EP of the Day: The Gaslight Anthem’s iTunes Session (2011)

You can’t judge a book by its cover, but you sure can judge a band by one. Who and what a musician chooses to cover says a lot.

Just about all of my all-time favorite bands are great at playing other people’s songs—it's a sign of respect, humility, integrity, and sense of history. Johnny Cash introduced himself to an entirely new generation of fans with his series of American recordings; Pearl Jam essentially retains ownership of Neil Young’s “Rockin’ in the Free World” by this point; Bruce Springsteen’s “Stump the E Street Band” segments on tour are absolutely insane; and have you ever heard The White Stripes’ version of “Jolene”? About the only band I love that sucks at covers is U2.

The Gaslight Anthem make no bones about their musical influences, so it should come as no surprise that just about every set they play includes at least one choice cover. But until now you’d only be able to hear those selections live in concert or on an audience bootleg. This month, though, they released an “iTunes Session,” which is a collection of seven songs recorded live in a studio. It consists of four covers, two original Gaslight songs so reworked they may as well be covers, and one track, “Our Fathers Sons,” that doesn’t appear on any of the band’s previous releases.

The covers are, in a word, amazing. The set opens with the pipe bomb of The Who’s “Baba O’Riley”—well, in reality it’s more like Gaslight covering Pearl Jam’s version of the song. No keyboards here. This may be blasphemy but I think TGA have outdone their predecessors here and delivered the best “Baba” cover I’ve ever heard. Their replication of the core synth riff on guitar is outstandingly crisp, and drummer Benny Horowitz thunders away on drums like a man possessed by the natural charisma of Keith Moon. When frontman Brian Fallon unleashes those unmistakable first words, “Out here in the fields,” magic happens. I saw Gaslight perform this song last summer in Columbus and was blown away by it; you have to have guts way down deep to take on this icon of rock and roll. They killed it then, and they conquer it here.

As if “Baba” wasn’t enough, Gaslight rolls right into spectacular versions of Tom Petty’s “Refugee” and Pearl Jam’s “State of Love and Trust.” Both of these tracks are performed with the attention to detail only an obsessive fan could bring to the table—right down to Fallon chipping in with Eddie Vedder’s “yeah, yeah” at just the right moment.

And yet these tracks don’t feel like mere play-by-numbers affairs, either. Perhaps it comes down to Fallon’s charcoal growl, but these are unmistakably Gaslight Anthem efforts. There’s a verve and vigor to them, a spirit of unabashed, honest fervor that infuses everything the band touches. The only cut on the whole EP I could do without is the version of “House of the Rising Sun”—not because they don’t do an excellent job, but I just don’t care much for that song and it doesn’t play to their strengths (too slow, too heavy). I’d much rather have an official version of Hot Water Music’s “Trusty Chords.”

The remaining three songs are nearly just as good. “Boxer” is one of the hardest rockers from Gaslight’s last album, only here it’s given a stripped-down, country treatment that works surprisingly well (the mark of great songwriting, I say). “The Navesink Banks,” meanwhile, is a Gaslight icon from their first album, 2007’s “Sink or Swim”; here it’s given the heavier interpretation previously only heard in the live setting—electric guitars and pounding drums on the outro that give it a more potent feel.

The remaining track, “Our Fathers Sons,” is an outtake from the band’s breakthrough record, 2008’s “The ’59 Sound.” It has a bit of a Johnny Cash vibe and sounds like it came from the same jam session that spawned “Here’s Looking at You, Kid.” “Sons” just goes to show what a monster that album was if this little gem couldn’t make the cut. It feels like home.

This band is at yet another crossroads in its relatively short life. They just signed to Mercury Records and are in the process of writing and recording their next album, due in 2012. A little release like this gives me confidence that no matter how things might change for The Gaslight Anthem, the things I love about them stay the same.

Grade: A-

Favorite Track: “Baba O’Riley”

Least Favorite Track: “House of the Rising Sun”

Go buy it here

CD of the Day: ‘Elsie,’ The Horrible Crowes (2011)

I’m most drawn to musicians who are like me in one very specific way: They’re music fans, too. They’re passionate about it. They understand the obsessive mania of setlist craft and b-sides and cover choices and … all that geeky stuff. Some pay homage to their influences more obviously than others, but nobody wears their heroes’ tattoos on their sleeves more openly and proudly than Brian Fallon of The Gaslight Anthem. 

