Joel Plaskett - Through & Through & Through

Let me tell you something - and don't go spreading it because it is a secret. A big secret. A big musical secret, the kind of secret that when your friend says "here, I made you a copy of this album, nobody knows about this band and nobody should. They have to stay small forever. Just listen to it and don't tell anybody," you keep it safe, sacred, like the best exam review notes you;ve ever seen just popping into your Inbox the night of the final.

Joel Plaskett's new album, Three, is the new secret.

Guard it with your life, my reading faithful. The secret is safe with (the maybe two or three of) you.

It is, just, flippin' awesome. I have a soft spot for anything that combines pop/alt and a lil' bit of country, but I'm telling you, if you can find a way to hate this album, we're through. And through. And through. The second track on the first disc (oh yeah, Three is a triple album, all the way across the sky), Through & Through & Through, is fist pumping, horn toting joy.

Just give us a listen, and keep the secret safe.

Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros - Janglin'

The sing along is dead. Long live the singalong. The Zeros bring it back without a vengeance, just happy soaring choruses is all. The first three songs of their debut album are sublime. The other handful are good, but sound just plain horrible when stacked up against them big opening guns.

Janglin' is the third track. It's pure fun, la la las, sha na nas, and everyone smiling and jumping and laughing in jubilation during the chorus.

No reservations, no indie rock cache, just sing along gawddamnit.

Cat Stevens - Hard Headed Woman

Other than "Father & Son" and "Wild World", most Cat Stevens' songs remain relatively unknown to the casual rock n' roll fan. Ask anybody who lived through the 70s, however, and you'll find out how big of a deal Cat Stevens really was. It's kind of like Elton John - the typical AM radio fan couldn't really name more than a handful of hits, but dig just a little bit deeper, and you'll find out the guy had a number one hit pretty much every year since 1970. Just a candle in the wind my arse.

"Hard Headed Woman" is lucky to have Cat Stevens at the helm. It is his trademark angry-ish snarly-ish, sounds like there's a bunch of Stevenses echoing together-sih, totally abbrisive howl that gives the somewhat banal lyrics a well deserved kick in the caboose. Tea For the Tillerman is easily one of the best album titles of all time, n'est ce pas?

I wonder if the artist now known as Youssef Islam knows a lot of fancy dancers out in the Himalayas these days...

Spoon - Before Destruction

Spoon has carved out quite a niche for themselves in the indie rock world. Their fifth album, "Transference", is definitely their best. This band really does grow with each release. I don't mean grow in the "their music has really matured since..." sense. Spoon is like that already deeply rooted tree in your backyard, but each fall the leaves turn a different color, or fall at a different time. Their core sound doesn't change - the crunchy guitars and raspy vocals keep them anchored, but the approach is just never quite the same on each record.

"Transference" toys with the listener. Half the tracks are meticulously crafted, the result of endless takes and studio wizardry, not a drum beat out of place, not a guitar lick wasted. The other half ot he tracks, "Before Destruction" being one of 'em, are raw, loose, lo-fi, done-in-one take versions. Songs drop off in the middle of a sentence - is my cd copy broke? No, its not, trust me, its just how Spoon wanted it to be. The lyrics and vocals channel Plastic Ono Lennon angst, and the arrangements are dense, but always precise.

Neil Young - Look Out For My Love

Aside from "Old Man" which is about a 9/10 on the whinnyness scale (extra pts. for the extra backup vocals during the chorus), most of Neil Young's songs effin' rock. I like the Crazy Horse stuff the best, I always believed a guitar solo built on anger beats any virtuoso Page/Waters/Townshend esque performance. Mind you, Neil's acoustic work, in its austere vulnerability, works just as well.

"Look Out For My Love" bridges the gap, so have yourself a wee old listen. It has some mean electric guitar slashes, but they are kind of pushed to the fringe - the acoustic is the real breadwinner here.

The Hold Steady - Killer Parties

Ahh The Hold Steady, a band I must admit that I am hardly familiar with. I think I bought their album "Boys and Girls in America" many many years ago and decided I hated it after just one listen. I don't remember why, most every reviewer would tell me I'm wrong. But that was I only listen to 60s music Dave, today is I'll give anything a chance so long as it doesn't sound like Animal Collective Dave.

Lots of songs try hard to get into a groove. It's easy for artists to jam, but the same can't be stead about drawing the listener into the groove, that point where the music seems to actually breathe, into and out, at a very steady pace. Namaste.

"Killer Parties" does it. Don't axe me how, the secret of the groove cannot be explained. You just feels it is all.

Girls - God Damned

A lo-fi corker from San Fran rockers Girls. Their debut album Album is very deceiving - it seems like a bunch of throwaway, one-take same four chord progression derivative rock songs, but it ain't.

Girls take you for a ride. Their is a calculated precision in their seemingly straight forward approach. Each listen peels off another layer. Hey, I didn't notice that harmony last time. Oh, that's a nifty bass line. Gee, you know what, his voice does have a unique range. I'll be "God Damned".

Van Morrison - T.B. Sheets

"Open up the window...and let me breathe." Van isn't so much feeling itchy and stuffed up as he is gagging for air.

I always thought of this song as an Astral Weeks b-side. But something about Van's tone is just a bit more abrupt, a bit more demonic and very Jagger-like. It lacks the breezy janglin' tone of Astral Weeks, but its all the better because of it.

Van, more so than any male vocalist who isn't Otis Redding, has soul. It doesn't matter how resonant his voice is, it's how he uses it. He rarely sings. He jabs, claws, aches, mumbles, cries, whines and chuckles. Where a virtuoso guitarist would play some staccato burst of notes to "let me breathe", Van just pants like dog.

That's the beauty of "T.B. Sheets". You don't remember it by its instruments, or though its chorus and verses (of which it has none). The song is an atmospheric dry heave; a nine minute plus stretch of terror stricken gasps and chortles, a man desperate to escape.

Someone open up a window.