A really good description of The Nein's music was provided for me by a guy I ran into at one of their shows. He said it was like "Weezer on acid." Not bad…not bad at all. The Triangle-based trio, or in the case of this incarnation quartet, has just released a pretty impressive full-length entitled Wrath of Circuits through Canadian label Sonic Unyon. Singer, guitarist and chief lyricist Finn Cohen has an almost Elvis Costello voice and just as pointed words. There's nothing about chicks or love in these ten songs but rather charged subjects and cynical concepts, i.e.: "Foreign Friendster," in which Finn explores the concept of people like Saddam Hussein or Osama Bin Laden joining the online community with their own blogs. This song also features my favorite line: "I am a man of the people / And the people are food." I guess the content is along the lines of Rage Against the Machine in sensibility but maybe a little more subversive. This is thoughtful stuff, but you can still just get off to it. Joining Cohen are bassist Casey Burns, drummer Robert Biggers and noiseman Dale Flattum. Flattum is the pivot man who joined the other members of the band to add samples, sounds and noises that provide the regular three-piece of guitar, bass & drums with more layers and depth of sound that really set their music apart from your average rock band. There's an indie sensibility, but that's being almost simplistic. The fact that they can be categorized as indie is more a nod to their individuality than that they fall in with garage bands or other bands more typically found these days under that heading. For the sake of these guys, I'd be more inclined to say that "indie" stands for "individual" more than "independent." If I were to have one critical thing to say about Wrath of Circuits it would be more in terms of production than the music itself. There are places where it is obvious that Flattum's parts were simply plunked down on top of the existing track rather than more thoughtfully integrated sonically. But this is only evident in a few parts on a few tracks and doesn't at all detract from the overall effect. This issue is also corrected in their shows (when a good sound man is involved anyway) making them incredibly impressive to see live. Since they don't have a huge machine behind them, it's hard to say whether Wrath of Circuits will get the attention that it deserves, but I'm here to do my part by telling you that it's a really solid release in what has already turned out to be another good year for music. So go hunt it down and give it a whirl. (And if you wanna get a more personal glimpse of the band, check out the interview we have up right now.) [www.thenein.com]

Upon first listen, if you find yourself thinking: "I've heard these songs before," you're not alone. Ed Harcourt sings from the same songsheet as his contemporaries Rufus Wainwright and Josh Rouse. While Mr. Harcourt is not as consistently dramatic as Mr. Wainwright, nor as playful as Mr. Rouse, he does fall somewhere in between. Strangers opens with heavy eclectic distortion that slowly dissolves into a radio friendly pop tune, "The Storm is Coming." The first track is the most experimental Ed Harcourt chooses to showcase. "Born in the 70's" is the first single from Strangers, as it's the catchiest sing-a-long on the album. While "Love Not Let Me Down" and "Strangers" mimic the first two tracks, the rest of the songs seem to mimic each other. Most of Strangers is piano-driven ballads that come across as humble, hypnotic and warm monologues. While Strangers does not distinguish Ed Harcourt from his peers, it does make him sound more comfortable in his own shoes. Just like Badly Drawn Boy, Ed Harcourt balances the dramatic with the sincere primarily using soft guitar and piano. The result: An album well suited for a late night drive through the fog of London. [www.edharcourt.com]

