Play by Play

APHEX TWIN: 26 MIXESFOR CASH (Warp)

Years ago, Aphex Twin was approached by a record company and asked to remix a song by ’90s pop-punk band the Lemonheads. Weeks later, a courier arrived at his door to pick up the DAT, but Aphex Twin had completely forgotten to do the remix. In fact, he never listened to the source tape! But the courier was waiting, so he grabbed the nearest random tape and passed it off as the remix. He got $5,000 and the Lemonheads shelved the “remix.”

If this tale doesn’t lend valuable insight into Richard D. James (better known as Aphex Twin) and his attitude toward remixing, then consider this two-disc compilation. Nowhere in the liner notes will you read something like “These are artists I enjoy and it was a privilege to work with their material!” As the title says, these were about the money. 26 Mixes for Cashsounds more like an Aphex Twin album that samples other artists to varying degrees. Aphex Twin’s opinion of the original determines what stays and what goes; he prefers the word “fixing” to “mixing.” He liked Seefeel’s “Time to Find Me” enough to allow the band’s distinct sound to move with few obstacles through his percussion. Nobukazu Takemura’s “Let My Fish Loose” retains the lush innocence of its acoustic instruments and child vocals. Conversely, is there one note of Jesus Jones’ “Zeros and Ones” in the ambient “reconstruction?” Both Nine Inch Nails–related pieces are 100% Reznor-free (debate rages on over whether or not this is a good thing; I say it is).

Other standout material on this collection includes James’ own remix of SAW2 CD1 TRK2, the haunting splice job of Curve’s “Falling Free,” and his lounge-exotica version of Gentle People’s “Journey.” While rabid Aphex Twin collectors may be mourning money spent hunting down singles and white-labels, other fans, especially those disappointed by 2001’s drukqs, will find plenty to be pleased with. —Jessica Gluckman

P.S.: The Lemonheads remix wasn’t included.

THE BLACK KEYS: THICKFREAKNESS (Fat Possum)

Since the inception of the Jack and Meg White magical, musical, rock ’n’ roll juggernaut, bluesy duos have been a hot commodity in the wonderful, wave-riding world of album sales. No exception to this attention is the Black Keys, two Midwestern boys with a penchant for garage-y, stripped-down blues-rock. Guitar and drums. Sound familiar? (Ignore obvious lack of a female presence.) They brought us The Big Come Up in 2002, and while the album was incredibly earnest and raw, it lacked the staying power of a Stripes effort. Now the Keys come back, rather quickly, with thickfreakness, an album that, well, sounds a lot like the last one. Could their return be premature?

Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney hail from mighty Akron, Ohio, and have learned, somewhere along the way, how to rock a lot like Howlin’ Wolf or a poor[er] man’s Credence. Auerbach’s gruff, starchy delivery packs a serious punch, and Carney’s vicious on the drums, challenging Auerbach’s ambling guitarwork with chunky beats that hit harder than any blues I’ve ever heard. Where the duo falls short is not in their competence, but in their inability to move forward with their basic punk-garage-Creamlike-swamphearted-blues formula. At points on thickfreakness, it even seems they’re slipping backward. Whereas The Big Come Upfeatured some vocal sampling and a great unexpected cover of “She Said, She Said,” thickfreakness offers no samples to break up the songs and only a paltry version of Richard Berry’s “Have Love Will Travel.” And while a few tracks definitely stand out, like the especially rollicking “Set You Free” and the album’s closer, “I Cry Alone,” the latter of which contains a striking Leadbellyesque sparseness, most of the album reeks of monotony. Recorded in a single 14-hour session, one begins to wonder if the Black Keys new effort is a bit unripe for the picking. The same riffs, the same beat, even the same song length; almost all my initial interest in the Keys’ sound was gone by track five.

