'Eleven'
Tommy Igoe and the Birdland Big Band (Deep Rhythm Music)
'Boy's Night Out'
The Michael Treni Big Band (Bell)
Big bands sometimes exist by being mimics of the famous ensembles of the past. But some manage to have their own lives. The Michael Treni Big Band and the Birdland Big Band are nowhere as innovative as the Maria Schneider Orchestra or even the long-gone Thad Jones-Mel Lewis Big Band. But Treni's "Boy's Night Out" and the Birdland's "Eleven" show bands that are aggressive and fresh, even with familiar material. Drummer Tommy Igoe's band does not feature clever arrangements as much as it does big, full sections backing up a range of soloists. As a result, "Armando's Rhumba" takes on a drive Chick Corea never gave it. Herbie Hancock's "Butterfly" is a little more laid-back, but there is bite to even its sectional play. On the other hand, Treni's band thrives on its arrangements. From the opening notes of its jazz-waltz version of "Something's Coming," the chart-oriented listener will perk up. This is a high-energy unit, too, with a forceful title track and "Lullaby of Birdland," but it adds a few strings for a softer "Here's That Rainy Day."
— Bob Karlovits
'Accelerando'
Vijay Iyer Trio (ACT Music)
Pianist Vijay Iyer is never to be taken for granted. In whatever form he is playing, he pulls music away from the ordinary, but seldom makes it hard to handle. "Accelerando" is a trio album with bassist Stephen Crump and drummer Marcus Gilmore that, he says, analyzes the action of music. The music ranges from "The Village of Virgins" from a Duke Ellington ballet to "The Star of a Story" by Rodney Temperton, author of "Thriller." It also includes "Little Pocket of Demons," a curiously rhythmic piece by avant-garde saxophonist Henry Threadgill. In the middle of it are five Iyer originals that approach music with the same ferocity of melody and rhythm. His "Actions Speak," for instance, is a musical seizure that never strays from the driving melodic statement that opens the piece. Throughout the album, Gilmore's drumming is as wicked as Iyer's playing. This impressive look at music should not be filed under "relaxing."
— Bob Karlovits
'Temple Beautiful'
Chuck Prophet (Yep Roc)
Chuck Prophet bills his new album as an ode to his adopted hometown of San Francisco. The Bay Area references are obvious in numbers such as "Willie Mays Is Up at Bat," which names not only the Say-Hey Kid, but also other noted and notorious San Franciscans, such as stripper Carol Doda, promoter Bill Graham and Jim Jones of the People's Temple. On most other tracks, however, like the fratricidal tale of the porn-purveying Mitchell Brothers ("The Left Hand and the Right Hand"), the S.F. connections are not so clear. That's OK, because Prophet is not going for historical accuracy. Rather, the veteran rocker is out to create an impressionistic portrait, and, more often than not, he pulls you in even if you don't know the real-life inspirations for the songs. It's a multifaceted portrait, both romantic and clear-eyed, and so is Prophet's musical palette, which starts, as usual, with taut, sharply melodic rock and, then, works variations from there. Deceptively expressive for someone with a nasal voice and an often phlegmatic delivery, he's as at home with the string-draped balladry of "Museum of Broken Hearts" as with the peppy pop of "Little Boy, Little Girl," or the R&B-flavored groove of "White Night, Big City." That last one's about the 1978 slaying of Harvey Milk, though, again, Prophet never comes right out and says so.
— The Philadelphia Inquirer
'Port of Morrow'
The Shins (Aural Apothecary/ Columbia)
"Port of Morrow" proves that you can indeed teach an old dog (not so old, this 41-year-old pooch) several new tricks. James Mercer -- the Shins' majority stockholder, singer, songwriter and primary instrumentalist -- left behind his original band members, recruited a new team, changed his lyrical tone from smug sarcasm to buggy romanticism, and let in a new spaciousness. That last aspect must have something to do with Mercer having recorded a solo project, "Broken Bells," with oddball producer Danger Mouse. "Port of Morrow" has the feeling of a breeze through an open window, an easy ambience that lends the insular "September" and the ruminative "Fall of '82" an air of hope. As a guitarist, Mercer is still a mean gunslinger, but he has learned when to holster his weapon and lay off the nerve-jangling noise. Mercer's lyrics still come across as wifty and cryptic, but there's no mistaking the loving emotionalism of "It's Only Life." As for pure joy, the impish "Simple Song" is downright upright in its bold-faced ebullience. It may take getting used to, but Mercer got happy, shouted hallelujah, and made everything good in the Shins' world.
— The Philadelphia Inquirer
'Ssss'
VCMG (Mute)
VCMG stands for Vince Clarke and Martin Gore, the two synth-pop vets who founded Depeche Mode. Clarke left Depeche Mode after writing most of the band's debut album, including perky New Wave classics such as "Dreaming of Me" and, with Gore, "Just Can't Get Enough." While Gore led Depeche Mode into gothic seriousness and arena-size popularity, Clarke found success with Yaz and Erasure. "Ssss" is the first Clarke-Gore collaboration since 1981. It's not a return to the percolating pleasures of early synth-pop; instead, it's an instrumental techno album, less concerned with melodies or hooks than with the steady beat to thump in clubs. That's fine, but it's disappointing coming from two guys once so good at writing catchy, memorable pop songs. Tracks hover around the six-minute mark, but they seem longer: The relentless rhythms, even with hints of the men's youthful obsession with Kraftwerk, prove you just can get enough.
— The Philadelphia Inquirer
'Reign of Terror'
Sleigh Bells (Mom + Pop)
On Sleigh Bells' delectable 2010 debut "Treats," the car-crash pileup of Derek E. Miller's overdriven guitars and gargantuan drum-machine beats laid a violently explosive foundation for charismatic front woman Alexis Krauss to coo over sweetly. It worked so well, in part, because there were discernible melodies beneath the maelstrom of noise. For the most part, that's still true on "Reign of Terror," although Miller's production strategy of intensely compressing the sound before turning it all the way up to 11 can create barriers to entry quite difficult to overcome, as on the well-titled "You Lost Me." And, while the whole of "Reign of Terror" gleefully blasts away with a wall of noise to make the Jesus & Mary Chain blush, the concise, essentially pop architecture of the arrangements turn initially abrasive tunes like "Comeback Kid" and "Road to Hell" into earworms.
— The Philadelphia Inquirer
