SOUNDCHECK

SCISSOR SISTERS


TA-DAH (4 stars)

Whether you think these guys are insanely fab or just some weirdos who can't choose between being the world's best Elton John cover band or the world's best Bee Gees cover band depends on your willingness to agree that everything old (in this case, '70s AM radio) can be new again. Which, here, is the same as asking, are you an uptight stiff or do you wanna dance?

As it happens, I don't dance, but I side with insanely fab anyway. Because even though we're talking about, ugh, disco, the keyboard-driven hookfest "I Don't Feel Like Dancin'" comes closer to tempting me onto the floor than any song since "Take Your Mama Out," from the Scissor Sisters' indelible 2004 debut, Scissor Sisters. And because the campy, vampy "I Can't Decide" and the sassy "Kiss You Off" and "She's My Man" somehow mix boogie fever, drag-queen fabulosity and sheer fun with pinpoint songcraft to create music that immerses you in then without taking you out of now. Neat trick, Sisters!

Of course, reinventing the '70s can't work every time. "Ooh" sounds like they just opened another can of disco and called it a day (even the title sounds like an admission that it's filler). And the ballad "Land of a Thousand Words" is nice, but it's a ballad, and I don't slow dance, either.

BONNIE "PRINCE" BILLY


THE LETTING GO (3 stars)

Will Oldham has been a busy boy the past few years, just not busy doing what most longtime fans prefer. Since his last proper studio LP—2003's Master and Everyone—folk-rock's beloved Appalachian minstrel has teamed with Nashville session players to countrify his oldies, formed an indie super-duo with ex-Chavez frontman Matt Sweeney, recorded a collection of covers with instrumental group Tortoise and issued his own, surprisingly uneventful, live disc.

Oldham, aka Bonnie "Prince" Billy, finally reclaims his familiar singer-songwriter persona with The Letting Go, though his latest project isn't the triumphant revival it might have been sans new singing partner Dawn McCarthy, of Faun Fables fame. Though McCarthy affirms her own prowess, her penetrating pitch distracts ("Love Comes to Me," "No Bad News," "Lay and Love") from Oldham's dusty tone about as often as it enhances ("Strange Form of Life," "Cursed Sleep," "Then the Letting Go") the placid, mildly foreboding mood he's long been so adroit at creating.

While far from a woeful listening experience, The Letting Go does feel like a missed opportunity, either to allow Oldham's curiously emotive voice to stand on its own again or, failing that, to utilize it to back itself, as on the album's gorgeously slow-creaking, untitled finale.

Medeski Scofield Martin & Wood


Out Louder (2 stars)

What happens when former Miles Davis guitarist John Scofield joins in with hipper-than-thou jazz-funk trio Medeski Martin & Wood? Acid-cool uber-jams, of course.

Well ... it's cool all right, but maybe too cool. Mostly, it makes me feel like I need to buy more black turtlenecks or hang out with my laptop in Starbucks more often.

On Out Louder, Scofield's laid-back jazz tones mesh convincingly with the organ, bass and drums of the band. But this is instrumental music. And even though I like prog-rock, give me King Crimson's "Larks' Tongues In Aspic Part 27" over this stuff any day.

There's variety in the Ennio Morricone-cum-Middle-Eastern textures of "Tequila and Chocolate," the New Orleans grooves of "Tootie Ma Is A Big Fine Thing" and the quiet, moody take on The Beatles' "Julia." It's all accomplished enough, but none of it seems to draw me in. It sounds like background music tuned down low at a NYC party that I wasn't cool enough to be invited to. Let me rephrase that.

Chops without charm is way uncool.

Bobby Bare Jr.


THE LONGEST MEOW (3/2 stars)

For his fourth solo effort, Bobby Bare Jr. invited members of My Morning Jacket, ... And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead, Lambchop and Clem Snide into the studio one day back in March, and 11 hours later they'd put flesh on the skeletons of 11 songs, which span the spectrum from psychedelic rock to Latin funk, often within the same number. The result is a cohesive, wry, rambling trip through his unique musical stylings. Oh, and it's a whole lotta fun.

The journey begins with the thunderous "The Heart Bionic," a three-minute barroom brawl complete with driving guitars and a cardiac bassline augmented by Deanna Varagona's honking sax. "Back to Blue" is an ambling country ditty with mariachi horns and a wistful recovery feel, with Bare telling a past lover, "If you think I wrote this song for you/Then I'm making my way back to blue." He counters with the whimsical "Sticky Chemical," the bodacious "Uh Wuh Oh," and the lounge-lizard-on-acid tone of "Snuggling World Championships."

