Small Faces
Ogdens' Nut Gone Flake - Deluxe Edition
Sanctuary

In its time, this was considered groundbreaking, in that it was one of the first "concept" albums. A boring and overused term for some time now, but it still holds a strong place in the late '60s Brit Pop lexicon, right along side "Pet Sounds," " Sgt. Pepper" and the grand daddy of all concept albums, "Tommy." Although here in America, we merely know it for the pure pop pleasure that is "Lazy Sunday."

Aimed at collectors, this deluxe edition pulls out all the classic stops; 3 disc set, stereo mix, a previously unavailable on CD mono mix and a documentary from BBC radio on the making of. Lest us not forget, packaged in a circular metal tin that harkens back to the original concept art of the 33 1/3 album, designed to resemble a vintage tobacco tin.
-- Dr. Robert

Wayne Hancock
Tulsa
Bloodshot

Is August too early to start talking "album of the year?" Because so far, Wayne "The Train" Hancock's Tulsa is the recipient of more (and louder) airplay than anything else 'round these parts. The record is an homage to Western Swing genius Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys. Given that motivation, the record is appropriately filled with soaring steel guitars, thudding upright bass and imagery of rig jockeys and lonesome cowboys. But Hancock avoids the pitfalls that would turn him into a nostalgic novelty act and instead inhabits these songs, giving them a sense of immediacy and honesty that's hard to resist. You can imagine Wills himself would give a hearty "Haw!" shout-out to Hancock, to which we can only add "Boy Howdy!"
-- Brian J. Bowe

Scott H. Biram
Graveyard Shift
Bloodshot

With all the phony bluesmen in circulation firing their bass players so they can sound more like Robert Johnson AND the White Stripes, one-man band Scott H. Biram puts the awe back into authentic by imbuing even his silliest songs with a revival tent urgency that dares you to ignore him. Whether he's testifying that the devil is poking at his heart with a "Long Fingernail" or extolling the virtues of dropping the hammer on "18 Wheeler Fever" or complaining how hard he's got to "Work" ("These lifeless limbs bring in little pay") with a world weariness that could make Nick Cave seem like a cock-eyed optimist and a voice that sounds like Sky Saxon crossed with Popeye, he's always gut wrenchingly believable. He puts his one-man membership through its paces--country, gospel, punk and even grindcore-check out the hilarious closer "Church Babies," where he does his Cookie Monster best to scare you into his Church of the Ultimate Fanaticism.
-- Serene Dominic

Wolfmother
Wolfmother
Modular/Interscope

Big and beefy, extra meaty '70s stoner metal based on heavy blues-rock. Comes complete with D&D cover art, tales of white unicorns and where eagles have been and a song about a woman called "Woman."

"She's a woman, you know what I mean."

Too bad they exhibit the traits of bands of yore that weren't worth rehashing. Even sadder is their inability to exhibit the ones that matter. This is Zep without the immense talent and Sabbath-lite, no bite with their bark. When they're not taking cues from your old man's favorite band, they're stealing from the White Stripes ("Apple Tree"). Think photocopy of a photocopy of the original -- you may be able to see it, but you're not impressed.
-- Luke Hackney

Steve Miller Band
Fly Like an Eagle (30th Anniversary Special Limited Edition)
Capitol

I guess we've all hadenough time to figure out that Steve Miller would choose flight over invisibility as a superpower, yet you couldn't pick him out of a crowd if he was buying a skid of Wild Mountain Honey at a Costco near you--not unless he was wearing a Stratocaster and had the Star Wars "Fly like an Eagle" logo whacking into his head like a wild softball pitch. It all part of his humble omnipotence, which you can hear him explain on the accompanying Fly Like an Eagle (30th Anniversary Special Limited EditionDVD. Y'see, he needs to walk among us to know exactly what the people want to hear. OK so his sonar hasn't worked for, uhhh, 28 years ("Macho City" anyone?) but he had it all figured out in '75-'76 when he was coming off a number one hit with "The Joker" albeit and knew we'd all want another one in that groove. Listen to the demos included for your perusal and you'll hear a man possessed into rewriting 'The Joker" with the lyrics to both to "Rock' n Me" and "Take the Money and Run" --it's as if he kept slipping slipping into the future to read Billboard and see what the titles of his next hits would be.

