MUSIC
section by: Jeb Delia
FEARLESS LOVE
Melissa Etheridge
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“Miss
NOBODY’S DAUGHTER
Hole
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Like Yoko Ono, Courtney Love has made a career out of being the widow of a martyred musician. Yoko, though, continued to make challenging music while morphing into a button-down businesswoman. Love went the opposite route, embarking on a career as a messy public nuisance while letting her music attain a polished sheen that would seem to belie her initial strengths: when you’re demanding to be heard even before you’ve learned how to play and sing, you get something like Live Through This. When you’ve got the act down too pat, you get Nobody’s Daughter: confessional and confused in the most generic way imaginable (“Tell me who I am / I always wanted to die” she writes—evidently to God). The album rocks just fine, but when she spits out something like “Skinny Little Bitch” or “How Dirty Girls Get Clean”, it’s Bad Girl 101—which, at this point, should be kids’ stuff for this tabloid queen.
THANK YOU, MR. CHURCHILL 
Peter Frampton
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Frampton’s Still Alive. His first album of new songs in about seven years underpins sentimental history lessons with chunky, slashing rhythm guitar, and solos that are glorious throwbacks to 70’s guitar hero-dom. Did I mention that he plays guitar? Because otherwise, he kind of takes a backseat to most of his contemporaries: he has always sung a bit like Winwood but doesn’t have half the voice; he writes a bit like Gabriel but doesn’t have as wide a vision. And because he’s a rich guy, when he wants to do a Motown cop, he hires the Funk Brothers to back him. If you’re an axe junkie, there might not quite be enough soloing here to tempt you, but the songs are earnest and well-constructed; if you want something to tide you over till the next Mark Knopfler album, this isn’t a bad alternative.
HOLY GROUND: LIVE IN NYC 
Mono
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Up to now, I only knew these guys by reputation, but this is an absolutely stunning live recording. I don’t know that I’ve ever thought of myself as exactly a “postrock” guy, but it did sound to me as though the band’s actual textures were being softened by the 24-piece orchestra rather than enhanced: washes of sound that sort of trail off like movie music feel as though they might have had some curves and edges when played by the band alone—all extremely impressive musicians. I can’t say it gripped me the whole way, but any time it seemed about to slide into the outright bland, some impressive piece of musicianship would pull it back from the brink. Going to have to check out some of their studio stuff, to see if the music is any livelier without a string section smoothing it all out. It also comes with a DVD of the show, which I haven’t seen.
Other noteworthy 4/27 music releases:
Drowning Pool: Drowning Pool. Talk about a band you just can’t keep down—more lead singers than Spinal Tap’s had drummers, and they’re still… well, depressed (“The love, the hate, regret, we all have it / Bring the hell if you feel like I do”). But in their case, I suppose that’s understandable.
Bullet for My Valentine: Fever. I’m sure some people regard their recruiting the producer of
Balkan Beat Box: Blue Eyed Black Boy. Their last was one of the more intriguing dance/world/folk/rock albums I’d heard in… well, probably the only one. I’m hoping for more of the same.
Gogol Bordello: Trans-Continental Hustle. Can even Rick Rubin stand up to the combined assault of gypsy ska, punk rap, dub bossa nova, and “positive primal energy”? Tune in Tuesday to find out…
Daddy Yankee: Mundial. Haven’t heard his new one yet, but to be described as “the single most relevant Latin urban artist in the world” is an interesting qualifier.
Sons of Sylvia. According to Fox, these smoothed-over alt-country guys were once The Next Great American Band. Still waiting…
Lonestar: Party Heard Around the World. The most original thought on this album went into coming up with the title… with all that implies. Adult-contemporary “country” with all the musical and emotional punch of a Miller Lite ad.
Miranda Cosgrove: