MUSIC
Section by Jeb D.
DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL
Sparklehorse and Danger Mouse
You always try to filter out the macabre or sentiment factor when dealing with work from the recently deceased, but when an album bears the title Dark Night Of The Soul, and opens with the line “Pain- I guess it’s a matter of sensation,” and continues to “I shot you and stabbed you through the heart”-well, even as metaphor, it’s grim stuff. Despite the stellar list of guest collaborators (including Iggy Pop, James Mercer, and David Lynch), the overall effect is pretty on-the-nose as a bleak last testament from Mark Linkous. It’s not hopelessly dismal: “Just War” is the kind of relationship-as-armed-conflict song that Elvis Costello or Richard Thompson might come up with, sporting a sweet, melancholy Peter Gabriel-like tune, and the Lynch collaboration “Star Eyes” glides along on a path of seductive electronica. But let’s face it, an album with song titles like “Pain,” “Daddy’s Gone,” or “Grim Augury” (to say nothing of the title song) is aimed pretty well at those times when you need to be persuaded that there’s someone in the world even less happy than you are.
SYMPHONICITIES
Sting
Honestly, the most surprising thing about this album is that it’s taken so long to happen. Mr. Sumner’s solo career has often seemed to be focused shedding the “low-rent” image of the early Police days, and cementing his reputation as a “serious” artist, which he does here by paying an orchestra to play on and around some of his best-known songs while he croaks them with what remains of that once-supple voice. What has always eluded Sting (and, to be fair, his former bandmates-he’s just better at it) is that songs like “Can’t Stand Losing You” or “Message In A Bottle” possess such musical virtues as they do because they were created by musicians who didn’t want to sound like everyone else, whether old-school rockers or classical composers. Post-Police, though, Sting has waged what feels like a ceaseless campaign to be enshrined as an elder statesman of pop. Personally, I loved The Police, and see no particular need for their music to “grow up” and be accepted into the realm of Muzak standards; Sting evidently doesn’t agree. The addition of the orchestral arrangements to songs like “Next To You” or “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” just make them feel like cheesy 80’s film soundtracks, and the hyped-up bombast visited on “You Will Be My Ain True Love” makes its plain-spokenness feel even more affected than on the original. Lesser material like “We Work The Black Seam” and “Englishman In New York” wear the bloat more comfortably, and “The Pirate’s Bride” concludes things on an appropriately lounge-y note. I’d give him credit for overlooking the obvious “Every Breath You Take,” except that I suspect he’s saving that for Volume 2. My guess is that this album is not exactly aimed at the CHUD demographic; your mom might like it, though. Maybe your grandmother.
INTRIGUER
Crowded House
Last year’s “comeback” album carried the weight of drummer Phil Hester’s suicide, and as a result felt like a somewhat muted piece that was almost Disk 2 of the Finn Brothers’ 2008 Everyone Is Here (which, in turn, was prompted by the death of their mother). This time around, Crowded House seem to be reaching back further, and there’s a bit of the musical variety of Together Alone, with distorted guitars and Allman-like organ. Finn’s writing remains strongly observant, with a great eye for the telling detail (“Amsterdam” paints a picture so vivid you could live in it), but neither he or Seymour seem to have the usual set of hooks in their pocket this time, and nothing grabs the ear with the immediacy of “Something So Strong,” “Weather With You,” or “Better Be Home Soon,” to name just a few. There’s not a bad song on the album, and if you were to shuffle it in with your other Crowded House albums, you might find that most of the songs hold up pretty well. But you won’t be rolling down the car window to sing along this time.
KORN III – REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE 
Korn
When I went to audition this album, I was amused to see that about a half dozen sites claimed to have the “exclusive” stream to listen to. That was actually about the last amusing thing, though: the music is the same pompous metal melodrama that these gents have been cranking out for a couple of decades now. If the sound works for you, it’s as heavy as you remember it. But, really, in the same week that Dark Night Of The Soul and Intriguer examine the reality of just how low life can bring you, nothing that these barking millionaires have to say on the subject of how tough life is resonates particularly. Evidently, they “don’t care about anything;” maybe, but it was more fun when Joey Ramone was saying stuff like that. And doubtless there’s a fascinating story behind their use of the roman numeral “III,” but I’ll let them have their secret.
Other Noteworthy 7/13 Music Releases
M.I.A., /\/\ /\ Y /\. Political music doesn’t have to be about easily-digested politics, and raging against consumerism is slightly more convincing coming from a risk-taking up-and-comer than the usual bloated millionaires. The success of Slumdog Millionaire provoked a backlash that probably got more than few people sick of “Paper Planes,” so it’s about time for Ms. Arulpragasam to deliver some fresh tracks.
Sun Kil Moon, Admiral Fell Promises. The nylon strings give the guitar work a classic feel, but the vocals still have the lazy slur, and the songs reach for a melancholy that, four albums in, they still haven’t completely earned. But if Iron and Wine rocks a bit too hard for your sensibilities, Mr. Kozelek keeps it gentle and discreet.
Soilwork, The Panic Broadcast. It says here that “there are few artists that need no introduction, but Sweden’s Soilwork are definitely one of them.” And who am I to argue? Pick to click: “Enter, Dog Of Pavlov.”
Eliza Gilkyson, John Gorka, and Lucy Kaplansky, Red Horse. Three important contemporary folk songwriters perform each other’s songs. Unfortunately, none of them are equally strong singers, so if you find a tune or two here that appeals to you, you’re going to want to look for the original. Still, useful as a sampler.
Joe Elliott’s Down N Outz , My Regeneration. Maybe the best collection of songs of any album released this week; the trick, of course, is that Def Leppard’s frontman didn’t write any of them; mostly, Ian Hunter did. Still, if you share my nostalgia for the days of Mott the Hoople, Overnight Angels, and the like, you’ve got to at least smile at the enthusiastic cover treatment they give to “Shouting and Pointing” or the heart-on-the-sleeve roughness of “3,000 Miles From Here.”
Jerrod Niemann, Judge Jerrod and the Hung Jury. Jimmy Buffett, call your office.
Great Big Sea, Safe Upon the Shore. I’m guessing that this pleasant bit of folk-rock is the only album that will be released this year with songwriting contributions from Randy Bachman and Russell Crowe.
In This Moment, A Star-Crossed Wasteland. The wasteland part they’ve got right, but they’re kidding themselves if they think they’re stars; if they were, I’d be able to tell which name was the group, and which was the album.
Innocence Mission, My Room in the Trees. Too precious? Of course. I try not to doubt their sincerity on songs like “The Happy Mondays” or “God Is Love,” but Karin Peris’ singing always retains a quality of arch detachment that leaves me wondering. Still, they do get a song in about “Rhode Island,” and I don’t think even Sufjan Stevens has done that yet.