Many of those favorites perfectly fit his band’s brand of classically tinged power punk. The Clash … Social Distortion … that guy with the one-letter band name. Fallon’s new side project, The Horrible Crowes, is a place to vent all the rest. 

The closest thing to a Gaslight track on “Elsie” is “Behold the Hurricane,” the most uptempo, pure rock-and-roll moment on the album. And it is a winner, probably thanks in no small part to the fact that TGA guitarist Alex Rosamila appears on the cut. After that, though, there are no boundaries for THC, as Fallon dips into his bag of songwriter tricks from the likes of Greg Dulli, Tom Waits, and a smattering of other “dark” influences. The songs still sound like Brian Fallon songs, just filtered through a different amp.

“Sugar” sets the album’s tone perfectly with its murky, understated concoction of hushed vocals and restrained instrumentation all punctuated with choruses of sunlight. “Ladykiller” is the shining centerpiece of the record; I swore I wouldn’t mention Springsteen but this fantastic, breezily midtempo track just begs to be compared to anything off “Tunnel of Love” (“One Step Up,” in particular). My goodness this cut goes down smooth. “Cherry Blossoms” finds Fallon exploring his country/blues side, while funky “I Witnessed a Crime” is some sort of crazy organ-propelled speakeasy soul song. You ain’t gonna hear anything like this on a Gaslight album, that’s for sure. "Blood Loss," with its monster power chords and huge choruses, anchors the back of the record.

“Black Betty & the Moon” is my favorite song on the album. I love the whole package: the twinkling acoustic guitars, the minimalist arrangement, and, most especially, the melody that fits Fallon’s voice like a glove. Whatever range this is, he should never leave it. 

He puts the wraps on “Elsie” with the hypnotic chant of “I Believe Jesus Brought Us Together.” Fallon said this album is meant to be heard all of a piece, and this is a demonstration of why; it’s a wonderful comedown of a track, easing you out of the listening experience with grace and a car’s ignition.

The biggest problem with “Elsie” is, ironically, Fallon himself. He’s simply too positive a guy to write his best work under these intentionally dark conditions. I attribute this in large part to his Christian faith—not that Christians don’t face dark times, certainly, but we are imbued with hope and light everlasting, and that doesn’t fit too well with super-sadsack songs. What separates Fallon’s work with Gaslight from other lyricists is his ability not just to empathize with the downtrodden but to offer them a way out of their misery. He doesn’t sound at home in his own skin here, which was sorta the point, I guess, but that doesn’t make it great. The songs are lyrically dense with snatches of memorable lines, but it’s difficult to add them all up and get a sense for what they're trying to say unless you sit with headphones and the liner notes in your hands for multiple listens. The overall theme of the record is clear enough—the dissolution of a relationship in the most painful way possible—but in specifics, Fallon's never been this intentionally obtuse. I respect the artistry on display, but from a lyrical perspective “Elsie” doesn’t leave me with songs to cherish and absorb and make a part of my life the way previous Fallon work has. It’s just too depressing.

What’s more, Fallon stretches his voice to the breaking point too many times, and it comes off as unnaturally strained—like at times he’s trying too hard to sound desperate. For anyone familiar with the high note he hits on Gaslight’s “The Diamond Church Street Choir,” imagine that stretched out over multiple songs. I’m thinking specifically of tracks like “Go Tell Everybody,” “Crush,” and “Mary Ann.” Musically, there’s not a bad entry on “Elsie,” but Fallon’s delivery doesn’t work every single time. 

I’d much rather fault a guy for trying too hard than not trying at all. This is the type of album I reserve the right to change my mind about in a week or a year’s time. And in the end, “Elsie”—with its warts and winners—is the latest example of why Brian Fallon is my favorite songwriter on the planet.

Grade: B

Favorite Track: “Black Betty & the Moon”

Least Favorite Track: “Go Tell Everybody”

Review of the Day: ‘Natural Disaster,’ Greg Attonito (2011)

Over the course of two-plus decades, The Bouncing Souls have shown us how a punk band can and should grow up gracefully. Their most recent releases—2006’s “The Gold Record” and 2010’s “Ghosts on the Boardwalk”—are arguably the best of their career, delivered as these New Jersey misfits hit middle age. They succeeded by never losing their youthful vigor, even as it was tempered by maturity. Frontman Greg Attonito has spent his entire life writing and singing about his central themes of love, loyalty, friendship, and a sense of community that can make a difference.