The Black Keys don’t have the range, or the desire, to be “the next White Stripes.” Thank God. What they do have going for them are their driving, catchy melodies and their keen ability to sound like Muddy Waters, which proves very handy, and very groovy. Their vintage approach is appealing, and thickfreakness is only disappointing because one gets the feeling the Keys could really push their rather straightforward approach further into a corner of the blues, or closer to the brash garage-punk so palpable in the album’s production. Either way, the Black Keys have seemingly chosen to rush past their laurels still fresh from last year, and thickfreakness has unfortunately suffered for it. —Andrew Rea

VIC CHESNUTT: SILVER LAKE (New West Records)/ROSANNE CASH: RULESOF TRAVEL (Capitol Records)

Songwriting is a craft. It must be nurtured and developed over time. A well-written song has the ability to transport the listener, causing him to reflect, cry, or even take a step back. Some people may never even write one good song in their whole career, while others are driven to make words their nemesis. Two such artists who have been writing great songs throughout their careers are Vic Chesnutt and Rosanne Cash, and now both have released what may be considered their best work to date.

Over the years, Rosanne Cash has had 11 number one singles and while walking her own path from Nashville to New York. She was never quite right for the country crowd. Her confi-

dence as a songwriter has grown, and may have reached its peak on the song “September When it Comes.” On the other hand, Vic Chesnutt has never had a number one single. His career, as his life, has had a few twists and turns. Through it all, he has been writing songs as a way to keep himself alive. His newest release, Silver Lake, is his warmest and most mature recording to date. These are two of the most literate singer-songwriters working today.

Words alone will not carry a song, and on both releases, the balance between lyrics, voice, and music helps to propel these works. Both discs prosper from sparse production and warmth. The songs on Rules of Travel have a timeless quality to them, while Silver Lake feels more like a fresh breath that is meant to be enjoyed in the present.

Cash is not afraid to work with other writers or to have people write songs for her. “Beautiful Pain,” the lead track on the new CD, is written continued on next page

Play by Play

by Canadian Craig Northey. When listening to this track, you get the feeling that this is Cash writing about herself; in fact, one line most closely resembles her: “In love, in love with your beautiful pain…” The highlight of the album has to be the reflective song, “September When it Comes,” as Rosanne shares vocals with her father, Johnny Cash. This is a haunting number that deals with mortality and unresolved issues buried deep within. You can feel time slowly drift away as both father and daughter’s voices sing with a yearning for another chance.

Silver Lake is the album that fans of Vic Chesnutt have been waiting for him to make since he released The Salesman and Bernadette (1998). The slogans and stories on this new release have a spontaneous and natural feel to them; they fit like an old pair of jeans. The first three songs have the confessional feel that let you into the world of Chesnutt. In “Band Camp,” he creates characters and scenes that only the finest Southern writers are capable of. In a line that almost describes Chestnutt as it does the girl in the song, he sings, “You never played the part as it was written/you would always vamp.” Shifting from confessionals to telling stories, we find a song that is as much of a slogan as it is a song. On “2nd Floor,” the music builds as he repeats, “You’ve to climb to the second floor/ short chore great reward.”

Quality writing and music is hard to come by these days. Take some time from worrying about what alert level the country is at, kick back with the smoke of your choice, and wrap yourself around these two great records. —Rick Eubanks

THE EXIES: INERTIA (Virgin)

If you took one part Collective Soul and mixed it with one part Stone Temple Pilots, then threw in a dash of ’80s glam, a pinch of grunge, and a sprinkle of electronica, the resulting concoction would be a tasty and accurate description of the music created by the Exies. This four-piece from southern California (whose name comes from a John Lennon quote referring to extraterrestrials) caught the attention of Grammy award–winning producer Matt Serletic at a summer festival in 2000. Shortly after that, Serletic became the guiding force behind the creation of the band’s debut CD, Inertia, which successfully combines classic songwriting with a modern, edgy flair and a smart pop sensibility.