The set peaks with "Borrow Your Cape" and its crashing cymbals, soaring guitars and funked-out bass, then winds down with a cover of The Pixies' "Where Is My Mind." By the last notes of "Stop Crying," the exhaustion is palpable. Last one out of the studio, turn out the lights.

Jimmy Buffett


Take the Weather With You (2 1/2 stars)

Jimmy Buffett is a simple man. Since time immemorial, all he's wanted to do is lay back on the beach with a margarita and a few friends, preferably to the sound of steel drums. The king of Margaritaville explores those desires in his typical fashion on his latest album, Take the Weather With You, returning to his island-folk sound after a brief detour into country on 2004's License to Chill. It's a perfectly dependable collection, sure to please the die-hard Parrotheads who don shark fins and coconut bras at Buffett concerts.

It's also almost entirely forgettable, proof that the already mellow Buffett has become nearly comatose in his golden years. There are the typical jokey gimmick songs ("Party at the End of the World," "Cinco de Mayo in Memphis"), none of which can touch "Cheeseburger in Paradise" or "Volcano," and there are also covers of artists as diverse as Mark Knopfler, Crowded House and Merle Haggard, which all sound about the same—sleepy, relaxed and sort of boring.

Give Buffett credit for adventurousness, though—after taking on the entirety of mainstream country, here he duets with indie rockers Gomez and embraces alt-country songs from Gillian Welch and Mary Gauthier. That all-inclusive vibe is too friendly to dislike, but it lacks the conviction to be anything more.

Emily Haines & The Soft Skeleton


Knives Don't Have Your Back (3 stars)

Skinny as a twig and fierce as a tiger, Emily Haines is responsible for some of Broken Social Scene's most soaring moments, even when she sounds totally melancholy. The bizarre, brilliant "Anthems for a 17-Year Girl" is the kind of song that makes your insides shake furiously, although it resembles a lullaby more than any other anthem you've ever heard. As the frontwoman of Metric, Haines has made indie kids sweat and grind and snarl in a way that only somebody who's managed to combine Elastica with The Faint could.

Now Haines has gone solo and all chamber pop, to boot. And her new album is one of the shiniest recordings about sadness you'll ever hear. "Our hell is a good life," Haines sings on opening track "Our Hell," and though the instrumentation brings to mind the bleak but beautiful stylings of Stars (another band with ties to Broken Social Scene, of course), it still makes you think that partying with Haines would be kind of fun.

Problem is, the rest of the album sounds like it's all part of the same party, with the same soundtrack. The melodies of songs like "The Maid Needs a Maid" and "The Last Page" are catchy but not so memorable, and they make you wonder if Haines is holding back. After a while, you want her to become unhinged, to make things a bit more chaotic and fun. After a longer while, you realize that isn't going to happen.

For instance, Jenkins's over-the-top bass slapping (heard in a few cuts here, including the aptly-titled "The Modern Bass Guitar") is no doubt an homage to '70s fusionists Jaco Pastorius and Return to Forever; in my headphones, it sounds like the segue music from Seinfeld gone completely off the hook. And if his synthesizer pyrotechnics descend from a lineage that includes keyboard musos Keith Emerson and Rick Wakeman, the resulting soundscapes have all the gravity of a '60s German car commercial (on songs like "Hello Meow" and "Rotate Electrolyte," one expects a Teutonic babe to pipe in with a "Groooovy!") Squarepusher plays it all with a completely straight face, but that doesn't mean you have to.

Kaskade


Love Mysterious (2 1/2 stars)

Kaskade's third album, and his first on the Ultra label, is an ironic offering, considering Ultra is best known for its house releases while Love Mysterious is much closer to synth-pop, with not a single fully instrumental song on the 11-track disc.

Much of it is as dance-friendly as Kaskade's previous works, but overall the album lacks the big-room sound of, among other hits, "Everything Big Room." Things get off to a great start with "Stars Align," a song very much in tune with the San Francisco sound enshrined by Om Records (by day, Kaskade is Ryan Raddon, Om's artist and repertoire director). The next few tracks keep the groove, though the Atari-like sound effects on "In This Life" and "All You" detract more from the graceful female vocals than they add.

However, the album hits a lull in the middle. "Distance" sounds more like a soft jazz tune than either a dance-club hit or a synth-pop radio success. Kaskade tries to get the feel and pacing back, most notably with "Sometimes," featuring Marcus Bentley on vocals. But he ultimately falls short.

There's nothing mysterious about artists wanting to evolve, and the dance world certainly holds love for Kaskade, but in this case Kaskade's desire as voiced on the album runs more to affection than passion.