New This Week: Bob Mould, Flying Lotus, Beth Orton & More

Cecilia Bartoli, Mission

Until the release of this album, Agostino Steffani (1654-1728) was pretty much known only to devoted scholars of the Italian Baroque, and as much for his life story — he became an ambassador entrusted with confidential missions, was rewarded by being made a bishop, and later ascended to such high ranks in the Roman Catholic hierarchy that dignity required him to publish his operas under the name of his secretary (the Vatican did not consider “opera composer” a respectable profession) — as his rarely heard music.

Now, however, the advocacy of Italian mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli — which extends even to the surprising cover photo of her made up as Steffani, bald and dressed as a priest — will put him back in the spotlight. About 80 percent of the arias here have not been recorded before, and the joy of discovery is present throughout. The album gets into an effective rhythmic pattern: fast and energetic showpiece, tuneful mid-tempo aria, highly emotive slow song — that’s probably a wise programming structure as it ensures variety, though this reviewer would be perfectly happy wallowing in just the deeply affecting slow tracks (such as “Ove son? Chi m’aita? In mezzo all’ombre…Dal mio petto,” from the once lost but thankfully recovered Niobe [1688]) on which Bartoli gets to unleash both her interpretive powers and her most beautiful singing.

Muse, The 2nd Law

Yes, there is dubstep on Muse’s sixth album. Yes, there are fewer prog-metal power chords amid the histrionic bluster and widescreen opulence that has endeared the English trio to listeners who’ve craved a heavier Radiohead. These changes, combined with the subtler fact that singer Matthew Bellamy here leans less on the Thom Yorke-y range of his increasingly operatic tenor, may be a deal-breaker for some.

For the rest of us, The 2nd Law offers a wild ride through lush and varied orchestrations that recall the intricacies of ’70s rock heightened by today’s digital excess. When this record gets big, it does it in high style: via 24 string players, 11 horns and a 30-member choir. Opening cut “Supremacy” alternates the album’s heaviest riff with strings conducted by Beck’s dad David Campbell that suggest Bond dueling super-villains to the tune of Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir.” “Survival” — the official 2012 Olympics song, natch — juxtaposes riffs nearly as monstrous with choral chanting and castrato shrieking evoking an Ice Capades staging of Dante’s Inferno. The penultimate track, “The 2nd Law: Unsustainable,” offers warning of ecological collapse over doomsday symphonic pomp that crashes against EDM bass and drum swoops and hilarious Van Halen guitar jack-off-ery that yield “The 2nd Law” Isolated System,” a montage of random radio and TV transmissions set to Exorcist-ic trance vamping.

Say what you want about Muse’s OTT aesthetic: At press time, they’re the only major international act making Occupy movement-themed statements in America’s election season; of course they’d set them to music that suggests Babylon’s fall. The single, “Madness,” doesn’t do that; it’s a love song that sets sputtering and farting two-note synths where acoustic guitars would ordinarily strum. Bassist Chris Wolstenholme contributes lyrics and lead vocals late in the album to “Save Me” and “Liquid State,” which deal with the respective light and dark sides of his recovery from alcoholism. But the rest implicitly or explicitly rages against the machinery of economic, governmental, and ecological control. “Animals,” which takes on immoral corporate greed, even climaxes with the roar of the Wall Street trading floor. Like most of his heavier metal brethren, Bellamy isn’t a subtle lyricist; he favors brutal truths, like “The time, it has come to destroy your supremacy” and “It was a mistake imprisoning our souls.” He’s full of fury, but recognizes, more than ever, that tenderness is part of the solution. Both are still in ample supply; only the means and the ratio between them have changed.

Sun Airway, Soft Fall

Sun Airway’s Jon Barthmus doesn’t aim small. Soft Fall, the Philly native’s sophomore album, is symphonic electro-pop in the most literal sense, blending fragmented orchestral loops with glittery synth pulses and moody ambience — capturing the grandiose sweep of M83′s Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming in half the running time, without the spoken word bits and puzzling interludes about frogs.

Barthmus’ 2010 debut, Nocturne of Exploded Crystal Chandelier, covered similar sonic territory but was hampered by its lo-fi basement fidelity. Soft Fall, however, sparkles blindingly from note one, as opener “Activity 1″ swells from misty strings to bright layers of programming; on “Close,” synth pads and arena-sized drum flourishes blur into one massive tidal-wave of sound. But Barthmus is more than just a sonic architect — he’s also developed into a more refined, inventive songwriter: “Wild Palms” is a dizzying heart-stopper, unfurling jittery string loops under a tongue-tied hook that refuses to sit still. Even when the sounds threaten to swallow the songs, you can always feel a heartbeat.

Taken by Trees, Other Worlds

Victoria Bergsman has an incredibly malleable voice, one that shape-shifts ably through changing musical contexts. Since stepping away from The Concretes in 2006, the singer/songwriter has used her solo project to explore varied musical landscapes from the bucolic folk of her native Sweden (Open Field), to the sun-baked folk traditions of Pakistan (East of Eden). For her third outing, Bergsman headed to Hawaii—eschewing heavy-handed use of traditional island elements (read: avoided producing an album of Kamakawiwo’ole covers), in favor of a subtler portrait of the paradise.

Birds, rain and thunder all make cameos, but the emphasis here is on waves of hazy synth, embellished with the occasional hint of steel drum. The result is like finding a faded, lens-flare riddled vacation Polaroid in the back of an old drawer. “I’m dreaming/ as good as it gets/ don’t wake me yet,” Bergsman sings on “Highest High,” her breathy vocals propelled by a contented sigh. The entirety of Other Worlds floats along, abiding by the same unhurried logic. Submerged in her creation, Bergsman plays the role, not so much of a frontwoman, but rather a tropical siren — calling for the listener to join her. “No one will believe us when we tell them what we’ve seen,” she promises in “Dreams,” against a bed of handclaps and slide guitar. It’s an alluring invitation, and an irresistible one.

Donny McCaslin, Casting For Gravity

Donny McCaslin has long seemed a prime candidate to update and upgrade fusion jazz-rock. Since as far back as Seen From Above in 2000, his tenor saxophone style has been fueled by a rambunctious lyricism that isn’t afraid to leave skid marks on his phrases. By “Rock Me,” off Declaration in 2009, he’d discovered a fertile and yet phosphorous crossroads between prog-rock and hard bop, and a year later fattened the mix by adding electric bassist Tim Lefebvre.

But Casting For Gravity represents McCaslin’s most dogged effort thus far to redefine fusion. Lefebvre is back, paired with powerhouse drummer Mark Guiliana for a potent yet still ruggedly jazz-centric rhythm section, the backbone of the quartet. Versatile keyboardist Jason Lindner occasionally steps out for a spirited solo, but is more influential in helping to determine the texture and in setting and coloring the mood. Along with producer David Binney, a longtime McCaslin ally who also sparingly adds synthesizer, they provide McCaslin with the ability to create grand gestures. There are stop-and-go grooves that escalate in intensity and fall back on themselves in dramatic tension-and-release; tonal layers that morph from liquid silk to electric sizzle and evaporate; rhythmic struts containing melodic swagger and impulsive outbursts.

There are also ambient, gossamer shadings and trip-hoppy segments and songs (most obviously on the title track, “Love Song for an Echo” and “Alpha and Omega”) to which McCaslin credits Richard D. James of Aphex Twin as his inspiration. While they impressively broaden the bouquet, the bolder, burning tracks like “Tension,” Binney’s “Praia Grande” and the shifting, suite-like “Losing Track of Daytime” feel more impressive for blending the brutish revelry of rock with the harmonic complexity and gymnastic improvisation of jazz. Or, put more simply, “blazing a trail.”