Each of the 11 tracks on this disc is just about three minutes in length, making them all primed and prepared for their potential journey to the airwaves. So far, only the first single, the grungy yet catchy “My Goddess,” has actually found its way there, and has reached a relatively high position on the modern rock charts. Another very strong track which could eventually end up as a single is the disc’s last song, “Genius,” which has an Alice in Chains–ish, slow-paced, moody vibe. Inertia’s crown jewel, however, is undeniably “Creeper Kamikaze,” which features rich harmonies, a highly addictive melody, as well as an orchestrated string section. This is the song that possesses the most potential to elevate the Exies to big-league status.

Lyrically, song topics range from personal tragedy, exemplified in “Can’t Wait,” to the forgiveness and redemption theme found in “No Secrets.” Lead vocalist/guitarist Scott Stevens sounds as if he sincerely means every word he sings, and plays his instrument with just as much honesty and credibility. His bandmates sound equally talented and competent, and it seems apparent while listening to this CD that the Exies would put on an impressive, adrenaline-fueled live performance. Currently on an extensive tour of the East Coast (which you can read all about on the Web site’s tour journal), the Exies just might make enough of an impression out there to cause the rest of the nation to take even more notice of this promising young group. www.theexies.com —Michele Ulsohn

THE FLAMING LIPS: FIGHT TEST (EP) (Warner Brothers Records)

Eclecto-college-rock pioneers the Flaming Lips had set out to change the world with their exalted 2002 release, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, but now they continue to expand upon its success and acclaim with the aptly titled Fight Test. The tracklist includes an ultra-rare remix of Yoshimi’s “Do You Realize??”; covers of Kylie Minogue’s “Can’t Get You Out of My Head,” Beck’s “The Golden Age,” and Radiohead’s

from previous page

“Knives Out”; an ode to White Stripes’ frontman Jack White (“Thank You Jack White: For the Fiber Optic-Jesus That You Gave Me”), as well as two brand new tracks (“Fight Test” and “The Strange Design of Conscience”). This sevensong stunner plays games with its listener’s stream of consciousness, effortlessly floating between bliss and despair. “Can’t Get You Out of

My Head” teases a folk-dance fusion; the electrorock remix of “Do You Realize??”, chiming in at just over nine minutes, eases the troubled soul, while “Thank You Jack White” manages to make you laugh and cry simultaneously with fabled tales about the lives of Meg and Jack and their on-the-road exploits in their van. Also included on the disc is the video for “Fight Test,” as well as the trailer for the band’s forthcoming feature film, Christmas on Mars. All in all, such an eclectic EP normally only serves as a promo-platter for a record label to shove off b-sides and rarities, but the Flaming Lips’ Fight Testmanages to maintain a cognitive cerebral flow from beginning to end. —Rev. Mike Tomko

MATTHEW GOOD: WEAPON (Universal Music Canada)

First, I’ll tell you this: Matthew Good is the absolute best thing Canadian music has going for it. For some reason, Universal can’t quite figure out how to market Good in the U.S. It’s not that he sounds so unlike anything we’ve produced…or maybe it is. Good is a very intelligent, thought-provoking songwriter, and he doesn’t mind singing it as he sees it. In this day and age, the U.S. isn’t so fond of anyone, artist or otherwise, who speaks his mind—that is, if his mind thinks anything different than the Bush administration wants it to. (Maybe that’s why I like Matthew Good so much.)

Second, there’s this background: Two years ago, Matthew Good made Canadian headlines by severing his ties with his former band, the Matthew Good Band, with whom he had released four albums. Speculation instantly flew: had he grown too difficult to work with? Was he creatively dried up?