I spent too much time in the mountains. Maybe that's why, although I will readily admit that Cloud Cult mastermind Craig Minowa is incredibly talented and musical, I really don't find much on Advice From the Happy Hippopotamus that appeals to me. But hey, I can't stand the Polyphonic Spree either, so take it for what it's worth. From what I understand, Minowa is a kind, peace- and environment-lovin' dude who likes to make trippy-indie rock. And that's what he's done here. The vocals sound a little like a cross between Hot Hot Heat and Ima Robot initially, and the harmonies are actually pretty interesting. But the music is definitely has that "I've been living in the mountains with this earthy girl" kinda vibe. And if including quotes from Neil Young songs ("What Comes at the End") isn't hippie enough for you, then, well, how about Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young-esque harmonies ("That Man Jumped Out the Window") and even banjos ("Lucky Today"). However, in an odd twist, I actually detect a hint of Radiohead as well. Not what I was expecting really but quite nice. The first half of the album is pleasant enough, with one track flowing into the next in a very pleasing and lackadaisical fashion. There's a little jam-band action going on in the form of out-takes; whether staged or organic, I can't say. But the second half of the album just deteriorates into a less cohesive mass. In fact, at the end of the disc, several tracks turned out to just be silence. I don't know about you, but come on man, don't waste my time with silence on an album. There's a time and a place, but this is not it. And it doesn't work. But of course, that leads to the "hidden tracks." How about you just cut out the silence and put the damn tracks on there clearly? As I said, there are stretches at the beginning that are very pleasant and even had me happily listening along. I could recognize and appreciate the effort and the artistry employed to effectively transition and hold my attention. But then the flow stopped and the hippie vibe got too strong for my taste. All art is subjective. I'm afraid that Advice From the Happy Hippopotamus just isn't my kind of music. If you like, or even love (as I'm told some people do), Polyphonic Spree and that kind of free-flowing organic peaced-out rock, then this album is your kind of thing. Otherwise, not so much. [www.cloudcult.com]

I'm not sure what to think of Scary Kids Scaring Kids. I'll take a wild guess and say that the name comes from a Cap'n Jazz song, and that's the only similarity between the two to be found. The first thing that really jumps out at me though is that this band really doesn't seem to stand out above the rest of this wave of "screamo/emo/post-adolescent rage" bands (or whatever the hell you care to call them) that have taken over for pop-punk as the top choice for "rebellious" high-schoolers across the nation. And when I say that, I'm talking about songwriting; with this band, that part isn't all that strong. However, the guitar work is quite excellent, though it doesn't redeem the band's failure to take on a style of their own. Whiny, mediocre vocals (that sound like Armor for Sleep or Mae) over psuedo-metal riffing isn't my idea of a good time. But, unfortunately it's become a formula used time and time again and Scary Kids Scaring Kids does a better job than most. Then again, that really doesn't make The City Sleeps in Flames worth purchasing, or even hearing, as far as I'm concerned unless you're a huge fan of Underoath or any of the countless bands that their success spawned. Even the song titles scream "generic," ("My Darkest Hour," "Faith in the Knife," "The Bright Side of Suffering"), and it's just too hard to overlook all the crap on top to really bother digging deep to find something worthwhile here. [www.scarykids.com]

I'll tell you what I was doing the first two times I listened all the way through to the latest Turin Brakes record – not because I think you'll find the intricacies of my daily life riveting but because I think it will give a pretty good indication of the vibe on JackInABox: It was Sunday morning, and I was doing laundry, sipping coffee, reading and enjoying having a cat in my lap. So no, this isn't hyper, get-off-your-ass-and-shake Britpop. This is, even on the more rockin songs ("Red Moon," "Asleep With The Fireflies"), a very relaxed, chilled out, almost folksy record. Particularly on tracks like "They Can't Buy The Sunshine," the production is very pure. You can hear the pick just grazing guitar strings, giving it a really organic feel. Perhaps the whole "organic" thing comes from the fact that on this, the third release from the former choirboys and childhood chums (Ollie Knights and Gale Paridjanian), the duo decided to set up shop in their own studio, a converted stable in Brighton... hmmm. Something to think about. Overall, I find myself more drawn to the music and sound of the songs and not paying that much attention to the lyrics, but one track that could have stood for a little more lyrical exploration is the title track. At first listen, this was my favorite song on the disc, but after listening to it a few times over, it's just completely repetitious. They say the same verse and chorus over and over and over for the duration of the song. Now, sometimes this works (see "I Wanna Be Adored" by The Stone Roses), but more often than not, it takes what could have been a really good song and makes it slightly disappointing. Overall, JackInABox ends up as a collection of lovely, fragile songs with harmonies and melodies that will have you humming and nodding lazily along no matter what day of the week it might be. But it falls just a bit short of having me fully engaged. [www.turinbrakes.com]