Diana Krall, Glad Rag Doll

Cast off your preconceived notions that Diana Krall is still a straight-ahead jazz chanteuse. On Glad Rag Doll, the singer/pianist shifts gears radically, with T Bone Burnett at the helm. Burnett encourages Krall to spread her wings as a song stylist, and while she calls the outing simply a “song and dance record,” Krall is being modest. On Glad Rag Doll, she alternately presents herself as vaudeville dame; a rockabilly yelper in the Jerry Lee vein; a refined concert-hall vocalist, roots music crooner and cabaret singer.

Krall colors her lovelorn, mysterious and even comic songs by playing a 1890s Steinway upright, perfect for the saloon-like sound many of these tracks exude. The producer of many albums by Krall’s husband, Elvis Costello (most notably his classic, King of America), Burnett brings his Americana sensibility to the proceedings, along with his favorite studio guitarist, Marc Ribot, who provides eclectic rhythm and lead support — a far cry from the tasty jazz backings of guitarists Russell Malone and Anthony Wilson in Krall’s previous groups. She cooks on the country-blues rocker “I’m a Little Mixed Up,” muses on the reflective Gene Austin hit “Let It Rain” and scores to the core of Buddy Miller’s longing “Wide River to Cross.” The highlight of Glad Rag Doll is Krall’s compelling cover of Doc Pomus’s classic “Lonely Avenue,” which clocks in at nearly seven minutes. For those yearning for the old “Peel Me a Grape” Diana, she offers the sing-songy “We Just Couldn’t Say Goodbye” and the toe-tapping “You Know — I Know Ev’rything’s Made for Love.” But Glad Rag Doll is a welcome reminder of Krall’s range.

Van Morrison, Born To Sing: No Plan B

No one ever mistook Van Morrison for Mr. Warmth. But on his first solo album in four years, he’s on a misanthropic tear. “Sartre said hell is other people/ I believe that most of them are,” he sings near the disc’s start.

“I’m trying to get away from people,” he announces in a later cut, while, in another, he hurls at all humanity: “You’re controlled by the media…tell me what happened to you?”

So…just what happened to Van to inspire this blanket condemnation? The world financial crisis, it seems — something that hit his home country of Ireland particularly hard. Many of the new songs speak of the wages of greed, and of capitalism itself. “Money don’t make you fulfilled/ it’s just pay the bills,” he sings in the album’s first song. “You’re a slave to the capitalist system,” he barks in its last.

As much bile as Van spews in the words, he forgives with the bliss of the music. The new tracks have an ease and generosity that leaves lots of room for his ace band to spin caring and erudite solos. It’s his jazziest album in years, with lots of scat, and a free hand awarded his horn players. If there’s an antidote to materialism, this just may be it.

Interview: Flying Lotus

Flying Lotus has Brilliant Young Iconoclast written all over him, which is part of his problem. He’s one of the buzziest young artists on one of the buzziest labels around (electronic music and art-rock tastemakers Warp); he’s tight with Thom Yorke; he’s the nephew of avant-jazz icon Alice Coltrane. But even more importantly, he made Cosmogramma, a head-rush of layered bass rumbles and mournful synth ripples that slowly became a word-of-mouth phenomena beyond the Warp diehards. Which is great and all, but Steve Ellison was still just a man, and awfully nervous about what to do for a follow-up. The avant-jazz prodigy thing is only fresh once, after all. Fortunately, he worked through his doubts to deliver Until The Quiet Comes, an elaborate suite that aims to quiet the mind and thump the chest. Thom Yorke appears again, as does Erykah Badu. A few weeks before its release talked with eMusic about getting past his doubts and taking his cool off.

Your last album slowly caught on with people, and even roped in people who don’t necessarily listen to a lot of instrumental, weird electronic music. Were you kind of surprised at the reception?

Yeah, man. The whole thing was surprising to me. My existence…my existence in this form surprises me.

When an album like that catches on, it seems like you have two options for the follow-up: Make something more accessible or make something denser and weirder to show that you’re not letting popularity get to you. What were you thinking when you were going into this one?

When I started approaching the album, I went into it with this mentality like no matter I’m going to do, I know I’m going to hate it. When I made Cosmogramma, there were a lot of things that made it really special. The timing was crazy. I just feel like there’s no way you can capture that magic twice. It’s just different magic, y’know? was kind of pessimistic when I started, but I realized it was okay to do the things I wanted to do.

For a while, were you preparing for the worst?

Yeah, definitely. This is the part of my career where everyone is going to turn their back on me and hate me. [Laughs.] But you know, I think that it’s a normal thing for any artist. In the making of this record I came to understand that those feelings are okay, y’know? They’re kind of typical. And then after realizing that, I felt a lot better and I just, tried to enjoy the process of making it.

This album has a meditative, introspective feel, and the title implies a search for rest. A lot of people use meditation to work through their doubts and get past them. Did working on this album prove helpful in that way?

Completely, man. Being able to do this work really does help my whole brain space. Everything else can begin to feel like shit in my world, but if I’m making music that I’m excited about, everything’s fine. Calling the album Until the Quiet Comes was partly a reference to that.

Your live energy is very different, though: When I see you live, you just go wild; you’re grinning ear to ear and freaking out about every song you drop in to the mix, from Lil’ Wayne remixes to Radiohead.

[Laughs.] Oh man. I mean, when I’m partying, I’m partying, y’know? I feel like I don’t really get a chance just to put out all the stuff that I make. I get every two years I put out, like, 10 tracks and I make maybe 100 or so, y’know? That’s the fun part about playing shows is that I get to play a lot of stuff too. Y’know, a lot of stuff you may only get to hear at the shows. I think it’s fun, man. It’s dangerous and it’s exciting. When you see me up there, I’m just, like, trippin’ because a lot of the stuff is off the top and I don’t know where we’re going.

Miguel, Kaleidoscope Dream

Just what kind of R&B visionary is the ascendant star Miguel? While every bit as ambitious Frank Ocean and just as committed to the craft of songwriting as Terius Nash, aka The-Dream, Miguel is far less interested in making big conceptual statements. Because of this, it’s hard to know right away who he is, exactly, or what his goals are. Is he a fearless freak? An introvert? A do-you crooner? Or a canny chart-seeker?

The answer turns out to be all of the above. His first album ran 43 minutes and opened with a sharp, undeniable pop song (“Sure Thing”). Kaleidoscope Dream is 42 minutes, and kicks off with the already-popular lead single “Adorn,” a supplicant’s mid-tempo jam with a telling angle: Miguel makes the case for his lover-man bona fides not on it’ll-move-the-earth-under-your-feet grounds, but because it’ll work for what you’ve already got going on, like a sharp accessory: “Let my love adorn you,” he pleads modestly. The self-negation involved in his come-ons — he openly requests to be defiled during “Use Me” — gives more insight into what might be driving Kaleidoscope Dream than its title does.

There’s a bashful quality even on some of the more direct offerings. “Don’t Look Back” starts out in radio-courting fashion but closes with a surprise coda that reveals a songwriter’s affinity for making every part of a pop song count. He only stumbles towards the end, with “Candles in the Sun,” which flicks at a social consciousness he hasn’t figured out how to carry as convincingly as the seduction-and-pain material. But who said sharply played, tightly written R&B isn’t meaningful all on its own? Miguel, rather like Prince, is a weirdo with a surfeit of hooks and the chops to put them over. In an age of outsized R&B innovators, he’s our subtle auteur.

Tori Amos, Gold Dust

Gold Dust came from two impulses: Amos’s desire to work further with the Metropole Orkest, after a one-off 2010 concert, and a celebration of 20 years since the release of her first solo album, Little Earthquakes. Gold Dust draws on tracks from across her career; not counting her covers album and last year’s classical-themed Night of Hunters, only two Amos albums are unrepresented on Gold Dust: To Venus and Back and The Beekeeper.