The answer comes as a resounding “No” on both counts with Avalanche, Good’s first solo effort and his most political album to date. The first two tracks on the disc seem directed at the current American administration. “Pledge of Allegiance” initially claims to be “a rehearsal for all the empty promises I will be.” Behind the lyrics, a simple drumbeat and synthesizer loop lend an undertone of gravity before a chorus of

voices kicks in. Good’s voice, with its slight vibrato and nasal tones, has a rich range with which to present his thoughtful words. Next up is “Lullaby for the New World Order”; dramatic strings add tension as Good asks, “How can you take your heart out of this?/Somebody gave you a choice/ and all you do is abuse it./And how do you stop once you’ve started?” Truly, this is a beautiful and frightening song. The slow-building “Weapon” is a gorgeous display of the heartbreaking qualities of Good’s voice. In the beginning are a gently picked guitar and haunting violin; as the music soars, Good warns, “Careful, you be careful/This is where the world drops off.” The single-ready “In a World Called Catastrophe” blends an upbeat melody with strings and Good’s soaring vocals. “One foot in front of the other,” a low-voiced Good repetitively intones to begin the title track; this is a stylistic switch for him, and evokes R.E.M. Still, the post-apocalyptic words are vintage Good: “The world’s spinning and we’re laughing/and I’m charming, the devil’s charming/and we’re ruined but we’re still building.”

The gimmick of the highly political (and tongue-in-cheek) “21st Century Living” is a cacophony of voiceovers remarking on the ten-

dency toward exaggeration. Says one, “You know, today I was only asked one question: Do you want that supersized? It’s like the whole fucking world’s supersized.” “Near Fantastica” comes off as an anthem with swells, silence, and sounds, a futuristic sci-fi tale wherein we’re all cogs in this great computer: “After the mission it will let you go.” “Song for the Girl” is the closest thing to a love song that we’ll get from Good. Again the strings supplement guitar, drums, and piano, on “A Long Way Down,” as Good bids farewell to the world: “Today I’m leaving/this bullshit one horse town/full of cowboys and Indians/who only have balls when there’s a camera around.” Good closes the album with “House of Smoke and Mirrors” (also the title of his long-running Web blog) and presents himself as untrustworthy, a self-deprecating dash to put into question all the wizened words that preceded it: “You can see right through me.”

With Avalanche, Good is free of the band that backed him for so long. The result is a more honest glimpse of Matthew Good, in which he proves himself a protest singer for the 21st century. Don’t wait until Universal signs an American distribution deal; thanks to the magic of the Internet, you can buy Avalanche today and hear it for yourself. www.matthewgood.net —Laura Hamlett

(HED) PLANET EARTH: BLACKOUT (Jive)

On (hed) Planet Earth’s second major-label recording, Blackout,the sextuplet from Southern California shows their tuneful sides while staying true to their rap-metal thrash sound that fans love. While the band has enjoyed success within their realm of the rap-metal industry, this album is their shot at breaking out of that category and into the mainstream.

Though the band’s first album, Broke,continues to sell three years after its release, there are obvious differences between the albums. Broke had a much more raw and darker feel, whereas Blackout is still heavy but also has a melodic pop sense to it. On it, the band shows not a softer side, but an almost humane side.

Vocally and musically, Blackout leaps bounds over Broke. The heavy bass guitar riffs are masterfully placed over the smooth vocal sounds of frontman Jahred. There are several standout tracks on the album, including, “Suck it up,” “Bury Me,” “Dangerous,” the first single, “Blackout,” and “Other Side.” “Getaway” is also a standout track, as it mixes reggae with aggressive, angst-filled rock.

With all the rap-metal acts on the music scene at the moment—including Korn, Linkin Park, and Limp Bizkit—hopefully, (hed) Planet Earth will not be put on the back burner of the industry. continued on next page

Play by Play

With the release of Linkin Park’s new album Meteora, fans may forget about Blackout, but don’t make that mistake: this album is a perfect time capsule of the world that we live in today, a world filled with hostility, mystification, and fear. —Jeremy Housewright

MY 2 PLANETS: THE OTHER SIDEOF SUMMER (self-released)

The title suggests that this, My 2 Planets’ third full-length offering, is about the darkening days, after the heat and the haze of summer have passed and the weather’s growing cooler, the nights longer. A close listen to Jim Ousley’s lyrics (as sung by Eric Wulff) confirms that hunch: it’s a looking back, a letting go, a regretting and a forgetting. Don’t let the upbeat, poppy music fool you: My 2 Planets comes with a very heavy heart, indeed.

