The Polyphonic Spree Together We're Heavy (Hollywood/Good)
Substance exceeds style on Together We're Heavy, as Spree ringleader Tim DeLaughter unleashes a torrent of pet sounds by his twenty-five-member musical monster. To all but a few remaining enthusiasts of Sixties sunshine pop, the robe-clad troupe's 2001 debut, The Beginning Stages of . . ., was startling and alien, but ultimately it sounded like the demo it was. Heavy is more fully realized, a song cycle that flashes Spree trademarks such as the booming chorus of "Hold Me Now." "One Man Show" and "Suitcase Calling" are Heavy's heart: The gorgeous shape-shifting songs allow the diversity of the Spree's instrumentation, from strings to brass to theremin, to shine. (ANDREW DANSBY)
The Roots The Tipping Point (Geffen)
The planet's greatest live hip-hop band has a problem. The Roots are staggering under the weight of their own talent and trying to figure out where they fit within the matrix of hip-hop and pop music in general: Are they the public face of the rap underground, or are they reaching for the big time, whatever it takes? Their sixth studio album is calculated to display their range -- buttery pop choruses, hard-as-hell hookless spitting, jittery programmed beats, a bonus jam on George Kranz's club classic "Din Daa Daa" that highlights Ahmir "?uestlove" Thompson's drumming -- and it's got a bunch of impressive ideas. The "virtual duet" with Sly and the Family Stone's "Everybody Is a Star," a dubious idea on paper, works out beautifully; instead of rapping over the original song or lifting its chorus, the Roots loosen it up and restructure it into a conversation between Black Thought's flow and the Family Stone's individual interjections.
The downside to The Tipping Point's chameleonic variety is that the Roots too rarely sound like themselves, or even like a collective. Black Thought can channel seemingly any style from hip-hop's history (on the high-speed, old-schoolish "Boom," he pulls off a killer Big Daddy Kane impression), but he rarely has a great moment that's all his own, and there's not much here with the pure emotional power of "You Got Me" or "The Seed (2.0)" -- both of which featured guest singers, not coincidentally. The album's best hook belongs to "Don't Say Nuthin," and it's a novelty: The chorus's gangsta drawl is pushed so far that it's totally unintelligible. Black Thought rises to its challenge with a zinger: "Ain't nothing like the rush I get in front of the band/Onstage with the planet in the palm of my hand." Well, exactly -- and it's strange to hear a group that's made so much of its liver-than-live rhythm section hold it in check so often. (DOUGLAS WOLK)
Sparta Porcelain (Geffen)
Sparta may long to distinguish themselves from their previous band, At the Drive-In, but that ain't gonna happen. Singer-guitarist Jim Ward, guitarist Paul Hinojos and drummer Tony Hajjar should be glad: Their tenure in ATDI -- one of the most reckless, captivating punk bands of the past few years -- earned them a built-in fan base when they formed Sparta in 2001, despite their lack of a compelling frontman or any sense of adventure. Their second album, Porcelain, is rote emo-core, all predictable quiet-loud shifts and overwrought vocal melodies. There's no faulting the musicianship, which is tight and powerful. But there's also no mistaking that power for genuine intensity. Porcelain has a few bright spots -- "While Oceana Sleeps," "Hiss the Villain" -- and it sounds enough like mid-Nineties groups such as Seaweed and Quicksand that, at its best, it's a nice nostalgia trip. Mostly, though, it's just kind of boring. (JENNY ELISCU)
Ken Stringfellow Soft Commands (Yep Roc)
Posies co-founder, R.E.M. cohort and Big Star confederate Ken Stringfellow is deep into his second decade of creating sterling pop music. Soft Commands is his third solo release of intricately arranged, intimate songs that mine Bacharach, Bread, the Beach Boys and at least one Beatle (McCartney, of course). Written and recorded all over the world, from Seattle to Senegal, the album unfolds like a travelogue, with spartan piano ballads in between mini-symphonies with a few surprise stops along the way, like Stringfellow's baroque mandolin on "Any Love," the brisk electronic rhythm underneath "For Your Sake" and the blue-eyed soul-steeped "Let Me Do." Occasionally, the multi-instrumentalist gets a bit precious (the Doors-y darkness of "Je Vous En Prie," the dub experiment of "Dawn of the Dub of the Dawn" and the boy's choir and reggae verses of "You Become the Dawn"), but Stringfellow's clear, composed croon forgives all sins. (MEREDITH OCHS)