The debut’s three central songs — “Precious Things,” “Winter” and “Silent All These Years” — occupy key positions. Two were orchestrated in their original incarnation, but the arrangements on Gold Dust, by longtime collaborator John Philip Shenale, are cooler in tone, more like chamber music. Of course, Amos’s pianism is front and center, but Shenale also grants the woodwinds prominence, which adds a dark timbre appropriate to the more autobiographical songs Amos picked for this project. The choices were not obvious; “Cornflake Girl” isn’t here, but the obscure B-side “Flying Dutchman” is — and proves to be one of the highlights.

When gussying up rock tunes with orchestral arrangements, artists must walk a thin line between pretension and blandness. Amos and Shenale have danced along that line with attractive grace.

Ryan Holiday, Trust Me, I’m Lying: Confessions of a Media Manipulator

As epiphanies go, Ryan Holiday’s came pretty late. By the time the self-styled media manipulator decided to come clean, he’d already spent years bullshitting his way onto television as an “expert” guest, creating puppet web identities to spread rumors, stirring up outrage to incite false flag protests, flat out lying to journalists, preying on the weaknesses of sweatshop bloggers and brand-handling infamous douchebags like Tucker Max and Dov Charney. Actually, I don’t even know if those guys are really douchebags anymore, or if that’s just something cooked up by Holiday’s reverse-psych-pop subterfuge. That’s the only thing old-school about the man: He’s still into the ol’ any-press-is-good-press thing.

Yeah, it’s easy to hate Ryan Holiday. But it’s hard not to respect the guy, too. He’s not quite in the same league as phone-freaking pioneer Kevin Mitnick when it comes to balls, but he’s got the same penchant for delicate and amoral exploitation. Put another way, Holiday is frustratingly, frighteningly good at what he does. News outlets of all kinds have apparently fallen victim to his charms and spells.

As a journalist, I can honestly say this is one of the most spellbinding and infuriating books I’ve come across. Evil baby geniuses like Holiday — it’s a sure bet there are more out there; I just hope they’re less prolific — know how to work the system and bait the gullible. If I take any solace from the “confessions” in Holiday’s playbook, it’s that maybe the media will learn from them.

Of course, the whole thing could be a clever fake. I doubt it, but, you know, it was written by a guy who lies for a living.

New This Week: Flying Lotus, Miguel, & More

Flying Lotus, Until The Quiet Comes – The prodigy L.A. producer follows up his universally acclaimed Cosmogramma with the relatively placid, subtly gorgeous Until the Quiet Comes. Michael Tedder spoke with FlyLo for us; Michaelangelo Matos tackled the record itself. Here’s Matos:

What was Flying Lotus supposed to do, twist our synapses till they turned blue every single time out? Please — not even Hendrix could have done that. British DJ Mary Anne Hobbs may have declared FlyLo Jimi’s modern equivalent, but Until the Quiet Comes, his fourth album, plays like something Jimi didn’t get to stay around and make: both reflective and madcap, full of details scurrying in the margins. Take “Tiny Tortures,” which rides a near-subcutaneous bass pulse, twitchy, subtle clicks and clacks, ruminative jazz guitar flecks and flurries. Is it fusion? Maybe, but it doesn’t show off the way most fusion does — it’s too busy sneaking up on you.

Matt & Kim, Lightning – The world’s happiest band returns! Annie Zaleski has more:

Lightning, boasts a broader sonic palette as well as more spirited arrangements than earlier efforts. “Tonight” — with its Jock Jams sirens, Blondie-inspired synths and disco beat and pro-nightlife lyrics — conveys the exhilaration of a debauched night out, while a hip-hop breakdown and divebombing keyboards cut through the frantic synthpunk cut “Now.” If Lightning overall feels a little all-over-the-place, well, that’s perfectly fair to say. However, this characteristic also makes the album consistently interesting.

Miguel, Kaleidoscope Dream – R&B pop star gets big ambitions and makes a bold, starry-eyed R&B/rock crossover record. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. Seth Colter-Walls writes:

Just what kind of R&B visionary is the ascendant star Miguel? While every bit as ambitious Frank Ocean and just as committed to the craft of songwriting as Terius Nash, aka The-Dream, Miguel is far less interested in making big conceptual statements. Because of this, it’s hard to know right away who he is, exactly, or what his goals are. Is he a fearless freak? An introvert? A do-you crooner? Or a canny chart-seeker? The answer turns out to be all of the above. Miguel, rather like Prince, is a weirdo with a surfeit of hooks and the chops to put them over. In an age of outsized R&B innovators, he’s our subtle auteur.

Tift  Merritt, Traveling Alone – The singer-songwriter returns with a relaxed, lived-in record bustling with big-name contributors. Annie Zaleski tells us:

Tift Merritt and what she terms a “dream cast” of musicians — including guitarist Marc Ribot, Calexico drummer John Convertino, steel guitarist Eric Heywood and multi-instrumentalist Rob Burger — spent just eight days recording Traveling Alone. But save for a definitively loose vibe and unadorned instrumentation, it’s not obvious that the singer-songwriter’s fifth studio album came together so quickly. Traveling Alone is lovely and languid, preoccupied by restlessness of mind and body, and a deep desire to find a place to belong.

Eraas, Eraas – The look of fear on the face in the cover photo says it all. Exquisitely haunted feel-bad music, a skulking mix of brooding, muttering guitars, blacklight synths, and ominous atmosphere.

Van Morrison, Born To Sing: No Plan B – Van Morrison’s latest finds him at his most vinegary bitter, griping about the state of the world’s economy and ills. Luckily, his immortal singing and the coolly jazzy background chase the bite. Jim Farber has more:

No one ever mistook Van Morrison for Mr. Warmth. But on his first solo album in four years, he’s on a misanthropic tear. “Sartre said hell is other people/ I believe that most of them are,” he sings near the disc’s start. As much bile as Van spews in the words, he forgives with the bliss of the music. The new tracks have an ease and generosity that leaves lots of room for his ace band to spin caring and erudite solos. It’s his jazziest album in years, with lots of scat, and a free hand awarded his horn players.

The Vaccines, Come of Age – The once-hyped Brit-rock sensation come back down to Earth, settle into a groove, assess the fallout. Dan Hyman says:

Not since the Arctic Monkeys has a UK guitar band generated so much debut-album hype as did the Vaccines. But rather than bask in the gusto of their 2011 debut, the four lads return in short time. The overarching lesson here? It’s utterly depressing getting so much love. Or so says singer Justin Young, convinced he’s just another mid-20s blasé sad sack schlub. “Oh I could bore you with the truth,” Young crows on the otherwise whimsical opener “No Hope.”

Taken By Trees, Other Worlds – A breezy, tropical postcard of a record. Laura Studarus writes:

Victoria Bergsman has an incredibly malleable voice, one that shape-shifts ably through changing musical contexts. . For her third outing, Bergsman headed to Hawaii—eschewing heavy-handed use of traditional island elements (read: avoided producing an album of Kamakawiwo’ole covers), in favor of a subtler portrait of the paradise. Birds, rain and thunder all make cameos, but the emphasis here is on waves of hazy synth, embellished with the occasional hint of steel drum.

Ultraísta, Ultraísta – Dark dreams  from Nigel Godrich, the “sixth member” of Radiohead. Laura Studarus tells us:

Ultraísta is spearheaded by producer Nigel Godrich, and the building blocks of the project’s self-titled debut are what we’ve come to expect from Radiohead’s unofficial sixth member.Named for a 20th-century Spanish literary movement that declared surreal variations on minimalism are superior to more ornate styles, Ultraísta hews close to these ideals — using sonically commanding elements in sparse arrangements. As a result, their 10 dark, twisted pop compositions are given room to slowly unfold.