While it might've made historical sense to have bundled this deluxe edition with the Book of Dreams tracks recorded at the same time that have the same moogy maneuvers couching them, besides ruining the 30-year released date timeline, you'd have missed out on hearing what a weird album Eagle actually was, with pleasant filler like his covers of "You Send Me" and "Sweet Maree" that Miller's slick contemporaries Fleetwood Mac and the Eagles would've probably kept off. And the 12 tracks don't quite flow with the seamlessness of Rumors or Hotel California or even Steve Miller's Greatest Hits 1974-1978 --the jump from the first three moog/space linked tracks to "Serenade" is fairly traumatic--but even that doesn't matter much now. Nearly everything on here got enough FM rotation in its day to seem like a standalone hit now and you're probably gonna just dump all these down into an iPod and separate all Miller's hard work like Sophie's Choice Nazis. Still not sure how flying Steve's gonna save the world but imagine what kind of world we'd have if he didn't try? More shoeless hungry babies, sure, but maybe less Boz Scaggs records too!
-- Serene Dominic

Hacinenda Brothers
What's Wrong With Right
Proper American

It was in these very (Web) pages that Reigning Sound frontman Gegg Cartwright pronounced Southern soul songwriters Spooner Oldham and Dan Penn as "the saints of my religion." That's a view this writer subscribes to wholeheartedly. So naturally, it was exciting to hear that Tucson's Hacienda Brothers were working with Penn on this record and collaborating on a type of music they called "Western Soul." Unfortunately What's Wrong With Right possesses far too much twang and not near enough wang dang doodle to stir this listener's soul.
-- Brian J. Bowe

New York Dolls
One Day It Will Please Us To Remember Even This
Roadrunner

From: Jeffrey Morgan
To: Brian J. Bowe
Re: New York Dolls

I can't begin to tell you how INCENSED and INSULTED and BETRAYED I am about this abysmally horrid new Dolls album. If I were a younger man--say, your age--I would rant and rave for 1,000 words about every misguided flaw it has. But I won't even give them my valuable time of day except to say, if you want to slot it in as an 11th hour addition:

Too little too late.
-- Jeffrey Morgan

Virtue
Testimony
Darkchild Gospel/Integrity Gospel/Columbia/Sony Urban

What Bond did for classical music, these chickaroos'll do for gospel. If you can imagine En Vogue in their Sunday best telling you "no you're nevaah nevaah gonna get it" until you get Jesus, you have some idea where Virtue's coming from. Luckily these gals' organ pipes and Uncle Freddie's varied production keep this latest collection of rhythm and praise from feeling like too much of a good thing. While the majority of Testimony's quiet storm grooves ably substitute holy rolling for the standard tumble on the couch, it's Virtue's holy hip-hop that breaks new higher ground. Things get downright nasty sounding on "1-2-3-Praise!" as guest rapper T-Bone orders everybody "get yo' praise on" while Virtue exclaims "lift your hands and act the fool". On "Thank You Jesus," the girls revive the phone call motif of early '70s soul hits to trade stories on how they almost got killed but divine intervention saved them. You almost expect the Son of Man to get on the line and talk like Barry White! And that's high praise indeed, ya heathens.
-- Serene Dominic

Ronnie Wood
Anthology: The Essential Crossexion
EMI UK

Well, when our boy Ronnie isn't hiding in coconut trees with Keef, he can be found playing some fine guitar.

