RIYL: Seal, Pet Shop Boys, the phrase 'Produced by Trevor Horn'

How did it take this long for Robbie Williams, one of the UK's biggest pop stars, and Trevor Horn, one of the UK's most successful producers, to make an album together? Perhaps Horn wasn't interested while Williams was still getting his freak on - "Rudebox" may be a stone cold jam, but it's not exactly in Horn's wheelhouse - and Williams is just now ready to make a grown-up pop record. Whatever the reason, Reality Killed the Video Star, the first Williams album to see a Stateside CD release since 2002's Escapology (2005's Intensive Care and 2006's Rudebox are download-only), is everything you'd expect from a Robbie/Trevor joint venture. It's flush with perky, if mannered, electronic beats, and Williams is still extremely candid in his lyrics ("All we ever wanted was to look good naked," he observes in the UK #2 smash "Bodies"). Reality isn't teeming with potential singles the way, say, Sing When You're Winning was, but there's not a duff track in the bunch. Well, there is one duff track: "Blasphemy," his reunion with longtime collaborator Guy Chambers, which yields a lyric that would make Paul Stanley blush. ("Was it a blast for you? / 'Cause it's blasphemy." Wow.)

While it's nice to see Robbie get scrubbed down and dolled up, one gets the sense listening to Reality that this whole grown-up thing is just a phase. As phases go, it's an extremely pleasant one, but it would not be at all surprising to see Williams go full Lady GaGa with his next one. (Virgin 2009)

Robbie Williams MySpace page
Click to buy Reality Killed the Video Star from Amazon

RIYL: La Roux, Madonna, Christina Aguilera

‘Tis the season for unbelievably crass record company cash-ins, and Interscope is solidly in the spirit, shoving this eight-song batch of leftovers from Lady Gaga’s The Fame just in time to be stuffed into the stockings of dance-obsessed music lovers everywhere. Given its bottom line-oriented origins, and the disposable nature of this style of pop music in general, there’s no conceivable reason for The Fame Monster to work any better than your average strike-while-the-iron-is-hot compilation, but as Gomer Pyle would say: Surprise, surprise! If these are Lady Gaga’s table scraps, it’s a little frightening to imagine what she might have on tap for her next full-length affair. The Fame Monster comes on strong with “Bad Romance,” with a towering wall of synths and soulful vocals that suggest what might have happened if Jim Steinman and Bonnie Tyler had been born 30 years later; from there, Gaga touches on ABBA-esque pop (“Alejandro”) and torch balladry (“Speechless”), has a diva summit with Beyonce (“Telephone”), and throws a wicked S&M dance party (“Teeth”). At a dizzying 35 minutes, Monster concludes just when it feels like it’s really getting warmed up, but there’s nothing wrong with leaving ‘em wanting more, right? The closest thing to an eight-sided single you’re going to hear all year, The Fame Monster proves art and commerce really can get along sometimes. (Interscope 2009)

Lady Gaga MySpace page

RIYL: Keri Hilson, Amerie, Jordin Sparks

Lest you think Rihanna meant to make some kind of cute alliterative play by naming her fourth album Rated R, she quickly disabuses any such notions by getting down to business with a collection every bit as inappropriate for young ears as its title would suggest. “I’m such a fuckin’ lady,” she purrs in the second track, “Wait Your Turn,” and from there it’s off to war. When last we heard from Rihanna, she was urging us to stand under her umbrella; this time out, she’s more focused on letting us know how hard she is, bragging about licking her gun because “revenge is sweet,” and barking “Get it up … is you big enough?” The music reflects this lyrical left turn; the arrangements are braced with metallic, tricked-out beats, cold, buzzing synths, and stacks of raw electric guitars (that’s Slash you hear on the ridiculous “Rockstar 101,” which finds her boasting, “Rocking this club / Got my middle finger up / I don’t give a fuck”).

