Orchestre Poly Rhythmo de Contonou
Echos Hypnotiques: From the vaults of the Albarika Store 1969-1979
(Analog Africa)

It's hard to believe that Orchestre Poly Rhythmo de Contonou has been unknown outside its native Benin for so long. In 2008, Analog Africa began an exhumation of their massive catalog with the spectacular The Vodoun Effect. That compilation revealed the Orchestre to be one of the funkiest and most inventive African bands to commit their sound to wax. Remarkably, this second volume may be better than the first. Cherry-picking 15 tracks from over 200 recorded in Nigeria, Echos Hypnotiques is filled with propulsive dance rhythms, thundering breakbeats, nimble arpeggios, and searing one-note guitar solos. The band effortlessly mixes styles, melding funk, psychedelia, Afrobeat, Latin, and native rhythms into its own heavy, heady and hypnotic style. Carefully remastered and packaged with a 44-page booklet, this compilation offers an ideal introduction to an important band. Anyone who likes Fela Kuti will flip over the Orchestre.  —Jeff Jackson

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(Silly Old Songs Productions)

Known primarily as a member of Canada's Wintersleep, Paul Murphy has joined forces with his brother Michael to craft an album's worth of alternative folk songs. The project, which started out as a birthday present for their mother, maintains a distinctly lo-fi atmosphere. The arrangements are sparse. Most cuts consist of nothing more than acoustic guitar and echo-laden vocals. Electronic flourishes slip by in the background. Scratchy guitar sounds mar the tracks "Tracers" and "Warning." Elsewhere sound effects prove distracting. Lyrically, some songs prove monotonous. Still, there is a lot to appreciate. Too bad the record is so short—just under 28 minutes.  —Michael Cimaomo

Michael Buble
Special Delivery
(Warner/Reprise)

To be fair, Michael Buble does have a great voice, equal parts butter and gravel, just like the jazz doctor ordered. The problem with the guy is that he's just so damn pre-fab; it's as if he were grown in a test tube from cells gathered from a Frank Sinatra cigarette butt circa 1950 and the rim of a brandy snifter left on a piano by Harry Connick, Jr. circa 1990. He's a cute white boy who's being packaged as God's gift to jazz, women and hair product endorsements and, in the end, is really only re-re-rehashing old songs with an airbrushed twinkle in his eye. I guess it's not his fault, but he doesn't exactly seem to be shunning the spotlight. "Look out, old Mikey is back," he blurts at the end of his rendition of "Mack the Knife." Check, please.  —Tom Sturm