jj - jj n° 3: B

"Let Go"

There's something about jj that I inherently distrust. Honestly, I can't describe it. Maybe it's the quoting of "Around the World" or the badly-concealed boredom apparent in Elin Kastlander's voice, but there's something about this band that makes me believe they are playing music less because they want to make quality stuff and more because they have bills to pay.

Taken away from my purely subjective observation (I have been a little vindictive lately), jj n° 3 is nothing if not adequate. The music on display here is mostly comprised of acoustic strumming ballads with the occasional appearance of sunny, reverb-drenched glo-fi. Nothing particularly astounds, but, then again, nothing particularly disgusts, so I guess, technically, it's a win. If you need something to listen to while you cook some brie or if you're having a little trouble sleeping, this might do the trick. And if I finish that analogy, I will be giving in to a music-review cliche so hackneyed it'll almost perfectly fit the album, itself.

jj - jj n° 3: B

Free Energy - Stuck on Nothing: B

"Bang Pop"

There's something about Free Energy's uncompromisingly brazen attempt to make you giggle and jive that makes me loath them like nothing I've heard this year. The way Stuck on Nothing, the band's first album, has so little emotional depth is so frustrating, I often imagine myself fainting and sinking into a cavernous abyss where I'll keep trying to eat an infinite amount of nauseating icing to get to that coveted, warm, welcoming cupcake if I listen to it for too long.

Unfortunately, I would be lying to you if I said a significant portion of Stuck on Nothing wasn't quite catchy. The best example of this is "Bang Pop", whose rudimentary bass drum kick and snare combination may not turn heads, but whose streamlined guitars and rousing chorus put it on the good side of Candyland. The rest varies from the entertaining to the mundane, but all have that shit-eating grin that some may find refreshing but I find irrevocably repulsive.

Stuck on Nothing was originally recorded as a bare-bones demo, but, once it was give to James Murphey of LCD Soundsystem fame, it became the over-produced, nutrient-free Cheesy Crust Pizza of an album it is, now. I don't want people to think I hate this album, because it just wants you to, at the very least, dance. In most cases, I find that quality nice in albums, and, unlike something like Raditude, these affectless ditties are supported with some pretty good songwriting talent. There's just something about this album that resembles a sneeringly disingenuous politician, but, at the same time, a band who would be genuinely offended by my smearing of their debut album as such. It is this contradiction that lies at the heart of the quality of Stuck on Nothing, a veritable brick of cane sugar, but one that will surprise you in how much you can stand it before collapsing from exhaustion.

Free Energy - Stuck on Nothing: B

Gonjasufi - A Sufi and a Killer: B+ / Daughters - Daughters: A- / Immolation - Majesty and Decay: C+

"Majesty and Decay" "The Theater Goer"

"She Gone"

What is the soundtrack to Hell? Well, I suppose it all depends on how you view it. If you view the inferno as its most conventional form, a place of plain and simple eternal damnation with Satan presiding comfortably over the assembly line of perdition he has kept efficient for so long, Majesty and Decay may be the record to suit such a vision. Immolation's newest finds the New York metal band playing their MO of death metal with very little variation from what they've been doing their entire career. The music, itself, is nothing extraordinary, but what I find interesting about the whole affair is how stale it all sounds. You've got your guitar solos, your screaming vocals and your blast beats, and, for however bad that kind of combination can get when performed slovenly, music like this has never left me so cold. It has such a low engagement value, whenever the music goes into a bout of grating double-time screaming, I find myself just rolling my eyes and taking myself out of the album, entirely, relegating it to apocalyptic background music, and I'm sure that's the last thing Immolation intended with their newest. If Hell sounds like Majesty and Decay, it'll still be a pretty bad place, but it might be a surprisingly boring one.

