[Homeboys]
The Killers
Sawdust
***
Okay, let’s get it out of the way, so we can all stop snickering and focus. The Killers, a band with precisely two albums to their name, have released a rarities set, which will strike most either as extremely silly, sorta money hungry or further evidence that the Vegas foursome takes itself a wee bit too seriously.
Having said that, Sawdust actually makes surprising sense. Though probably only 13-year-old girls with Brandon Flowers plastering their lockers have bothered to notice, The Killers have amassed a heaping pile of nonalbum material in their short run as rock stars, so much so that their third disc actually runs far longer than either of its predecessors, weighing in at a robust 18 tracks (one hidden) totaling some 72 minutes.
Does it make for a cohesive listen? Of course not, but what ephemera compilation—apart from, perhaps, The Smiths’ Louder Than Bombs—ever has? As its sappy-yet-sweet “This album is dedicated to our fans” liner-note inscription affirms, Sawdust screams diehard, and such serious Killerites will welcome its all-in-one-place roundup of B-sides, live-in-studio cuts and previously unheard outtakes with squeals of unmitigated glee.
Even so, casual Killers appreciators ought not dismiss it out of hand. Several tunes—pulsating shoulda-been-on-Sam’s Town leftover “All the Pretty Faces”; a slick re-recording of Hot Fuss UK-only number “Glamorous Indie Rock and Roll”; and, most notably, new composition “Tranquilize,” which effectively marries shadowy guest vocals from Lou Reed (yeah, that Lou Reed) and rosy choruses of young ’uns—are well worth hearing, even if some of the others (here’s looking at you, not-nearly-sinister-enough Joy Division cover “Shadowplay”) aren’t.
To summarize, if you’re the sort of completist who needs to own Jacques LuCont’s nine-minute “Thin White Duke Remix” of “Mr. Brightside” to sleep soundly, buy Sawdust this very instant. For everyone else, prudent iTunes sampling and per-song purchasing should help ensure you’re not the one being snickered at tomorrow. –Spencer Patterson
[Soul]
Alicia Keys
As I Am
**1/2
Sure, she’s better-dressed and (much) better-looking, but Alicia Keys is essentially the Celine Dion of R&B. Both boast acrobatic voices, sing almost entirely in platitudes and occasionally belt out a winsome radio banger that makes male fans forget these chanteuses usually cater to the ladies. Both of their new albums dropped on the same fourth-quarter date, and Keys’ empire seems poised to become a record-selling juggernaut on the order of Dion’s.
There’s plenty to like but not much to love on As I Am, Keys’ fourth album. Having already raised eyebrows by trying to play tough on her 2002 “Gangsta Lovin’” collaboration with Eve, Keys says this effort has an “edgier” sound than her previous work, but rest assured something featuring John Mayer has nothing too abrasive for a toddler.
Far and away the best song here is the single “No One,” co-produced by Keys herself, Dirty Harry and Kerry Brothers Jr. (who is Keys’ boyfriend). It’s a monster of a track, featuring Keys’ vocals at their most animated and continuing urban music’s inspiring recent trend of incorporating accordion riffs.
Too often, however, the album plays like a soundtrack for an empowerment seminar (“Superwoman,” “Lesson Learned”), or background music for a book-club meeting (“Like You’ll Never See Me Again,” “Prelude to a Kiss”). The subject matter is all over the place—she’s alone, she’s lucky to have you, she’s made it, she still has so far to go, etc. Whatever. As long as she continues to follow Dion’s career path (fellas, raise your hand if you’d like Keys to set up shop in Vegas!), she’ll be just fine. –Ben Westhoff
[Gothish]
Siouxsie
Mantaray
***
Much like Madonna, the honorable Siouxsie Sioux has earned the right to record under just her first name on Mantaray. As the figurehead of Siouxsie and the Banshees, the 50-year-old invented—and then deconstructed, if not blurred—the goth-punk and dream-pop movements. When fronting the electronic-leaning Creatures, meanwhile, she drew her power from their raw, primal experimentation.
Mantaray—unbelievably enough, Siouxsie’s solo debut—retains the over-the-top theatricality of both of those projects, to great effect. The dizzying electro-whirl “About to Happen” stomps with discotheque-punk abandon, while “Loveless” tingles with spy noir intrigue (and hints of Björk’s metallic perforations circa “Army of Me”). On the sassy, horn-fueled “Here Comes That Day,” Siouxsie even struts like Amy Winehouse slinking around a smoky nightclub.
The album flounders when it lingers too long on down-tempo numbers, however. The torchy, piano-and-strings ballad “Sea of Tranquility” is more sleep-inducing than placid; a marimba-touched “They Follow You” aims for conventional pop grandeur, and instead lands somewhere in Betty Boop-meets-Robbie Williams land.
That last song aside, Siouxsie’s unmistakable vocals ultimately redeem Mantaray. Always regal and sex-kittenish in the Banshees, as a solo artist she emotes with even more unfettered expression—cementing that no amount of studio processing will ever be able to tame the gothic high priestess. –Annie Zaleski
[Country]
Trisha Yearwood
Heaven, Heartache and the Power of Love
***1/2
While hubby Garth Brooks is busy setting sales records with his semi-comeback in support of Wal-Mart, Trisha Yearwood quietly soldiers on, releasing her 10th studio album and first for Nashville indie Big Machine Records. Whether it’s the new marriage to Brooks (Yearwood’s third), the shift away from a major label or just the comfort that comes with almost 20 years in the business, Yearwood sounds assured and even reinvigorated on Heaven, Heartache and the Power of Love, a distillation of some of the best qualities that mainstream country has to offer.
Chief among those is Yearwood’s voice, a warm, rich instrument that she never overplays. She sounds equally at home on shit-kickin’ honky-tonkers like “Nothin’ About You Is Good for Me” and “Drown Me,” sweet ballads like “Let the Wind Chase You” and the gritty blues of the title track. Easily the album’s highlight is the delightfully old-fashioned “Cowboys Are My Weakness,” complete with swinging retro fiddle and even a bit of yodeling.
Veteran producer Garth Fundis brings a lighter touch to the music than is found in most Nashville product these days, and only a few moments tip over into excessive sap (the maudlin “The Dreaming Fields” is a bit much). Let Brooks reap all the attention—clearly Yearwood’s music can speak for itself. –Josh Bell
[Idol]
Jordin Sparks
Jordin Sparks
*1/2
The problem with this debut album from American Idol winner Jordin Sparks is that it sounds like a debut album from an American Idol winner. Uninspired, unpolished and innocuous, this album showcases a singer with no discernible artistic focus, a musical marionette displaced from Fox to aux. There is a lag, a dated slowness that is only compounded by a mid-’90s Janet Jackson production value which finds Sparks’ reality-crowned voice moot.
Opener and first single “Tattoo” is a nap-cum-song that sets the forgettable, listless tone of the album. Wannabe dance track “Freeze,” replete with ethereal floods, would have clubbers taking a beer break, and even “Shy Boy,” the most contemporary track on the album, features claps that are more golf than Say Yeah.
It isn’t until the unfortunately titled “Permanent Monday” that listeners get their first earful of the Sparks that they voted to victory. (Not me; I was Team Blake.) Its Mariah-tinged melody wakes the album from its metronomic ABAB pattern, and Sparks’ voice rings. Sadly, “This Is My Now,” which won her the Idol title, is the only other resonant track on the disc. Still, Sparks is only 17. Once she finds her own “Miss Independent,” she’ll be just fine. –Kristyn Pomranz