John Cale, Shifty Adventures In Nookie Wood – Art-rock legend gets a little hornier, perverse, and mournful on his latest, immaculately produced solo record. That title, man. Barry Walters visits the Nookie Wood and lives to file this review:

It’s a miracle or something like it that John Cale is still alive, let alone still making music this compelling.
Shifty Adventures in Nookie Wood merges the relatively lighthearted chill-out pop of 2003′s HoboSapiens with the moodier art-rock of 2005′s blackAcetate. Cale hasn’t lost his interest in electronics-enabled genre bending: The first track, “I Wanna Talk 2 U,” opens with a simple acoustic guitar, but soon adds the bass, beats and synth of Danger Mouse to split the difference between post-punk and fractured funk. What follows similarly resists pigeonholing: “Scotland Yard” is on the surface relatively straightforward rock, but below there’s plenty of dissonant grinding and droning.

Sun Airway, Soft Fall – The synth-pop band goes widescreen, gets orchestral on its latest. Here’s Ryan Reed, with more:

Sun Airway’s Jon Barthmus doesn’t aim small. Soft Fall, the Philly native’s sophomore album, is symphonic electro-pop in the most literal sense, blending fragmented orchestral loops with glittery synth pulses and moody ambience — capturing the grandiose sweep of M83′s Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming in half the running time, without the spoken word bits and puzzling interludes about frogs.

Moon Duo, Circles – Pysch-rock duo returns with more hypnotic minimal guitar-rock drone. We let some know-nothing blowhard named Jayson Greene loose on this one, and here’s what that clown had to say:

Moon Duo stretch out the basic materials of stoner rock so far that the result teeters on ambient music. Things happen in Moon Duo’s songs, but on their own sweet time. On their last full-length, Mazes, however, their lava-lamp blobs started to suspiciously resemble songs, a development that continues on Circles. If you peek through the heat shimmer, you’ll start to discern Jesus and Mary Chain-style heartbreakers moving beneath it, like on the major-key title track or the wistful, chiming “Trails.” Their extended two-chord vamps have sneakily gotten groovier too: The five-and-a-half-minute “Free Action” spikes its slow head-nodding action with a polyrhythmic spatter of claps and stomps. At its most potent, Circles hits a frictionless bliss: Standing almost completely still has rarely felt this cool or dynamic.

Tori Amos, Gold Dust – Tori takes her classics to the Metropole Orkest, creating symphonic-pop versions of many of her most beloved songs. Steve Holtje writes:

Gold Dust draws on tracks from across her career; not counting her covers album and last year’s classical-themed Night of Hunters, only two Amos albums are unrepresented on Gold Dust: To Venus and Back and The Beekeeper. The debut’s three central songs — “Precious Things,” “Winter” and “Silent All These Years” — occupy key positions. Two were orchestrated in their original incarnation, but the arrangements on Gold Dust, by longtime collaborator John Philip Shenale, are cooler in tone, more like chamber music. Of course, Amos’s pianism is front and center, but Shenale also grants the woodwinds prominence, which adds a dark timbre appropriate to the more autobiographical songs Amos picked for this project.

Diana Krall, Glad Rag Doll – The beloved jazz-standards singer stretches out. Dan Oullette reports:

Cast off your preconceived notions that Diana Krall is still a straight-ahead jazz chanteuse. On Glad Rag Doll, the singer/pianist shifts gears radically, with T Bone Burnett at the helm. Burnett encourages Krall to spread her wings as a song stylist, and while she calls the outing simply a “song and dance record,” Krall is being modest. On Glad Rag Doll, she alternately presents herself as vaudeville dame; a rockabilly yelper in the Jerry Lee vein; a refined concert-hall vocalist, roots music crooner and cabaret singer.

Charlie Hunter and Scott Amendola, Not Getting Behind is the New Getting Ahead – Celebrated jazz guitarist Charlie Hunter returns with a biting collection that obliquely addresses the malaise of the American economy with the title. Peter Margasak writes:

Bay Area seven-string guitarist Charlie Hunter reconnects with one of his best and longest-serving collaborators, drummer Scott Amendola, on this dark-yet-breezy collection of originals inspired by extensive touring across the U.S. Hunter, who nimbly uses his guitar’s extra string to trace out bass lines while playing chords or melodic lines with the remaining six, doesn’t have the rosiest view of the country, as the album title makes plain. The gritty urban blues that emerges several minutes into “There Used to Be a Nightclub There,” and the hollowed-out, spooky atmospherics of “Ghost Mall” leave no doubt that he sees signs of decline in America, and his instrumental tone reinforces the message in those titles.

Donny McCaslin, Casting For Gravity -  The intrepid tenor saxophonist continues his push to redefine jazz’s outer boundaries from the inside. Britt Robson has more:

Casting For Gravity represents McCaslin’s most dogged effort thus far to redefine fusion. [Bassist Tim] Lefebvre is back, paired with powerhouse drummer Mark Guiliana for a potent yet still ruggedly jazz-centric rhythm section, the backbone of the quartet. Versatile keyboardist Jason Lindner occasionally steps out for a spirited solo, but is more influential in helping to determine the texture and in setting and coloring the mood. Along with producer David Binney, a longtime McCaslin ally who also sparingly adds synthesizer, they provide McCaslin with the ability to create grand gestures.

Beth Orton, The Sugaring Season – The lovely, melancholy daze of Beth Orton is always welcome: It’s been too long since her last. Elisa Bray conducted a wonderful, frank interview with Orton about her career, her self-doubts, and more. It’s definitely worth a read. This record sounds as dreamy and troubled as I remember Orton always sounding.

The Hood Internet, FEAT – Internet mashup kings turn out a full-length that’s as schizophrenic and pleasure-focused as their mashup work.

Jodis, Black Curtain  - Minimalist, void-gazing drone metal, built on long unchanging pulses and shot through with bleak intimations of death and dread.

Balmorhea, Stranger – The instrumental six-piece crafts glimmering post-rock pieces that capture a certain windswept, autumnal melancholy

Tim Burgess, Oh No I Love You – Lead singer of the Charlatans pens a rollicking, rocking, wryly charming collection of power-pop gems.

Maya Beiser, Time Loops – The ever-curious and experimental cellist puts together her latest themed collection: a group of pieces by the composer Michael Harrison.

Cecilia Bartoli, Mission – The Italian mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli focuses on the music of a little-known Italian Baroque composer Agostino Steffani. Steve Holtje writes:

Until the release of this album, Agostino Steffani (1654-1728) was pretty much known only to devoted scholars of the Italian Baroque, and as much for his life story – he became an ambassador entrusted with confidential missions, was rewarded by being made a bishop and, later, ascended to such high ranks in the Roman Catholic hierarchy that dignity required him to publish his operas under the name of his secretary (the Vatican did not consider “opera composer” a respectable profession) – as his rarely heard music. Now, however, the advocacy of Italian mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli – which extends even to the surprising cover photo of her made up as Steffani, bald and dressed as a priest – will put him back in the spotlight. About 80% of the arias here have not been recorded before, and the joy of discovery is present throughout.

Heart, Fanatic – Heart return with their first full new official full-length since WHEN. The guitar is sanded-down and gritty, the recording is live-sounding, and the vibe is hard-rocking, tough, and aggressive. It’s vintage 1970s Heart, but without some of the vampy theatricality that spiced some of their hits. Good, swaggering, meat-and-potatoes stuff; it’s nice to hear from these veterans.

Faith Evans, R&B Diva – Faith Evans is still in fine, grainy/smoky voice for this collection of 90s-throwback hip-hop soul.  She seems to be avoiding mainstream pop radio completely, going for a jazzier, more “adult contempo” vibe, and it suits her really well.

DJ Drama, Quality Street Music – So, so many rappers. DJ Drama is a member of what I like to call the “Professional Loud Person” sect of DJ/hosts; he doesn’t DJ in any of the older hip-hop senses of the word. But he remains an amazing curator, bringing  great performances out of basically everyone in mainstream hip-hop and pairing them expertly with well-chosen beats. You will have to pardon all of his yelling on the album, though: It’s  what a Professional Loud Person does.

