Various Artists
Spirits in the Material World: A Reggae Tribute to the Police
(Shanachie)
Wait a second. A reggae tribute to the Police? I thought the Police were already sort of a reggae tribute to themselves. Anyway, this is pretty hit and miss. Mostly miss. The Police are great, but without Stewart Copeland's assertive drumming, Andy Summers' atmospherics, and (it hurts to admit it) Sting, these songs really don't stand alone. With artists like Lee Scratch Perry, Toots, Gregory Isaacs and Joan Osborne (don't ask), one might reasonably expect more. Though UB40's Ali Campbell offers an admirably romantic take on "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic."
—John Adamian
Various Artists
The Roots of Chica: Psychedelic Cumbias from Peru
(Barbes)
The subtitle tells the story. If the idea of "psychedelic cumbias" peaks your interest, then The Roots of Chica won't disappoint. This electric hybrid was born in the late 1960s when working class bands combined Andean melodies and Cuban rhythms with surf guitars, farfisa organs, moog synths and wah pedals. These 17 songs don't offer mind-melting fusion excursions, but they do showcase a winning utilitarian freakiness. The psychedelic flourishes keep the funky grooves from sounding generic while the earthy tunes ground the experiments in something other than novelty. This music is so immediately catchy it's mystifying the sound has taken so long to be excavated.
—Jeff Jackson
Taint
Secrets And Lies
(Candlelight/Rise Above)
Taint is onto a very good thing and that thing would be their ability to avoid easy categorization. Sure, in practice they are a heavy rock band with leaden riffs to make a stoner proud, but they temper this with a sharp dose of punk aggro and the brave chops of a prog band. It's a thrillingly unpredictable listen. Hell, they even make the flute rock on "What The Crow Saw." If that's not an accomplishment, then I don't know what is. Secrets And Lies will blow your mind while making your jaw drop. Highly recommended.
—Thomas Pizzola
Rachael Sage
Chandelier
(Mpress Records)
The back cover of Rachael Sage's latest release depicts her in a gaudy gown, sporting a shade of red hair not found in nature. It's emblematic of her quirkiness and New York artistic temperament, but how one reacts to her music will depend largely on where the line is drawn between art and artifice. Her piano-based confessional repertoire often draws comparisons to Nora Jones and Tori Amos, though she's not as gifted as the former or as adventurous as the latter. When Sage airs out her voice she is deeply compelling; when she swallows that air, she's just another generic pop singer. A few arrangements also cross the border between dramatic and histrionic. There's good material here, but like the gown and hair, sometimes Sage tries too hard to be cool.
—Rob Weir