His bandmates’ jaunty riffs and boundless energy are key to making those ideas not seem trite and rote. Unfortunately, when you take the Souls out of the equation, the flaws in Attonito’s game are glaring.

His new solo EP is aptly titled. It’s a mess—offering blink-and-you've-forgotten-them melodies riddled with cringe-worthy lyrics that—not buoyed by the Souls’ effervescent sound—come across mostly like the scribbles of a moony teenager in his first creative writing class. “I love you … your voice … your scent,” drones “Cincinnati Dream”; “I wanna see the colors of my soul/I wanna break the boundary of rock and roll,” opines “Teardrops”; opener “How Many Songs” (which musically tries way too hard to be “interesting”) naively reiterates the tired notion that a love song can “change the world all over.”

But by far the worst is “Sexiest Girl,” which opens, “The sexiest girl in the world is you, it’s true.” More embarrassingly awful couplets ensue that I refuse to print here. It’s one of the worst songs I’ve ever heard.

The remaining two tracks save “Natural Disaster” from being just that. “Volcano” is a nice acoustic ditty that could’ve fit on the “Juno” soundtrack and gets bonus points for incorporating a muted trumpet. Country ballad “Eyes,” meanwhile, is easily the best cut on the EP and the only one I can recommend from this release with no hesitation. It’s wonderfully soulful and sweet (in a good way).

I give Attonito credit for trying, I guess, but “Natural Disaster” merely reiterates how perfectly the Souls’ talents complement one another. Because it didn't quite bother me until now, but the band's frontman has been saying the same thing for a really long time.

Grade: D+

Favorite Track: “Eyes”

Least Favorite Track: “Sexiest Girl”

CD of the Day: ‘Bon Iver,’ Bon Iver (2011)

Bon Iver symbolizes everything I’ve grown to despise about indie music. From the restrained (some might say precious) falsetto vocals right down to the bushy, unkempt beard that is a requirement of the scene. I even bristle at the pretentious way you’re supposed to say the name (it’s pronounced “bone e-vair").

So why is it I’ve been listening to this album so much? It starts with a drum part.

“Bon Iver” opens with a plaintive guitar melody as intro to first song “Perth.” A backing choir slides into the song next, followed by a muted military snare cadence. Justin Vernon (the actual “Bon Iver”) sneaks in next, adding his nearly indecipherable high-pitched, yet warm voice. The music swells and ebbs like a wave, adding bits and pieces of other little sounds until, at 2:32, this monstrous drum pattern explodes into the mix, pounding away like indie Metallica. There are no lyrics the rest of the way, but a horn section joins the fray. By the last burst of sound, you have one of my favorite songs of the year.

That drum part, which lasts less than two minutes, unlocked this whole album for me. I’m not as enthralled with the rest of “Bon Iver” as I am of “Perth,” but that’s not to say there aren’t some fine moments. “Minnesota, WI” has some funky elements that remind me of TV on the Radio, while “Holocene” is another slow-building acoustic gem. Lead single “Calgary” aptly summarizes the entire album with its lush, heavy synth-and-percussion arrangement (even if it does sound uncomfortably too close to Coldplay in the first few bars), and “Towers” bounces along like the best song Tom Petty never sang in falsetto. I don’t even mind the Peter Cetera-style closer, “Beth/Rest,” which so many critics seem to revile (but maybe that’s just because I like Peter Cetera).

I lose patience with the middle trio of songs, though. "Michicant" and "Wash" are decent, but "Hinnom, TX" kinda sounds like Jemaine Clement doing David Bowie. Together, these three slow tracks bog down the middle of the record terribly.

“Bon Iver” is challenging work that sets a definite mood. It’s the type of music you don’t put on just for background noise; like The National, it's great for driving by yourself on a dark night. My guess is you’ll either really like it or really, really won’t. Before I ever heard it, I certainly would’ve put myself in the latter category. And I would’ve missed out on one of my favorite albums of the year.

Grade: B+

Favorite Track: “Perth”

Least Favorite Track: “Hinnom, TX”

CD of the Day: ‘Manic Nirvana,’ Robert Plant (1990)

Author’s note: In honor of Robert Plant’s new album, “Band of Joy,” I’m going back through his entire solo career to see how he got to this point.

Here Robert Plant trades ’80s pop for his take on late-’80s hair metal. And you know what? It works! “Manic Nirvana” plays like Plant’s answer to the pop/metal bands dominating radio at the time: Motley Crue, Poison, etc. … in an ironic moment, the bands who took Zeppelin-style riffs and smoothed them out for the masses. It’s all about being big: big guitars, big drums, big sound, big talk about sex … big fun.

