mis-shapes," "Disco 2000," and the immortal "Common People"). It's easily the most consistent set of songs Pulp's ever gotten out in one go. Jarvis Cocker (singer) is fully formed as a songwriter here, with the wit and subtlety to write "I took her to a supermarket/I don't know why, but it had to start somewhere/So it started there" and the sense to sing it with matter-of-factness followed by wonder followed by a determined kind of finality. It's in these little moments of subtlety that make Pulp a lovable band. It's what makes a song like "Underwear" simultaneously sexy, depressing and menacing.

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart - The Pains of Being Pure At Heart

Judging solely from their debut album, The Pains of Being Pure At Heart have part of the equation right. Their sound is distinctive. It's derivative, or course, of My Bloody Valentine, The Jesus and Mary Chain and a few other bands, but it's punched up with a certain amount of spunk that sets them apart. The lyrics pile on the melancholy with a love of the tabboo ("This Love is Fucking Yeah!" and its incestuous insinuations), but sonically the band is punkish with reverb in the back to add a foundation. It's not particularly inventive, but it's incredibly catchy. Also, it gives the rock critics a chance to show their knowledge of 80s and 90s underground scenes and bands, which I'm pretty sure accounts for some of the high ratings this album gets. Not that I dislike it - the hooks are there and will latch onto your very soul - but I see more potential here than execution.

Modest Mouse - The Lonesome Crowded West

Years before "Float On," Modest Mouse where already putting out great guitar-driven rock music. Later, they would adopt Johnny Marr (of The Smiths) as one of their own, but this album exists as proof that they didn't need him. Loose, angular guitars parade through this release, while Isaac Brock's recognizable yelp takes a back seat compared to the band's later years. "Lounge (Closing Time)" forms the core of the album, a 7-minute jam that shifts its tone in several ways before quietly coming to a rest. "Doin' the Cockroach" plain rocks out, with Brock coming unhinged vocally, to a great effect. Nothing here is as catchy as "Float On," but that song is the outlier for which the band is best-known. The rest of the time, the serve up excellent, quirky guitar rock.