It’s a curious blend, really, because as aggressive as Rated R wants to be – and often is, craptastic ballads like “Stupid in Love” and “Te Amo” notwithstanding – Rihanna can never get past her steel-plated drone of a voice long enough to really make it work. More than anything, she just sounds bored, whether she’s declaring herself a “gangsta 4 life” or strolling her way through a duet with will.i.am. This doesn’t blunt the impact of Rated R’s best moments, like the thudding “Hard” and softcore porn of “Rude Boy”; taken in total, it can even function as a sort of meta statement on the emotional disconnect between mainstream culture and its young consumers. In a pop climate where lack of emotion is the norm, Rihanna’s bloodless art makes perfect sense. Still, after a while, it’s impossible not to wish for some good old-fashioned passion. Remember when R&B had soul? (Def Jam 2009)

Rihanna MySpace page

RIYL: Pat Benatar, Garbage, Paramore

The manner in which success has eluded New York's Morningwood (previously a quartet, now a duo) is frankly surprising. Their songs are armed to the teeth with punchy guitar riffs, and singer Chantal Claret is an absolute belter, a larger than life personality with an oversized libido to match. (Think Pat Benatar, only this time you actually have a shot at getting her in bed.) After a one-album stay with Capitol, Morningwood has elected to go the self-released route with their sophomore effort Diamonds & Studs (though MTV is assisting with the distribution), and unlike most self-made affairs, this album sounds damn good. Indeed, it's a modern-day production with an old-school mix job, lacking the overcompression that makes most contemporary albums sound like complete and utter shit. Much like the band's debut, a few songs stand head and shoulders above the others, namely "Sugarbaby," which out-Paramore's Paramore. "How You Know It's Love," which jumps from shuffle beat to four-on-the-floor rocker in the chorus, playfully cribs from the band's "Nth Degree," and the drum-heavy "That's My Tune" has 'club smash' written all over it.

Strangely, as pleasant as the album sounds while it's playing, much of it leaves no footprint once it's gone. Case in point: "Three's a Crowd." Fabulous while you're listening to it, but an hour later, it's hard to remember how it goes. Morningwood is still putting the pieces together, but there are far worse bands that are out-selling them. Pity. (Morningwood Inc. 2009)

Morningwood MySpace page
Click to buy Diamonds & Studs from Amazon

RIYL: Neil Young, Greg Laswell, Hem

It’s fitting that this modest film based on the life of one of America’s most iconic authors would garner a soundtrack composed and performed by two of today’s most compelling alternative musicians, Jay Farrar and Benjamin Gibbard. Jack Kerouac, of course, helped define the underground subculture of the late ‘50s and early ‘60s with his novel “On the Road,” influencing a generation of displaced and rebellious individuals who dared defy the norms of a placid society. While they may not be quite so influential, Farrar and Gibbard’s efforts with Son Volt and Death Cab for Cutie, respectively, have nevertheless had a lingering impact on other artists who have ventured away from the tried and true and immersed themselves in similarly adventurous realms.

Arousing both literary and musical interests, One Fast Move or I’m Gone: Kerouac’s Big Sur documents its subject’s subsequent retreat from a culture he helped create, a period when he hid himself away at poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s cabin in Big Sur in an attempt to cope with his doubts and depression. Using Kerouac’s own words, interspersed with commentary from surviving contemporaries and such avowed devotees as Patti Smith, Tom Waits and Robert Hunter, the film explores his shattered psyche and sad circumstance that led to the author’s eventual downward spiral.

In that context, Farrar and Gibbard weave a lilting musical tapestry, one that emphasizes low-lit harmonies, a predominance of acoustic guitars, gentle melodies and a sweep of pedal steel. The 12 songs create a weary ambiance that fits the film’s somber pastiche; fitting midway between the somber sensitivities that characterize Farrar’s usual demeanor and the more effusive sounds that characterize Gibbard’s Death Cab duties, songs such as “California Zephyr,” “Low Life Kingdom” and “These Roads Don’t Move” give the soundtrack an amiable sway and an unobtrusive appeal. Kerouac may furnish the narrative, but Farrar and Gibbard help manipulate the mood while providing the score with its easy appeal.

After one look and a single listen, Gone is not easily forgotten.