If you have a more romantic view of Hell, a Hades-helmed greek myth inhabited by terrifying but inexplicably adorable characters like Nosferatu and Beezlebub, then Gonjasufi's A Sufi and a Killer may be more appropriate. Those familiar with this album may argue that the album is more appropriate for soundtracking a hotboxed car ride or a subversive movie theater opening in the mid sixties, but the Hell I imagine being chronicled by A Sufi and a Killer is a lot more stylized and a lot more familiar. Gonjasufi's dilapidated voice and the album's lo-fi production that makes it only sound cruder sounds like it would be playing from the jukebox of a pool hall in that place of eternal damnation. If The Last Picture Show's maligned boredom is your idea of Hell, then I can completely imagine Gonjasufi's "She Gone" replacing the first scene's Hank Williams backing. The Hell accompanied by A Sufi and a Killer is an ideological one, where you never get that drink of water no matter how desperately thirsty you are, that boulder will always roll down that hill, and, to quote The Fairly Oddparents, there are over three hundred channels... with nothing to watch.

But if you have a revisionist's view of Hell, where faces and genitalia are mutilated eternally in only the most graphic ways possible, Daughters' newest and supposedly last album is a perfect fit. The band is a firm believer in the idea that the sound of you repeatedly smashing your face against a wall is a musical note, nonetheless, and go on to prove it by making eight tracks of insanely reckless noise rock. Singer Alexis Marshall sounds like Isaac Brock, singer of Modest Mouse, if he was being chased by a bear, frantically flailing his vocal chords while only the most blunt and unwieldy sounds are hurled at you from all directions. With the help of bassist Samuel Moorehouse Walker and drummer Jonathan Syverson, the album always retains some semblance of structure. As a result, Daughters is pure chaos, but very exacting chaos. In a way, it chronicles the scariest of the three Hells I mentioned, because it is the depiction of a place inhabited by demon vigilantes, where everyone has just as little a grasp of the situation as you do. If you let it, Daughters can give you some pretty vivid dreams. While plenty of albums inspire joy and optimism, few inspire genuine fear in the listener, and Daughters should be strangely commended for what they have accomplished.

Gonjasufi - A Sufi and a Killer: B+ / Daughters - Daughters: A- / Immolation - Majesty and Decay: C+

Gorillaz - Plastic Beach: B

"Stylo"

Considering how much I despised Demon Days, Plastic Beach far exceeded my expectations. Although it has many flaws over the span of its sixteen tracks, there is much to be enjoyed here, and the album's length can allow you to pick and choose what you like and still have a pretty decent-sized product to enjoy.

The best of Plastic Beach is varied and spans multiple styles. "Stylo", the album's first single, for example, is the album's best track, riding a deliriously catchy bass riff to just about its farthest boundary without being completely obnoxious. "Superfast Jellyfish" displays some hilariously conversational rhymes from De La Soul that give you the impression the group is feeling out the track's cartoonishly fun potential just as you do. And "White Flag" is just a playful jaunt, displaying some great call-and-response rapping between Kano and Bashy.

The worst of Plastic Beach, quite simply, is when David Albarn's vocals are front and center. With the exception of "Stylo" and "Melancholy Hill", Albarn's vocal contributions on Plastic Beach are universally inert. His distorted malaise is far out of place and can often derail a pretty good song with its presence. "Rhinestone Eyes" is a good example of this, but the most literal is "Empire Ants", which diverges from an extremely forgettable Albarn lament into a fantastically glitzy romp helmed by Little Dragon so delightful, you wonder why that beginning was included at all by the track's end.

And, because the good and bad are dispersed so evenly throughout Plastic Beach, the album, ultimately, defines hit-and-miss. Albarn isn't the only one to blame for bad tracks, though. Lou Reed's cracked monotone on "Some Kind of Nature" is amusing for about a minute, and gives the song absolutely no replay value, and, though I hate to say it, with the exception of "Stylo", anytime Mos Def appears is a near guaranteed disaster ("Sweepstakes" is a leading contender for worst song of the year). The album would definitely benefit from the trimming of fat, but, because some songs have such drastically redeeming and abhorrent qualities within themselves, I'm not so sure the taking out of songs would do all that much good. Plastic Beach shows Albarn still has some kinks to fix with his side project, but the ratio of good to bad on his albums is improving.

