[Singer-songwriter]
Elvis Costello and the Imposters
Momofuku
****
Elvis Costello’s latest studio album, Momofuku, arrived on CD on May 6, although a double-vinyl version of the release landed in stores weeks ago. Judging by a missive Costello left on his website, having Momofuku committed to plastic appears to be a grudging concession to protocol. “The real version is pressed on two pieces of black plastic with a hole in the middle,” he wrote. “You may prefer other, more portable, less scratchable editions that will soon become available for your convenience, but this is how it sounds the best: with a needle in a groove, the way the Supreme Being intended it to be …”
As with most things, Costello knows best. Aided by Rilo Kiley’s Jenny Lewis, singer-songwriter Johnathan Rice and The Like’s Tennessee Thomas—along with The Imposters, which include Thomas’ dad, Pete, and longtime Costello collaborator Steve Nieve—Momofuku sounds tailor-made for a record player’s warm tones. “Song With Rose,” with lyrics co-written by Rosanne Cash, is a twang-curled highlight, while the raucous blues-funk closer “Go Away” feels like an impromptu live jam session.
As these tracks demonstrate, Costello’s indefatigable voice has just gained richness and depth as he’s aged. Its creases and cracks especially benefit from Momofuku’s loose, inviting atmosphere; he hasn’t sounded so playful and sly in years. (Especially when delivering this line: “Pardon me madam, my name is Eve/ I think it’s time for you to leave.”)
Still, it’s a mistake to compare Momofuku to Costello’s early catalog; the album’s sultry jazz romps (“Harry Worth,” “Flutter & Wow”), barnstorming rock (“Turpentine”), theatrical piano vamps (“Mr. Feathers”) and organ-fueled blues-pop (“Stella Hurt”) seamlessly bridge his recent forays into jazz and classical music with his illustrious rock past. If anything, Momofuku is exactly the album one would expect Costello to make at this stage in his career, one harnessing modern studio fidelity to convey the wit and wisdom he’s accumulated over the past three decades. –Annie Zaleski
[Hip-hop]
The Roots
Rising Down
*** 1/2
It’s hard not to feel sorry for The Roots: The soulsonic Philadelphia hip-hop band’s commercial success has never matched its talent. Seven albums deep and they’ve scored plenty of critical acclaim (1999’s eminently listenable Things Fall Apart, 2006’s grimy-but-good Game Theory), but never shipped platinum. They’ve gone gold twice.
The group’s eighth offering, Rising Down, might also struggle with Soundscan, but that has less to do with its content—it continues Game Theory’s revolutionist bent—and more to do with The Roots’ well-honed rep as go-against-the-grainers who place the sanctity of their art above Billboard love.
From Mos Def’s incredible verse on the title track, you’re in for a bout of hip-hop at its most uncompromising—full of contempt for the genre’s dominant money-and-bitches ethos and puppet-like emcees who peddle such poisoned poetry.
Songs like “Rising Down” and “75 Bars (Black’s Reconstruction)” could be soundtracks to a revolution. Mos, Talib Kweli, Common, Styles P, Dice Raw and P.O.R.N. lend Roots-worthy assists to the hip-hop (and black) empowerment cause. Black Thought continues to burnish his legend as hip-hop’s Bernard Shaw; “Rising Down” covers more ground (global warming, African child soldiers) than a CNN telecast. You sense his clenched fist and tense jaw on “I Will Not Apologize,” where he describes frustration over being underpaid.
Being fashionably counterculture might have hurt The Roots’ commercial appeal, but it has also given listeners a chance to hear a talented group make music for music’s sake, which is a great payoff in itself.
–Damon Hodge
[Glammy]
Def Leppard
Songs From the Sparkle Lounge
***
When Def Leppard put out 2002’s X, featuring songs co-written by the likes of pop impresarios Max Martin and Wayne Hector, it sounded like they had practically given up on hard rock, instead following many of their aging fans into sanitized adult-contemporary territory. But 2006’s covers collection Yeah! had a surprising amount of energy, and on Songs From the Sparkle Lounge the onetime kings of pop-metal prove they can still rock out with the best of them.
Not that Sparkle hits the heights of classic albums like Pyromania and Hysteria (or even 1999’s underrated comeback Euphoria), but it’s filled with catchy, arena-friendly rockers that should fit well with anthems like “Pour Some Sugar on Me” in the band’s live show. The only co-writer here is country star Tim McGraw, who offers surprisingly fitting guest vocals on “Nine Lives,” while guitarists Phil Collen and Vivian Campbell get to shine with some badass solos.
There’s just one ballad—the dismal “Love,” which sounds like a failed Queen pastiche—and while that may be a bit of overcompensation (the Lep have written some classic power ballads), rockers like “Hallucinate” and “Tomorrow” make it easy not to lament the lack of a new “Love Bites” or “Miss You in a Heartbeat.” The band doesn’t exactly have a lot of range, but sticking to what it does best makes Sparkle a satisfying addition to Def Leppard’s legacy. –Josh Bell
[Indie rock]
Tokyo Police Club
Elephant Shell
***
Tokyo Police Club’s 2006 debut EP, A Lesson in Crime, played like a sort of White Album for the iPod generation—its seven songs and 16 minutes of rapid-fire super-catchiness as emblematic of today’s digital-download immediacy as those four, weighty Beatles sides were of the bloated double-LP halcyon of 1968.
With Elephant Shell, the Ontario, Canada, quartet attempts to stretch its successful formula over a full-length album, and, largely, the barely-out-of-its-teens foursome succeeds at maintaining for the long-ish haul, packing 11 so-fun-they’ll-wind-up-in-your-most-played-list-before-you-know-it tracks into a runtime just under 28 minutes.
Nothing’s quite as good as “Nature of the Experiment,” the song that delivered TPC to the bloggers. But the group’s geeky garage tunes—think The Strokes raised on gummy bears instead of cigarettes—will still get you singing along with Dave Monks as he pours out Death Cabby sugar (“You’re my cave and I’ve been hiding out,” from “In a Cave”) and pseudo-literary spice (“I am here to fight/And light your blood in the dim moonlight/Two wrongs making right,” from “The Harrowing Adventures Of …”).
Sure, Shell borrows from Crime, revising its hand claps (“Tessellate”) and group choruses (“Your English Is Good”). And, admittedly, such finger-snapping poppiness won’t change the world. But then, neither did “Revolution 9,” and that was only 20 minutes shorter than Tokyo Police Club’s entire first album.
–Spencer Patterson
[Pop-rock]
Augustana
Can’t Love, Can’t Hurt
**
Nothing wrong with adult-contempo radio play, per se. 2006’s “Boston” was nearly a hit single in spite of itself; a young-at-heart shot of angst far more attuned to restless dreamers than to the mainstreamosphere that embraced Augustana’s soaring vocals and safely scruffy looks. Unfortunately the album itself got lost in the major-label shuffle, along with all the edge inherent in its deeper cuts.
With its follow up, the band has traded most of its guitars for keyboards, and all those rough edges for a shot at Coldplay-esque superstardom. Sparse piano ballad “Fire” and mid-tempo loss-of-faith lament “Dust” are about as interesting as it gets for a sanitized collection that serves up catchy, building and bland in equal measure, and even a Lucinda Williams shout-out (“Meet You There”) seems like a desperate stab at credibility.
Not that the change in direction is necessarily surprising, but if both radio and the record industry are dead, is it even necessary? It’s not the first time a promising band has fallen prey to the music machinery, but in the current climate of panicked freefall, hopefully it will be among the last. –Julie Seabaugh