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.

LEAVE IT: The Postelles - White Night EP.

As evidenced by The Postelles’ four-song EP, White Night, the spunky New York indie-rockers seem to think a set of drums, guitars and a Brit-pop vinyl collection are all it takes to make music. Au contraire. Making music takes three important steps. At least.


One: Worship pioneers of your designated musical genre — in the Postelles‘ case, the Police, the Kooks, the Strokes, and similar New Wave-experimental phenomenons.

Two: Learn to play an instrument and/or sing. Or master Auto-Tune. Or come up with a reasonable defense for your deficiency, like, “Hey, we’re gritty, the off-key singing is a metaphor for cold government corruption and garage-rock chaos is our blanket.”

Three: Fueled by your idols and muses, experiment until you find your own sound. Someone listening to your music should not completely confuse you with someone else. Imagine the embarrassment of the “Who Wore It Best” pages in People. Two A-listers should avoid arriving at a swanky event in the same fuchsia Valentino gown. Likewise, a band’s guitar reverb and syncopated back-beat should pay homage to their genre while reminding people why they are listening to said band and not the masters who inspired them. Vanilla Ice might have gotten away with that heinous rip-off of “Under Pressure,” but rock aficionados are still in an uproar.

As I enjoyed the four frisky jams on the Postelles’ EP, I mindlessly assumed the disc was a side project of a Vampire Weekend member. It’s not, though the band does hail from NYC. White Night (out now on Capitol) has three decent enough tracks and a pleasant remix, none of them inspired enough to become a stand-out single. Yes, my foot was tappin’, and yes, I caught myself muttering along with the repetitive choruses (”sleep on the dance floor, sleep on the dance floor”… as if this were ever possible, by the way, unless you’re at a retirement center polka party). But the music is so derivative that half the time, it really felt like I was listening to the Kooks.

The Postelles have clearly mastered the first two steps of good music-making, but until they begin to sound more unique, they’ll have trouble carving a niche out for themselves in music history.

LOVE IT: ALO - Man Of The World.

Animal Liberation Orchestra (ALO) needs to get famous already. It’s frustrating to see a band with this much potential sucked under the industry rug by underexposure. Hopefully, the third release of the self-acknowledged funkateers, 2010’s Man of the World, will find ALO reaping the rewards they deserve.


The opening and closing tracks of Man of the World are a rip-roarin’ good time – full of playful harmonies and sing-a-longs that often come off as a sort of Wilco-Wallflowers-Moody Blues jam party. But somewhere in the middle, the songs take a introspective turn, as if the guys were having a grand old time until someone got hurt and made them briefly re-evaluate their songwriting priorities. These four lush tracks will likely land on your “Meditative Road Trip Playlist.”

ALO is signed to Jack Johnson’s Hawaii-based Brushfire Records, so ample doses of indie sunshine are a given. All four members take turns on lead vocals, and they genre-jump from one multi-layered song to the next, touching on piano pop, reggae-blues-funk, down-home folk and more. This dexterity speaks volumes about their musical range without ever becoming distracting. And Johnson’s subtle co-production influence can be heard, especially as when makes a guest appearance the intimately sparse “Gardener’s Grave.”

While more structured than previous ALO albums, Man of the World is still essentially the fruit of a jam band, a spontaneous musical birth that must must be jaw-droppingly incredible to experience live.

ALO has a spark of uniqueness missing in so much of today’s music, and Man of the World is a must-have. As they’re about to riff-off on an instrumental jam in “The Champ,” they all yell, “Listen to my band!” And you’ll want to.

LOVE IT: Ian Axel - This Is The New Year.

There is no such thing as a perfect album. But Ian Axel’s debut, This is the New Year, comes pretty doggone close. I haven’t loved an entire album this much since I discovered Harry Nilsson’s 1971 life-changer, Nilsson Schmilsson. Along the same notes as that legendary whiz, Axel tinkers and pounds on his piano keys, and sings about waltzing ghosts and life’s simple pleasures.


Axel’s astonishing talent has been too long hidden in the underground of NYC’s Lower East Side, too long hoarded by those lucky enough to frequent his intimate, Ben Folds-esque performances around the city. This man needs some national love, pronto!

