LIVE CITY SOUNDS

Mary Lou Lord
(Rubric)

RATING: three and a half

If commercial offerings—and by that I mean soundtracks for TV and radio ads—are any indication of star power (cf. Moby’s recent career), then Mary Lou Lord must have finally made it. Her old track, “Speeding Motorcyle,” was picked up by American retail chain Target as the soundtrack for its ads, bringing the Boston folk singer’s music to the attention of millions.

But, realistically, the advertising turn hasn’t made a megastar out of Mary Lou Lord, who continues only to be Boston’s favorite subway singer. Despite the cult popularity of her albums, MLL hasn’t really found enough of a following to push her out of small coffeeshop venues and sidewalk performances.

No bitterness here. She knows that this is where her roots—not to mention her strengths—are. If her previous album, Got No Shadow, paid homage to the subways with neat studio work, Live City Sounds recreates the experience. Recorded entirely in the subways on Park Street and Harvard Square in Boston on DAT, the 16 tracks on the album are often punctuated by talk, applause, and subway rattlings—live city sounds, in other words.

All the 16 tracks on the album are all covers, which is probably more closely representative of MLL’s live repertoire (she was never really a prolific songwriter). But unlike Tori Amos or any of the handful of others who’ve recently come out with cover albums, MLL takes a more relaxed attitude to borrowing—she doesn’t make a big deal out of the fact that these are covers, and neither should you.

Instead, focus on the sincerity of this release. It’s perhaps a given, considering that this is a live disc, but over and beyond that, there’s an honesty to MLL’s girlish voice that’s brought out by the bare acoustic accompaniment and the live setting. Tremulous but strong, small but brave, MLL’s voice really was made for intimate performances, not for big arenas.

The list of artists she chooses to cover reads like a list of requirements for street cred, and it would bring a smile to the faces of music fans: Magnetic Fields, Big Star, Bevis Frond, Daniel Johnston, Shawn Colvin, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Billy Bragg. One of the best moments on the album comes in “Ontario, Quebec and Me” (“a fine request!” she compliments an unseen fan), on which she takes her voice a notch down to whisper her way through Bragg’s gentle classic. Likewise, Springsteen’s “Thunder Road” is lovingly redone, and when MLL announces at the end, “That’s a song by The Boss,” the way she reverently says his name comes as no surprise.

It’s moments like this that make Live City Sounds a one-of-a-kind release. You won’t find slick studio production or any big new numbers in this album, but the beauty of this release comes in its rough edges and in its honesty.—Kristine Fonacier

THE LAST BROADCAST

Doves
(Heavenly/ EMI)

RATING: four

Doves all but saved Britpop in 2000, renewing my faith in the music after Blur started to lie low and Oasis started to suck. Along with Coldplay’s Parachutes, their debut album Lost Souls was perhaps the most astonishing release to come out of the UK at the turn of the millennium. Doves continue their crusade to revitalize the face of Britpop with the excellent The Last Broadcast, a soundscape of electronica-infused guitar-based pop that is again destined to be among the year’s best imports.

Like its predecessor, much of the appeal of The Last Broadcast is cerebral—a contrast to Coldplay’s raw emotional appeal—but its intelligence doesn’t make it inaccessible. If anything, in fact, The Last Broadcast has a broader, easier appeal than Lost Souls. It’s definitely a more upbeat release, as Doves trade in the lush, dark instrumentals for happier melodies and a more positive demeanor.

But what is Doves music without darkness? Well, nothing. The trio—vocalist Jimi Goodwin and brothers Jez and Andy Williams—are from Manchester, after all, where a substantial amount of shoegazer music is born and bred. It’s not that The Last Broadcast doesn’t follow its predecessor in terms of ghostly gloom; it’s just that it hides it better. “Words” may open the album with a minute and a half of cascading guitars reminiscent of 80s new wave, but then the melodies take on a slight edge and Goodwin is ever-so-slightly sarcastic as he sings, “Words, they mean nothing/ So you can’t hurt me.” And somewhere along the way, the guitar riffs turn into little knives, and before you know it, you’ve got a proper song of retribution.

Then there’s the standout “M62 Song,” an acoustic adaptation of “Moonchild” by prog-rockers King Crimson. It’s supposed to be a rather faithful remake, though the reference to the original will be lost on newer audiences (myself included). Think instead of Nick Drake and Radiohead, or even the Beatles during some of their darker days. It’s the quietest track on the album, uncharacteristically spare, but it fits right in on the album’s overall mood.