Gorillaz - Plastic Beach: B

Broken Bells - Broken Bells: A-

"The High Road"

Sometimes a record of exactly what you needed is exactly what you need. It sounds like a pretty innocuous thing to say, but I say it, because I am aware that I make a lot of noise on this platform about being different and constantly evolving a sound. I wholly submit myself to the constant search for the good, bad and ugly of progressive music, but I am also fully aware of the fact that there is always that basic human instinct in everyone where the familiar will be the ultimate satiator.

Broken Bells is the pairing of Shins singer, James Mercer, and Danger Mouse from Gnarls Barkley, Grey Album and miscellaneous production job fame. Together, they have written an album that does not extend the musical boundaries of either artist, but one that is extraordinarily satisfying. Shins fans will see this as a Shins album with a little more gospel influence and fans of Danger Mouse's work that have somehow never heard the Shins (I'm sure there are some) will see this as an adult-contemporary Gnarls Barkley. I'm fairly confident both parties will enjoy this album, though, because, for however easy it can be to draw upon the more-of-the-same quality of both acts on display, it's still quite good music, and it's hard to argue with melodies as potent as this.

The only remote curveball is "The Mall & Misery", which sounds like a coda to "Mongrel Heart", the song that preceeds it. It's a song that seems to start from the breakdown, something that you hardly hear in pop music, but, other than that, again, you're not going to hear sounds you've never heard before. Mercer's vocal presence is superb, especially on first single, "The High Road" and genuinely exuberant pop consistently oozes through every note. Off the cuff album collaborations have never sounded this much greater than the sum of its parts (I'm looking at you, Chickenfoot), and this pairing I would not mind hearing more music from. And, based on the news from both James Mercer and Danger Mouse's mainstays, it really looks like this is a case where everybody wins. Savor it.

Broken Bells - Broken Bells: A-

Liars - Sisterworld: B-

"Scarecrows on a Killer Slant"

When Liars get noisy and absonant, get the fuck out of the way, because there's nothing stopping them. Hearing them ranting and raving on Sisterworld's "Scarecrow on a Killer Slant", you get the aural image of someone punching a wall until they can see the bone of their knuckles. Based on their lyrical ambiguity ("Why you shoot the man with the gun / 'Cause he bother you!"), you get the impression these guys are rebels without causes, but punks angry at nothing is hardly new, and, in the case of the best of Sisterworld, it isn't any less exhilarating.

The problem with Sisterworld is that the moments of raw intensity the band exhibits are a glaring minority. The album is mostly comprised of meandering synth odysseys that contort and blaze but never go anywhere, and are, frankly, useless. The fact that they're juxtaposed with works of such unadulterated vitriol as "Scarecrows" make the lows only seem lower. I don't recommend Sisterworld, just a couple songs on it. The band's apparent compulsion to balance their releases is a clear hinderance to their greatest strengths, so it's tough to see if this is a rut they will ever get out of.

Liars - Sisterworld: B-

Eels - Tomorrow Morning: B+

"I'm a Hummingbird"

Come on, really? That gravelly voice, that dry humor, those cheesy pseudo hip-hop beats? I mean sure it sounds like Peter Gabriel's recent output and Spoon at times, but are we absolutely sure this isn't a Beck album? I mean, I don't know much about either Beck or Eels, but are we absolutely sure the latter isn't a side project of the former acted through some elaborate disguise? There's a song called "Spectacular Girl" for crying out loud, and I'm pretty sure Beck has a song called "Girl", too. Come on, the evidence is obvious and I refuse to believe that an artist would cop someone else's style so brazenly without them being the actual person, themselves. Regardless, it's still pretty good stuff.

