All the buzz surrounding this band seems a little suspect, perhaps even artificial. Sort of like when a label executive disguises himself as a teenager by wearing a sideways baseball cap and Blink 182 shorts, and stands in a crowd muttering "I sure do love Billy Talent," and "Yeah, they are so hot right now." Okay, I’m reaching here a little, but someone has to call bullshit on some undeserved hype. Granted, flipping on the radio and hearing their single "Try Honesty" feels like a refreshing experience, but it’s relative in context to the rest of the dreck on the air. Listen to the rest of their self-titled debut, and it’s apparent that there’s nothing on there At-the-Drive-In didn’t do (and abandon) years ago. Songs like "Lies" and "This is How it Goes" are pretty much straightforward rock songs with a late ’70s punk edge. Enjoyable enough, but spare us the "hot band from Toronto" hooey.

UNKLE
Never, Never, Land
(Mo’Wax)
*** 1/2

Depending on where you stand, the words Never, Never, Land could evoke either a realm of light-hearted fantasy or the inhospitable wastes of the Australian Outback. The album, Unkle’s second full-length, draws equally from both of these extremes. It’s a lushly orchestrated trip-hop masterwork with a nightmarish dystopia at its core.

The first clue is the spoken word bricolage that begins the album. It’s clear from the disembodied narration that Unkle principals James Lavelle and Richard File intend Never, Never, Land to relate their idea of personal hell. Obviously the five years since Unkle’s debut Psyence Fiction have been peppered with more than a few personal obstacles, the kind that thankfully make for good songs.

"In a State" is euro-house with an indie aesthetic, an unlikely pairing that works quite well in spite of itself. Elsewhere, honourable guests Brian Eno and Jarvis Cocker don white lab coats and drop some blissful synthesizer science on "I Need Something Stronger." The star-studded procession continues as Unkle sample Joy Divison’s "She’s Lost Control" on "Panic Attack," layering the unmistakable beat over dark, pulsating techno. Next up, Robert Del Naja (Massive Attack) and Ian Brown (Stone Roses) front a song each, adding their distinct voices to Unkle’s rich backdrops. The album winds down with Richard File’s gentle, Thom Yorke-like "Inside," an excellent conclusion to a satisfying album.

YOUNG AND SEXY
Life Through One Speaker
(Mint Records)
****1/2

It’s always tempting to say, "I could’ve made that," when speaking of an album that flows so easily and seems so effortless in its delivery, as is the case with Life Through One Speaker. But, when you listen closely, you begin to appreciate the amount of work that was involved in crafting the 10 fine-tuned songs that make up the CD. Every instrument is carefully measured for impact, with a strong emphasis on the piano and keyboards. Lucy Brain and Paul Hixon Pittman sing harmonious, multi-layered vocals about childhood, love, and yearning ("You’re old and bitter/And just out of your teens/But you’re all out of dreams" sings Pittman just before a swelling E-bowed guitar washes over on "Weekend Warriors"). Deeply rooted in late-’60s/early-’70s sound design, this is the kind of album that will sunny up the rainiest day–one that lets itself be savoured slowly and carelessly as any good Belle and Sebastian or Beach Boys’ record. But it’s not all about quiet contemplation. When you expect it the least, Young and Sexy are able to give you a swift, rock-out kick in the ass halfway through "One False Move," proving they’re not only about acoustic sing-a-longs. With a superb crystal clear vintage sound, Life Through One Speaker is an album of undeniable beauty in its apparent simplicity.

