Muse
Black Holes and Revelations (4 stars)
Muse writes music that could be the soundtrack of a brand new world, where new planets are colonized, new religions are formed, new armies are built, new crusades are waged—where everything is danger and anarchy but also pure possibility.
In their bid for the title of Best British Band Besides Radiohead, or maybe even Best Rock Band Period, Muse has thrown down an album that's part Coldplay, part My Chemical Romance and part Faith No More. They're not quite kings of the music universe yet, but almost every song is its own epic adventure that takes your heart into another orbit. So the black hole part is pretty self-explanatory. As for the revelations part, yeah, you can flip through the Bible but, ultimately, the most important revelation seems to be this: Even when you're lost in space, all you need is love.
The thing you really have to adore about Muse is that they're some seriously tenderhearted astronauts. On "Starlight," Matthew Bellamy moans about how this ship has taken him so far away from everything he cares about, and though he knows he's on a righteous path, he doesn't know if "it's worth it anymore ... I just wanted to hold you in my arms." "Supermassive Black Hole," similarly, seems largely to be about falling for a girl. And closer "Knights of Cydonia" reminds you it's only worth fighting when there's something worth fighting for. Brits are such kittens sometimes.
BARDO POND
Ticket Crystals (3.5 stars)
In concert, the heavy drone of Bardo Pond feels as though it has physical form, threatening to knock fans from their feet, into piles of vibrating ribs, echoing eardrums and blissful smiles. The challenge in the studio has always been approximating that raw energy without benefit of physical proximity to the listener.
The Philadelphians' eighth full-length largely succeeds, showering its explorers with intense sound strikes. Those thunderous storm clouds—slow-kindling epic "FC II," the roaring and rolling "Endurance" and "Destroying Angel," the wickeder stepsister to 1997's "Tommy Gun Angel"—are nicely balanced by somewhat quieter showcases for Isobel Sollenberger's entrancing vocals ("Moonshine," a cover of the Beatles' "Cry Baby Cry").
Ticket Crystals stumbles twice along its journey: "Lost Words" never quite unfurls its charms, and "Montana Sacra II" takes too long traversing a short musical distance. On the whole, though, it's a satisfying new installment in one of psych-rock's most dependable catalogs, and as good a launching pad as any for newcomers looking to get bowled over.
Butch Walker
The Rise and Fall of Butch Walker and the Let's-Go-Out-Tonites (3 stars)
Butch Walker has gone from a '90s alt-rock also-ran with his band the Marvelous 3 (who had a minor hit with "Freak of the Week") to one of the hottest producers in pop music thanks to his impeccable sense of songcraft, and on his third solo album he continues to explore new sounds while mining more of his '70s rock influences. Walker's 2002 debut, Left of Self-Centered, was all about arena rock, and 2004's Letters was an introspective singer-songwriter album in the vein of Elvis Costello. For The Rise and Fall of Butch Walker and the Let's-Go-Out-Tonites, from its Ziggy Stardust homage title on down, Walker embraces a trashy glam style that attempts to bridge the gap between his first two efforts.
On the upbeat pop numbers, he mostly succeeds, regaining his trademark humor on such deconstructions of sleazy celebrity culture as "Too Famous to Get Fully Dressed" and "Paid to Get Excited." All that time working with Pink and Avril Lavigne has clearly taught him a thing or two. It also seems to have made him resistant to the big pop gestures of his earlier work, and Rise and Fall is looser and less hook-filled than Walker's producing work. Slow, quiet tunes "We're All Going Down" and "Dominoes" don't really go anywhere, but when Walker cranks the guitars and snarls, "I'm tired, I'm bored / Where's the cocaine?" on "Ladies and Gentlemen ... ‘The Let's-Go-Out-Tonites!,'" his charm is nearly irresistible.