From The Birds to The Creation, The Jeff Beck Group to Faces and Rod Stewart, right into the Rolling Stones, 20 great tracks featuring Woody as, guitarist, bassist, songwriter, collaborator and pint raiser. "The Girls Are Naked" by the Creation, "Plynth (Water Down The Drain)" by the Jeff Beck Group, right through the best of Rod's solo work with Ron's contributions. As slim as his co-songwriting credentials are with the Stones, the pair featured here are still solid: "Everything I turning To Gold" and "Black Limousine," the later featuring just one of Woody's many trademark slide workouts.

The solo Wood kicks off with the greatly overlooked duet with his future LV, the superb "I Can Feel The Fire." He makes light in the liner notes about swapping with Mick for "It's Only Rock 'n' Roll." "Big Bayou" and "If You Don't Want My Love" from his brilliant second solo record, produced by Face mate Mac and featuring a more classic R&B flavor, mostly due in part to Bobby Womack's presence. As is always the case with anthologies, they always seem to leave us wondering where our favorite tracks are. Conspicuous in their absence: "Outlaws" and "Priceless" from 1234.

The big deal here for some might be one of two "new" tracks. Recorded about 3 years ago, during sessions for his last solo record, with that other big nosed fellow from the Faces. "You Strum And I'll Sing," is a fine song indeed, with a hint of brotherly love and a taste of the good times, but it is more Unplugged... and Seated than Every Picture Tells A Story. Although Woody hints at future collaborations, "Setting up the precedent for things to come with me and Rod..." For die-hard Faces fans like myself, that precedent could use a bit of Mac and Kenny to get some fire under it.
-- Dr. Robert

Johnny Cash
American V: A Hundred Highways
American

The Complete Sun Recordings 1955 - 1958
Time Life

For a man who spent his entire life adorned in black, Johnny Cash sure exuded a lot of purifying white light everywhere he went--and the fact that I actually typed "exudes" and had to go back and change the tense only proves that Mr. Cash's spirit remains indomitable, with these albums being the alpha and omega of his extraordinary life.

Time Life's three disc box set The Complete Sun Recordings 1955 - 1958 is where this long journey began over half a century ago. Everything Mr. Cash recorded for Sam Phillips is here in one definitive package, with each unadorned remastered song having received such a dynamic sonic upgrade that even the previous Charly reissues are left behind in the dust.

But it's Mr. Cash's last album, the humble and selfless A Hundred Highways, which will have the most profound impact on your soul. Not since a dying Freddie Mercury recorded Made In Heaven in the face of his own imminent death has there been a more courageous and dignified album.

Listening to A Hundred Highways is like watching a crepe draped funeral train slowly make its way across the country, nobly traversing vast barren stretches of land in a poignant procession.

If Mr. Cash's sparse acoustic rendition of Gordon Lightfoot's "If You Could Read My Mind" doesn't bring a tear to your eyes, then you don't deserve to hear the rest of this exemplary album. But keep listening anyway because, as Mr. Cash has been telling you all his life, it's never too late to be saved. Amen.
-- Jeffrey Morgan

Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Show Your Bones
Interscope

New elements have been added to the mix, Nick Zinner's guitarmy is on leave for a portion of the album and the band as a whole have unfortunately sided more with the sound of their biggest hit, "Maps." There is little to no reckless abandon here, aside from the too-short "Honeybear" and raucous romp "Mysteries," which could have been this short had the rest of the album taken a bit more flight. A few of the "softer" moments here do reveal Karen O's sincerity and decent songwriting abilities. Unfortunately they're buried in an album that as a whole is far too polished and clean for such a dirty, dirty girl.
-- Luke Hackney