Vaux exists in limbo, that weird space between musical genres. You could easily put them on a heavy-rock bill, send them out on Warped Tour or find them at hardcore show and they'd fit right in. Though, don't think of it as a weakness, by any means. This Denver, CO band plays blistering, hardcore rock, in the same vein as Refused, but strained through six different personalities. And on Plague Music it's evident Vaux is continuing to come into its own. Though only a 5-song EP, Plague Music is a good representation of where Vaux has been and where they're going. The same relentless attack of "Celibate Good Times" can be found throughout their debut, There Must Be Some Way To Stop Them. Tracks like "Raid!" and "Dearest Darkest" show a movement towards a darker more layered, wall-of-sound style. While with "Sex Will Happen Tonight," the band tries their hand at Eastern-influenced melodies and slower tempos. To balance out the scales, Vaux tacks their most explosive song yet as the last and title track. Plague Music is exactly what an EP is meant to be. It's a quick overview and hints at the next transition. It whets the collective mass' appetite for the next release. And it assuredly (and sometimes unfortunately) leaves fans wanting more. [www.vauxrock.com]

It is difficult to say where Chris Glover fits in, and I think that’s to his liking. After all, he claims to write music that he “wants to listen to but can’t find.” Evidence of this is his Interscope debut, Hell Isn’t Even That Funny, which, if anything, is difficult to classify. His most consistently present style is white boy rap, but he doesn’t possess the lazy, slacker-cool of Beck nor does he cop an angry at the world act a`la Eminem. Instead, he manifests more of a pop singer/songwriter feel. Unfortunately, rapper/songwriter doesn’t sound all that appealing, and for much of Hell Isn’t Even That Funny it isn’t. Glover isn’t big on structure. While most of the tracks feature rapped verses followed by sung choruses, the placement of everything else is pretty much up for grabs. While this can make for a difficult listen, it’s the beats that lay the foundation for this mess that are the real problem. They just aren’t strong enough to hold things together or keep you connected through the rough spots. Sometimes they’re downright confusing, as in the off-kilter to a fault “Pinocchio,” but when he tightens his focus there are some brilliant payoffs. The mix-tape-ready “Stand on Your Chair” finds much success employing a steady melody, a big-hook chorus and some impeccably placed horns. The drowsy gospel hum of “Holy Moses” is also worth the trouble despite its mismatched surroundings. It’s telling how the odd-duck of the bunch is the shoe that seems to fit Glover the most comfortably. Aside from its faults, it is a remarkable accomplishment when you consider that Glover wrote, performed and produced the album all by himself. Considering that and the few bright spots on his debut, it’s easy to imagine something outstanding coming from him down the road. He clearly has some talent, but you have to dig to find it on Hell Isn’t Even That Funny. [www.chrisglover.com]

Mother Inc. is Yvonne Force Villreal and Sandra Hamburg, two longtime friends running in the same NYC fashion and art circles who decided to turn out a dance-pop album reflecting their shared loves of looking fabulous and being in demand. Sounds pretty uninteresting and self absorbed until you hit the catch: They’re both mothers in their late thirties. More Patsy and Edina than the Paris and Nicole types you were probably thinking of. On their self-titled debut they jump from subjects such as eating disorders, cosmetic surgery and being a MILF (its sooo five minutes ago) through monotone, Blondie-like rap-speak that sits comfortably atop synth-heavy beats provided by the production team of Mike Skinner and Spencer Product (a.k.a. Black Moustache). Their age and combined life experience add some depth to the subject matter, but on songs like “Deep Into the Surface” and the sugar daddy ditty “ATM no TLC” they get so superficial (“me and my machine got into a fight / he nickel and dimed me just out of spite”), I must invent the word "metaficial" to accurately describe it. They even stop for a brief “Commercial Break” to plug the importance of being delicious. Uh huh. In a way, I feel the need to silence my own opinion and leave this review to being strictly descriptive, since it’s the kind of CD that has absolutely no business spinning in my drive. I’ve got that whole XY chromosome thing going, and if filed into my library, this CD would alphabetically reside between Motorhead and Mr. Bungle. Needless to say I don’t quite understand the concept of “being delicious.” If you are in fact delicious, this may be your bag, but if you’re currently donning an Emperor tee, stay far, far away from Mother Inc. Not that you would have read beyond the first sentence. [www.motherincmusic.com]