The Prodigy, The Bumpy Johnson Album – Low-rent, grainy, low-stakes grimy rap from Prodigy of Mobb Deep. He always sounds good, though, and this is a quick satisfying shot, even if it sounds like he recorded it in a week.

Fins, Lawnmower EP – Joyfully sloppy, Westerburgian punk rock from Connecticut  band.

Tift Merritt, Traveling Alone

Tift Merritt and what she terms a “dream cast” of musicians — including guitarist Marc Ribot, Calexico drummer John Convertino, steel guitarist Eric Heywood and multi-instrumentalist Rob Burger — spent just eight days recording Traveling Alone. But save for a definitively loose vibe and unadorned instrumentation, it’s not obvious that the singer-songwriter’s fifth studio album came together so quickly. Traveling Alone is lovely and languid, preoccupied by restlessness of mind and body, and a deep desire to find a place to belong.

Merritt addresses these weighty crises with deft, precise lyrics. “I’m just looking for that sweet spot/ Where I can live the way that I want,” she sings on the twangy slow dance “Sweet Spot,” while “Small Talk Relations” is a low-lit soul-jazz number with piano and string swells on which she belts out, “‘Cause all of these small talk relations/ Lord, I need something real.” And on “Drifted Apart,” Andrew Bird’s trembling voice and violin shadow Merritt’s lead vocals, making relationship-fracturing lyrics such as “Nobody’s fault at all/ Baby, we’re drifting apart” that much more painful.

Traveling Alone‘s music is subtle enough to let Merritt’s lyrics shine, especially on the acoustic-based title track and the Emmylou Harris-like “Feeling Of Beauty.” But the album’s arrangements also play to the strengths of its musicians: “Still Not Home” is rollicking alt-country with Heywood’s wrinkled pedal steel at the forefront, while Ribot’s contributions — especially the bluesy licks on the otherwise sparse “Spring” and the jagged country riffs driving “To Myself” — cut to the quick. Merritt herself even takes to the piano for the jaunty pop of “In The Way,” a song determined to find a bright future (“One day, I’ll never be lonely/ Oh yeah, it will really be something”). Such hints of optimism balance out Traveling Alone‘s most wrenching songs — and explain why the album never becomes bogged down by its search for self.

The Vaccines, Come of Age

Not since the Arctic Monkeys has a UK guitar band generated so much debut-album hype as did the Vaccines. But rather than bask in the gusto of their 2011 debut, the four lads return in short time. The overarching lesson here? It’s utterly depressing getting so much love. Or so says singer Justin Young, convinced he’s just another mid-20s blasé sad sack schlub. “Oh I could bore you with the truth,” Young crows on the otherwise whimsical opener “No Hope.”

Tossed-off hooks are the game here — on the enchanting “Weirdo” it’s beguiling to hear the singer believe he’s anything but — and up-tempo alterations (“Bad Mood”) are rare but effective. Still, it’s trying to buy Young’s shtick thanks to ever-present surf-rock jangle — think the Drums channeling the Ramones — and pesky admissions that “life is easy when you’re easy on the eye.” Perk up, dude. This is the fun part.

Who Are…Moon Duo

Moon Duo’s second LP, Circles, will probably be the best record made in the most obscure location this year. Although parts of it were recorded in the band’s previous home of San Francisco, and some mixing and other worked happened in Berlin, the majority of its creative efforts came from a Rocky Mountain eternity of a winter early this year. The band’s new home of Blue River, Colorado, sported a population of 685 during the 2000 census, and you have to wonder what those 700 or so folks think of their local rockers.

As for those who are a little more familiar with the band’s hazy, rewarding chug, Circles won’t surprise much, though it’s quite good. Across its nine tracks (all but two of which stretch beyond the four-minute mark), keyboard through-lines and so-fuzzy-they’re-practically-woodland-creatures guitar riffs carry the catchiest, laid-back sing-a-bongs this side of The Jesus & Mary Chain.

eMusic’s Austin L. Ray caught up with guitarist Ripley Johnson (also of Wooden Shjips) to find out how one procrastinates in the Rockies, which drugs go best with Circles, and what Ralph Waldo Emerson’s got to do with it.

On isolation’s influence on Circles:

There aren’t a lot of distractions out there, but the mind can always create its own distractions. It’s interesting in that sense, the grappling with one’s own mind, boredom, lack of exterior stimulation. But that also allows for a certain purity. The creativity really flows from within. The inspiration is mostly from within.

On procrastinating in the Rocky Mountains:

It’s cold in the mountains, but it’s also very sunny and snowy. We would snowshoe and cross-country ski right out of our back door. Plus, we like to read and watch films, so it’s perfect for that.

On which drugs to take while listening to this album:

We don’t generally encourage drug use but I think a few honey slides would probably do nicely.

On movies:

I love seeing films on the big screen, but we don’t get the chance very often. I love the immersive aspect, the total experience. We try to bring that to our live shows as much as possible but I don’t think it influences the songwriting much other than as pure inspiration.

On finding a groove and locking in:

That’s a natural place for me, musically. I’m drawn to repetition and drone. Part of the process lately has been to push beyond that, to find ways to engage with that aspect of our sound in other ways, through song writing. I can imagine going further in that repetitive direction in the future, discarding more of the song conventions, and just have each song sound like a skipping record. That would be nice.

On Ralph Waldo Emerson:

I was reading and digesting Emerson’s essay, “Circles,” around the time I was writing the songs, so that’s just where my head was at. It’s about change, flux, movement, and is very Buddhist for a 19th-century American. Good things to ponder in the mountains.

John Cale, Shifty Adventures in Nookie Wood

It’s a miracle or something like it that John Cale is still alive, let alone still making music this compelling. Like many of his peers, the Velvet Underground co-founder drank and drugged through the ’60s and ’70s while still creating and producing landmark works. By the ’80s, his addictions took over. Fathering a child shocked him into sobriety, but at 70, he’s still releasing hallucinatory sounds. On his 15th solo album, the Wales-born, Los Angeles based multi-instrumentalist applies his conservatory training to create melodically and harmonically vigorous songs, while his experimental skills throw wrenches in their abundant beauty.

Shifty Adventures in Nookie Wood merges the relatively lighthearted chillout pop of 2003′s HoboSapiens with the moodier art-rock of 2005′s blackAcetate. Cale hasn’t lost his interest in electronics-enabled genre bending: The first track, “I Wanna Talk 2 U,” opens with a simple acoustic guitar, but soon adds the bass, beats and synth of Danger Mouse to split the difference between post-punk and fractured funk. What follows similarly resists pigeonholing: “Scotland Yard” is on the surface relatively straightforward rock, but below there’s plenty of dissonant grinding and droning. “Hemmingway” recalls his menacing proto-punk work on mid ’70s albums like Fear, but with contemporary production. Gentler tracks like “Face to the Sky,” “December Rains,” and “Mary” feature AutoTune, not necessarily to put Cale’s septuagenarian rasp in perfect pitch, but to further estrange it with uneasy, unsettling results akin to a subtler Tom Waits jamming with the Knife. That sums up these Shifty Adventures.

Ultraísta, Ultraísta

Ultraísta is spearheaded by producer Nigel Godrich, and the building blocks of the project’s self-titled debut are what we’ve come to expect from Radiohead’s unofficial sixth member. Alongside vocalist Laura Bettinson (FEMME/Dimbleby & Capper) and drummer/multi-instrumentalist Joey Waronker (Beck, Atoms for Peace, Smashing Pumpkins), Godrich whips synths, jittery tribal percussion, and Bettinson’s Stereolab-lite voice into a Thom Yorke-worthy cloud art-rock abstraction.