Guttermouth
Shave the Planet
Volcom

The Huntington Beach punks' tenth album is the first full length since getting kicked off a Warped Tour for antagonizing the other bands during their sets and countering their efforts to get out the punk voters by wearing pro-Bush T-shirts. But Guttermouth are no neo-cons--the displeased title track makes it painfully clear that "Americans take a fist in the ass... Americans eliminate the Middle fuckin' Class." My Chemical Romance, the band that lobbied hardest for getting Guttermouth yanked off Warped, is wickedly lampooned here on "My Chemical Imbalance." Vocalist Mark Adkins inserts a hilarious spoken word passage that makes no secret of his disdain for navel gazing emo fans, their same sex parents and the anti-depressants they need to make it out of their bedroom. Guttermouth will say any dumb thing to insult the intelligence of the audience that turns out regularly to spit on them. On "The 23 Things That Rhyme With Darby Crash," they actually count false rhymes and repeats including "Darby Crash" and still stops short at 22! What bastards!
-- Serene Dominic

Elf Power
Back to the Web
Rykodisc

Back to the Web, Elf Power's just-released CD, mixes power folk six- and 12-string acoustics with beautiful pop melodies and hints of much gorgeous music that went before. What Elf Power brings to mind are the Moody Blues and Arthur Lee's Love with perhaps doses of George Harrison and Byrds. There's also a hint of the medieval English folksong brought into the rock age by Pentangle, Bert Jansch, and that whole crew.

Back to the Web also recalls the full-bodied acoustic pop folk of the middle and late '60s. Elf Power's "Peel Back the Moon, Beware" reminds of Glen Campbell's cover of John Hartford's "Gentle on My Mind." The name "Glen Campbell" ain't exactly an everyday occurrence in CREEM, I wager. He was among the least offensive of the pop/folk/country singers of the time. Appropriately, Back to the Web's lyrics are filled with nature imagery and broad thoughts, which at the time a wise old jazz singer friend called "nouveaux vague." Elf Power's Andrew Rieger talks about "dark, orchestrated folk rock."

The Elf Power arrangements slide effortlessly from acoustic guitars to lush orchestrations spiced with enough instruments of various kinds to stock a musical instrument store, as well as full-tilt rock surges topped by melodies that you can't get out of your head. The unforgettable "All the World Is Waiting" is so suggestive of the Flaming Lips' well-constructed, infectious melodies that you expect confetti cannons to break out at any moment. My only complaint is that it ends abruptly and jarringly, way too soon, as if the band ran out of bytes.
-- Mike Jahn

Spider Loc Presents Bangadoshish
G-Unit West Special Edition

Finally, a rap album that offers one-stop hating --namely for the Game, who's referred to throughout as "bitch boy" through by various members of the G-Unit Crips. Spider gets a lot of mileage out of pointing out Game's butterfly tats and male stripper history. But it's former mentor 50 Cent who sounds like he's having the most fun playing The Game reaper. Answering back Game's straight-to-DVD documentary Stop Snitchin', Stop Lyin' (which included a footage of Game trespassing on Fiddy's Connecticut compound), Fiddy offers "Not Rich and Still Tryin'." In between hyena laughs, Fiddy reminds Game that even his own brothers corroborated that Game was never in a gang and never even in a coma. Interscope shelved Game's DVD, a fate which could await his next CD as Fiddy reminds his ungrateful protege that "you got to send the music to the boss . Ha, ha, ha, ha, that's me the boss." Game over indeed!
-- Serene Dominic

P.J. Olsson
Beautifully Insane
Brash Music

There's a certain sound I don't hear much of these days: that old Todd Rundgren wonderland whimsy that comes from someone who has an abundance of musical talent and takes giddy glee in showing off what he's got stashed under the hood. Pete Townshend used to have it as well, but these days the current reigning champ of the whole avant soul art rock idiom is Michigan's own P.J. Olsson.

"My feet are my wheels, my mojo my motor" is the kind of line that Townshend used to toss off in his sleep and "I'd rather be medicated than a bitch like you" is the kind of acerbic social observation that's worthy of Rundgren at his most satirically sardonic. P.J. can even crank out some spot-on Man Of Words, Man Of Music-era Bowie without breaking a sweat ("Ocean Of Blue") and still have enough left in the tank to take on Prince ("Flower").

