Soundcheck

[Hip-Hop]

Jay-Z

American Gangster

****

There’s a simple reason why hip-hoppers love gangster tales. As Irv Gotti recently said, Scarface’s Tony Montana “loved the American dream with a vengeance, and that sums up a lot of the hip-hop world. We want success by any means necessary.”

The success they want is to become the moguls who are more powerful than the Man, the kind of ballers who answer to nobody. And more than anybody else in hip-hop, Jay-Z—who hosts dinners with Mark Cuban and Barry Diller and now has record executive, nightclub impresario and Brooklyn Nets co-owner among his titles—has achieved this success.

So it’s probably no surprise that the “Intro” track to his new album, inspired by the life of “American Gangster” Frank Lucas, includes the words “by any means necessary.” It’s also not surprising that Jay-Z uses the second track, “Pray,” to tell you that he turned “crack rock into a chain of 40/40s” and then apologize because his “jewelry’s so gaudy.” And it’s really not surprising that Track 3 is called “American Dreamin’.”

Clearly fortified by the subject matter, Jay-Z’s slinging rhymes that are as delicious as ever, continually reminding people where he came from and how great he feels now that he owns the world. “Hello Brooklyn 2.0” featuring Lil Wayne and “Blue Magic” featuring Pharrell are club hits waiting to happen, but Jay-Z’s at his swaggering best on “Ignorant Shit” (which, not surprisingly, mentions Scarface) as he rubs his legacy into the face of anybody who questions whether he’s still got skills. Skills? He’ll settle for nothing less than becoming “the next leader of the whole free world.”

Now, that would be truly gangster. –Andy Wang

[Soundtrack]

Various artists

***1/2

The most obvious moment comes first: a standard “All Along the Watchtower” with Eddie Vedder backed by The Million Dollar Bashers, the house band on this two-disc collection of Bob Dylan covers serving as the soundtrack to biopic I’m Not There.

Surprisingly coherent and loaded with contributions from ’80s and ’90s alt-rockers, I’m Not There shines in unexpected ways: an elaborate reimagining of “Dark Eyes” by Iron & Wine and Calexico, John Doe’s gospel float of “Pressing On” and Cat Power’s straightforward-yet-joyous take on “Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again.” Dylan’s few contemporaries who show up—Richie Havens, Willie Nelson, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott—also provide highlights, owning their efforts as if they’re chatting up old friends.

Of course, contemporaries are freed of the most pressing problem for those who perform Dylan’s songs: the shadow cast by a lifetime of knowing the original versions. I’m Not There mostly escapes through its eccentric gathering of performers, but there are belly flops nonetheless. Singer Jim James dons a self-conscious Dylan voice throughout “Goin’ to Acapulco,” while ex-Pavement frontman Stephen Malkmus avoids sounding like Dylan so much that his voice is virtually unrecognizable even as his own. Ever wonder what Pavement would sound like with no Dylan influence? Not much.

That can be said about almost all songwriting since Dylan’s emergence, of course, and when the master finally appears on the title track to end Disc 2, he sounds at home among the company represented.  –Richard Abowitz

[Old Wave]

Duran Duran

Red Carpet Massacre

**1/2

With apologies to Yogi Berra, it’s déjà vu all over again for Duran Duran in 2007. After the quintet’s celebrated reunion tour and album (2004’s Astronaut), its golden-age lineup again fractured amidst rumors of squabbling: Guitarist Andy Taylor left the band last fall, for the second time.

And the synchronicity doesn’t stop there. Twenty years ago, Taylor’s departure preceded DD’s foray into über-dated dance-pop (i.e. “Notorious,” “All She Wants Is”)—which is exactly the direction the band embraces again on Red Carpet Massacre. The catchy single “Falling Down” was co-written by and features Justin Timberlake (and sounds like it, with its fluttery guitars, melancholic chorus and loping rhythm tracks).

Hot producer Danja (Britney Spears, Nelly Furtado) and genre stalwart Timbaland also apply their unmistakable fingerprints—stuttering hip-pop beats, sizzling ’80s keyboards and robotic vox—to Duran’s sleek funk. Unsurprisingly, Timbaland’s songs are fantastic: The geometric beat-box stomp “Nite-Runner” is the kissing cousin to JT’s FutureSex/LoveSounds, and “Skin Divers” is an ominous, catchy bit of techno synth-pop.

But even with all of this help, Massacre overall feels weak, an album that emphasizes style over substance. While this is a common complaint thrown at Duran Duran, there’s a reason why ’80s singles “Rio” and “Hungry Like the Wolf” remain radio staples today: They’re solidly constructed songs. One unfortunately can’t say the same for most tunes on the disappointing Massacre. –Annie Zaleski

[Garage Rock]

The Hives

The Black and White Album

**

Halfway through The Hives’ latest album, I stopped, dug out Veni Vidi Vicious and tried to remember what it was about the Swedes I actually liked just five years ago. That’s never good. If there’s one thing once-hot bands ought to avoid, it’s releasing new material that throws into doubt positive, previously held opinions of their very musical existence.

Veni held up nicely, though reliving its raw energy and playful posturing made it all the more difficult to return to the spiritless The Black and White Album. Tagged “garage revival” from the go, The Hives were actually a lot more forward-thinking than, say, The Strokes, updating ’60s nuggetry with a sock and a sneer that felt undeniably new-millennium. Now, they sound entirely retro—retro-Hives that is, with Black and White reeking of a band desperate to recapture its early magic in the wake of 2004’s ho-hum Tyrannosaurus Hives.

Not that frontman Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist (whose howl, incidentally, has been toned down to more of a sensible yelp) and his crew go down easy. They make a series of plays for mainstream radio—commissioning Pharrell Williams to produce two tracks, nicking Jane’s Addiction’s echoey “yeah”s for first single “Tick Tick Boom” and sprinkling in more Offspring-worthy pop-punk hooks than I’d have ever thought possible—but it’s hard to imagine anyone caring enough about any of that to make a return trip in another five years. –Spencer Patterson

[Toolish]

**1/2

Tool frontman Maynard James Keenan has far too many weird ideas to be contained in one band. He made three albums with the gothy, gloomy A Perfect Circle, and now he’s put together Puscifer, which is more a solo project than a proper band. Working with a rotating cast of collaborators—including ambient-music pioneer Lustmord, Rage Against the Machine/Audioslave’s Tim Commerford and Brad Wilk and former Primus drummer Tim Alexander, among others—Keenan has crafted an album of tongue-in-cheek, often goofy industrial music that mostly plays like a lark that was probably more fun to make than it is to listen to.

The singer’s silly side hasn’t gotten much play in his other bands, and here he indulges in plenty of sexual innuendo (what else to expect from an album titled V Is for Vagina?) and wacky voices, to middling success. Some of the songs are just odd enough to work (is “Queen B” a booty-shaking ode to the female posterior, or a parody of booty-shaking odes to the female posterior?), but most of them are just repetitive and meandering. Too much of the album sounds like second-rate Marilyn Manson rather than second-rate Ministry. It’s a good thing, though, that Keenan can get these things out of his system before getting down to work on the next Tool album. –Josh Bell