Beginning the album is “Goodbye, Norman Rockwell,” a farewell to childhood innocence. “But everything looks better in the snow,” Wulff finally sings, and we wonder: it is optimism, or is he merely fooling himself? “Pasadena” begins as a concrete picture of a girl who came by Greyhound, proving Ousley’s strong lyricism; unfortunately, he steps back and the picture blurs as the tale turns generic. “Fortunate Me” is another taste of irony, the tale of a man who wakes alone and lonely, only to proclaim his thankfulness at being free and available; the rain outside, however, tells a different story.

On “Summerdress,” Wulff sings achingly of days gone by; behind his strong vocals, the music ebbs and flows gently. Showing a poetic command of language, Ousley gives us this gem: “Summer is in the breeze,/I found myself/upon my knees/hands on the small of your back/And I dream dream dream/of that hand-me-down summerdress.”

The upbeat “Seven Stories High” features a textured guitar and a steady beat, its message both optimistic and bittersweet. Wulff sings sweetly of the need to change his life: “I’m going to stop pretending that I’m fine/Looking at the wreckage left behind/You deserve all the love

that’s true/so I’m letting go of you.”

“Compass” is a gentle love song; “Down With the Silence,” a more upbeat pop number, has been a part of the M2P live set for some time. “The Bells of St. Theresa” begins, appropriately enough, with the chiming of bells and continues to tell a somber tale of childhood abuse and neglect against the backdrop of a foot-tapping melody.

The highlight of the disc’s second half has to be “If,” a rocking protest against racism. Earl’s Jimmy Kennedy lends his harmonica as Wulff stretches his vocal abilities to new heights as he implores, “If you could untie me/you could understand me.” “Mercy Tonight” closes the album with a gentle plea for domestic peace. The bongo drum and flamenco guitar lend a worldly feel, while the vocal harmonies evoke something of a Beatles feel. “I don’t want to fight about it now/let’s just go to sleep,” Wulff croons—and it’s the perfect answer to a long and tiring day.

Available at venues around town and from the band’s Web site: www.my2planets.com. —Laura Hamlett

SUMMERAT SHATTER CREEK: SUMMER AT SHATTER CREEK (Absolutely Kosher)

Summer at Shatter Creek sounds like the title of an artsy independent film, maybe set in a small Appalachian town where young love is derailed by unspeakably sad events. Instead, this evocative title is the name of a low-key, oneman-band recording project helmed by former Kalamazoo native Craig Gurwich. Any musician who tries to sing and play everything on his album is taking a big risk; the possibilities for undisciplined self-indulgence are all too obvious. Gurwich has, therefore, worked a minor miracle by recording this sweet, lovely, inwardlooking series of meditations on life, love, and the passage of time, all distinguished by his high, fragile, Jeff Buckley–tinged voice.

The sound is simultaneously lo-fi and lush; the recording has the aesthetic of a late ’60s Jefferson Airplane sort of emotive psychedelia. The wistful vocals and echoey production of

from previous page

“The Essence of Time” and “The Drive” reminded me of something I couldn’t quite place, as Gurwich’s songs made me feel “lost in time.” “My Neighbor’s Having a Seizure” is the closest thing here to a real pop song; it’s not too dissimilar from latter-day Wilco, and the way Gurwich reaches for the high notes amid a thick swirl of loopy background noise is quite charming.

Mostly he’s playing acoustic guitar on these tunes, and sparsely so. “I need a vacation/Some relaxin’ time/Cause I don’t wanna be angry and stressed all the time,” Gurwich sings plaintively on “I Need a Vacation,” with simple piano chords plunking along with his voice. I positively grinned at the next few lines: “Traffic, it kills me/When I drive I’m always on edge/I feel like everyone’s out to cut me off/To get one car ahead.” You just don’t hear that kind of plain honesty on too many recordings. Gurwich doesn’t need gimmicks to make his music compelling; he’s just playing what he wants to play, saying what he wants to say, and you just know he’s not too worried about who likes his music and who doesn’t. He did all this himself, remember, and you don’t spend that much time creating in isolation like that if your goal is to be Mr. Popular.