The album title says it all. Go ahead, ignore him.
-- Jeffrey Morgan

Ian McLagan & the Bump Band
Spiritual Boy - An Appreciation Of Ronnie Lane
Maniac Records

Who better to pay homage to Ronnie Lane? Covering songs that his good friend and long time band mate wrote and performed as founding member of the Small Faces, Faces and later, Slim Chance. Mac was there for most of those recordings on his trusty Hammond B-3 and thank God, Mr. Stewart finally returned it! Knowing you couldn't ever touch Steve Marriott in vocal prowess, Mac hands us a bluesy reworked rendition of "Itchycoo Park," along with Faces classics "Debris" and "You're So Rude." But it's "Glad And Sorry" and his own "Hello Old Friend" that he delivers with the best of his customary charm, in tribute and with the love. Good one!
-- Dr. Robert

The Never
Anatartica: A Storybook record
Trekky Records

Remember those Peter Pan and Disneyland books bundled with a vinyl record that followed the text to the letter and included an instructional beep signaling when it was safe to turn the page? Well, this isn't quite that rigid, there's no narration on the record and no corresponding text, but not since Nilsson's The Point has anyone tried to appeal to both adults and children with such a kindly gentle touch. Against melodic indie pop not unlike The Shins, The Never turn in a masterful children's book and album about a young boy who finds an unexploded bomb which of course the rotten adults want. Smith is an unheard of triple threat in rock, singer songwriter, children's author and illustrator. Let's just hope this doesn't give Madonna any ideas.
--Serene Dominic

Alcona
Audio
Kindling Music

The vocal phrasing of Eminem--kinda--and the aggressive alpha male music of The Who--sorta--combine to good effect on this new album that's about as smart as they come these days. "I'm A Dick" is the kind of windmill whirling power pop that'll have prickly neofems tapping their toes even while they vehemently rail against it. Which means these guys are definitely--maybe--on the right track. And there ain't nothin' iffy about that.
-- Jeffrey Morgan

White Demons
Say Go
Sonic Swirl

Finishing the rough draft of the album they released in their hometown of Phoenix last year, the White Demons pull out all the stops for this national release from the city that brought you the wretched Rock and Roll Hall of Fame which shuts out most of the pile driving bands that influenced the WD's. They've got the snarl of Alice Cooper, the impatience of the MC5, the proud laziness of Dictators, and the broad gesture stadium awareness of KISS, it's all here in snotty abundance. Singer Nick K (whose nom de plume and sculpted rooster mane could be a living museum to legendary NME punk scribe Nick Kent) doesn't let more than a few lines go by without spitting out something hilarious ("You like the way I underachieve") or borderline profound ("I got the luxury of a halo but I treat it like a stain") or just plain stooooopid ("Say you're gonna see me blowing that screen three times /I said three times!") Plus they pose the best disillusioned musical question of 2006 "When did the DJ become the band?"
-- Serene Dominic

Mob 40s
No Regrets
No System Records

These Phoenix hardcore champs have kept uncharacteristically mum between their 1998 debut Three Chords and the Truth and this release, which was produced by Agnostic Front frontman Roger Miret before Y2K became a national concern. It hardly sounds still-born or out of time that all these songs were scribbled down on set lists before 9-11, one of the benefits of keeping it old school all the time. Singer Myke is a fine mosh pit ringleader, whether he's running down some lesser younger punk ("I know what you did and you suck") or celebrating his liberty to proudly wear tats and porkpie hats ("What's the point of dropping to my knees to pray? Freedom, pain and tears make me stronger anyway). Punk has advanced beyond these simple at breakneck speed drills but they haven't improved on them so hats off to the Mob coming back to clear the deck of the pencil neck geeks giving loud fast rules a bad name.
-- Serene Dominic

Judith Owen
Lost And Found
Courgette

Bein' a rock critic these days is just like bein' a cheroot chompin' music publisher back in the old Tin Pan Alley era a hundred years ago. The only difference bein' that instead of havin' to suffer through a never endin' array of auditionin' piano players plyin' their songs on an upright in your office, nowadays y'gotta suffer through the endless ordeal of listenin' to hundreds of new records. But now as then the name of the game remains the same: to hear somethin' so unique it'll snap open your saggin' eyelids and elevate your interest level a notch or two above the usual albatross dross.

