Arctic Monkeys
Favourite Worst Nightmare
(3 stars)
The younger you are, the more things feel unique. So maybe we should first point out that Arctic Monkeys frontman Alex Turner is still just 21. His band's second full-length release is peppered with tales of weirdos and scalawags and burnouts that Turner probably believes are singularly cool. Of course, these stories are no different from what anybody who gets a little too wasted at their local pub on a semi-regular basis will experience on a semi-regular basis.
Still, it's entertaining (especially if you're a fan of The Strokes and Franz Ferdinand and The White Stripes) to hear Turner spin his favorite stories with an off-kilter punk swagger that only exists in the young. "Brianstorm" kicks things off well. After a minute and a half, Turner turns this line: "She'll be saying, ‘Use me'/‘Show me the jacuzzi,'" and here, he wisely leaves the rest of the hot-tub fantasy to your imagination.
The end of "Do Me a Favour" can rouse even the sleepiest drunk into a slobbering frenzy. "This House Is a Circus" is, as its title suggests, a great song to transform any house party into a slam-dancing affair. "The Bad Thing" encourages you to "take off your wedding ring" and get all naughty, and why not, when Turner makes it sound so fun.
But Turner has the tenderness of an innocent young fella, too. "Only Ones Who Know" isn't as contemplative as Interpol's best work, but it's close. It's a song about the feeling of pure possibility that comes with meeting someone new and deciding that every moment, for right now at least, can be the greatest adventure. And here, you're happy that Turner's still just 21.
–Andy Wang
Patti Smith
Twelve
(2 1/2 stars)
I can die happy, now that I've heard Patti Smith cover Tears for Fears. All right, not really. Not even close. More like, I want to kill myself, now that I've heard Patti Smith cover Tears for Fears. Not that I hate Tears for Fears. Or Patti Smith. I just hate hearing her cover "Everybody Wants to Rule the World." A lot.
Punk rock's free-spirit poet/priestess seems to be a bit less free, a little less spirited and a lot less punk now that she's inside the industry's Hall of Fame, judging from the first all-covers album of her off-again, on-again 33-year career. I truly believed Smith's haunting voice could cool-ify any tune, until I heard her by-the-book renditions of such FM radio fare as "Gimme Shelter," "Midnight Rider" and "Helpless." I'd also have expected a few lesser-known nuggets with appropriately mystical lyrics—perhaps in lieu of the anachronistic "turnaround jump shot" line from Paul Simon's "The Boy in the Bubble"—not to mention a compelling read of the already uber-trippy "White Rabbit." Alas, not so.
Twelve isn't entirely without keepers: "Are You Experienced?" slinks rowdily from the female point of view, Dylan's "Changing of the Guards" provides a bountiful lyrical arsenal and "Smells Like Teen Spirit" absolutely slays, augmented by a spoken-word middle stretch that hints at what might have been had Patti and Tears for Fears never bumped heads.
–Spencer Patterson
Ne-Yo
Because of You
(3 stars)
The 24-year-old, Vegas-bred wunderkind has done as much as anyone recently to inject a dose of classic song form into R B without coming off as a retro schmuck. Ne-Yo's 2006 singles, "So Sick" and "Sexy Love," projected a winning naiveté, while Rihanna's "Unfaithful" and Beyoncé's "Irreplaceable"—both co-written by homeboy—are expertly crafted urban-pop dramas that would be considered melodic highlights on any radio format.
I'd put money down that we'll be hearing more from this guy, but Because of You advances his case only slightly. There's an interesting tension inherent in Ne-Yo's persona, between the boyish, clean-cut love balladeer ("Make it Work") and the coming-of-age Prince fan with a taste for kink ("Sex With My Ex"), but such tension isn't explored. Some of the ballads come off with a whimper, and his Prince moves feel a bit forced.
Still, if Ne-Yo's storyline needs some work, his means of articulating his confusion remain intriguing. The title cut, a slinky dance-floor shuffle, proves his instincts for a classic Michael Jackson groove are as finely tuned as they were on "Sexy Love." "Angel," on the other hand, is gorgeously well-orchestrated dream-pop R B, a sound you could get lost in for an evening. Who knows, or cares, what it's even about.
–Scott Woods
The Nightwatchman
One Man Revolution
(2 1/2 stars)
As the guitarist for Rage Against the Machine and Audioslave, Tom Morello made some revolutionary sounds without ever opening his mouth. One of the most innovative guitarists of the '90s, Morello's also a dedicated political activist, and his first solo album (under the moniker The Nightwatchman) emphasizes the latter over the former. Unlike the intense hard rock of his two former bands, the music on Morello's debut is soft and low-key, mostly just Morello and an acoustic guitar, with minimal flashes of percussion and keyboards.
It's in the socially conscious singer-songwriter tradition of Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen and Neil Young, but neither Morello's voice (his singing is passable at best, and without much personality) nor his lyrics come close to those he's emulating. While Rage frontman Zack de la Rocha was always able to incite passion even if you disagreed with what he was saying, and Audioslave singer Chris Cornell sounded beautiful even when his words were incomprehensible, Morello is flat both in delivery and sentiment, couching his rather rote progressive politics in clumsy metaphors and awkward phrasing.
His guitar work, too, is uninspired, characterized primarily by placid chord-strumming, although a few songs (most notably "The Road I Must Travel," featuring what sound like bagpipes) benefit from fuller arrangements. If Morello really hopes for a revolution, next time he'd do better to appeal to some of his comrades. –Josh Bell
Tori Amos
American Doll Posse
(4 stars)
Between the parade of schizo get-ups and her lyrical anthologies of sorta fairy tales, Tori Amos may just have the worst Peter Pan complex since Mariah Carey. But get past the marketing of American Doll Posse, because this is the best album Tori Amos has to offer.
One indisputable rule of Amos is her varied musical artistries. Although her foundation lies in sprawling, haunting piano riffs, she is also a master of quirk, a vocal acrobat and, quite frankly, an orchestral genius. Usually each album is relegated to one musical angle, but American Doll Posse is a delicious sampler of sound. The album feels like a hall of mirrors and lights: Each song shines a divine image while reflecting the others; the result is dizzying and spectacular.
The album showcases five voices, including: "Tori," who is classic Little Earthquakes, reckless and scathing; "Clyde," with a Choirgirl Hotel feel of taunting, acerbic melodies; "Isabel," Amos' sweet, daisy-tripping optimist, à la The Beekeeper; and "Santa," who is poppy, plucky and Under the Pink. But it is Tori's avant-garde voice "Pip" who owns this album. She is a ruthless rocker who pounces on the piano and gnaws the microphone like meat. She spits angsty lyrics a propos of any riot grrl, and negates all whiffs of faeries and puppy tails. "Pip" is evidence that Tori Amos is still alive, and American Doll Posse is her full-body rebirth.
–Kristyn Pomranz