Old-fashioned self-expression is Gurwich’s goal, and he’s achieved that while reminding us what a miraculous little thing it can be to simply render a sad little tune over a few decently played instruments. “Driving Through Texas” is evocative in a very disarming way; it leaves more and more haunting little impressions as it goes. And “Thief” conjures the spirit of Nick Drake, save for Gurwich’s higher, rootsier vocal style. Summer at Shatter Creek doesn’t make a big statement, and it’s the kind of recording that will probably get overlooked except by those who read the indie music press. But it’s testament to the power of one person, one vision, and one inexpensively produced

recording. The whole of this disc definitely adds up to more than the Summerof its parts. —Kevin Renick

WHITE STRIPES: ELEPHANT (V2)

The Stripes appeared like a car on a darkened highway over the last two years. With each release, those headlights became brighter. On this, their fourth release, the light is blinding. Last year’s White Blood Cells had effectively broken the band to most of mainstream America, and now Elephant arrives with a lot of hype and anticipation.

Elephant continues on the template of less-ismore, classic rhythm and blues that is pre-1960 (and I mean really pre-). Thirteen of the 14 songs are composed by Jack White (in the case of “Hypnotized,” recomposed, since it is basically set to the tune of “Secret Agent Man”). The album tends to follow the same pattern we heard on White Blood Cells—sweet song (“You’ve Got Her in Your Pocket”), rock scorcher (“Black Math”), blues assshaker (“Ball and Biscuit”)—none of them exceptional, but certainly better than most of the stuff out there. However, there are several standouts.

On the album’s opener and current single, “Seven Nation Army,” there is what sounds like a bass (Jack swears it is an octave guitar), which adds a bit of roundness to their sound. It is as elegant as rock can get—grainy, threatening, and with a melody that will linger for quite some time. “There’s no Home for You Here” is a sonic blast which offers the Whites’ best take on TRex, and they handle the duty beautifully. “In the Cold, Cold, Night” is Meg’s turn at singing lead. Her voice is reed thin, but in this situation it works pretty well. The carefully chosen material is exceptional, and engineer Liam Watson does everything to give Meg the aura of Peggy Lee.

Several songs (“Little Acorns,” “Well it’s True That We Love one Another”) really don’t work, and this is one of those touchy areas for a band like the Stripes. They are supposed to be stripped down, guitar and drums for the most part; gimmicks, even those that are homage to classic songs, don’t need to be in here. Compare them to “Girl, You Have no Faith in Medicine” and the difference is obvious. This is where the Stripes excel: a brilliant 3:17 song with little more than Jack, Meg, and a whole lot of attitude. It truly carries the spirit of what makes the band great.

The best track on the album is the only song not composed by the band. “I Just Don’t Know What to Do With Myself” is a Burt Bacharach/ Hal David song best know for the Dusty Springfield version, though Elvis Costello recorded an amazing live version at the Stiffs Live concert/album in 1978. The simplicity of the Stripes’ version showcases Jack Whites’ voice and points out that great lyrics can help any band, even one as good as the White Stripes. —Jim Dunn continued on page 9

Games of Hearts:

Three different songwriters show three different hands

NICOLAI DUNGER: TRANQUIL ISOLATION (Overcoat Recordings)/DANIEL JOHNSTON: FEAR YOURSELF (Gammon Records)/DAMIEN JURADO: WHERE SHALL YOU TAKE ME?(Secretly Canadian)