Named for a 20th-century Spanish literary movement that declared surreal variations on minimalism are superior to more ornate styles, Ultraísta hews close to these ideals — using sonically commanding elements in sparse arrangements. As a result, their 10 dark, twisted pop compositions are given room to slowly unfold. The Spartan “Party Line” ebbs and flows around a jazzy, late night emotional current, not unlike Yo La Tengo’s “Autumn Sweater.” Meanwhile, “Wash it Over” induces alpha waves though the use of electronic drones and Bettinson’s hypnotically chanted invitation, “Come on and wash it over me.”

But the most startling (and ultimately satisfying) tracks all stem from moments when the band sets aside their self-enforced guidelines. “Static Light” starts out with a single percussion line, Bettinson’s voice carrying the melody until the song’s midway point, when keys and a ghostly backing join in, creating the backdrop to an oppressive dance floor anthem. Bettinson also takes center stage on album highlight “Small Talk,” shuffling between vocal lines and a percussion series of “ohs” and “hums.” Her efforts are looped and multiplied into an unsettling choir that — like so much of the album — isn’t merely dynamic, but downright explosive.

Charlie Hunter and Scott Amendola, Not Getting Behind is the New Getting Ahead

Bay Area seven-string guitarist Charlie Hunter reconnects with one of his best and longest-serving collaborators, drummer Scott Amendola, on this dark-yet-breezy collection of originals inspired by extensive touring across the U.S. Hunter, who nimbly uses his guitar’s extra string to trace out bass lines while playing chords or melodic lines with the remaining six, doesn’t have the rosiest view of the country, as the album title makes plain. The gritty urban blues that emerges several minutes into “There Used to Be a Nightclub There,” and the hollowed-out, spooky atmospherics of “Ghost Mall” leave no doubt that he sees signs of decline in America, and his instrumental tone reinforces the message in those titles.

Yet this duo effort is no drag on the ears, with Hunter employing the classic coping mechanism of laughing just to keep from crying. For every piece like “The Wizard Pounds the Pavement,” where noir-ish plucks float over a trudging groove, there’s the title track, which collides New Orleans second-line rhythms with the pop-celebratory fervor of the Pointers Sisters smash “Yes We Can.” Amendola, who played with Hunter in T.J. Kirk back in the early ’90s, is the perfect partner for the guitarist, complementing his chilled funk with fat propulsion and deft melodic accents and counterpoint that never leave the listener noticing that only two folks are making the noise.

New This Week: Flying Lotus, Miguel, & More

Flying Lotus, Until The Quiet Comes – The prodigy L.A. producer follows up his universally acclaimed Cosmogramma with the relatively placid, subtly gorgeous Until the Quiet Comes. Michael Tedder spoke with FlyLo for us; Michaelangelo Matos tackled the record itself. Here’s Matos:

What was Flying Lotus supposed to do, twist our synapses till they turned blue every single time out? Please — not even Hendrix could have done that. British DJ Mary Anne Hobbs may have declared FlyLo Jimi’s modern equivalent, but Until the Quiet Comes, his fourth album, plays like something Jimi didn’t get to stay around and make: both reflective and madcap, full of details scurrying in the margins. Take “Tiny Tortures,” which rides a near-subcutaneous bass pulse, twitchy, subtle clicks and clacks, ruminative jazz guitar flecks and flurries. Is it fusion? Maybe, but it doesn’t show off the way most fusion does — it’s too busy sneaking up on you.

Matt & Kim, Lightning – The world’s happiest band returns! Annie Zaleski has more:

Lightning, boasts a broader sonic palette as well as more spirited arrangements than earlier efforts. “Tonight” — with its Jock Jams sirens, Blondie-inspired synths and disco beat and pro-nightlife lyrics — conveys the exhilaration of a debauched night out, while a hip-hop breakdown and divebombing keyboards cut through the frantic synthpunk cut “Now.” If Lightning overall feels a little all-over-the-place, well, that’s perfectly fair to say. However, this characteristic also makes the album consistently interesting.

Miguel, Kaleidoscope Dream – R&B pop star gets big ambitions and makes a bold, starry-eyed R&B/rock crossover record. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. Seth Colter-Walls writes:

Just what kind of R&B visionary is the ascendant star Miguel? While every bit as ambitious Frank Ocean and just as committed to the craft of songwriting as Terius Nash, aka The-Dream, Miguel is far less interested in making big conceptual statements. Because of this, it’s hard to know right away who he is, exactly, or what his goals are. Is he a fearless freak? An introvert? A do-you crooner? Or a canny chart-seeker? The answer turns out to be all of the above. Miguel, rather like Prince, is a weirdo with a surfeit of hooks and the chops to put them over. In an age of outsized R&B innovators, he’s our subtle auteur.

Tift  Merritt, Traveling Alone – The singer-songwriter returns with a relaxed, lived-in record bustling with big-name contributors. Annie Zaleski tells us:

Tift Merritt and what she terms a “dream cast” of musicians — including guitarist Marc Ribot, Calexico drummer John Convertino, steel guitarist Eric Heywood and multi-instrumentalist Rob Burger — spent just eight days recording Traveling Alone. But save for a definitively loose vibe and unadorned instrumentation, it’s not obvious that the singer-songwriter’s fifth studio album came together so quickly. Traveling Alone is lovely and languid, preoccupied by restlessness of mind and body, and a deep desire to find a place to belong.

Eraas, Eraas – The look of fear on the face in the cover photo says it all. Exquisitely haunted feel-bad music, a skulking mix of brooding, muttering guitars, blacklight synths, and ominous atmosphere.

Van Morrison, Born To Sing: No Plan B – Van Morrison’s latest finds him at his most vinegary bitter, griping about the state of the world’s economy and ills. Luckily, his immortal singing and the coolly jazzy background chase the bite. Jim Farber has more:

No one ever mistook Van Morrison for Mr. Warmth. But on his first solo album in four years, he’s on a misanthropic tear. “Sartre said hell is other people/ I believe that most of them are,” he sings near the disc’s start. As much bile as Van spews in the words, he forgives with the bliss of the music. The new tracks have an ease and generosity that leaves lots of room for his ace band to spin caring and erudite solos. It’s his jazziest album in years, with lots of scat, and a free hand awarded his horn players.

The Vaccines, Come of Age – The once-hyped Brit-rock sensation come back down to Earth, settle into a groove, assess the fallout. Dan Hyman says:

Not since the Arctic Monkeys has a UK guitar band generated so much debut-album hype as did the Vaccines. But rather than bask in the gusto of their 2011 debut, the four lads return in short time. The overarching lesson here? It’s utterly depressing getting so much love. Or so says singer Justin Young, convinced he’s just another mid-20s blasé sad sack schlub. “Oh I could bore you with the truth,” Young crows on the otherwise whimsical opener “No Hope.”

Taken By Trees, Other Worlds – A breezy, tropical postcard of a record. Laura Studarus writes:

Victoria Bergsman has an incredibly malleable voice, one that shape-shifts ably through changing musical contexts. . For her third outing, Bergsman headed to Hawaii—eschewing heavy-handed use of traditional island elements (read: avoided producing an album of Kamakawiwo’ole covers), in favor of a subtler portrait of the paradise. Birds, rain and thunder all make cameos, but the emphasis here is on waves of hazy synth, embellished with the occasional hint of steel drum.

Ultraísta, Ultraísta – Dark dreams  from Nigel Godrich, the “sixth member” of Radiohead. Laura Studarus tells us:

Ultraísta is spearheaded by producer Nigel Godrich, and the building blocks of the project’s self-titled debut are what we’ve come to expect from Radiohead’s unofficial sixth member.Named for a 20th-century Spanish literary movement that declared surreal variations on minimalism are superior to more ornate styles, Ultraísta hews close to these ideals — using sonically commanding elements in sparse arrangements. As a result, their 10 dark, twisted pop compositions are given room to slowly unfold.