One Fast Move webpage

RIYL: Christina Aguilera, Whitney Houston, Kelly Clarkson

Leona Lewis has a beautiful voice – clear, strong, and remarkably non-susceptible to the sort of melismatic dicking around that far too many pop vocalists seem to think passes for singing. It’s the type of voice that begs to be dropped in front of a sympathetic band and some truly tremendous material, and using it to record synthetically produced, pleasantly anonymous pop songs is a little like bringing a cannon to a knife fight: a tremendous waste of perfectly good ammo. Of course, not every song can be a standard, but c’mon – Sony BMG is one of the biggest corporations on Earth, and they can definitely afford better material than the middle-of-the-road fluff Lewis is saddled with here. She’s definitely game – in fact, her voice rings so brightly that she almost manages to transcend the uniform ordinariness of the material – but the ultimate effect is never more than mindlessly entertaining. Which is probably precisely the point of an album that was clearly assembled with such an eye toward big-picture chart domination that the finer details – like finding great songs, for instance, or not lumping Lewis’ gourmet voice in with a duet partner as proudly, generically vanilla as OneRepublic’s Ryan Tedder – were somehow forgotten. Echo is fine, for what it is – but like Lewis’ similarly pedestrian debut, it could have been much, much more. (RCA/19 2009)

Leona Lewis MySpace page

RIYL: It's a bit hard to say, really

The idea of any 72-year-old man supervising the recording of a hip-hop record is sort of ridiculous on its face, but Bill Cosby? The guy whose beef with rap culture’s profane streak has only deepened since being immortalized in Eddie Murphy’s “Raw” more than 20 years ago? The sweatered sitcom savior and Jell-O pitchman has made a second career out of delivering cranky missives to the black community, and from a distance, Bill Cosby Presents the Cosnarati: State of Emergency looks like just another lecture about not dropping out of school, taking care of your kids, staying off drugs, and keeping your language free of all that awful filth, flarn, flarn, flarn, filth. Which it is, sort of, but here’s the thing – as a hip-hop record, State of Emergency is surprisingly sound. Okay, so it won’t win any awards for innovative production, and yes, it does include a few painful rhymes, but it’s far from the unintentionally hilarious train wreck you might expect. And even if he’s alienated some with his heavy-handed speechifying, this album reinforces the fact that his heart has always been in the right place. Still, there’s no denying that Public Enemy was pioneering socially conscious hip-hop 20 years ago – and delivering it with more passion, more style, and a more profound impact. It’s also hard, given Cosby’s career and strident reputation, to imagine who’s going to listen to this album with open enough ears to hear it for what it really is. It’s ultimately just a curiosity, albeit a well-made one; perhaps next time, Cos can use a few name-brand MCs to get his point across. (Turtle Head 2009)

Bill Cosby MySpace page

RIYL: Queens of the Stone Age, Led Zeppelin, Nirvana

Ever since Josh Homme and Nick Oliveri parted ways, Queens of the Stone Age have been missing a certain “oomph.” It hardly seemed right to continue with the name anyway, since the dynamic between Josh and Nick was a big part of what made that band so great in the first place.

For now, anyway, Josh is putting the Queens name aside, even though Them Crooked Vultures could have easily been called a Queens record simply by virtue of the fact that Songs for the Deaf drummer Dave Grohl is providing TCV’s undulating rhythms. And although Josh is the dominant voice and guitarist of Them Crooked Vultures, to say that he is outweighed by the mere presence of his bandmates – bassist John Paul Jones and drummer Dave Grohl – is an understatement. But make no mistake, Them Crooked Vultures is very much a Josh Homme record. All the raunch and sleaze he brings to Queens of the Stone Age is here (sample double entendre: “Don’t hold it against me, unless it gets hard,” from “No One Loves Me and Neither Do I”), as is that magical de-wussified angst he does so well (see “Bandoliers,” an awesomely rockin’ breakup song if there ever was one).