And nothin' peeled my pooped peepers faster this month than hearin' this woman belt out a torchy nightclub version of Deep Purple's goofy guitar classic "Smoke On The Water." Backed by only a tinkly piano, Judith manages to wrap her well endowed pipes around the most inane rock lyrics ever written and make them sound as if they were penned by the great Sammy Cahn. I know you're not convinced yet but by the time the accordion solo kicks in, you will be.
-- Jeffrey Morgan

Sevendust
Next
Winedark

The original scream reamers are back on track with a new elpee of blustery bombast that cuts through the rancid remains of yesterday's washed-up aggro rockers like a hot knish through a stale Korn Bizkit. From the grizz growlin' vocals to the thunka chunka guitars you've heard it all before but such bald-faced rote repetition is a definite plus in my book. Even better: all the ballads are timed perfectly for just when you need to go to the can and water your horse. Down, big fella.
-- Jeffrey Morgan

Cadence Weapon
Breaking Kayfabe
Upper Class

Pssst...over here. That's right. I hear you're looking for something cutting edge. Well today's your lucky day because I happen to have a record here by a young brother in Edmonton who rips raps over a relentless rampage of skitterish synthesizer bleeps and blorps.

Hell yeah he looks angry--and you'd best believe he sounds angry too! I'm telling you this cat slings words together faster and fatter than a burger jockey working a double lunch shift at a Big Kahuna. "Currently unemployed but I depend on my friends to contend with my impending impulse to spend." Does that sound like an insane brain to you? And his beats are nothing less than a torrid torrent of Tomita inspired Kraftwerkian Enosification!

Now I only have this one copy and I can't guarantee it'll be here when you get back. This brother is in high demand and only going to pick up steam as the ladies scream, you dig? Well, you're taking my final vinyl but that's cool. Enjoy it in good health my man! I'll be here when you need more, believe that.

Jive turkey, I thought he'd never leave. Pssst...over here. That's right. I hear you're looking for something cutting edge. Well today's your lucky day.
-- Jeffrey Morgan

ZZ Top
Tres Hombres (Expanded & Remastered)
Fandango (Expanded & Remastered)
Rhino

It doesn't get mo' overdue than ZZ Top's classic '70s albums in their restored original mixes (vs. the glossy MTV era tampering that ushered that Little Ol' Band from Texas into the post-vinyl age), and here they are in never-louder sound.

Tres Hombres is the marquee title of the pair, considering its finest moments ("La Grange", "Beer Drinkers & Hell Raisers", "Waitin For the Bus" and "Jesus Just Left Chicago") read like a volume one of the band's greatest hits.

Yet Fandango is an underappreciated gem and arguably an even more consistent listen. There's not a dud to be found in this split live/studio set. The fast paced, side-length live snapshot encapsulates ZZ Top's strengths; power trio muscle crossed with rootsy, energetic abandon, plus the band's trademark humor. The only damper on the party is the absence of the rest of this red-hot show. Instead, the "expanded" bonus track padding on both discs lays an egg thanks to nuthin' more than crummy-sounding radio shows and in some cases, mediocre performances. But make no mistake; it's the album upgrades that count here.

Fandango's half dozen studio tracks add to that rarely acknowledged phenomenon, c. '75 of mainstream hard rock's blink of an eye 'n' it was over return to the two 'n' a half minute format (think Kiss Dressed to Kill, Queen's "Stone Cold Crazy", and Sweet, who's songs were so good, they at least seemed like they were that concise). 'Fandango' thrives on this type of gettin' down to business, especially on the hi-watt "Nasty Dogs and Funky Kings", "Heard it on the X", and hit, "Tush." Have mercy!
--Jeff Jarema