John Cale, Shifty Adventures In Nookie Wood – Art-rock legend gets a little hornier, perverse, and mournful on his latest, immaculately produced solo record. That title, man. Barry Walters visits the Nookie Wood and lives to file this review:

It’s a miracle or something like it that John Cale is still alive, let alone still making music this compelling.
Shifty Adventures in Nookie Wood merges the relatively lighthearted chill-out pop of 2003′s HoboSapiens with the moodier art-rock of 2005′s blackAcetate. Cale hasn’t lost his interest in electronics-enabled genre bending: The first track, “I Wanna Talk 2 U,” opens with a simple acoustic guitar, but soon adds the bass, beats and synth of Danger Mouse to split the difference between post-punk and fractured funk. What follows similarly resists pigeonholing: “Scotland Yard” is on the surface relatively straightforward rock, but below there’s plenty of dissonant grinding and droning.

Sun Airway, Soft Fall – The synth-pop band goes widescreen, gets orchestral on its latest. Here’s Ryan Reed, with more:

Sun Airway’s Jon Barthmus doesn’t aim small. Soft Fall, the Philly native’s sophomore album, is symphonic electro-pop in the most literal sense, blending fragmented orchestral loops with glittery synth pulses and moody ambience — capturing the grandiose sweep of M83′s Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming in half the running time, without the spoken word bits and puzzling interludes about frogs.

Moon Duo, Circles – Pysch-rock duo returns with more hypnotic minimal guitar-rock drone. We let some know-nothing blowhard named Jayson Greene loose on this one, and here’s what that clown had to say:

Moon Duo stretch out the basic materials of stoner rock so far that the result teeters on ambient music. Things happen in Moon Duo’s songs, but on their own sweet time. On their last full-length, Mazes, however, their lava-lamp blobs started to suspiciously resemble songs, a development that continues on Circles. If you peek through the heat shimmer, you’ll start to discern Jesus and Mary Chain-style heartbreakers moving beneath it, like on the major-key title track or the wistful, chiming “Trails.” Their extended two-chord vamps have sneakily gotten groovier too: The five-and-a-half-minute “Free Action” spikes its slow head-nodding action with a polyrhythmic spatter of claps and stomps. At its most potent, Circles hits a frictionless bliss: Standing almost completely still has rarely felt this cool or dynamic.

Tori Amos, Gold Dust – Tori takes her classics to the Metropole Orkest, creating symphonic-pop versions of many of her most beloved songs. Steve Holtje writes:

Gold Dust draws on tracks from across her career; not counting her covers album and last year’s classical-themed Night of Hunters, only two Amos albums are unrepresented on Gold Dust: To Venus and Back and The Beekeeper. The debut’s three central songs — “Precious Things,” “Winter” and “Silent All These Years” — occupy key positions. Two were orchestrated in their original incarnation, but the arrangements on Gold Dust, by longtime collaborator John Philip Shenale, are cooler in tone, more like chamber music. Of course, Amos’s pianism is front and center, but Shenale also grants the woodwinds prominence, which adds a dark timbre appropriate to the more autobiographical songs Amos picked for this project.

Diana Krall, Glad Rag Doll – The beloved jazz-standards singer stretches out. Dan Oullette reports:

Cast off your preconceived notions that Diana Krall is still a straight-ahead jazz chanteuse. On Glad Rag Doll, the singer/pianist shifts gears radically, with T Bone Burnett at the helm. Burnett encourages Krall to spread her wings as a song stylist, and while she calls the outing simply a “song and dance record,” Krall is being modest. On Glad Rag Doll, she alternately presents herself as vaudeville dame; a rockabilly yelper in the Jerry Lee vein; a refined concert-hall vocalist, roots music crooner and cabaret singer.

Charlie Hunter and Scott Amendola, Not Getting Behind is the New Getting Ahead – Celebrated jazz guitarist Charlie Hunter returns with a biting collection that obliquely addresses the malaise of the American economy with the title. Peter Margasak writes:

Bay Area seven-string guitarist Charlie Hunter reconnects with one of his best and longest-serving collaborators, drummer Scott Amendola, on this dark-yet-breezy collection of originals inspired by extensive touring across the U.S. Hunter, who nimbly uses his guitar’s extra string to trace out bass lines while playing chords or melodic lines with the remaining six, doesn’t have the rosiest view of the country, as the album title makes plain. The gritty urban blues that emerges several minutes into “There Used to Be a Nightclub There,” and the hollowed-out, spooky atmospherics of “Ghost Mall” leave no doubt that he sees signs of decline in America, and his instrumental tone reinforces the message in those titles.

Donny McCaslin, Casting For Gravity -  The intrepid tenor saxophonist continues his push to redefine jazz’s outer boundaries from the inside. Britt Robson has more:

Casting For Gravity represents McCaslin’s most dogged effort thus far to redefine fusion. [Bassist Tim] Lefebvre is back, paired with powerhouse drummer Mark Guiliana for a potent yet still ruggedly jazz-centric rhythm section, the backbone of the quartet. Versatile keyboardist Jason Lindner occasionally steps out for a spirited solo, but is more influential in helping to determine the texture and in setting and coloring the mood. Along with producer David Binney, a longtime McCaslin ally who also sparingly adds synthesizer, they provide McCaslin with the ability to create grand gestures.

Beth Orton, The Sugaring Season – The lovely, melancholy daze of Beth Orton is always welcome: It’s been too long since her last. Elisa Bray conducted a wonderful, frank interview with Orton about her career, her self-doubts, and more. It’s definitely worth a read. This record sounds as dreamy and troubled as I remember Orton always sounding.

The Hood Internet, FEAT – Internet mashup kings turn out a full-length that’s as schizophrenic and pleasure-focused as their mashup work.

Jodis, Black Curtain  - Minimalist, void-gazing drone metal, built on long unchanging pulses and shot through with bleak intimations of death and dread.

Balmorhea, Stranger – The instrumental six-piece crafts glimmering post-rock pieces that capture a certain windswept, autumnal melancholy

Tim Burgess, Oh No I Love You – Lead singer of the Charlatans pens a rollicking, rocking, wryly charming collection of power-pop gems.

Maya Beiser, Time Loops – The ever-curious and experimental cellist puts together her latest themed collection: a group of pieces by the composer Michael Harrison.

Cecilia Bartoli, Mission – The Italian mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli focuses on the music of a little-known Italian Baroque composer Agostino Steffani. Steve Holtje writes:

Until the release of this album, Agostino Steffani (1654-1728) was pretty much known only to devoted scholars of the Italian Baroque, and as much for his life story – he became an ambassador entrusted with confidential missions, was rewarded by being made a bishop and, later, ascended to such high ranks in the Roman Catholic hierarchy that dignity required him to publish his operas under the name of his secretary (the Vatican did not consider “opera composer” a respectable profession) – as his rarely heard music. Now, however, the advocacy of Italian mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli – which extends even to the surprising cover photo of her made up as Steffani, bald and dressed as a priest – will put him back in the spotlight. About 80% of the arias here have not been recorded before, and the joy of discovery is present throughout.

Heart, Fanatic – Heart return with their first full new official full-length since WHEN. The guitar is sanded-down and gritty, the recording is live-sounding, and the vibe is hard-rocking, tough, and aggressive. It’s vintage 1970s Heart, but without some of the vampy theatricality that spiced some of their hits. Good, swaggering, meat-and-potatoes stuff; it’s nice to hear from these veterans.

Faith Evans, R&B Diva – Faith Evans is still in fine, grainy/smoky voice for this collection of 90s-throwback hip-hop soul.  She seems to be avoiding mainstream pop radio completely, going for a jazzier, more “adult contempo” vibe, and it suits her really well.