Sure, it may cause eyes to roll at times, but at least Plant returns to the Golden God strut that was the hallmark of his younger days. The huge rocker “Big Love,” for instance, takes a run at “The Lemon Song” for most flogging of a double entrendre.

That’s only the first half of the CD, though. The rest of “Manic Nirvana” is quite diverse, kicking off with the outstanding title track, “Nirvana,” which starts with a Red Hot Chili Peppers growl before exploding into a bouncy INXS-esque riff. “Tie Dye on the Highway” follows, a swirling, majestic track that counters the bright “Nirvana” with a dash of darkness.

Plant returns to his blues roots with the massive “Your Ma Said You Cried in Your Sleep Last Night,” and the more reserved “Liars Dance.” The latter, one of the shortest tracks in Plant’s solo career at just 2 minutes 35 seconds, is a sparse affair that reminds of a slowed-down “Gallows Pole.” The album closes with yet another twist, as “Watching You” unleashes pounding tribal drums that hint at Plant’s turn in this direction in coming years.

A move away from the studio excesses of the 1980s, this was easily Plant’s best solo album to this point and a harbinger of great work to come. By comparison, it makes me want to go back and downgrade everything he’d done before. Other than “The Honeydrippers,” it’s also the first must-have CD of Plant’s solo career.

Grade: B+

Favorite Track: “Nirvana”

Least Favorite Track: “I Cried”

CD of the Day: ‘Now and Zen,’ Robert Plant (1988)

Author’s note: In honor of Robert Plant’s new album, “Band of Joy,” I’m going back through his entire solo career to see how he got to this point.

This is generally regarded as Robert Plant’s best solo album of the 1980s. I wouldn’t argue with that, I guess, but “Now and Zen” doesn’t do much to separate itself from the rest of Plant’s work from this decade (excluding The Honeydrippers). Like the rest, there are a couple truly standout tracks but the rest is, again, your basic ’80s pop filler.

Plant found his stride in the ’80s with slower songs, and here “Ship of Fools” fits that bill. It’s a fantastic companion to tracks like “Big Log” and “Little by Little,” with delicate guitar work and a devastating vocal. It has the feel of Phil Collins’ best work, and I mean that as a compliment. The other highlight on “Now and Zen” is rocker “Tall Cool One,” which gets a boost from Jimmy Page, though is also diminished slightly by the Zeppelin references tossed in at the end.

My thoughts on “Now and Zen” could apply to all of Plant’s solo albums from the 1980s: he was more a follower than a leader, and it cost him. He’s not the only great artist of his time to struggle with the technology of the era; the synthesizers on “Born in the U.S.A.” still grate on my nerves, for instance. The reverb, the faceless background singers, the drum machines … it all adds up to a level of superficiality that makes these albums hard to champion. There are probably more great songs than the ones I found, they're just buried under over-production.

If you’re in love with the “Jewel of the Nile” soundtrack then, by all means, have at it. There are certainly songs from this period worth savoring; I created my own “best of” collection in iTunes of about a dozen tracks. But in the full context of the fantastic work Plant did both before and after this period of his career, none of the albums from this run place among his best work.

Grade: B

Favorite Track: “Ship of Fools”

Least Favorite Track: “White, Clean and Neat”

CD of the Day: ‘Shaken ‘N’ Stirred,’ Robert Plant (1985)

Author’s note: In honor of Robert Plant’s new album, “Band of Joy,” I’m going back through his entire solo career to see how he got to this point.

When this album originally came out on vinyl, I don’t know why anyone would bother listening to Side A.

“Shaken ‘N’ Stirred” is easily Plant’s worst release of the 1980s. The most offensive track is the pseudo-rap disaster “Too Loud”; I can’t imagine ever voluntarily listening through this song again, but the rest isn’t much better. “Hip to Hoo” and “Kallalou Kallalou” is standard, synth-laden ’80s pop fare that could’ve been produced by any male on the scene at that time; the latter even features a “Miami Vice” knockoff bass line. “Pink and Black,” meanwhile, is like Huey Lewis and the News without the knowing wink and smile.

The second half is much better, thankfully, held up by “Little by Little,” a song that dares to have a personality and mood of its own. The same is true for the album’s momentous closing track, “Sixes and Sevens,” whose sparse, bluesy arrangement captures the essence of ’80s pop rather than simply mimics it. “Easily Lead” is the purest rock-and-roll track on the album and holds up well, leaving the ridiculously titled “Doo Doo A Do Do” as the only blemish on this half.

