Album Reviews

FINNTROLL
Jaktens Tid
(Century Media)
Allegedly formed out of a drunken jam session, Helsinki's Finntroll takes as much inspiration from its regional folk music (especially humppa and polska, which are similar to Czech polkas) as from the death and black metal for which the Nordic states are known. Jaktens Tid is a galloping, cheeky metal album that alternately sounds like the soundtrack to the latest raid by the Viking horde ("Bakom Varje Fura, "Kitteldags," "Födosagan") and the mead-steeped party in the tavern afterwards ("Skogens Hämnd," the title track). The songs are unusually melodic for this kind of aggression, due mainly to the sextet's subtle incorporation of humppa riffs and orchestral textures. Strangely enough, the sound of power chords thundering along with a polka melody isn't as synapse-frying as you might think; the metallicized version of the Nordic folk standard "VargTimmen" (also memorably covered by Swedish folk rock institution Hedningarna) works particularly well. It's hard to know how to take a band that calls its music "advanced troll metal," particularly with a liner note snapshot clearly intended to be tongue-in-cheek. The lyrics, supposedly spouting an anti-Christian bias, will be a mystery to anyone not fluent in Finnish, so they're no help. What isn't debatable, however, is the obvious blast Finntroll is having flailing the Niflheim out of these tunes; it's impossible not to get caught up in the raise-a-tankard spirit. Jaktens Tid is glorious headbanging entertainment. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: Vintersong, Amorphis' Black Winter Day, Hollenthon

TERRY GARLAND
Out Where the Blue Begins
(Planetary)
Two words come to mind when listening to Out Where the Blue Begins, Terry Garland's fourth CD: Thank you.

Thank you, Mr. Garland, for sidestepping the self-indulgence that plagues some blues musicians today; your masterful slide and acoustic guitar stylings are impressive enough without resorting to showboating and chicanery. Thank you for utilizing your limited voice well, leaning into a Clapton-esque growl when appropriate, and working within your range. And come to think of it, thank you for not imitating a black singer.

Thank you also for good songs. Your five originals, including the stomping "Dude Boy Boogie," the Deltafied "Poor Boy Blues" and the horn-cushioned, jaunty title track hit the bullseye, avoiding overzealous clichés and colloquialisms. And your seven covers are good choices too, such as the country blues workups of Muddy Waters' "I Can't Be Satisfied" and his rarer, loping "Champagne and Reefer," as well as a chugging "Dallas" more tasteful than writer Johnny Winter's own version.

Lots of musicians follow the blues muse down the path of self-righteous indulgence, hokey affectation and clueless embarrassment. Thank you, Mr. Garland, for leaving those turkeys in your dust. Brian Briscoe [buy it]

For fans of: Rory Block, Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee, Corey Harris

MONEY MARK
Change Is Coming
(Emperor Norton)
He's been called reclusive, but you wouldn't know that by listening to the twelve extroverted jazz/funk instrumentals on Change Is Coming, the latest release from the California-based keyboardist/multi-instrumentalist Money Mark (AKA Mark Ramos-Nishita). Perhaps best known for his influential, if not essential, keyboard and gadget-sound contributions to several Beastie Boys albums, here MM displays his skill for writing cinematic songs with just the right amount of nostalgic yearning. At times sounding like 1970s Herbie Hancock, Beck (it should be noted that MM played keyboards on "Where It's At") and Tom Jobím all at once, MM leans on his influences and contemporaries tastefully as he invites the listener to join him on a friendly jaunt through a sonic neighborhood populated with genre-bending sounds.

The record opens with a cool funk groove called "Chocochip," which features guest Sean Lennon playing a mean bass line over MM's cool Fender Rhodes jabs and zany analog synthesizer sounds. "Caught Without a Race," a reference to MM's Mexican-Japanese roots, continues the funk with a low-slung bass line, distorted Hammond organ and tough saxophone riffs. The funk doesn't overwhelm though—the album is rounded out with a couple of Afro/Latin jazz numbers (one with Los Lobos) and a couple of mild techno-rockers. Several tracks could be (or should be) theme music for any downtown corner where well-heeled pimps and hookers jive politely with their favorite cops and pushers while an animated sun looks down, sipping a martini and gently radiating good vibes.