The Last Broadcast is such a solid release, there’s hardly a bad moment on the entire album. It says well of Doves’s abilities that the highlights include two tracks on both ends of the stylistic spectrum: the fizzy, summery first single “There Goes the Fear,” and the unsubtle and complicated “N.Y.” The appeal of “There Goes the Fear” is simple, relying on the track’s head-lollingly uplifting refrain. The lyrics are actually pretty sad (“You turn around and life’s passed you by”), but they’re so neatly camouflaged by the upbeat melodies, you’re already singing along before you know what it’s about.

“N.Y.,” on the other hand, makes no bones about its contradictions. It opens with crashing guitars, drums, and effects like any in-your-face rock track, but seconds later it pulls back to reveal only a bare acoustic guitar and piano. The interplay between the simple and the lush—something Doves does very, very well—makes the track feel like a sonic journey through changing soundscapes. It’s a massive track, an engaging six-minute epic that asks no less than your full attention.

There’s already a wellspring of early hype pushing The Last Broadcast, and in this case at least, it’s hard to dispute the superlatives being heaped upon this first-rate release. Brilliant, moving, and utterly stunning, this album is one of the most satisfying releases to come out of the UK in a long while. —Kristine Fonacier

BEAUTYSLEEP

Tanya Donelly
(4AD)

RATING: four

Tanya Donelly is especially good at two things: love songs and lullabies. Her underrated solo debut, 1997’s Lovesongs for Underdogs, was just as its title suggested: an album full of subversive love songs that were surprisingly intelligent, richly textured, jagged and beautiful. And so it’s entirely appropriate that, for a follow-up, Tanya now turns her attention to her other specialty. Entitled Beautysleep, her second solo album opens with a track called “Life is but a Dream,” a gauzy, surreal track with a rhythm line that sounds like a sleeping heartbeat and ghostly sounds reminiscent of whalesongs. “Nothing ever ends/ nothing lasts forever,” Tanya sings, and while it’s not the kind of lullaby that put me to sleep as a child, but it’s the kind of philosophical puzzles that I like to torture myself with before bedtime these days. It’s only the first—and by no means the last nor even the best—of the many complicated lullabies for adults that populate this dark dream of an album.

Of course, she’s had some practice in the lullaby business since we last heard from her. Most of the five years between Lovesongs and Beautysleep found Tanya becoming a full-time mother, and it’s this love affair between mother and child that is celebrated in Beautysleep. Two of the album’s most striking songs, the first single “The Night You Saved My Life” and the carrier track “Keeping You,” are love letters to her daughter. Of these, “Keeping You” is the more stirring one: it is a quiet song, serene and sincere, and punctuated with surprising moments. “I’m keeping you,” Tanya murmurs quietly, before the restraint breaks and her heart opens up, singing “My return to wildlife by satellite/ by beautiful moon-shining girl.”

Of course, given the nature of her music, not all the lullabies in Beautysleep are quite so peaceful. “Moonbeam Monkey” takes its cue from the dark folk songs that used to scare children to sleep, and while “The Storm” is far sweeter than its title might let on, it’s still full of the kind of questions that are likely to keep you up at night. (“Moonbeam Monkey” is also notable for featuring Mark Sandman of Morphine, in one of his last vocal performances.)

As a writer and composer, Tanya shows a particular gift for imagery and melody, a great pairing tempered by the alt-rock flirtation with goth and punk that she started with Throwing Muses (where she was second banana to half-sister Kristin Hersh), and peaked during her years with Belly (which she fronted). Solo, she’s only been able to bring out nuances in her music, making her vocals float over the lushly textured, dark melodies of her guitar-based compositions. Her songs are sweet and sharp, inviting and frightening, dark and hopeful all at the same time, in a way that wasn’t always so clear with her band work.

Fittingly, there’s a hidden 12th track on the album that emerges like a dream fragment after the last song, incorporating some images and lines from some of the other songs for an acoustic anticlimax, finally drifting off to silence with a prayer—it’s a fine lullaby to end a fine album of subversive bedtime songs. It’s not for everybody; certainly not for those just looking for something to send their children off to sleep with. Donelly isn’t one for simple and easy; her lullabies are complicated and memorable. —Kristine Fonacier

FORTUNE COOKIES

Alana Davis
(Warner)

RATING: three and a half

Thank God she’s still around. While her debut album Blame It on Me enjoyed a good measure of success, Alana’s music wasn’t exactly mainstream material. It was great listening, but the five years of silence since then have only heightened my fears that her record label had written off Alana Davis as unsaleable.