Perhaps if I’d been of music-appreciating age in 1985 “Shaken ‘N’ Stirred” might mean something different to me, providing that nostalgia factor I get from late-’80s pop. But in listening through all of Plant’s albums from this decade, the cream rises quickly and clearly to the top. “Shaken ‘N’ Stirred” has the least of those songs from this period in his career.

Grade: C-

Favorite Track: “Little by Little”

Other Favorite Track: “Sixes and Sevens”

Least Favorite Track: “Too Loud”

CD of the Day: ‘The Honeydrippers: Volume One,’ Robert Plant (1984)

Author’s note: In honor of Robert Plant’s new album, “Band of Joy,” I’m going back through his entire solo career to see how he got to this point.

I ignored Robert Plant’s solo career for most of my life. If it didn’t have anything to do with Led Zeppelin, I didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

And then I heard “Raising Sand.” One of my favorite albums of all time, “Sand” sent me diving back into Plant’s work; I hadn’t heard much other than “In the Mood,” so I was hopeful there would be a few hidden gems I had no idea even existed.

“The Honeydrippers: Volume One” is one of those.

Playing with an all-star cast that includes Jimmy Page and Jeff Beck, Plant embraces his inner Elvis fanboy with this painfully short five-song EP of shimmying ’50s-era rock and roll. A luscious cover of “Sea of Love” was the big hit from this outing, much in the same way Pearl Jam found unexpected success with “Last Kiss” back in 1999. But every song is great, most notably “Rockin’ at Midnight,” the R&B explosion that caps the disc.

My only complaint about this one and only Honeydrippers effort is the tantalizing title: Why tease us with “Volume One” if you’re not going to follow through? Plant would’ve been better served devoting more time to music like this than the schmaltz he delivered next, 1985’s “Shaken N Stirred.”

In a way, though, this disc foretold of greatness to come. It may have taken him 20 years, but Plant eventually came back to his roots in the new millennium with projects much like this. As he rediscovered the music he loves, he rediscovered his artistic vision, as well. The Honeydrippers were apparently a very early preview.

Grade: A

Favorite Track: “Rockin’ at Midnight”

CD of the Day: ‘The Principle of Moments,’ Robert Plant (1983)

Author’s note: In honor of Robert Plant’s new album, “Band of Joy,” I’m going back through his entire solo career to see how he got to this point.

No matter what era it’s from, a great song is a great song. You know it, you get it, you feel it. Immediately. Robert Plant’s “In the Mood” is one of those songs.

From the murky slow build to that first jangly guitar phrase to the big drum intro to Plant’s silky-smooth vocal delivery, “In the Mood” works. Plant hardly even sings much more than “I’m in the mood for a melody” over the course of nearly five and a half minutes, and yet the cut is never boring. It has an identity, movement … it makes me reach for the volume button every time.

I know tracks like “In the Mood” don’t grow on some magical music tree, but it’s a shame Plant couldn’t deliver songs like it more consistently in this first phase of his post-Zeppelin career. Because there’s just not much else to “The Principle of Moments” to get overly excited about. The unfortunately titled “Big Log” is the other major highlight, with a memorable guitar melody that is strong enough to compensate for a drum pattern that sounds like it was created on one of those synthesizers they used to have in elementary school music rooms. Plant’s vocal is more forceful and confident here, too, in a purer way than much of the other solo work to this point. I don’t know if “Big Log” was ever used in a movie, but its stark presence seems tailor made for the silver screen.

The rest of the album is a mixed bag. Opener “Other Arms” was a huge hit for Plant at the time but doesn’t hold up, sounding like a made-for-radio factory product of commercial studio players. “Horizontal Departure,” however, is a more honest hard-charging rocker that still licks and kicks today. “Messin’ with the Mekon” has an island influence more unfortunate than “D’yer Mak’er,” while “Thru’ with the Two Step” is an effective ballad, even if it does almost drown in stereotypical ’80s keyboards. “Wreckless Love” and “Stranger Here … Than Over There” make little impact positively or negatively.

So “The Principle of Moments” finds Plant fully divested from Led Zeppelin and transitioned to full-on pop/rock mode in the grand ’80s tradition: A couple great tracks, a couple dogs, and the rest easy-to-swallow filler. It’s less consistent than his solo debut, but is great when it’s good.