RANDY NEWMAN
The Randy Newman Songbook Vol 1
(Nonesuch)
**** 1/2

Not to personalize this too much, but I always kinda wished Newman would dispense with the protective L.A .session musician sheen he had throughout the late ’70s/early ’80s, let that New Orleans piano bounce around, maybe cut loose a little. This isn’t meant to be a dig, but listening to Newman throw his white blues croak, those nasty lyrics, over the likes of Waddy Wachtel, the Eagles, and Jim Keltner was always a pretty disconcerting thing, at least to anyone raised on snarky punk values. Lo and behold and it comes to pass: Newman rerecords 18 of (presumably) his favorite songs, just him and a Steinway piano, shorn of orchestration or whatever members of the interchangeable Toto/Steely Dan axis were passing through the studio that day. Sounds great too; the Fats Domino rhythm rolling under both "It’s Money That I Love" and "Rednecks," ironic considering the latter’s subject matter, the yearning "In Germany Before the War," stately movie theme snippets from Baltimore and Ragtime. No radical makeovers, just the bare essence of the tunes. They still shock, too, even after all this time, and the jokes have gotten deeper, sadder. "Political Science" ("Let’s drop the big one and pulverize them."), admittedly a blunt and unsubtle number, holds up better 20 years on; the reflective "Marie" ("I’m drunk right now baby, but I’ve got to be, or I never could tell you, what you mean to me.") aches hard, as does "Louisiana 1927," which rasps like a cold wind through the soul. The hits ("Short People," "I Love L.A.") are passed up, some lesser numbers ("Living Without You," "Great Nations of Europe") are shoehorned in; it’s an equitable trade. Now that I think of it, this is probably the most perverse "greatest hits" album ever released, which almost compels me to give it five stars on conceptual grounds alone. Almost.

JUNKIE XL
Radio JXL–A Broadcast from the Computer Hell Cabin
(Roadrunner/Vivendi Universal)
***

Having resurrected the King with a remix of the little known ditty "A Little Less Conversation" and declined a request to reinstate the equally defunct Beatles–whose reign over the UK chart he thus ended–Dutch DJ Tom "JXL" Holkenborg has reverted to his full moniker and fully indulges his love of ’80s alternative pop.

Playing along like a faux pirate radio broadcast, in a manner vaguely reminiscent of Kraftwerk’s Radioactivity (1976), though perhaps more akin to Paul Oakenfold’s star-studded Bunkka (2002), Radio JXL recasts Gary Numan as a trance star and coaxes Terry Hall to revisit the ska of the early Specials. Furthermore, Peter Tosh, Solomon Burke, and Chuck D are all handsomely framed within the trademark big beat house of Junkie Tom.

The most memorable contributions by far being those of "Fat Bob" and "Evil Dave"–Robert Smith and David Gahan deliver their performances of the year. Which easily makes up for the three contributions from Republica’s Samantha "Saffron" Sprackling and the somewhat dull accompanying chill-out disc, making this a great treat for everyone tired of recycled hits collections.

MANISHEVITZ
City Life
(Sonic Unyon/Jagjaguwar)
****

As the days grow shorter, the air gets crisper, the leaves fall to the ground and are blown away by the wind, you may find yourself walking the streets of the city with a spill-proof mug full of warm fresh-brewed coffee, savouring the last few days before the obligatory hibernation period when we retreat to the comfort of home and office, letting the routine settle in before a springtime that’s much too far away.

A great way to truly enjoy those few precious moments is to slip Manishevitz’s City Life into your portable CD player and go for a stroll. Full of quirky pop tunes and upbeat refreshing attitude, City Life might be able to turn any decaying autumn town into the most extraordinary place. With a great understanding for dynamics, a wonderful combination of simple guitar riffs, horns and flutes, and a singer that sounds like a cross between Robert Smith and Joe Strummer, Manishevitz encompasses both the spirits of Brit and indie-pop without sounding like they’re trying too hard. They just churn out wonderfully constructed songs that provide a great backdrop to the dimming of the light that signals another long winter.

PO GIRL
Self-titled
(Jericho Beach Music)
*** 1/2

At first listen, Vancouver’s Po Girl is a solid, if boring, folk duo. But, subsequent spins reveal something rootsier than Ani Difranco, earthier than the Wailin’ Jennys, more urban than Gillian Welch, and less raw than Buffy Sainte Marie, making Po Girl’s East Hastings’ brand of activist folk difficult to dismiss. The clarinet and electric guitar initially makes it tempting to write off the tunes as watered-down-elevator-acoustic, but become forgivable as the vocal harmonies ("Gone In Pawn" and "City Song") and smart lyrics ("What Sad Old Song?" and "Bad Luck Day Baby") come to the fore. Former Be Good Tanya Trish Klein’s musicianship is as solid as her credibility, and although Allison Russell’s voice is a tad bit too languidly jazzy for a lover of roots music’s usual rawness, it is true and sweet and well suited for the mellow, slow-day-on-a-front-porch sound that Po Girl seems to be aiming for.