I’m not going to claim for one moment to be an expert on The Raveonettes, so you’re just going to have to take this review at face value…. What I can tell you is that what they have done on Pretty In Black is really quite lovely. Call me crazy, but when someone says “Danish band,” thoughtful old-timey ‘50s-styled music isn’t exactly the first thing that pops into my head, but hey, who am I to argue? All I ask is that if a band is going to do something, they do it well – and this is something that causes me no issue here. The strolling harmonies on “The Heavens” are sweet and dreamy, calling to mind wide-open skies and cowboy songs. “Seductress of Bums” sounds like it came straight out of my parents’ prom songbook. Hell, on "Ode to L.A.," they even scored getting Ronnie Ronette (The Ronettes) to contribute her trademark voice to the track. How's that for street cred? “Love In a Trashcan,” the first single, brings their retro sound deliciously into the modern age with a cool rock-a-billy guitar and irresistible go-go beat. (…and for those interested, a friend tells me this is more along the lines of what they have done in the past.) They even take an updated stab at the standard “My Boyfriend’s Back,” adding enough sweet seductiveness to make you wonder if she’s really been faithful after all. “Twilight,” while maintaining the general sound overall, adds the twist of an almost techno dance beat to surprisingly disturbing lyrics: I’m not your friend but your foe / I’ve got so much time to please myself / I don’t count you in at all. The result is one of my favorite tracks. The rest of Pretty In Black just continues the etherial mingling of Sharin Foo and Sune Rose Wagner’s vocals and exquisitely executed melodies in a style that would make dragster/hipster fans very happy. The vocals actually remind me a lot of Dean and Britta in Luna – they are just that beautiful and that perfectly balanced. While the vibe on Pretty In Black is definitely more than just a nod to the good ol’ days of bobby socks and poodle skirts, The Raveonettes really do bring something to it that makes it distinctly modern. I can’t quite my finger on it, but sometimes the intangible quality of a thing is what makes that thing so special. [www.theraveonettes.com]

San Francisco's Cubby Creatures have been releasing music in some incarnation or another since 1997, following in the tracks of Elephant 6 alumni such as the Apples in Stereo or the Olivia Tremor Control. However, the Cubby Creatures have veered off that beaten psyche-pop path to explore territory in a noisy, though excessively accessible environment, pushed into new boundaries by Emily Davis' effortless violin work, and strengthened by the group-wide songwriting efforts. After the Deprogramming comes in as the band's second full-length, and their first release since 2002. Overdue, yes, but these songs span the past two years of the band's existence, and for Cubby fans, the long wait will have been well worth it. The thirteen tracks found here could be considered the sprinkles on the cupcakes of 2005 indie rock. Well, if there was such a thing...you get the point. The band finds themselves creating fuzzy throwbacks to 60's pop, not a far cry from the Zombies or the Kinks, and while the Cubbies don't pull off the sugary vocal harmonies of their influences, the clever violin work, combined with the lighthearted glow of the songs in general, make the album (or at least the band) a definite highlight on your list of bands to check out. Standouts from After the Deprogramming include the frolicking pop of "Pawn Takes Queen," and the calling out of indie elitists on "Song for the Secret," but the album in its entirety is a blissful excursion into smart indie rock that avoids the condescension found so often in this scene. [www.cubby.net]

Am I wrong? I thought that I saw these guys play a couple years ago, and I remembered liking them, and somewhere deep in my mind, I compared them to groups like At the Drive-In. Or maybe that was just a band called Rescue? Are they one in the same? I do not know, and I’m lost on that. What I do know is that whichever band has released the Phone Numbers EP is never welcome in my stereo again. These guys from New York claim to have influences ranging from Slayer to Mineral, but they merely come off as another band attempting to ride the coat-tails of groups like Taking Back Sunday, Brand New, and too many others to name. There are whiny vocals displaying the heartbreak and turmoil that tears down the post-adolescent male and wishing the utmost harm against that bearer of pain, with lyrics like “I can’t say that I love you, but I’d love to see you die.” Maybe I’m taking the lyrics completely wrong, but either way, this band lacks originality and fails in trying to mix things up a bit by showing their “tough” side with some metal breakdowns and deep growls that would make Tom Araya ashamed that he could have been the influence for such a thing. Note: If a band has a song called “Hallmark Card for Heartbreak,” you’re better off passing them up. [www.therescue.cjb.net]