I have just one final question: Why was he so obsessed with reverb?

Grade: B

Favorite Track: “In the Mood”

Least Favorite Track: “Messin’ with the Mekon”

CD of the Day: ‘Pictures at Eleven,’ Robert Plant (1982)

Author’s note: In honor of Robert Plant’s new album, “Band of Joy,” I’m going back through his entire solo career to see how he got to this point.

Much of Robert Plant’s first post-Led Zeppelin effort sounds, not surprisingly, like a Led Zeppelin album. Most of the songs included here remind of the over-produced latter-day Zep tracks, like they somehow got caught between the in and out doors.

One of the album’s best tracks, “Slow Dancer,” is a nearly eight-minute epic that comes across like a b-side combination of “Kashmir” and “For Your Life.” Opener “Burning Down One Side” is a dutiful cousin to “In the Evening,” while “Moonlight in Mamosa” is a (very) poor man’s attempt to recreate “The Rain Song.” The brightest spot is “Like I’ve Never Been Gone,” a hard-edged ballad with a twinkling guitar melody that recalls “All My Love.”

It’s easy to look back on these tracks nearly three decades later and dismiss them as subpar Zeppelin knockoffs. But if I put myself in the shoes of a Zep fan who just lost one of the greatest bands of all time, a collection like this probably would’ve felt like cool water in the desert. “Pictures at Eleven” is a darn good transition album for Plant, hinting at both his past and where he planned to go.

That’s the most unfortunate thing, though, because much of Plant’s production from the ’80s just wasn’t that good. Two songs in particular—“Pledge Pin” and “Fat Lip”—are examples of the shapeless, reverb-drenched, cheesy pop/rock filler that would dominate much of his immediate post-Zeppelin career. Luckily, though, those are exceptions rather than the rule on his sturdy solo debut.

Grade: B

Favorite Track: “Like I’ve Never Been Gone”

Least Favorite Track: “Pledge Pin”

CD of the Day: ‘Catching a Tiger,’ Lissie (2010)

Now, this girl can sing. Too bad she hides that fact a little too much on her first full-length album.

Lissie’s (a.k.a. Elisabeth Maurus) debut, the five-song “Where You Runnin’” EP from last year, is a stark, captivating masterpiece. Three of those minimalist tracks are included here, but they actually sound out of place on an album whose remaining tracks are altogether ordinary, sugary, generic pop ditties in the vein of Lily Allen, Katy Perry, et. al.

It’s not that they’re bad, necessarily, I just found myself asking … why? Why would she screw up something as great as the gripping, cavernous power-folk of her EP to delve into over-produced genre stuff like everyone else? Lissie's voice still shines, but she doesn’t make these tracks her own in the way, say, Florence Welch did last year on her spectacular debut. Whereas Welch soars above these conventions and makes them her own, Lissie seems happily awash in made-for-radio track like “When I’m Alone” or “Cuckoo”; it’s nice enough while you’re listening to it, with those by-the-book background vocals and whatever, but easily forgotten. Every new song on “Tiger” left me thinking, “Where have I heard this before?” Her debut work on “Runnin’,” on the other hand, left an indelible impression.

The three EP tracks—“Little Lovin’,” “Everywhere I Go,” and “Oh Mississippi”—provide a tantalizing glimpse of what Lissie is capable of. When she hits those high notes in “Everywhere” … incredible. The album as a whole is anything but. “Catching a Tiger” is a nice, safe, enjoyable pop record … but, sadly, nothing more. And, thus, a rather large disappointment.

Grade: C+

Favorite Track: “Everywhere I Go”

Least Favorite Track: “In Sleep” (for the by-the-book guitar solo outro, if nothing else)

CD of the Day: ‘Good Morning, Magpie,’ Murder By Death (2010)

Murder By Death’s new album is nothing like what I expected, and that’s a very good thing I’ve decided.

Their last effort, 2008’s “Red of Tooth and Claw,” was one of my favorite albums of the millennium’s first decade with its taut, aggressive cowboy rock. “Good Morning, Magpie,” on the other hand, is full of a bunch of loose, easygoing songs meant to be sung around a dying campfire in the middle of a desert. It’s more country than rock, but in a weird way manages to incorporate elements of swing that continue to remind me of the Squirrel Nut Zippers.