Like the power poppers who paved the way before him, most of Axel’s New Year is predominately piano-driven. What sets Axel apart is his constant experimentation with pop-rooted melodies. Track by track, he fluctuates from sassiness to sincerity with foot-stomping porch-party jigs, touching instrumental waltzes that will shred your heart into confetti, and sweeping sing-a-longs akin to the Dresden Doll’s self-described “Brechtian punk cabaret” (minus the masochistic lyrics and screaming).

When the album’s titular single was released as a free download on iTunes, I replayed it over and over again until I knew it by heart and was belting out the lyrics louder than my car stereo. Axel’s call to “say everything you’ve always wanted, be not afraid of who you really are…live for now” is so full of earnest optimism that you can’t help but get pumped up by the clean-slate possibilities of New Year’s Resolutions.

If it makes you gag to think of the sunny side of life, or of one man’s love of PB&J that’s so strong the sandwich makes it onto two tracks, steer clear of Axel’s music. But if you are a fan of witty and memorable power pop, your life will have been meaningless until you experience This Is the New Year. (Self-released January 5, 2010).

LOVE IT: Jason Derülo - Self-Titled.

Artists radiowide have re-embraced the time-honored boy band tradition of mixing catchy pop melodies with high-quality R&B vocal abilities. Apparently, someone out there has finally reached the shocking realization that holding the same note for three minutes isn’t talent. It’s boring. Singers who can’t sing are being thrust out of the spotlight (does anyone really miss Sean Paul?), and those award-worthy talents who might have a chance at winning are now taking their place on the charts.


Enter Jason Derülo. You may recognize him as the artist behind the Billboard-topping single, “Whatcha Say.” Read this review again in six months, and you and the whole world will know exactly why Derülo is going to be huge.

First, he collaborated with the great Imogen Heap to record the aforementioned song, which samples heavily from Heap’s own “Hide and Seek.” It’s a beautiful pop-meets-R&B synergistic experience and more than 2 million digital copies of the song have already been sold. Dare I predict stardom for Derülo and too-long-in-the-shadows Heap?

Second, his songs are instantly addictive, melodically rich and unforgettable in every way. No wonder 93.3 FLZ plays “In My Head” every 15 minutes.

Third, he convinces us that all those boy bands we grew up shamefully listening to with our Girl Scout friends actually had something, and that we shouldn’t be embarrassed about belting out a Backstreet Boys chorus or two even if we’re in our mid-20s. Maybe an actual melody, a legitimate set of pipes, an unapologetically glossy background track, and hip-shakin’ choreography are the way to go.

So next time you cringe about your time as an *NSYNC devotee, flip on the radio and you’ll see just how many people are loving pop/R&B hybrids. Emerging artists like Jason Derülo are the jumper cables to the battery of pop music. (Jason Derülo is due out March 2 via Beluga Heights)

LOVE IT: Matt Hires - Take Us To The Start.

The warm, breezy pop of Tampa native Matt Hires isn’t just something to hum along to on your way to the beach. Hires’s debut album, Take Us To The Start (F-Stop/Atlantic), is cleverly-crafted and interesting, full of sincerity and catchy melodies highlighted by his enveloping, gravelly tenor.

The album’s single, “Honey, Let Me Sing You A Song,” begins quietly then bursts into the chorus as Hires begs his lady not to run away, to listen to his words (as they come out wrong). It’s sweeping and expressive, but — as cute as Hires is — watching the completely unrelated music video kinda warps the experience. (Check it out after the jump.)

Maybe more recognizable to TV fans is “Perfect Day” and “Turn The Page,” songs featured on ABC’s Private Practice and Grey’s Anatomy. Like several artists “discovered” by TV shows, the exposure was likely just the break Hires needed to get recognized by someone important in the industry.

“You In The End” is as shimmery and mellow as would be expected from a tune co-written by Sara Bareilles, and her sultry soprano is a nice compliment to Hires’ own unique tenor.

“You Are The One” sounds suspiciously like a Tristan Prettyman number, the tinny drum beat and slow, bouncing guitar pleasantly identical to Prettyman’s style, seeming to scream, “Let’s sit on this dock ’til we run out of s’mores!”

The whistled beginning of “Out Of The Dark” sounds like a gang of banditos riding over a hill, and lyrics like “Have I been a sinner/A lover or killer…In these violent days/I only want to be where you are” prove I’m right. Hopefully his homesick hombre got home to his señorita.

Hires appears in his hometownd and offers two performances this time around — this Sunday, August 30 at Vinyl Fever, and the following Friday, September 4 at The Orpheum in Ybor. Be sure to experience this man’s talent live.