Eels - Tomorrow Morning: B+

The Body - All The Waters of the Earth Turn to Blood: C+

"A Curse"

There is a certain point where even I can't appreciate an album for being so ridiculously far off the radar. Not many albums have had this effect on me, but you are reading my review of one that has, and I can't really shove my head far enough up my ass or pretensify myself enough to pretend that I can find a single redeeming quality in this album worth noting.

But hey, maybe it's just me. Maybe you like being screamed at for long periods of time over nonsensical guitar nothingness. Then, hey, fuck me, right? I'm the fool.

But yeah, right around the final song, when you realize that this album is just the repetition of one maddeningly dense formula or perhaps the third track, when you realize that those random incantations are just a foil for more screaming and droning guitars, I don't know. Maybe it's just me, but this is just mush. And to think they tricked me into it with such a beautiful choral arrangement at its beginning.

The Body - All The Waters of the Earth Turn to Blood: C+

John Mellencamp - No Better Than This: B

"No Better Than This"

In the last couple of years, John Mellencamp has experienced a career arc similar to that of Bruce Springsteen. The Indiana native has some serious mid-West cred in reserve, but absolutely zero percent of it is on display on No Better Than This. Instead, the album is most definitely rooted in the Southern blues that would branch off into every conceivable genre we see, today. And, like Springsteen, who has ventured often in his late career into the realms of New Orleans blues and general Southern folk, that suit so close to that side of the Mississippi is one that Mellencamp fits surprisingly well. For however banal and predictable the sounds of No Better Than This are, all credit should be given to Mellencamp for making it all sound absolutely genuine.

There is one clear exception to the roots rock sound on display on No Better Than This. The religious piety that is so often associated with this genre of music is disregarded, and, sometimes, revoked. "I ain't been baptized / I ain't got no church / When I pray to Jesus / It makes matters worse," Mellencamp admits on "Each Day of Sorrow". Within the first track, Mellencamp urges you to always question your faith, and, throughout the album, the afterlife is questioned and the angels, normally seen as harbingers of peace, are coming after him. Once that reversal of the lyrical archetype is revealed, one begins to see that much of No Better Than This is a clever spin on the tone of the album as a whole. "Thinking About You" is played out through a message on an answering machine, an especially moving piece of lyrical brilliance that Mellencamp makes sound far too easy and "Love at First Sight" tells the story of the rise and fall of a relationship, told in a playful manner as the man starts all his verses with the preface, "Let's suppose".

But that's the thing about No Better Than This. The music, itself, is so unremarkable, it's too easy to ignore the sharp lyricism lying beneath. If Mellencamp wasn't so concerned with making up the difference in lyrical divergence with such mediocre musicianship, No Better Than This could be the man's best album. Unfortunately, one of the greatest lyrical achievements of the year is masked by one of its most superficial exteriors, resulting in a lost couldabeen rather than a late-career masterpiece.

John Mellencamp - No Better Than This: B

Land of Talk - Cloak and Cipher: B+

"The Hate I Won't Commit"

Cloak and Cipher begins like a rock band's interpretation of School of Seven Bells's newest album, Disconnect From Desire. Then, as the band begins to get more comfortable, they branch out into a sound all their own, and a great one at that. Then, when you listen to the album, again, you realize those first songs are more unique than you had thought, finally making the whole product a beautifully crafted slice of indie rock.

That's an interesting way to experience an album, I'll admit, but that's pretty how I experienced Cloak and Cipher and the advice that I came away with it for others is that, even if you haven't listened to Disconnect From Desire, give Cloak and Cipher a few more listens if it doesn't quite click with you at first. The album's not so much a grower as an album whose context needs to be realized for its full potential to be felt. Once that happens, Cloak and Cipher can be a very satisfying experience.

Land of Talk - Cloak and Cipher: B+