Frontman Adam Turla’s voice is as supple as ever, channeling his Johnny Cash-meets-Days of the New more than ever here, since he’s really singing these shambling ditties rather than howling over the fiendish entries from “Claw.” One thing that hasn’t changed is his macabre subject matter. He can be darkly funny—“You Don’t Miss Twice (When You’re Shaving with a Knife),” “As Long as There Is Whiskey in the World”—or just dark—ahem, “On the Dark Streets Below”—but either way these are dustbowl anthems of the best kind.

No writeup of Murder By Death is complete, though, without mentioning cellist Sarah Balliet, who perhaps benefits the most from the softer tones of “Magpie” that allow her distinct talent and instrument to take an even stronger role than before. Balliet is the linchpin of this group; her strings complete the aura of Murder By Death and make the band stand out from its peers.

So “Magpie” isn’t as quite as accessible as the last record but rewards repeated listens. It’s an excellent change of pace, and one I’ve grown to enjoy more and more with every spin. And tacked on as if to remind us all they still know how to bring the heat, MBD close the record with “The Day,” an epic throwback that thunders with apocalyptic malevolence—an excellent end to a fine effort.

Grade: B+

Favorite Track: “The Day”

Least Favorite Track: “Piece By Piece”

CD of the Day: ‘Appetite for Destruction,’ Guns N’ Roses (1987)

The Seattle bands get credit for killing ’80s hair metal, but maybe it really started right here. “Appetite for Destruction” is akin to bands like Motley Crue, Poison, etc., only in its use of big guitars and pounding drums. This is a decidedly dirtier and, in a way, more honest record than its contemporaries. When Axl Rose sings about love, lust, sex, drugs, and rock and roll, it doesn’t feel glamorous at all, and it’s done with a sneer and a snarl, not a smile.

It’s hard to believe this record is nearly a quarter century old. It doesn’t sound that way. From the opening growl of “Welcome to the Jungle” through to propulsive closer “Rocket Queen,” “Appetite for Destruction” is as violent, menacing, and invigorating as ever. Guitarists Slash and Izzy Straddlin fire more riffs at one another in one song than many of today’s navel-gazing indie pansies stumble across in entire albums. And Rose’s voice was the most dynamic rock music had heard since Robert Plant stopped singing for Led Zeppelin.

What struck me most when listening to this record for the first time in years was its range. There’s a lot going on under the surface that I didn’t catch before, most notably GN’R’s use of the blues and Southern rock. Granted, they put their own high-octane spin on it, but songs like “Anything Goes” and “Think About You” surprised me in that way. Also, it’s depth: there’s no reason to skip any song, and they manage to be all of a piece without sounding the same. Each new track brings a melody you just want to sink your teeth into. The hits, meanwhile, now decades removed from constant airplay, remind why they became huge in the first place. Good gracious that bass drum/snare intro to “Paradise City” sounds good at high volume, while the riff for “Sweet Child O’ Mine” is one of the greatest ever written.

It’s a shame Guns N’ Roses never delivered another album as good as this one. Perhaps that was impossible.

Grade: A

Favorite Track: “Mr. Brownstone”

Least Favorite Track: “Anything Goes”

CD of the Day: ‘High Violet,’ The National (2010)

On “High Violet,” it’s like The National made a list of all the stereotypical criticisms people lay on them … and then decided to make an entire album based exactly on those.

This is mopey, claustrophobic, tortured, black-soul melodrama of the worst kind. It’s easily The National’s worst album.

On its own, a singsong-y track like “Anyone’s Ghost” isn’t so bad; it reminds me of “Karen” from 2005’s “Alligator.” Thing is, “Karen” was surrounded by “Secret Meeting” and “Lit Up,” two firebrand songs that buoy a weaker track like “Karen” out of sheer proximity. “Ghost,” on the other hand, is bookended by two more dirges—“Sorrow” and “Little Faith”—that don’t look an inch above the tops of their shoes. Listening to the first half of this CD is like wading through waist-deep mud.

The National are usually good for solid, catchy melodies I find myself humming without even thinking about it. There’s a sore lack of that here. “Afraid of Everyone” just meanders around trying to be “Mistaken for Strangers,” while the interminable “Runaway” is so monotonous, on one of my first listens I thought the song had restarted accidentally—nope, it was only half over.

“Bloodbuzz Ohio” is the best song of the album, and the only one that can hold its own against the band’s best work. It’s also a mere gasp for breath before “High Violet” plunges back down to the depths of sonic suffocation, where it goes to drown.