But what distinguishes TCV from Queens is ultimately that rock-solid, locked-in rhythm section created by Jones and Grohl. Yes, at times it does kind of recall the groove of the groovingest Led Zeppelin, and Josh will occasionally match that with some Zep-like riffage. And though most of the songs are worthy of the musicians playing them, the record starts to drag towards the end… just like the last two Queens records. But this is a small complaint in light of the fact that John Paul Jones is playing in a kick-ass rock band once again, Dave Grohl is back behind the drum kit where he belongs, and Josh Homme is showing no signs of slowing down. Rarely does a “supergroup” get much better than this. (Interscope 2009)

Them Crooked Vultures MySpace page

RIYL: Boston, REO Speedwagon, Survivor

Mick Jones recorded without Lou Gramm once before on 1991's Unusual Heat. Now with the seemingly permanent departure (although in the world of sports, music and professional wrestling, never say never), Foreigner has released Can't Slow Down, exclusively through Wal-Mart. Kelly Hansen, formerly with Hurricane, fills the large shoes of Lou Gramm rather admirably with a sincere and effective effort on the new material. Interestingly enough, Hansen, although without the same depth and power as Gramm, has a very similar voice and pulls off the classic foreigner stuff very well. The three-disc collection includes the new album, a collection of remixed classics and a concert DVD of this line-up performing the hits. The new material like the title track and "In Pieces" will fit in well within the catalog. Formulaic as it may be, complete with the big production of veteran Rock Producer Marti Frederiksen, it is full of hooks and incredibly well executed. Jones is not appreciated enough for his ability to write crunchy but catchy rock tunes. Can't Slow Down features a couple of ballads, as Foreigner records are required to by law, to do and they are decent. The remixes take the old material and tweak them to where the audiophile will only be able to tell (they are the originals and not re-recorded by this line-up). The concert DVD is a blast, and to see the 60+ year old Jones lead his band through the classics with energy and great guitar chops, is a pleasant surprise. Watching him sing lead on "Starrider" is a gas. (Foreigner 2009)

Foreigner MySpace page

RIYL: Allman Brothers, Robin Trower, Mountain

Gov’t Mule treads that narrow divide that links jam band excess, raucous Southern rock and blustery white boy blues. Founded by guitarist Warren Haynes and the late Allen Woody, both of whom had been drafted to serve with the Allman Brothers during one of the band’s frequent reshufflings, the duo subsequently launched Gov’t Mule as an active side project in the mid ‘90s.

Since then, Gov’t Mule hasn’t digressed all that much from the rambling jams and blustery exhortations that distinguished the music Haynes and Woody created as employees in their day job. In fact, if the band was actually striving to set itself apart, it was never all that evident. For the most part, the group’s recorded catalog has been dominated by concert recordings, which have emphasized their instrumental prowess over more concise songcraft.

To a certain extent then, By a Thread marks something of a turning point in their recording campaign, placing a focus more on the material rather than their usual pyrotechnics. To be sure, there are the usual overwrought growls and howls, as evident in such blazing rampage of “Broke Down on the Brazos,” “Steppin’ Lightly” and “Monday Morning Meltdown,” each a searing onslaught that finds them adhering to more turgid testimonials. On the other hand, “Forevermore” and “Frozen Fear” suggest the band might be willing to treat the material with a hint of subtlety by toning down the more aggressive posturing. Of course, fans need not worry about an abrupt change of course, but it is worth noting that By a Thread might provide something of a kick to Govt Mule’s newer recruits. (Evil Teen 2009)

Gov’t Mule MySpace page

RIYL: Pearl Jam, Mudhoney, The Melvins

Although they're credited with “changing everything” nowadays, more people remember remember Nirvana for the tragedy surrounding Kurt Cobain's life and untimely death than their killer live shows. Live at Reading should help remedy that. This 1992 performance by the band, recorded at the height of their popularity, shows everything that was great, exciting and dangerous about not only Nirvana, but the “grunge” rock scene as a whole. Surrounded not only by unheard-of popularity but also rumors about Kurt's drug use, his health and his relationship with Courtney Love (who just gave birth to daughter Frances Bean less than two weeks earlier) the group seemed to focus all that energy, both negative and positive, into what has since gone down in history as one of their best performances. Everything is perfect here, from the set list (which includes just about everything you'd want to hear), to the feedback-drenched guitars and an ecstatic audience that goes absolutely batshit crazy for “Lithium.” From the Muddy Banks of the Wishkah was good, but Live at Reading is absolutely essential. If you were a fan of Nirvana back in “the day,” then watching live footage now sometimes usually be a bit of a downer. But Live at Reading is so powerful, energetic and flawless that it can even lift the band out of its own dark legacy. At least for a little while. (Geffen 2009)

