Jay Farrar -- Sebastopol (Artemis Records)
Jay Farrar's first solo project, Sebastopol, seems as good a place as any to call a symbolic end to the "alt-country" movement. Farrar was a reluctant founding father of "alt-country" with his early 90s band, Uncle Tupelo, and a standard-bearer with its offshoot, Son Volt. But with Sebastopol, Farrar now takes his place along side Wilco, the Jayhawks, Joe Henry, the Old 97s and other fellow travelers in the genre's evolution away from its roots.
Thematically, Farrar hasn't changed his spots: Only the road provides escape from our urban nightmare. But on songs like "Vitamins" and "Voodoo Candle," you're more likely to hear a synthesizer than you are the lonesome whine of a pedal steel. The success of this switch has a lot to do with Farrar's associates on the album. John Agnello, co-producer along with Farrar, has credits that range from the Breeders to Earth, Wind and Fire. The Flaming Lips' Steven Drodze plays keyboards on five tracks, while members of indie stalwarts Superchunk and Centro-Matic make their presence felt, too.
For a traditionalist like Farrar, Sebastopol is a quantum leap into the modern world, akin to a Luddite ordering sledgehammers over the Internet. Luckily, his message is timeless enough to survive the demise of any genre. -- JS
Jay-Z -- The Blueprint (Roc-A-Fella, Island/Def Jam)
Jay-Z has the perfect flow to match his big-pimpin' lifestyle -- a laid back, vaguely Afro-British brogue paired with the snob-like tone of a Michelin food critic. He's passed through his "thug" phase for the most part, and now has entered that rarest of rap worlds: Like Puffy (er, P. Diddy), he now may rap about his riches, and pay people to do his "dirty work" for him.
Strangely enough, it works well enough. After the short, obligatory intro (he hasn't passed through that stage yet, evidently), he launches into "Takeover," featuring a song-long sample of The Doors (!) cut "Five To One." Jim Morrison never sounded more down. "Izzo (H.O.V.A.)," the first single and current radio hit, isn't about much of anything in particular, but will bump the trunk pretty well, which is probably the point anyway. Other standouts include "Jigga that N***a" and "U Don't Know," more-of-the-same tales of his Stan Smith vintage kicks and orange watches and diamonds and Rocawear (Jay's own clothing line, in a store near you). Such Mr. Blackwell-type ranting only works here because the beats are as similarly elegant as Jay's laundry list of luxury.
Sure to be the track that draws the most attention, "Renagade" (sic) features a duet with Eminem, who again shows he can kick up some mind-twisting verbal runs at the drop of a Kangol. Along with Em, Jay is likely one of the most talented rappers we have. With Slim Shady, though, you have the feeling he stands for something, even if you're not quite sure what it is. Jay's stands seem to come only when it's time to get fitted for a new line of clothing. -- TD
George Jones -- The Rock -- Stone Cold Country 2001 (BMG)
Like the most recent release by Merle Haggard on Epitaph, or the last few John R. Cash records on American Recordings, The Rock shows that while you can't always teach an old dog new tricks, sometimes you can make him remember the old ones. Like most of the best of The Possum's work, it sounds best with a beer and a smoke (strong coffee and a greasy hamburger at bare minimum). Jones' voice sounds as smoke-cured as it did 30 years ago, and he seems fully invigorated entering into this, what may well be his fourth or fifth decade in the business. Standouts: "I Got Everything," "The Rock," "Beer Run" (with Garth Brooks, natch) and "Wood and Wire." Nashville's ass is still grass, and the Possum is indeed still the lawnmower. Comeback of the year? -- TD
Modest Mouse -- Everywhere And His Nasty Parlor Tricks (Epic)
This must be what all the really hip staffers at Epic listen to -- sort of a token nod to the indie-rock world from The Machine. Sort of Beck-ish along the lines of Mellow Gold, Modest Mouse are pretty much equally prolific to the pre-stardom Mr. Hansen, releasing a new platter of art seemingly biannually. After releasing numerous full-length discs, EPs, a few limited-edition, vinyl-only albums and last year's critically lauded Epic debut, The Moon & Antarctica, the band has released a beautiful new EP, Everywhere And His Nasty Parlour Tricks.
The EP collects four tracks from the now out of print vinyl-only Night on the Sun EP, along with three new studio recordings and some Moon remixes. Recommended to those who wonder what Built To Spill would sound like if they'd grown up with shakers and acoustic guitars and Mahavishnu Orchestra records -- and Colecovision, pot, Ram Dass, microwave burritos, Ayn Rand and American Spirit cigarettes. Kinda like the Meat Puppets in their prime: extravagantly beautiful in a scruffy sort of way. -- TD
Slayer -- God Hates Us All (American)
No, God just hates wholly uncreative attempts to comment on Him. The interior of the CD is done as a bible, blacked out and marked up with red pen with words like "chaos" and "lie." Whooo, scary! Question: If you hate religion so much, why do you do nothing but talk about it?
Musically, it hits like a ton of bricks (as always). Still, if your mind can pretty much cancel out anything being said in favor of the groove around song number three, it's an OK release, I suppose. It's sonically aided by Rick Rubin, who also manned the controls of the still-remarkable Qawwali (vocal-led music of devotional Sufism) albums of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan (not to mention Johnny Cash and the Beastie Boys). Plus, he has a cool Billy Gibbons-like beard. Can we get this guy on a Rock & Roll Hall of Fame ballot? -- TD
Tenacious D -- Self Titled (Epic)
It's been said that "The D" are a band for those who just have to rock ass -- and this album definitely proves it. Sure, with songs like "Cock Pushups" and "Hard Fucking," it's no Grammy Award winner -- hell, it might not even get an award from MTV -- but what it lacks in "critical appeal," it certainly makes up for in sheer gusto. The band, made up of actor/musician Jack Black (who stars in the upcoming, Charlotte-filmed Shallow Hal) and Kyle Gass, takes a sarcastic look at life, love, friendship and, of course, sex. As musicians, they're actually not that bad, particularly if you've ever caught their live show. As lyricists, well, you've really got to be a fan and have an open mind. But if you're looking for rock ripe with male ingenuity, then you'll find it here. -- MM
Billy Bob Thornton -- Private Radio (Lost Highway/Universal)
Arrrrright then. Let me begin by saying that Billy Bob Thornton is one of my favorite actors, and I usually enjoy (most) everything he has a hand in. He brings some true Southern culture to the mainstream, and doesn't bow to convention. Hell, I even like his wife Angelina Jolie.
That said, someone should have taken a sling blade (some folks call it a kaiser blade) to most of the 12 songs on this album. Thornton's voice isn't all that bad, a nice deep basso profundo that manages to rattle the woofers. Unlike Johnny Cash or George Jones, however, he doesn't know when to hold it back. Or hold back lines such as "This cigarette burns like the pain in my soul," "When I'm by myself -- I'm not alone," and "It's like an ice-cold blanket/on the bed of my soul."
There's even a song for the late Jim "Hey Vern" Varney, titled "That Mountain" (actually one of the better songs on the record). The other dedicated song, "Angelina," could likely be heard, with the names changed, on any Americana songwriter night anywhere on this side of the Mason-Dixon line. Or in Los Angeles, for that matter.
Private Radio probably should have stayed that way, methinks. Tune in only if you're a dyed-in-the-flannel Billy Bob completist. Ummm-hmm. -- TD