I like frontman Matt Berninger’s perspective on lyrics: He doesn’t like to talk about his intentions for songs, preferring to leave it entirely up to the listener. He likes to play with words and language, painting with them as much as writing; combined with his unmistakable thrumming voice, the effect is usually mesmerizing. But on “High Violet” much of his work is so overwrought and awful it’s almost self-parody. “You and your sister live in a Lemonworld I want to sit in and die” he moans on “Lemonworld”; on “Terrible Love” he mumbles over and over: “It’s a terrible love and I’m walking with spiders”; and the worst, on “Conversation 16”: “I was afraid I’d eat your brains/’Cause I’m evil.” Oh, good grief.

In a big article for The New York Times this spring, the band talked about how difficult the recording sessions were this time around, how the songs continued to change, oftentimes dramatically so. I think the pressure to follow a modern classic like 2007’s “Boxer” became too heavy, and they choked the life out of most of these songs (U2’s “Pop,” anyone?). In the press release for the album Berninger says the band experiments with “ugly tones.” Yep, that’s about right. It’s painful listening at nearly every turn.

I still love The National, but I hate “High Violet.” What a stunning disappointment.

Grade: D-

Favorite Track: “Bloodbuzz Ohio”

Least Favorite Track: Pick one

CD of the Day: ‘In the Dark,’ The Whigs (2010)

On 2008’s spectacular “Mission Control,” The Whigs showcased their range with various nods to the past 40 years of rock and roll. On their new album, the Athens, Georgia, trio is more settled on a sound, but that focus allows them to provide a deeper, richer experience at several points.

Lead single “Kill Me Carolyne” summarizes where The Whigs are coming from this time around. The infectious uptempo track is awash in New Wave, with frontman and guitarist Parker Gispert channeling Devo, in particular. I don’t think the song’s made them big rock stars, but it’s not for lack of trying. The dance-y beat on “I Am for Real,” meanwhile, is straight out of the Franz Ferdinand playbook. Svelte, soaring guitars and urgent work on the high-hat from drummer extraordinaire Julian Dorio are the rule on much of this record.

Most of the brawny cuts breeze by in less than four minutes, but the changes of pace are handled well, too. “Dying” is an effectively murky turn right in the middle of the album, while “Naked” closes things out on a spacious note.

There are no bad tracks on “In the Dark,” even though some tend to blur a bit if you’re not paying close attention. There’s no mistaking “Someone’s Daughter,” though, the heaviest track on the record by far and a surefire standout. Opener “Hundred/Million” is my favorite cut on the disc, as much for its lyrical content as anything. In it Gispert muses about having “a hundred million people in my mind,” which rings true for me. In an age when we’re bombarded with opinions at every turn from social media and 24-hour news, sometimes it’s a struggle to break free and actually think for yourself. “Hundred/Million” woke me up to that idea, and it’s stuck with me since the first time I heard it.

The Whigs are three-for-three now. While not quite as good as the last album, “In the Dark” is nevertheless one of my favorites of the year.

Grade: B+

Favorite Track: “Hundred/Million”

CD of the Day: ‘No. 4,’ Stone Temple Pilots (1999)

Stone Temple Pilots definitely offered a lot of variety on their first three albums, playing hard rock, pop/rock, and art-rock, respectively. On this, their obviously titled fourth effort, they perfectly merged all those styles into one heck of a CD.

I loved opener “Down” from the first moment I heard that monster riff, and nothing’s changed in a decade. This, “No Way Out,” and “MC5” are the most notable throwbacks to 1992’s bottom-heavy “Core,” but the sound is reinvigorated rather than rehashed.

The smoother sounds of STP’s second album, “Purple,” are reflected in the aptly titled “Glide,” and the more uptempo “Pruno” evokes the rolling rhythm of “Vasoline.” And then there are the trippier, “Tiny Music”-type songs, like “Sour Girl” (remember that Teletubbies-on-crack video?) and “I Got You,” while “Church on Tuesday” reminds of the clean licks from that album’s outstanding closer, “Seven Caged Tigers.” It is also worth noting Scott Weiland sings this entire disc in the shredded, dirty vocal that was such a shock when first heard on “Tiny Music.”

Of the 11 tracks on “No. 4,” there’s only one I don’t care for: the crooning closer “Atlanta.” Otherwise, this album sounds as good in 2010 as it did in 1999, and makes me wonder why I let it ride the bench for so long. (I think it has something to do with the terrible concert STP put on while touring this album. That and general Velvet Revolver revulsion.)

Grade: B+

Favorite Track: “No Way Out”

Least Favorite Track: “Atlanta”