DJ Drama, Quality Street Music – So, so many rappers. DJ Drama is a member of what I like to call the “Professional Loud Person” sect of DJ/hosts; he doesn’t DJ in any of the older hip-hop senses of the word. But he remains an amazing curator, bringing  great performances out of basically everyone in mainstream hip-hop and pairing them expertly with well-chosen beats. You will have to pardon all of his yelling on the album, though: It’s  what a Professional Loud Person does.

The Prodigy, The Bumpy Johnson Album – Low-rent, grainy, low-stakes grimy rap from Prodigy of Mobb Deep. He always sounds good, though, and this is a quick satisfying shot, even if it sounds like he recorded it in a week.

Fins, Lawnmower EP – Joyfully sloppy, Westerburgian punk rock from Connecticut  band.

Dave Sumner’s Jazz Picks

Very strong drop this week, tough to get everything in. Lots of adventures in electronics in the Jazz Picks this week. Several piano trio albums, though none of them sound quite alike. Several recordings by the Clean Feed label, of which I rec one, though there were several others I could’ve chosen. Also, a new recording by old friends from the jazz scene, a group that has influenced generations of musicians and listeners alike. Let’s begin…

Adam Baldych, Imaginary Room: New release from violinist Baldych, who gave a new interpretation of jazz violin with last year’s intriguing Magical Theatre. On the current release, he revamps the line-up, most attractively adding pianist Jacob Karlzon (another new addition to the ACT Music label), who has put out some some excellent albums of his own the last two years. Expect long sonorous strings, crisp piano lines, some peaceful atmospherics, and some rock tempos. An outstanding new recording from this young artist. Pick of the Week.

Donny McCaslin, Casting For Gravity: Interesting direction for tenor man McCaslin, who dives head-first into an electronic-jazz fusion that carries a little of jazz fusion past with it as it traverses into modern territory. A quartet that includes drummer Mark Guiliana, bassist Tim Lefebrve, and keyboardist Jason Lindner. It’s a curious mix of ambient atmospherics, trad fusion groove, and post-bop vision. Something quite different, and definitely a solid choice for those of you who like their music with a strong experimental approach. It’s always refreshing to run into musicians who stretch out to make an album like this. Highly Recommended.

The Bad Plus, Made Possible: A piano trio that has spent the last decade offering its own view of the traditional jazz piano trio come back with another that, well, shows they haven’t stop their process of creative discovery. Jazz with rock and pop infusions, this is music that impressively presents music that is both technically complex, but strangely danceable. Sort of. The Bad Plus’s idiosyncratic tendency to shuffle tempos will probably confuse their fair share of dancing feet, but the infectious grooves and original flavor will be all the invitation both Jazz and Indie fans require to hit the download button.

The Chives, Dads: If you’re into the Bad Plus recording just above, then you might also take a liking to this trio of Steven Lugerner (reeds), Max Jaffe (drums), and Matthew Wohl (bass). Squirrely music that switches speed as often as it veers off the expected path. Catchy music, in its own personal way, and in possession of an undeniable sense of fun. Recommended.

Dave Douglas Quintet, Be Still: Not your usual Douglas project. Bringing in a new group of collaborators, and including the vocals of Crooked Still vocalist Aoife O’Donovan, Douglas renders a set of tunes that have more to attract the folk and bluegrass fans than the jazz. The thing is, there is a growing contingent of jazz artists who blend in a mix of bluegrass, folk, and country with some impressive success. Artists like Bill Frisell, Jeremy Udden, Threads Orchestra, Becca Stevens, and Jeff Cosgrove have already shown that there are plenty of soft places where the different musics intersect. Along with Douglas and O’Donovan, it’s an all-star line-up of modern jazz musicians including Linda Oh (bass), Rudy Royston (drums), Matt Mitchell (piano) and Jon Irabagon on tenor sax. Always impressive when an artist like Douglas, who has a history of projects that get filed under Something Different, finds yet another way to do just that.

Floriaan Wempe, Flo’s Flow: Debut album from the young saxophonist. Quartet session rounded out by piano, drums, and bass, and a couple guests on woodwinds. Nice straight-ahead set. Wempe plays with a refreshing lightness that really lets the music breathe when it swings. Also smart to surround himself with some jazz vets (including Willie Jones III on drums). Song “Those Little Moments” is quite addictive. Promising introduction. Find of the Week.

Dave King, I’ve Been Ringing You: Also released this week is the side-project of Bad Plus drummer Dave King. With Bill Carrothers on piano and Bill Peterson on bass, this comes far closer to the traditional piano trio sound than King’s other project. A lovely cover of Ornette Coleman’s “Lonely Woman” perfectly displays this trio’s ability to provide a multi-faceted view of a very tight spot. Plenty of wrinkles and shadings to keep the ears active and pining for more.

Oregon, Family Tree: New album from the quartet that got the whole ball moving on the World Jazz sound back in the seventies. Employing a diverse variety of cultural and ethnically based instruments and compositional approach, Oregon blended jazz with a variety of folk musics for, what came to be, decades of compelling music, most of it best listened to in the quiet times when the sun was rising or setting. Band has changed members over time, but some core people are still there. Paul McCandless, Ralph Towner, Glen Moore, and Mark Walker. Long-time Oregon fans aren’t going to be disappointed with this one. Their sound has changed dramatically over the years, but it never gets stale.

Charlie Hunter & Scott Amendola, Not Getting Behind Is the New Getting Ahead: Interesting duo recording of unconventional guitarist Hunter and drummer Amendola, who has an impressive history working with unconventional guitarists (ie, Bill Frisell and Nels Cline to name just a few). This pared-down recording is rooted in blues as much as jazz, and it gives the album an earthy feel, keeping it heartfelt without ever becoming overburdensome of melodramatic. Two artists comfortable speaking in their own voice, no matter what music they set out to make. Good stuff.

Nik Bartsch’s Ronin, Live: Live double-album from the group whose music is referred to as zen-funk. Piano driven, typically with rhythmic intensity, and grooves as if played by a chamber jazz outfit. Tough for me to recommend this recording to anyone but an avid Bartsch fan. Not much of a departure from past recordings, and the live recording doesn’t really match the tension of the studio recordings. However, I absolutely adore their music, and really didn’t want it to slip by without a mention. If you haven’t purchased anything by Bartsch before, check out Holon, a gem of a recording that goes a long way to illustrating the magic that this ensemble represents.

John Turville Trio, Conception: Odd yet charming piano trio album. Influences traced back to postbop, chamber, and avant-garde without ever being fully beholden to the conventions of any one musical approach. Angular piano lines, bass just as likely to arco as hop, and drums that are more than happy to provide unpredictable rhythmic cross-currents of its own. Neat stuff.

Paradoxical Frog, Union: Trio of Ingrid Laubrock on sax, Kris Davis on piano, and Tyshawn Sorey on drums. Part of a nice drop from the Clean Feed label. Lots of bursts of dissonance interspersed around pauses thick with silence and plenty of disassembled sounds suddenly coming together as one. Each member of this trio can be followed over to other projects for more good music, under their own name and as collaborators on other projects.

Philip Clemo, Mesmer: I’m not claiming this is jazz, though this recording is influenced by it. But this album is hypnotically pretty and I wanted to get in a quick mention about it. Piano, trumpet, electronics, various other guest instruments. Ambient music that should appeal to the Peter Broderick and Nils Frahm crowds.

Nathan Douds Ensemble, Nathan Douds Ensemble: Nice little modern jazz recording. Tunes don’t swing much, mostly meandering and brooding, sometimes a display of fire. But a likable recording by a young ensemble. A couple saxes, piano, guitar, bass, and drums.

And let’s end with our weekly Probably-Shouldn’t-Be-Filed-Under-Jazz rec…

Lymland, Ensamtidsroman: Fuzzy guitars, drifting piano, and electronics, with some clarinet, accordion, and synthesizers. Ambient music. Too pretty.