LOVE IT: Kaki King - Junior.

Sometimes artists try too hard to revolutionize themselves and as a result, the changes they make sound forced. Though some of her new material is familiarly expressive — that enigmatic and mesmerizingly shapeable mass of notes — such is the case with Kaki King’s fifth full-length, Junior (Rounder).


King’s guitar skills are unmatched. After listening to 30 seconds of any track on any album, this is an obvious fact. The woman can finger-pick and fret-tap her instrument into a whirlwind of melodic percussion so well that you have no idea what you’re listening to – she is Rolling Stone’s first female “Rock God,” shredding mere notes on a page into unforgettable sounds. So it’s disappointing that her sparse and incredibly emotive instrumental style is lost on Junior.

Like other albums produced in the aftermath of personal crisis, Junior’s blend of tension, frustration, heartbreak, bitterness, and the ever-distant possibility of happiness overwhelms the tracks – an often claustrophobic miasma of depression and anger too palpable to digest in just one sitting. Plus, King is a player, not a singer, and her undisciplined voice gets an unfortunate spotlight. The gnashing mixture of King’s spitting lyrics and her band’s simplistic, punk-influenced jams like “Falling Day,” “Death Head” and “The Betrayer” – which opens the album on a startling harsh note – remind listeners that even though King’s technical mastery is clear, she expects us to follow her through the five stages of post-relationship grief. Consequently, the album feels bipolar and un-Kaki.

Some of Junior is a welcome addition to King’s repertoire, and it is these moments that make Junior worth experiencing. Her instrumental wizardry is a thing to behold, and the gems (notably “My Nerves That Committed Suicide”) hidden between unimpressive songs should be enough to hook potential fans.

LOVE IT: The Bird and the Bee - Interpreting the Masters, Vol. 1: A Tribute to Daryl Hall and John Oates.

Ah, Hall & Oates. Mullets and mustaches. Synths and hand claps. Emotional lyrics and hearts on fringy, acid-washed jean sleeves.

I was dubious when I heard about a cover album made up of the sacred duo’s most celebrated works. But since I love the Bird and the Bee, I was intrigued by their latest LP, Interpreting the Masters, Vol. 1: A Tribute to Daryl Hall and John Oates (Blue Note Records). Lo and behold, this duo approaches the project with finesse and respect, bringing H&O into The Now with a light, feminine makeover.

Kicking things off is the twosome’s sole original, “Heard It On The Radio” — a track so soaked in synths and awesomely ’80s that I initially thought, “Wow, they discovered a vaulted Hall & Oates song!” No, it’s 100 percent made in 2010, but it cleverly flows with the covers of “I Can’t Go For That,” “Sara Smile,” “Kiss On My List,” “One on One” and the other tripendicular H&O tunes you were secretly devoted to listening to in your youth.

The album’s highlight is “Maneater.” With a modern, synthesized beat and backing vocals by Garbage’s Shirley Manson, this cover is the epitome of all that is right with Interpreting the Masters. Instead of twisting an instantly recognizable melody into something too genre-skewed to be appropriate, the Bird and the Bee upgrade the sassy “Whoa-oh, here she comes” chorus with 21st century technology to create something fresh and accessible. The song can now go out in public again and be accepted by people who weren’t alive when “Maneater” originally topped the charts in 1982.

While I was disappointed that my own personal H&O favorite, “You Make My Dreams,” didn’t make the cut, I was impressed overall. The Bird and the Bee have succeeded in paying a pitch-perfect, sticky-sweet homage to one of the most enduring, secure-in-their-masculinity songwriting teams on the planet.