Nirvana MySpace Page

50 Cent – nee Curtis Jackson – is one of the more brilliant entrepreneurs to come out of modern hip-hop, but as a rapper, the man has problems: He’s been locked in a sales slide since releasing his seven-times-platinum debut, Get Rich or Die Tryin’, in 2003, and these days, you’re more likely to see him in theaters (where he’s popped up in horrible movies like (“Righteous Kill”) or video games (such as “Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2”) than hear him on the radio. 50’s artistic confusion is reflected in Before I Self Destruct’s troubled birth: Originally slated for release in 2007, Destruct was bumped in favor of the roundly panned Curtis, then shoved all over Interscope’s schedule for months; no fewer than six singles from the album have been released since October of 2008, and tellingly, none of them have had half the impact of earlier hits like “In da Club” or “Candy Shop.” Whatever 50’s been doing to this album for the last two years, it hasn’t helped much: Whether he’s engaging in unintentional self-parody with ludicrous gangsta tracks or raging against seemingly everyone in his personal and business life, Self Destruct lacks any of the menacing, mush-mouthed charm that made him a star.

He’s clearly making a desperate effort to make up for embarrassing pop concessions like “Amusement Park,” but none of it works; the production (courtesy of top-shelf producers like Dr. Dre, Polow da Don, and Rockwilder) is as dull and played out as 50’s subject matter – his current single, “Baby By Me,” even samples his own “I Get Money.” Meanwhile, 50 himself strains to sound dangerous, but it’s hard to take tracks like “Death to My Enemies,” “Crime Wave,” and “Gangsta’s Delight” seriously coming from a guy who just debuted his first fragrance for men. His laconic flow has always been part of his appeal, but here, 50 Cent just sounds flabby and tired, and at 16 deeply uninspired tracks, Before I Self Destruct is a painfully long slog. Try to imagine the musical equivalent of being peed on in a rainstorm while an escaped mental patient with a speech impediment shouts at you, and you’ll come close to the experience. With a long list of movies in production and a contract-sealing greatest hits collection on the way, it could be some time before we hear new music from 50 Cent; hopefully, the time off gives him a chance to recharge his creative batteries. (Aftermath/Interscope 2009)

50 Cent MySpace page

RIYL: Poco, Jimmy Wayne, Restless Heart

Every once in a while, a country act comes along that opens eyes and ears. Sometimes they’re so good that they also open mouths. Frankly, that may not seem to be difficult when many acts in the genre not only do not write their own music, but also don’t sing it. That might sound harsh, but it’s a fact of life on Music Row these days. But alas, there is a new kid in town, or, should we say, kids. Love and Theft is a trio of young men who can write, sing and deliver three-part harmonies that not only rival the best country has to offer, but also may bring to mind classic country rock acts like Poco and Restless Heart. Their debut on Carolwood, World Wide Open, is one insanely catchy song after another, and a breath of fresh air that could just amount to a hurricane in Nashville. The title track is punchy and powerful, and features the kind of chorus today’s music industry execs drool over, but there are plenty of other gems - like the rocking “Runaway,” the harmony drenched “Don’t Wake Me” and the stunning, goose-bump inducing closer “Drowning,” which is easily the best track on here. If you’ve been meaning to give country music another chance, make this be the band that brings you back. Heck, you don’t even have to dig country, because it’s just as much a pop record. Either way, Love and Theft is a young act with unlimited potential. (Carolwood 2009)

Love and Theft MySpace page

RIYL: Steve Earle, Rodney Crowell, Ryan Adams

No doubt about it - Revival is quite an apt title for this latest effort from Texas-bred singer/songwriter Radney Foster. Formerly half of the country pop duo Foster and Lloyd, he's come a long way towards establishing an Americana brand since initially venturing out on his own in the early '90s. That said, Revival finds him significantly raising the bar and setting a new standard as far as his own output is concerned. An uplifting, soul-defining statement of unadulterated affirmation, both the messages and melodies linger long after the final notes fade away. The songs soar like expansive anthems, and on tracks such as "A Little Revival," "Forgiveness" and "Shed a Little Light" those stirring sentiments evoke a spiritual ferocity and unbounded optimism in a manner that's genuinely affecting. "I Made Peace with God" and "Suitcase" are especially revealing, each a testament to a new-found faith that Foster invokes without hesitation.