From their piano-pop sound to their eventual whittling away to near solo-acts, Fluid Ounces parallel the work of Ben Folds in many ways. Fluid Ounces do still operate under the same moniker despite thinning down to one man (Folds eventually dropped the “Five”), namely Seth Timbs, who plays virtually every instrument outside of the drum kit on The Whole Shebang (the title a reference to his own contributions perhaps?). Though immediate reactions will invariably point to Folds, Fluid Ounces are actually a little closer to Howlin’ Maggie due to their more playful, house band charm. Though this charm is undeniable, it wears thin on a professional recording, where it may otherwise captivate for hours in a live setting. This music is truly meant for a crowded back bar. That being said, most of the songwriting is good enough to make a lasting dent in the listener’s head despite the flaw-magnifying effect of the studio. The opener, “Paperweight Machine,” places Timbs’ bouncy piano atop a ska beat, resulting in ultra-catchiness. Other standouts, such as the sexually mischievous “Fool Around” (“I know those legs are good for something / They go all the way to the ground / Wise men say only fools rush in / But I'm ready to fool around”), the defeatist love story “Nobody Loves You (Like You Do),” and the Hee Haw ditty “Selma Lou,” will have your toes-a-tappin’ no matter the setting. Ultimately, The Whole Shebang isn’t the type of album that’ll end up in your changer for weeks on end, engulfing you for 45 minutes at a time. Instead, it can deliver a quick dose of good-time piano rock on command, so keep it nearby if you often find yourself in need. Timbs’ writing and accomplished musicianship should keep him in the game for a while longer, so you’ll be in luck if these doses become habit-forming. [www.fluidounces.com]

Every now and then, a new band comes along that takes pop to a new and exciting level with innovative interpretations and originality. This is not one of those times. The new record from Chicago’s Plain White T’s, All That We Needed, is a rehashing of Jimmy Eat World without the "oomph" really. It’s the kind of music that will probably get heavy rotation on MTV Hits – you know, that new channel aimed at younger fans, like 13 year olds? And to be honest, I can’t seriously imagine anyone over 17 really getting into this stuff. If there are such people, they’re probably no one I would want to date. Now, now, I’m not going to just sit here and badmouth the boys without any balance. They are giving it a good shot, and there are actually a few tracks that have something to them. For instance, I liked “Revenge,” a nice little driving pop/rock song that hits on a theme that never gets old really. And isn’t it always best served cold? So the bottom line is that there is some potential here, but my advice would be for these guys to regroup and work on finding their own sound. This one’s been done to death. [www.plainwhitets.com]

I’ve always been a bit of a sucker for concept albums. Being the sort who prefers to listen to an album the whole way through if I’m going to hear a single second, I view any recurring themes or common threads as a chance for a sweetened payoff. It adds another layer of storytelling to the mix that often, at least in the better cases, gives off a cinematic feel. When done right, the songs act as scenes that ebb and flow to the overriding arc of the story. When done wrong, you have Armor For Sleep’s What to Do When You Are Dead. What to Do When You Are Dead follows the story of a man who commits suicide (the title of the first track, “Car Underwater,” gives a pretty clear idea how) and becomes a remorseful ghost, wanting only to come back for the girl who wronged him. In “The Truth About Heaven,” he warns: “don’t believe that its better to leave everything behind / don’t believe that the weather is perfect the day you die.” From that point forward he hides in basements, peeps in her window and steals a walk along side of her when she thinks she’s alone. It appears that death has released his inner-stalker. This is all well and good, but the fact that almost each track is cut from the same emo-anthem cookie cutter makes it difficult to stay interested from beginning to end. You get halfway through the album before a song breaks this mold (the dreamy, drum machine-paced “A Quick Little Flight”) and have to wait for the last track for it to happen again (the rousing “The End of a Fraud,” complete with soulful Dark Side of the Moon style backing vocals). This flat dynamic is what really sinks What to Do When You Are Dead as a concept piece. It only retains such classification in a lyrical sense. I suppose if you threw out the story line, you might be left with a decent enough emo-punk album, but Armor For Sleep clearly have higher aspirations. Aspirations that appear to exist beyond their reach. [www.armorforsleep.com]

