Young Jeezy - The Recession
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That Lucky Old Sun, Wilson's first non-Christmas album since then, teases fans looking for a sequel. It's a concept record, for starters, celebrating life in Southern California. It also features contributions from Van Dyke Parks, the lyricist who gave Smile its wordy, subversive kick. It's right about there, however, that the similarities end. This time out, Wilson co-wrote most of the songs with Scott Bennett, a member of his longtime touring band, and the pair make only passing reference to the clever wordplay and baroque-pop experimentalism that characterized Smile. Instead, they opt for bright chords and harmonies, and as he sings of girls and waves — topics he has romanticized since his teens — Wilson sounds more animated than he has on recent tours. His sun-and-fun lyrics can be saccharine and anachronistic, but his complete lack of artifice helps to sell the sticky likes of Forever She'll Be My Surfer Girl. Toward the end, Wilson sings a trio of tunes about his wilderness years, underscoring the idea that, regardless of how this album is received, he's enjoying the warmth of a new morning. Essential download: Good Kind of Love — Kenneth Partridge YOUNG JEEZY
The Recession
Island/Def Jam During a recession, many investors hunker down and stick with the familiar. In that sense, Young Jeezy is no different than the rest of us. The Atlanta crack rapper's third album is largely a faithful rehash of his first two platters, which transformed him from unrepentant hustler to unlikely inspirational figure. One is forced to conclude that the qualities that moved millions (or at least, moved millions of units) remain extramusical, because the generic Southern spooky-synth-and-808 backing still sounds like something any kid with a computer and a couple of hours could simulate. The most accomplished song is, unsurprisingly, the most atypical, but Circulate simply re-flips Billy Paul's 1975 classic Let the Dollar Circulate, used to much better effect on British soulman Steve Spacek's Dollar. Oh yes, and there are a few dozen reminders that Jeezy and his stash are weathering the recession nicely, thanks. At his wackiest, though — see My President Is Black, which features a couple of key deviations from the Obama platform — that blunt-sucking rasp can admittedly be endearing. And considering he has evidently convinced lots of folks that he's somehow making drug dealing moral, Jeezy's brightest future might be in politics instead. Essential download: My President Is Black — Dan LeRoy RODNEY CROWELL
Sex and Gasoline
Yep Roc Long one of country music's most interesting artists, Rodney Crowell's past three records make a good case that he's only now realizing his full potential. The 58-year-old songsmith shifts gears and lets someone else produce for a change on Sex and Gasoline, but continues to hit the right notes and nerves on tunes with earthy roots charms bubbling over with smartly phrased discontent. Crowell's natural Texas twang propels his lacerating insights, making barbed deliveries of a brew of politics and passion on The Rise and Fall of Intelligent Design. His language is plain-spoken but evocative, detailing beauty in delicate fashion as he marries it to a supple acoustic pulse on Forty Winters, and allowing desire and heartsickness to coalesce into a wistful reminiscence on Moving Work of Art. The sarcasm that drips from the rumbling title track bites without becoming overbearing, anchored just as firmly by its perceptiveness as the subtle, starkly attractive recollection I've Done Everything I Can. Even when he conjures up primal desire in jagged fashion on the rattling I Want You #35, Crowell forges a lucid treat, and capitalizes on the lessons of experience even as he maintains a youthful vitality. Essential download: The Rise and Fall of Intelligent Design — Thomas Kintner APOLLO SUNSHINE
Shall Noise Upon
Headless Heroes There's something of a jukebox feel to Apollo Sunshine's third album, despite the near-radioactive levels of reverb-hazy psychedelia throughout. The beloved Boston troupe approaches genres like a curious child, picking up and rattling each one for a bit before moving on. From the frayed rave-up Brotherhood of Death and the jam-band cheese of The Funky Chamberlain (Who Begot Who) — both very tongue-in-cheek — to the fragile folk-pop of Money and the orchestral flourishes of the swelling instrumental Happiness, it's impossible to know what's around the corner. Fog and Shadow is steeped in lazy-day country, for example, while Honestly dips into mariachi colors. Compounding the album's surreal vibe is a series of brief yet jarring interludes, including the title track. That said, like the Walkmen and Mazarin — whose Quentin Stoltzfus has joined Apollo Sunshine as a multifaceted sideman — the band is generally fond of rumbling, vibrant rock that's too weird to be called retro. Following up 2003's Katonah and a strongly reviewed self-titled effort in 2005, Shall Noise Upon could very well be the album that introduces Apollo Sunshine to the world at large. That is, if listeners can make it through 16 tracks of such drastic mood swings. Essential download: Honestly — Doug Wallen THE URGES
Psych Ward
Wicked Cool Little Steven Van Zandt has amassed quite an underground empire of garage rock with his Wicked Cool label, showcasing some of the best the genre has to offer, from overlooked veterans like the Woggles and the Chevelles, to younger turks like the Len Price 3 and the Charms. The Urges, who hail from Dublin, Ireland, fall into the latter category, having just unleashed one corker of a debut. This is straight-up snotty '60s-style psych-punk played with a lot of youthful energy and enthusiasm. When the band wants to, it can kick it into fifth gear like on I Gotta Wait or You're Gonna Find Out, songs that end in punk-driven furors of fuzz and feedback. The group also takes an organ-soaked lust song such as The 13th Floor and tears it apart with explosions of heavy distorted guitar, keeping the listener from losing focus. Then there's Salvage, which is a maniacal burst of evil guitar and guttural screams and grunts, making it sound like the theme song for some trashy B-movie from the '60s. The Urges have given good old garage rock a kick in the butt, and the genre is better for it. Essential download: You're Gonna Find Out...
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