Still, it would be misleading to dismiss him solely as a would-be Bible thumper; the rowdy and rollicking "Until It's Gone" and the carefree abandon of "Trouble Tonight" show Foster still solidly ensconced in secular realms. Newcomers ought to consider this an excellent place to begin, while Foster fans will find this his most indelible effort yet. Clearly, this Revival rates a solid hallelujah and an unqualified amen. (Devil’s River Records 2009)

Radney Foster MySpace page

RIYL: Snow Patrol, Keane, Radiohead

Dreamy, brooding alternative rock may have begun with Radiohead, but one thing is for sure - it’s never gone away. There are bands that have kept the torch burning, from Coldplay to Snow Patrol to Doves to today’s entry, Canadian outfit Jets Overhead, who have just released their latest, No Nations. If you have been a fan of any of the above mentioned acts, you’ll find something to like from Jets Overhead - pulsing bass, swirling synth and guitars, and that whole faux British accent that seems to be the perfect vehicle for the genre. But there’s more to Jets Overhead; the album is eclectic enough to keep you from getting bored, and the songs are catchy, too. There are tracks that are made for AAA radio, such as “Weathervanes (In the Way)” and “Heading for Nowhere,” and there are haunting, sparsely produced gems like the title track or “Fully Shed,” the latter of which features some psychedelic sounding harmonies. Somehow, it all works, and it keeps that dreamy, brooding, alt-rock train chugging along. (Vapor 2009)

Jets Overhead MySpace Page

The Echo Falls is a lesson in simplicity - the debut album from this San Francisco based trio features three guys (including front man and songwriter Alex Mandel) who will remind you of both ‘70s pop (think Loggins & Messina or Seals & Crofts) and current lo-fi hipsters (think Death Cab for Cutie). Delivering songs using only an acoustic guitar, upright bass and sparse drums and percussion will do that, but the tracks themselves have an endearing vibe that is a refreshing counterpoint to what passes for adult album alternative these days. Mandel waffles between tenor and falsetto and does it with ease, and the songs range from the triumphant kickoff “Road to Parnassus” to the (you have to hear this to believe it) They Might Be Giants-meets-Suzanne Vega quirky vibe of “Watchtower.” There’s other elements at work here too; breezy college rock (“Every Second Thought” and “You Have it All”) and ‘70s folk (“Fall Asleep in the Sand”). But the best track of all is “Love Over Time,” which could be the best guitar song Ben Folds never wrote. There’s enough to please many folks on this debut - it’s not like you can vary things a whole lot with sparse production, but the Echo Falls do a pretty decent job of it. (The Echo Falls 2009)

The Echo Falls MySpace Page

RIYL: Throwing your money away

Word on the street is that Rush has parted ways with longtime label Atlantic to sign with Roadrunner, and with Working Men, Atlantic's flogging of their slice of Rush's catalog (the band signed with the label in 1989) has officially gone from ridiculous to hilarious. It's a collection of tracks from the band's live albums Rush in Rio, R30, and Snakes & Arrows Live, and since live albums are essentially a compilation of a band's hits, that makes Working Men a one-CD compilation of two two-CD compilations and one three-CD compilation. In other words, this might be the most unnecessary album ever made, the Rush equivalent of those budget Super Hits compilations that clog the counters of the Gas 'n Sips on the highway. There is one unreleased track, a version of "One Little Victory" from the R30 tour. But since "One Little Victory" appears on the Rush in Rio DVD and the R30 Blu-ray, the word "Unreleased" should come with an asterisk.

