Pop/Rock
Arctic Monkeys
“Favourite Worst Nightmare” (Domino)
The biggest band in England at the moment, the Arctic Monkeys cultivated a rabid following with Internet releases and incendiary live shows, then scored the fastest-selling debut album in U.K. history with the 2006 release “Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not.” The follow-up gets in and gets out in less than 38 minutes, propelled by pummeling tom-tom beats, terse guitar riffs and Alex Turner’s sharply observant lyrics. It’s a heavier, harder and less instantly ingratiating than the debut, and even less likely to expand the band’s following in the U.S., where it’s still only a cult act. If there’s a quibble, it’s that Turner is almost too smart for his own good. His dry, witty observations about the wayward nightlife of his barely adult peers are more short stories than songs. He crams a lot of words into tight spaces, and the memorable choruses arrive grudgingly. Only when he lets his vulnerability flow in the low-lit ballads “Only Ones Who Know” and “505” does the music allow the band, and the listener, a chance to exhale. Otherwise the pace is breathless, as if the band were afraid of what might happen if it slows.
— Greg Kot
Avril Lavigne
“The Best Damn Thing” (RCA)
Now 22 and married, Canadian small-town girl Avril Lavigne has sold 24 million albums and provided the soundtrack for just about as many teen slumber parties. Her third album is assertive without coming off as bratty. It also debuted as the No. 1 album in the country, with nearly 300,000 sales in its first week. Lavigne’s at her best lashing out at the boys who done her wrong: “I’m better off without you anyway,” she exults on “I Can Do Better.” As self-empowerment anthems go, “I Can Do Better” benefits from the type of perky mall-punk that is the specialty of Sum 41, the Toronto band that includes Lavigne’s husband and co-producer, Deryck Whibley. The performance is genuine and unaffected, even if the formula is pretty well-worn. It’s also by far the best song on the album. Her forte is slickly produced, up-tempo guitar pop, but this time most of the songs don’t measure up; the title song even stoops to recycling Toni Basil’s “Hey Mickey” cheerleader shtick. This album that would’ve passed muster if Lavigne were still a teen. But three albums deep into her career, she needs to start growing up.
— G.K.
Feist
“The Reminder” (Cherry Tree/Interscope)
Leslie Feist has choreographed Spanish-speaking sock puppets for electro-rap terrorist Peaches. She played guitar in Toronto rockers By Divine Right, and remains a member of Toronto indie-rock collective Broken Social Scene. Then in 2005, she released an album that showcased a completely different facet of her musical personality, the insinuating ballad-heavy “Let It Die.” It went on to sell 400,000 copies worldwide, and spun off the hit “Mushaboom.” The follow-up doesn’t stray far from that winning formula; it’s primarily a showcase for Feist’s tissue-soft melodies and especially her pretty voice, steeped in the sophisticated understatement of bossa nova and cabaret. The focus this time is on Feist’s originals, rather than the cover songs that dotted the debut. Recorded with her band after more than two years on the road, it has a warm, you-are-there intimacy; it sounds like the band recorded it in their pajamas, and they often did, in a house-turned-recording studio on the outskirts of Paris. “Park” even includes the sound of chirping birds and “The Water” is so delicate the band seems to recede from the singer’s mournful vocal. When the singer finds a rare groove, she rides it well; the should-be hit “I Feel it All” is an undeniable shuffle, and the traditional “Sea Lion Women” is an ebullient, rhythm-based diversion.
— G.K
El-P
“I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead” (Definitive Jux)
A founding member of underground hip-hop pioneers Company Flow, and now the proprietor of one of the most respected indie-rap labels in the land, Definitive Jux, Brooklyn-based rapper El-P pulls of a neat trick: He’s a sonic rebel who also embraces hip-hop’s past. He epitomizes in many ways the virtues of liquid wordplay and lacerating beats that are hip-hop’s golden-age ideal, yet his sound collages are futuristic, with few obvious references to the soul and funk samples that underpin so much hip-hop. He employs guest artists, but their cameos rarely resemble the gratuitous star turns of most rap albums. Trent Reznor, members of Mars Volta, and Cat Power are integrated into the contours of what is essentially a dystopian nightmare, a hip-hop companion to Reznor’s recent Nine Inch Nails album, “Year Zero.” Like Reznor, El-P never met a beat he couldn’t scuzz up. He coats everything in grime. Many of the characters are encountered while in motion: choking rush-hour traffic in “Drive,” a subway train in “Tasmanian Pain Coaster,” a doomed airplane on “Flyentology,” a prison ship on “Habeas Corpses (Draconian love).” But they’re going nowhere, fast. The mixes are claustrophobic, furthering the notion these characters are sucking down their last breaths in a polluted, violent city.
— G.K.
Country
Blake Shelton
“Pure BS” (Warner Brothers)
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While Blake Shelton’s wit doesn’t come through in every tune on his latest effort, there are a few knock-outs that’ll let listeners in on his funny side. On “The More I Drink,” Shelton manages to make the slippery slope of alcoholism downright charming, admitting that “If I have one/I have 13/No there ain’t no in between.” And on the “The Last Country Song,” with help from George Jones and John Anderson, his honky-tonk cred goes up a notch. But on ballads, such as “She Don’t Love Me,” he showcases his raspy belting ability with lyrics that aren’t quite as tear-inducing as on past albums.
— Alison Bonaguro
Miranda Lambert
“Crazy Ex-Girlfriend” (Sony BMG Nashville)
Good thing she’s a bad girl. Because that’s the voice country hasn’t had enough of. Think little girls are made of sugar and spice? Nope. It’s “Gunpowder and Lead,” says Lambert. Think your ex is nuts? Not as much as a “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.” But after all that hard-core posturing, Lambert can still pull out the Opry in her voice, on songs such as “Dry Town.” And she polishes up a 1978 Emmylou Harris hit “Easy From Now On” with her saucy twang.
— A.B.
Gretchen Wilson
“One of the Boys” (Epic )
Carrie Underwood may be the girl on top. But Wilson reminds us what platinum albums sound like when they come from a woman’s real life. Wilson wrote nine of the 11 songs, and she’s still not shy about her roots. On “There Goes the Neighborhood,” Wilson freely admits to having “pitbulls and pistols” backed by a healthy dose of piano and fiddle. And on “If You Want a Mother,” she threatens her spoiled man with what a mother she can be. But if there’s ever been a soaring ballad about a one-night stand with a stranger, “Pain Killer” is it. After years of country songs about drowning pain with whiskey, it’s a trashy twist to hear one about using a man instead.
— A.B.
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