Paul Oakenfold
A Lively Mind (2.5 stars)
Amazingly, this is only Paul Oakenfold's second artist album, three years in the making in between international gigs, running his Perfecto record label and producing and working on remix projects.
Call A Lively Mind a gateway album for rockers who haven't dared venture into the frightening world of electronic music. On these dozen original tracks, Oakenfold splits his efforts between songs that would sound more at home on Mix 94.1 and those that are clearly in the dance realm, with Oakenfold's progressive-house groove. Whether you like this genre-crossing (and a lot of critics have already anted in with negative reviews) depends on deeply ingrained beliefs no doubt formed in early childhood. Either way, it's clear that more and more electronic artists are getting into classic pop and rock structures, and in that sense, Oakenfold is still on the same trail he started with 2002's Bunkka, which also saw the Brit weaving together pop, rock and hip-hop with house.
He gets things going with "Faster Kill Pussycat," with Crown Royal vocals provided by none other than movie star Brittany Murphy. Don't scoff. Murphy does yeoman's work on the song, evoking Sin City's Shellie rather than Uptown Girls' Molly Gunn. A guitar riff, sounding awfully close to the one in Deep Dish's "Flashdance," opens the number, yanking you in by the lapels.
Pharrell Williams guests on "Sex n Money," a song that, despite the hip-hopper's contributions, stays firmly in progressive-house territory. But even with this, and the following "Switch On" (with what sounds like a subtle nod to Monty Norman's James Bond theme song), Oakenfold keeps the rock pulse pounding.
His teaming up with Grandmaster Flash on "Set It Off" seems promising at first, with its mix of modern house sounds and Flash's distinctly '80s electronic contribution. But the samples of the two greeting each other repeated throughout—"What's up, Paul?" and "Hey Flash, what's up?"—soon becomes as annoying as those Budweiser "Whazz up?!" commercials.
"Praise the Lord" is the second most entertaining track after "Faster Kill Pussycat," with samples of a gospel preacher and some televangelist saleswoman pitching for donations for 976-4-PRAYER, mixed with that Bond-like guitar riff and frenetic keyboards and motor sounds.
Ending with "Feed Your Mind," vocals by Perfecto artist Spitfire, album comes back full-circle to the rock motif that started the whole voyage. But where "Pussycat" feels fresh, this bookend comes off as been-there, heard-that, especially with refrains that channel U2—from 1990.
So let's call this one a wash. With forays into rock and pop, Oakenfold has sure put his chin out there, but many of the prog-house tracks sound dated and uninspired. But it at least means we can probably expect to see a midriff-baring Brittany Murphy gracing a solo-album cover soon—and for that we're thankful.
AFI
decemberunderground (3 stars)
AFI has been lapped. When they released their major-label debut, Sing the Sorrow, in 2003, their sound—combining the energy of punk with the angst and atmosphere of goth—was exciting and relatively unique. Three years later, modern rock radio often sounds like one big AFI album, and bands from My Chemical Romance to Taking Back Sunday to Panic! At the Disco have taken elements of the band's music all the way to the top of the charts. So it may not be AFI's fault that their latest release, decemberunderground, sounds a little derivative, but that doesn't change the fact that it often does.
The album continues the evolution evident on Sing the Sorrow, with moody keyboards paired with layered punk guitars that, on the best songs, create a sort of Depeche-Mode-meets-Bad-Religion feel. Singer Davey Havok makes some concessions to the emo-core crowd on this album, screaming rather than singing his sorrows on a few occasions. But the strongest moments ignore recent developments and just make the anthemic rock that the band is best at: "Summer Shudder" is a monster sing-along, and "The Missing Frame" could be mistaken for an early U2 outtake. decemberunderground is less distinctive than Sing the Sorrow was, and doesn't have as many immediately memorable anthems, but it proves that AFI is more than capable of catching up to its peers.
THE FUTUREHEADS
News and Tributes (3 stars)
The Futureheads draw frequent comparisons to buddy band Franz Ferdinand, but with News and Tributes the Brits have distanced themselves from their Scottish mates in one key respect: Their second album doesn't play like a remake of their first. Where Franz churned out another round of fidgety dance-punk on its sophomore release, the 'heads sidestep that blueprint for a far more varied approach.
That's not to say the quartet abandons nervous indie-pop altogether—you can bounce a leg all day to the pulse of "Fallout" or "Skip to the End." But such moments feel refreshing, rather than humdrum, alongside the noisy assault of "Return of the Beserker," the coat-and-tie smartness of the Jam-esque title cut and the John Hughes mush of '80s throwback ballad "Thursday."
Not everything the Futureheads attempt this time around works out swimmingly; "Cope" tries too hard to be quirky, while "Face" suffers from a clunky monotony. But on the whole, News and Tributes captures the sound of a band on the move, at a time when it would have been a lot safer simply to run in place.
Paul Simon
Surprise (4 stars)
Paul Simon has always had at least as much taste as talent. His equal appreciation of Dylan and Phil Spector made Simon & Garfunkel's "Bridge Over Troubled Water" a classic. His early grasp of world music and immaculate pop instincts made Graceland a commercial and critical monster.
Now comes Surprise, a new disc that matches the old folk singer's songs with "sonic landscapes by Brian Eno," to quote the box. Unlike another Eno collaborator, David Bowie, Simon does not seem at all desperate to be hip on this production, and unlike the aging artists who turn to Rick Rubin, Simon does not seem to need help finding his way back to his musical soul. Rather, Eno gives these immaculately crafted yet restless songs a restless sound. "The universe loves a drama," Simon sings on "I Don't Believe." The lyric was his wife's commentary on the 2004 presidential election, but the song delivered by Eno has melancholy rather than rage. The difference is in the texture, and Simon's responded with lyrics that are subtle and free of his usual pretensions. It is almost as if he chose to clear the way for Eno's far more intriguing pretensions, to let the music do the talking. As always, in this decision Simon shows excellent taste.