TV ON THE RADIO
RETURN TO COOKIE MOUNTAIN (4.5 stars)
More than ever, indie rock circa 2006 plays like a retro soundtrack, ransacking New Wave, dance-punk and proto- metal as if listeners had signed on for a music appreciation course. This inclination to look back prevents most bands from moving forward, the chief reason so little of the "new" music we hear actually sounds the least bit fresh or innovative.
Thankfully, TV On the Radio steers clear of the quagmire much the way Miles Davis did amid a musty jazz scene in the last '60s, not by parroting influences but by fusing styles into something entirely original. Title to the contrary, the Brooklyn five-piece's second full-length is less a return than a departure, not from the bold ideas initiated on previous TVOTR efforts but from the constraints of musical genrefication altogether.
The quintet announces its disregard for such boundaries on brilliant opener "I Was a Lover," entwining soulful vocal harmonies, fuzzed-out guitars, sampled horns and delicate piano work atop an electronic/hip-hop beat. Anyone not floored by the time David Bowie hops on to add his voice to third cut "Province" should be, by disc's end, having ridden a wildly careening 11-track train that succeeds in marrying noise and rhythm, humanizing frontman Tunde Adebimpe's apocalyptic lyrics and somehow avoiding the pretentiousness usually inherent in an art-rock project this adventurous.
One caveat: Available everywhere else in the world as of July 6, Return to Cookie Mountain doesn't even have a confirmed release date on U.S. shores. Solution? Save the money earmarked for a couple of throwback sound-alikes and splurge for an import copy of this album-of-the-year front-runner.
Rhymefest
Blue Collar (4 stars)
Known more for R. Kelly's bump-and-grind music and the speed-rapping styles of Twista and Da Brat, Chicago is slowly becoming birthplace of the new age of "conscious" hip-hop. Common is the scene's veteran, Kanye West its crossover superstar and Lupe Fiasco its skateboarding B-boy, which leaves Rhymefest (a.k.a. Che Smith) to hold it down for the 9-to-5-ers. And hold it down he does.
Known for cowriting the Grammy-winning "Jesus Walks" with West and besting Eminem in a rap contest, Rhymfest proves with Blue Collar that you can rap about something other than ghetto life and promiscuous women and still move people. Moving units might be challenging. Fest didn't sign with West's G.O.O.D. label, fearing it'd despoil their lifelong friendship. Time will tell if freedom from West's persnickety aura hurts promotion. This is a CD the hip-hop's masses need to hear.
On "Bullet," Fest steps into the mind of a U.S. soldier: "He joined the Army airborne/got his uniform on/went to boot camp to get some discipline/Iraq is where they shippin' em/he's in mission where bullets are flyin' and missin' him/wishin' he was a kid again/with his family in Michigan/in the midst of fighting militia men/one round took down six of them/he ain't really a killer though, taken a lot of risk/but this is what a poor person do for a scholarship/he turned around a got face full of hollow tips/but don't mad, he died for the flag."
"Get Down" showcases his wit: "Watch what tone you get, it's the Windy City, nigga, don't get blown to bits/archaeologist nigga/I stay with a bone to pick/goin' tit for tat, black aristocrat, born with a gift to mack, anywhere chicks is at/Malaysians, Asians, Haitians mixed with black/bring 'em back to the block, like yeah nigga get with that."
Blue Collar is the hip-hop CD with enough versatility, lyricism and beat-making oomph to offer something for everyone. Windy City, take a bow.
Soul Asylum
The Silver Lining (3 stars)
On its first studio album in eight years, Soul Asylum sounds like it hasn't missed a beat, which is both a good and a bad thing. While they sound as strong and as passionate as they did on their last album, 1998's Candy from a Stranger, they also sound like the '90s alt-rock relics that they are, having developed little since their 1992 breakthrough, Grave Dancers Union.
You could make a case that what worked in the past can work again, and on songs like "Stand Up and Be Strong" and "Oxygen," The Silver Lining makes that case very well. Leader Dave Pirner still has a finely-tuned pop sense filtered through his ramshackle garage-band roots. In its best moments, this album sounds like it could have been the follow-up to Grave Dancers Union and not in a bad way.
It's also stuffed with lyrical clichés and occasionally suffers from its lack of adventurousness. Karl Mueller, the band's original bassist, died of cancer shortly after The Silver Lining was recorded, and plays on about half the tracks here. It's a nice tribute to his dedication: safe, reliable and comforting.
Roger Sanchez
Come With Me (3 stars)
Grammy-winning disco-house DJ and producer Roger Sanchez takes us on a global—and personal—journey with his new album, Come With Me. With musical influences ranging from Spain to America, and songs dealing with everything from seduction to lovers' spats to plain ol' bad days, the S-Man delivers 11 varied, eclectic and generally fun, pop-filled tracks.
Yes, pop. If you're looking for house, stop after opening track "Turn On The Music," a pretty straightforward effort with no surprises. As a club album, Come With Me is a failure. But as a pop album, Sanchez does a remarkably decent job.
Opening with a flamenco warble, "Take a Chance" is a great showcase for singer Jacquita Perkins. The next two songs, "Not Enough" and "Lost," are frothy mixes, insubstantial but great ear-candy.
"Again" is one of the few standout tracks, a rambling retelling of people's worst days, including Sanchez's. A thumping percussive beat builds into a funk-flavored verse and chorus. His collaboration with Alejandro Sanz, a winner of 13 Grammys, is another. Titled "I'm Yours," the grinding flamenco rhythms and Sanz's growling voice combine with Sanchez's production skills to create a song that would have Carlos Santana genuflecting.
But then there are songs like "Free (Headwinds)," "Soledad" and "Hot 4 U," which sound like nothing more than tarted-up George Benson numbers, that kill the album's vibe. There are some potential chart-toppers here, but listening to the album sometimes feels like looking for gold on a sandy beach.