The newest issue of Entertainment Weekly was waiting for me in my mailbox yesterday, and as I perused its pages, I found a section about “prog” rock and how bands like System Of A Down and The Mars Volta were making music weird again. I couldn’t agree more. Weird is the perfect word for this album. The article went on to say that Frances The Mute was “surprisingly listenable,” and with that, I couldn’t disagree more. Being a fan of At The Drive-In, and of anything original, I really want to like this band. Really, I do! But they just make it so damn hard. Even the track listing on this disc is different. Consisting of twelve tracks, the first is divided into four sections (a,b,c,d), and tracks four through twelve form two larger sections, one consisting of five parts, the other of four. The titles of these songs will seriously have you scratching your head. For example “Miranda That Ghost Just Isn’t Holy Anymore: B. Pour Another Icepick,” is the label applied to track number five, and what it means, I have no earthly idea. Weird track names are just fine; hell, I am even a fan of long and unique album and track names, but the real oddness comes when you hit play. De-Loused In The Comatorium, the bands debut, was a quirky and random mix of several different styles and prospectives, but it held together reasonably well enough to sit through, and each track had a melody or discernable mission. This time around, all that is lost and the spaciousness and aimlessness fully take over, to the point where the disc is almost hard to get through. The first four tracks take nearly 45 minutes to get through, and almost ten minutes of that is noise. Tracks end and begin with long two minute areas of guitar noise and atmospheric sounds that destroy any momentum or cohesiveness the disc had going. When the band actually plays music, it is pretty dang good, but just when you start to feel there is something you can grasp onto, the disc jumps to another moment of oddity, and you are left wondering what the hell is going on. In the end the disc just feels weird for the sake of being weird and falls flat on its red velvet covered face. I am all for moving art forward, but this disc really just left me wishing the guys would skip the crap and just sit down and play songs - no fluff, no noise, no weirdness in the way. [www.themarsvolta.com]

By the time a band reaches its third release, some things have been established. Their debut was obviously good enough to garner some attention, and with a second release, any sophomore jinx was overcome. Now the band is expected to really hone their craft and trim any fat the previous era had, and to that end, The Decemberists are a smashing success. Picaresque is a sweeping vision of an album, rolling onto the shores with freshness, vision, and above all else, an ear for solid songwriting. Although not a concept album, the disc definitely has a thematic feel to it. From the beginning, the stories of the old world and bodies of water build the oceanic theme that fills the disc. Fittingly, the album ebbs and flows beautifully from fast to slow, from upbeat to somber. “The Infanta” opens things up with a rolling drum beat that really provides a nice backbone to the song, while the very catchy and mid-tempo “We Both Go Down Together” slows things down just a bit against a string arrangement that really provides the song with depth. The rest of the disc follows the pattern of the sea. The waves crash with “The Sporting Life,” “16 Military Wives” (the most instantly infectious track on the album), and “On The Bus Mall,” while the more serene moments are provided by the solemn “Eli, The Barrow Boy,” the hauntingly beautiful “For My Own True Love (Lost At Sea),” and the exquisite “The Engine Driver.” The two crown jewels are the two longest tracks on the disc, proving that the band knows when it has a good thing. “The Bagman’s Gambit” starts slow and acoustic, speeding up for the chorus sections; the ebb and flow like a microcosm of the disc. “The Mariner’s Revenge Song” is an old Eastern European feeling epic with a beautifully melodic chorus and a tight balance of male and female vocals to it. The acoustic gem “Of Angels and Angles” caps things off by striping away all excess to reveal the heart of the album. This is one of those rare ambitious discs that succeed on almost every level. The imagery and storytelling that liter the lyrics provide the feeling of watching a play unfold through your earphones. The old world feel of the melodies and stories speak to the universal themes they explore (revenge, love, death, pain). Sometimes in the world of experimentation and vague lyrics, the stories fall through the cracks. It is refreshing to find such a daring disc focus squarely on building upon the stories it tells and using the sounds and feelings it creates to facilitate those tales, and the result is an exquisite album worthy of praise and purchase. [www.decemberists.com]