LOVE IT: Little Dragon - Dream Machines.

Electronica, ’80s pop, hip-hop, traditional Japanese music, jazz, salsa — Sweden’s Little Dragon draws from this mishmash of influences to create their own uniquely individual sound.

The foursome’s self-titled debut garnered them much praise and attention, and their follow-up, Machine Dreams (Peacefrog Records), is sure to extend their reach even further. A Japanese lead singer from Sweden singing in English? Can’t get much more globe-spanning than that.

Machine Dreams is a great model of how an album should be put together: an equal blend of upbeat and chill numbers that spotlight the band’s most worthy assets. In Little Dragon’s case, those assets are strange but memorable melodies and singer Yukimi Nagano’s soft yet arresting voice. She never sings far above a whisper, but it forces you stop what you’re doing and devote some attention to her music.

Frustratingly subtle nods to their influences abound and make the aural experience all the more satisfying when you finally recognize where you’ve heard that sound before. “Looking Glass” brings to mind The Police and Men At Work, “Fortune” can be best described as a 2009 take on a 1989 ballad, and “Feather” is straight-up “West End Girls” by Pet Shop Boys. The chimes on “Thunder Love” embrace Nagano’s Japanese roots, while songs like “Never Never” and “Come Home” reveal modern, beat-heavy songwriting.

Little Dragon is an undefinable band with unbelievable originality and style. Check them out.

LEAVE IT: Our Lady Peace - Burn Burn.

Four years after Healthy in Paranoid Times, Our Lady Peace finally returns with its follow-up and seventh studio album, Burn Burn. While the songs are technically perfect — glossy, melodic, radio-worthy — compared to the band’s earlier albums, Burn Burn seems more concerned with marketability than with cleverness and originality, a surprise considering the album’s an entirely independent release with no labels execs to please.


The first single, “All You Did Was Save My Life,” is standard upbeat pop-rock fun — if you block out the lyrics. Baffling lines like “You looked at me as you walked in the room / Like the Red Sea, you split me open / Somehow I knew these wings were stolen / All you did was save my life” leave me wondering whether vocalist Raine Maida’s sarcasm is for real, or if he’s genuinely appreciative of being saved by his pseudo-angel. The music video for the song, which features 90210’s Shenae Grimes being chased by her apparent savior, is even more perplexing.

(Embedding of the video has been disabled by request, but if you’re interested, check it out here: “All You Did Was Save My Life” video.)

None of the songs on Burn Burn are life-alterningly memorable, but some are pretty great. “Refuge,” “Dreamland,” “Escape Artist,” and “Monkey Brains” have earned their spots on my iPod. The rest of the album unfortunately falls by the wayside.

LEAVE IT: Crosby Loggins - Time To Move.

Delilah called. She wants her "Brokenhearted Boyfriend" radio playlist back.

Crosby son-of-Kenny Loggins will not be making music history any time soon. His debut album, Time to Move, was slickly produced to blend in with the Top 40 mainstream. There are a few pretty tunes here and there, but overall his attempt is uninventive and stale.

Loggins seems to be straining to find his niche. Varying from pseudo-country to power pop to minor-key diary entries, he never comes across as genuine. While bebopping about having a "Radio Heart," he affects his voice like BSB alum Nick Carter. Not exactly a role model for vocal control. And apparently having John Mayer as a guitar soloist on the title track wasn't a good idea, because Loggins practically stole Mayer's whole persona when he wrote "Heaven Help Me."

Based on Loggins's lackluster performance as he tries to convince someone that she is "Everything," I just don't think he'd know true love if it bit him in the pants and gave him rabies.

I love a tinkering honky tonk piano, but the 21-second snipet of cleverness on "You Want To Be With Me" isn't enough to give the song a second listen. Like most of the songs on this album, Loggins seems to be obsessed with letting some girl know she is stupid not to be with him because he's better than other guys and is a mess without her.

Wait, what? He's not a mess? He's not waiting on "Nobody No More," so maybe....oh, nope, he still is a mess. A country/Bossa Nova miasma strums along as he twangs about not going to the same bars and not having polished silver anymore because his lady moved on. Very upsetting, both for him and for the listener who hoped for more from the son of the legendary man with loose feet.

Loggins could have promise. He has technical skill and a pleasant voice, but unless he can hone his talents and decide on a more distinctive sound, he doesn't deserve to make it in The Biz.