Poor Nicolai Dunger, the former Swedish national soccer player and unsurprisingly handsome songwriter whose voice, a friend who'd heard his new record told me, brings to mind both Van Morrison and Rufus Wainright. Add to this that on his new release, Tranquil Isolation (Overcoat Recordings), Dunger is playing, producing, and singing with the indie prince Will Oldham, to whom Dunger had mailed an early EP years back. Given these gifts, Dunger makes the most of his fortune. Isolation is an inspired, soulful, and often bluesy record, delivered with a warm blend of acoustic guitar, piano, violin, and harmonica. While Dunger sings in a followable English—with a few memorable turns of phrase, such as one song's opening, “Beautifully, I read it on a record sleeve"—the highlight of Tranquil Isolationisn’t so much the stories it tells, but the continual sound of Dunger’s voice. Through varied tempos and subjects—friendship, love, and music—it reaches and dips and carries over the instruments with emotion. With Tranquil Isolation, Dunger, the receiver of many gifts, gives one to us.

Perhaps less fortunate in the genes department is Daniel Johnston, a lumpy manic-depressive Texas singersongwriter who’s just released Fear Yourself (Gammon Records). I’d been meaning to get around to Johnston for some time—reading other musicians’ praise of him and having heard Jeff Tweedy’s concert cover of Johnston’s “True Love Will Find You in the End”—but Fear Yourself has me left thinking I’ve started with the wrong record. Like the Tweedy-covered tune, Fear Yourself is completely concerned with love (the word’s in four song titles and sung in every song), but the record is so lacking in details of the songs’ subjects that it’s neither moving nor believable. “All my life I have loved you,” Johnston begins one song in his original lispy whine, but he never reveals why, much less who he’s loving. When another song starts up, “Well I saw her last night/what a beautiful sight,” I hoped Johnston was setting up a scene he’d continually paint in, providing a descriptive image to balance out the pile of declarations. He wasn’t. While the record has its merits— Sparklehorse’s Mark Linkous adds compelling layers as producer and arranger, and more than a few songs ride on undeniably poppy hooks—it suffers from that old cliché of unremarkable writing: it’s all tell and no show. Fear Yourself sounds like what I thought didn’t exist: generic passion.

Seattle’s Damien Jurado may have ruined us with his 1999 masterpiece Rehearsals for Departure, a record of love delivered lovingly. Through detailed and memorable narration, Jurado made a contained, unified work—a record for my bookshelf. Following Departure, Jurado hauled out the amps and made a full-on rock record, I Break Chairs, which gave fans something new as well as a longing for the old. With his new release, Where Shall You Take Me? (Secretly Canadian), the fans are back in familiar territory. And while this new record doesn’t hit the heights of Departure, it has many moments of trademark Jurado: vivid imagery, dark tones, complete stories. Of the 10 songs, two sound a bit out of place (“Texas to Ohio,” with its loud echoing vocals, and the charming but toss-off-sounding “Matinee”). Two of the other 10 are classics, maybe the best pair of songs I’ve heard this year. The first of these is the opener, “Amateur Night,” which begins with these lines over mournful, slow acoustic strums: “First came the scream/and blood on the floor/the alcohol and magazines.” Jurado continues the harrowing in-character narration over a steadily rising dirty-motel buzz: “In my flashlight you were a star./Smile for the camera/take off that dress/It’s me who made you/It’s me who will take you.” The song ends as startlingly as it began: “I am not an evil man/I just have a habit I can’t kick/It starts with an urge/and ends with—Hang up the phone/I ain’t finished yet.” Jurado’s range as a writer is evidenced in the record’s second classic, “Window,” a warm and timeless ode to coupledom, which features beautiful harmonies throughout by Rosie Thomas. “I am looking at a beautiful window,” they sing together, “that window is your eyes,” a sentiment that here somehow blows past cliché. By the time the couple hits the fourth verse, the spare song moves into a spiritual, with the female vocals doubling over themselves, until it sounds like the song’s being led by a small congregation, In just two songs, Jurado movingly portrays the two poles of passion: its most vile, its most lovely. —Stephen Schenkenberg