Sheryl Crow
Detours
(A&M)
There are a few really good songs on Crow’s sixth studio album, but things take a turn toward preachiness, lefty cliche, self-pity, shrill moralizing and general suckiness after track three. Crow has had high-profile hardships—breast cancer, love trouble, tarring at the hands of right-wingers—so one can’t begrudge her working it out in song, but she’s best when she keeps it shallow, writing tunes about having a good time. Crow gets out of her depth when tackling heavier subjects—radiation therapy, the war in Iraq, and gas shortages—as she does here.
—John Adamian
Les Savy Fav
Let’s Stay Friends
(French Kiss)
The latest album from Brooklyn’s Les Savy Fav opens with a song about a band who "made this noise that people couldn’t stand. And when they toured all across the land, the people said ‘No, no, no!’ But the drummer said, ‘Yes, yes, yes! This tour is a test.’" That "yes!" resounds throughout this ripping indie rock record. Let’s Remain Friends embraces the messy pleasures of relationships and sex, the bitter certainties of politics and rent, and insists on hopefulness even in this "plague age." It’s hard to imagine people resisting this band’s unrelentingly hummable songs and infectious joie de vivre. And if the guitar riffs occasionally seem a tad familiar, Tim Harrington’s poetic-and-tactile lyrics and impassioned delivery make such caveats feel downright small-hearted.
—Jeff Jackson
Basia Bulat
Oh, My Darling
(Rough Trade)
With a voice that can be both sultry and vulnerable, and backing that swerves from spare ukulele to swelling string accompaniment, Basia Bulat may be able to attract fans of the grandeur of the Arcade Fire as well as those enamored of the emotional intimacy of Norah Jones. Bulat is a multi-instrumentalist. Her debut feels like music made by a classically trained sophisticate on a bohemian bender, a private-school girl slumming with street musicians. Bulat’s quavering voice may jar a bit, but it’s not a bad vibe. Listen for spirited hand-clap percussion throughout.
—John Adamian
The Magnetic Fields
Distortion
(Nonesuch)
Since their masterwork, 69 Love Songs, Magnetic Fields’ Stephin Merritt has indulged in side projects, soundtracks and show tunes. His band’s follow-up was underwhelming and overproduced. Distortion is less a return to form than a wicked left-turn. Perversely inspired by The Jesus and Mary Chain, this most demure ensemble heaps layers of fuzz and echo atop Merritt’s fiendishly clever concoctions. The abrasive production rescues the songs from precocity without sacrificing their pop appeal. The strong batch of tunes catalogs zombie escorts and a nun’s stripper fantasies while dispensing encomiums like "Sober, life is a prison/ shitfaced, it is a blessing." It’s over too soon and, for the first time in years, leaves you anticipating Merritt’s next move.
—Jeff Jackson