So it was with great relief that I picked up Fortune Cookies, Alana’s much-awaited follow-up. Fortune Cookies wastes no time in reminding listeners of Alana’s singular charms that have been missed this half-decade of her absence. The album opens strong, with “Save the Day,” a sexy, radio-friendly track that uses the best tool at Alana’s disposal: her voice. Earthy, smoky, and sensuous, her vocals alone would distinguish her music from all the rest. But then her chosen genre—a warm blend of blues and folk, with a hint of R&B and jazz—is also unique, and the eleven songs in this collection move easily between these influences.

From the laid-back “I Want You” to the bouncy remake of the 70s classic “How Many of Us Have Them (Friends)” to the touching “God of Love,” Alana attempts more in this album. Alana’s maturation is graceful, and she seems to have skipped the awkward sophomore phase altogether, instead confidently stepping up and on.

There are a few new territories that Alana explores on this album. “Bye Bye” is 70s disco funk, complete with waah-waah guitars and a cheesy bass line; yes, it sounds like it could’ve been lifted off a soundtrack for a blaxploitation flick, but it’s actually pretty catchy, a playful break in the middle of the album. Then there’s “Got This Far,” which experiments with reggae influences. Stylistically, Alana is beginning to sound like a younger, more fun version of Joan Osborne, another white soul singer capable of an astonishingly wide range both as a singer and as a songwriter.

As sophomore albums go, Fortune Cookies is both satisfying and promising. In itself, it’s already a mature follow-up from a precocious artist whose debut Time magazine put on its list of five best releases of its year. But it’s also promising, showing the many new directions in which she could still grow. If creative juice is anything to go by, then it’s likely that Alana Davis is bound to be around for a long time. I shouldn’t have worried. —Kristine Fonacier

POP!

Various Artists
(BMG)

RATING: three

Normally there isn’t much to say about pop compilations like this. It’s an easy formula: take all the hits off of a dozen or so of your basic bestsellers, place them all in one disc, and package it all up with a nice new album cover and a title, preferably with the word “party” somewhere in there.
Pop! (subtitled “Party Flavour!”) follows the formula to the letter, but surprise surprise, offers a bit more. The 18 tracks on the album are already generous, but then there’s an extra VCD with videos for the first six tracks. That’s a nice enough bonus, but better than that is the surprisingly competent selection that made it to the CD.

Most of the 18 tracks are obvious enough. Any idiot would know to put Pink’s “Get the Party Started” as the disc’s opener, and of course you’ve got to put “Rock the Party” by Five somewhere, along with Christina Aguilera’s “Come On Over Baby,” something by Britney Spears—why not “Overprotected”?—and a healthy helping of boy band tracks: ‘N Sync’s “Girlfriend,” the Dan Huff remix of the Backstreet Boys’ “Drowning,” Blue’s “All Rise,” LFO’s “Every Other Time.” Then you’ve got to put in your BeeGees remakes, just for fun: “Nightfever” by B3 and “Chain Reaction” by Steps will both do nicely.

All of these qualify as usual fare for an all-hits compilation like this, but BMG’s offering distinguishes itself by putting in a twist or two. Dido and Groove Armada lend a much-needed hipness to the collection just by being there, but the choice of slightly lesser-known tracks (“Hunter” and “My Friend”) make it all that much more cool. Alicia Keys, who shows up early in the party, is a welcome guest even when she trots out only the expected (“Fallin’”), though the change in pace is in itself a good thing. And Kosheen, whose name may not have the same cachet as the rest of the artists on the album, are a welcome discovery for anyone who may have missed their album, with its infectious single “Hide U.”

This is not to say that there aren’t any misses. The latter part of the compilation is noticeably weighed down with weaker tracks and lamer names—I mean, who the hell invited O-Town to this gig?—and Westlife’s soulless, unimaginative cover of Sarah MacLachlan’s “Angel” and Aaron Carter’s annoying “I’m All About You” simply have no place in here.

But those few rotten parts aren’t enough to ruin the compilation, and overall, Pop! is surprisingly impressive for what it is. It wouldn’t have required much on the part of the record label to put together something like this, but someone somewhere was willing to put in some thought to it, and the result is one of the few all-hits compilations actually worth getting.—Kristine Fonacier