Rogue Wave Out of the Shadow (Sub Pop)
San Francisco's Rogue Wave undoubtedly possess the kind of lo-fi pop sophistication that Sub Pop Records delights in. Think the Shins minus some of the hyperactive frenzy. Rogue play straightforward California-inspired folk rock, combining breezy vocals and acoustic lilting ("Be Kind + Remind") with bubbly shakers ("Seasick on Land"), but they doesn't quite wow with originality. Although "Kicking the Heart Out" and "Endgame" forge a colorful Sixties dynamic, the end result isn't fully realized. Only on "Endless Shovel," a pulsating Brit-rocker with evident hook appeal, does the band realize its potential. (DOUGLAS WATERMAN)
Eleni Mandell Afternoon (Zedtone)
With a sultry smokes-and-booze voice and a delivery that's "can't be bothered" one minute and "pinch me if I'm dreaming" the next, Eleni Mandell is hopeful and derisive, dramatic and playful, a Holly Golightly if she'd been written by Raymond Chandler. On her fifth album, the Los Angeles-based torch singer lowers her silk stockings just enough to show some vulnerability and also lets a few country tinges burn away some of the mist. Her backup musicians know how to paint the scene -- the dry, textured instrumentation scares away at all the right moments, allowing her quietly molten voice to seep into the cracks. Imagine Norah Jones if she subbed Starbucks for martinis, plus some of Suzanne Vega's artful detachment -- minus the chill factor. When she purrs, "A little bite, mmm, I am a tiger," on "Dangerous," it's easy to be fooled, but it's that kind of playfulness that comes right before the big swipe on the nose. (MARGARET WAPPLER)
Adem Homesongs (Domino)
Recorded in the early morning hours, Homesongs -- the breathtaking debut album from Fridge alum Adem Ilhan -- balances the optimism of sunrise with the contentment of isolation. Adem's set aside the experimentalism of his primary outfit, instead placing emphasis on warm, winning songs like the holistic opener "Statued" and the xylophone-tinged, acoustic guitar shuffle of "Ringing in My Ear." At different times the melodically keen Ilhan recalls Beck, David Gray and James' Tim Booth -- which is quite impressive considering he's deaf in one ear and only started singing in earnest in early 2002. Although the disc has a clear folk feel, it's far too rich sonically to be deemed a folk record. On "These Are Your Friends," Ilhan croons of a "nice warm glow." That sentiment carries over to the banjo-plucked glory of "One in a Million" and beyond. (JOHN D. LUERSSEN)
The Orb Bicycles and Tricycles (Sanctuary)
As pioneering dance producers, the Orb symbolize a sound that preceded, as well as overrode, most electronic music. On Bicycles and Tricycles, central figure Alex Patterson pulls together the biggest number of Orb collaborators ever, some from the past (Jimmy Cauty, Thomas Fehlmann), some new (the Corpral, Soom-T). The latter are MCs who bring a fresh dimension to the dubbed-out soundscape on "Aftermath" and "Prime Evil." Although previously un-traversed territory for the group, these voices blend into the foundation of low-down bass waves and hollow beats. Bicycles and Tricycles clings to the familiar Orb-esque sound of hallucinogenic, pulsating rhythms, but other new areas are also explored such as on "Gee Strings," where things get quite upbeat and house-y. But the gist of the Orb -- that is, spacious, dub-sprung, deep collages, like "Hell's Kitchen" -- are still the main attraction on Bicycles and Tricycles. (LILY MOAYERI)
Rachel Goswell Waves Are Universal (4AD/Beggars Group)
Rachel Goswell has sorted through a broad spectrum of sounds in her career -- the dreamy melodic excursions of her early Nineties band Slowdive and the countrified pop of Mojave 3. With her first solo album, she synthesizes sonic moments from both groups but assumes a more personal quality. "Warm Summer Sun," projects hauntingly revealing lyrics, coated with driving bagpipe that drones to heighten the somber mood. Moving beyond the natural sun-and-moon-inspired imagery of the album's first segment, "Plucked" brightens things with a blissful love tune, while "Coastline" breeds a Cranberries-tinged alt-rock element to help stabilize the mix. (DOUGLAS WATERMAN)