Remember when you were in college and there were all those people you didn’t know personally but recognized from around campus? Some of these people intrigued you; others made you sexually excited, and then there were still others that soured you for no apparent reason. Case in point: Origin Vol. I by The Soundtrack of Our Lives. I’ve been aware of this Swedish act for awhile, but I had never heard their work until this review. I assumed T.S.O.O.L. was an indie-pop band, but to my amusement, I discovered they resemble a power guitar classic rock revival with modern electronic sampling instead. And, it’s generally good stuff! The album begins with the intriguing, mid-tempo, head bobbing “Believe I’ve Found” but quickly morphs into a Keith Moon/Pete Townsend rocker with “Transcendental Suicide.” The fury continues into “Bigtime,” a driving guitar shout-a-long. And it’s not until three songs later that “Midnight Children” cools the fire with an alternative swagger akin to a Blur creation. While “Lone Summer Dream” is an acoustically light and playful indie-pop track, the subsequent track,“Royal Explosion, Part II,” resembles a Cream explosion at Royal Albert Hall. And those are the sexually exciting people you see around…no pun intended. The last quarter of the album is where Origin Vol. I begins to go sour. Except for the axe slinging “Age of No Reply,” the last four tracks are boilerplate, uninspiring and without direction. These are the people you see all the time and don’t like without a tangible reason to back up your distaste. Sometimes you get tired of seeing the same people all the time…and that’s a good enough reason for me. [www.thesoundtrackofourlives.com]

Josh Ritter and David Hasselhoff are similar…somewhat. Both have bushy hair and both are loved on the other side of the Atlantic. I also believe Mr. Hasselhoff has made a record or two. I’m sure other striking comparisons exist but for the sake of time (and pride), let’s focus on their European infatuation. Just face it - Europeans are simply more tolerant and much less uptight. 4 Songs Live was recorded in Dublin, and while the Irish would probably like to think of Ireland as its own continent, they are the open-minded Europeans I regard so highly, just a little more intoxicated. Speaking as one who has seen Josh Ritter live in concert, I found Mr. Ritter’s stage presence to be the intoxicating effect. Throughout the entire intimate show, Josh not only performed is well-crafted folk songs as precisely as he recorded them, but he appeared genuinely humbled and appreciative to be performing his songs in front of a public audience. And the graciousness I experienced is clearly identifiable on this live recording. The popular track “Kathleen” from Hello Starling ignites the Irish faithful first as evident by the crowd sing-a-long. The song concludes with loud applause, and Josh is caught speechless: “Thank you to you for coming, this is…(chuckle).” Those brief words rushed all memories of my Josh Ritter live experience back. The next two tracks, “Golden Age of Radio” and “You Don’t Make it Easy Babe,” slow things down. While the former pays homage to the legacy of Patsy Cline and the Grand Ole Opry, the latter is Josh Ritter’s closest resemblance to Bob Dylan lyrically and musically. The line: “I’m your locked doors worst knocker. I’m your curtains best friend. I’m trying not to love you but you don’t make it easy babe” is the most memorizing. This song begins with a spoken prelude that comments on the insanity of American politics and ironically dedicates the song to Governor Arnold. Unfortunately, the live EP concludes too soon with the speedy toe-tapper “Snow is Gone.” The song is punctuated by impassioned vocals and B-3 Hammond solos. If you can’t already tell, I’m a Josh Ritter fan. Go buy his studio albums. Go see him in concert. Buy this album if you can’t download the songs or he never tours in your neck of the woods. The four songs Josh Ritter selects are a nice representative sample of his repertoire, but just when he has you salivating for more the album abruptly ends. [www.joshritter.com]