The performances of these songs, of course, are fantastic - though the audio on the DVD for the Rush in Rio and R30 tracks sounds positively awful - but chances are, if you're a Rush fan, you own them already, and if you're not, well, you're not buying this album anyway. One of the more puzzling releases we've seen all year. (Anthem/Zoe/Rounder 2009)

Rush MySpace page

RIYL: Toad the Wet Sprocket, Gin Blossoms, The Hooters

If you are a fan of well-produced, well-written, harmony-drenched power pop, you may have found a new favorite band in Denver’s the Trampolines. Back with their second album and first since 2005, Between the Lines, this trio delivers a solid set of material that deserves to be heard by those who champion the type of stuff that came out of the Aware Records camp and what today passes for AAA (adult album alternative). Think Train or Toad the Wet Sprocket, with throwback flavors from bands like the Hooters and the Eagles. Don’t let lofty comparisons like that make you skeptical either, because this stuff is as addictive as that bag of chips you pick up at a truck stop when you’re really hungry - and maybe that’s just it, that we’re all starved for good, melodic rock. Frontman Mark Sundermeier and his band mates have not only written extremely catchy material, but they also deliver it with conviction and with some exceptional vocals. Right from the start, the harmonies and guitar tones on “The Need” are very Toad-esque and then some of the other standouts are the breezy “Shelter” and “Green Lights,” as well as the rocking “Letter,” which effectively marries fuzzy guitar with some nice driving piano. If you’re into any of the acts mentioned here, you need to do yourself a favor and check out The Trampolines, stat. (self-released 2009)

The Trampolines MySpace Page

RIYL: Ash, Arctic Monkeys, Oasis

Johnny Marr is a well-documented band slut. Since leaving the Smiths in 1987, the dude has been a formal member of the Pretenders, The The, Electronic, his own band Johnny Marr and The Healers, and most recently Modest Mouse. Although he has yet to quit Modest Mouse (give him time, he'll do it) he recently joined the Cribs, who are quite the thing in the UK, but quite the nothing here in the States. His decision to team up with the Cribs is his most befuddling yet, because while his recruitment into Modest Mouse certainly was out of left field, they are a respected band with a unique sound and large following, The Cribs just kind of...are. There's nothing particularly bad about their first three records, but there's nothing really worth mentioning, either. It's banal post-punk indie rock that's also post-interesting and post-worthwhile. The inclusion of Marr hasn't changed that at all; the three brothers Jarman, aided by Marr, are still cranking out their bland brand of whatever on their latest album, Ignore the Ignorant. There are a few highlights to be had here, the early cut “Cheat on Me” shows some energy and promise, and Marr's guitar work, which is largely anonymous throughout most of the album, shows up for a some powerful moments on “City of Bugs,” but for the most part this is a generic and utterly forgettable affair. The most interesting aspect of the album is that Johnny Marr is on it. But his touch (if he indeed has one) is barely more than a whisper. Still, there's little doubt that the Cribs will enjoy a boost in popularity because of Marr's involvement alone. That's because Johnny Marr is interesting. The Cribs, on the other hand, are the very definition of “meh.” (Warner Bros. 2009)

The Cribs' MySpace Page

RIYL: Coldplay, U2, Greg Laswell

OneRepublic’s 2008 debut was full of the kind of middle-of-the-road, calculatedly inoffensive pop that’s groomed for multiplatinum success – and it found that success, selling nearly a million copies and spinning off a Top Five single in the Timbaland-assisted “Apologize.” You’d think finding its commercial stride so soon would be the only excuse a band would need to churn out a carbon copy of its debut, but give OneRepublic credit: Album Number Two, Waking Up, actually represents a surprising step forward for a band that, just a year ago, gave no indication it was even ready to learn how to crawl. Make no mistake, the band’s stock in trade remains slick, pointedly proficient pop – but the band has gotten much better at carving canyon-sized hooks out of the barren bedrock of its influences.

There isn’t a single moment on the album that could be described as unusual or surprising – heck, maybe not even strictly interesting - and that’s exactly what makes it such an easy listen. This type of music derives its pleasure from smart adherence to pop formula, and OneRepublic follows it brilliantly; what it lacks in true creativity, it makes up in the strict discipline of knowing how to get from Point A to Point B – carrying a 500-pound chorus or three – without getting lost or messy along the way. Expecting great things from OneRepublic is probably unfair. But big things? You’re listening to ‘em. (Interscope/Mosley 2009)

OneRepublic MySpace page