The album is so rich with sonic imagery that you can almost see the credits begin to roll if you close your eyes on the last song, "Rain (NYC)." A lonely clarinet sadly says goodbye over the vibraphone, guitar, bass and synth. It's a fitting and beautiful ending to an album worth owning. Benjamin Johnston [buy it]

For fans of: Beck, Sergio Mendes/Brazil '66, Henry Mancini

THE SILOS
Laser Beam Next Door
(Checkered Past)
Over their decade-plus career, the Silos, fronted by songwriter/guitarist/vocalist Walter Salas-Humara, have gone through several lineups, a major label stint with RCA and enough cities to qualify as tour guides. It's no wonder the songs on Laser Beam Next Door sound like weathered anthems of triumph over adversity.

A controlled roll of the drums powers open the first song, "Satisfied," which quickly takes shape as a rhythmic homage to the Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil." While proudly declaring that an inward look into a relationship may prove that satisfaction is possible, the lyrical tone of "Satisfied" seems to set the tone for the album—the voice is one of experience, self-confidence and truth. "Drunken Moon" has that slinky groove you crave when the buzz takes hold and the bar tables start to move a little faster than you do. A subtle Hammond organ provides the glue for the sparse guitar and bouncy rubber bass lines that move the song onto the dance floor; they make up the backing for the sugary sweet vocals.

On "I Believe" Salas-Humara alludes to a gritty world of trouble and troubled people—"All the hippies smell like gasoline/And all the police are on methadrine." The music and the chorus reinforce the narrator's power to rise above it all, as they build to a climactic bridge where a slanted melody showcases the trios' talents and penchant for drama. A couple of dreamy and laid back Spanish language rockers, "Sangres y Lagrimas" and "Disfrute," add to the worldly feel of the album. The Silos have delivered an honest, emotional and uplifting rock record without resorting to pretension and without fearing the simplicity of good three-chord rock. Que magnifico! Benjamin Johnston [buy it]

For fans of: Wilco, the Grateful Dead, Los Lobos

RICKY SKAGGS AND KENTUCKY THUNDER
History of the Future
(Skaggs Family)
In Lake Jackson, Texas, more than a decade ago, was a guitar shop named Larry's Music. It was a tiny place not far removed from the country, and on Saturdays bluegrass old-timers would come to town for a cup of Larry's coffee and a chat. Many a conversation turned with reverence to tales of legends like Bill Monroe or Flatt and Scruggs. Just as often Ricky Skaggs would be mentioned as a guitarist and mandolin picker who not only played like a man possessed, but did a fine job carrying the bluegrass torch.

History of the Future, Skaggs' fourth consecutive bluegrass CD, bears those stories out. A run through the standard "Shady Grove" finds Skaggs not only playing blistering acoustic guitar, but surrounded by fiery players like fiddler Andy Leftwich, who also plays mandolin impressively enough that Skaggs rearranged the song to give him a solo. The instrumental "The Road to Spencer" takes an Irish bent, with a colorful melody and pennywhistle accompaniment. "Mother's Only Sleeping," a Monroe song, is a gorgeous gospel waltz with tight vocal harmonies. Paul Overstreet's "Halfway Home Cafe" is more contemporary in style, a tale of quiet redemption that competes with a fistful of other tunes for this CD's spotlight.

At its most modern a few country elements materialize, though they certainly don't water the music down; heck, maybe they'll help attract some of the CMT crowd. History of the Future is traditional bluegrass, largely, with stellar picking, tight harmonies and no drummers allowed. Brian Briscoe [buy it]

For fans of: Del McCoury, Alison Krauss, the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack

STAR CITY
Inside the Other Days
(Star City)
The greatest thing about the new roots rock movement that took hold in the 90s is that, despite a certain fatigue that may have set in concerning the actual sound, songs reign supreme. The alt.country/No Depression/whatever-the-hell-you-call-it surge brought songs back in focus during a decade that ass-kissed production quality. In an age of spit-and-polish arena gloss on the radio and self-conscious, sub-fi "experimentation" in the underground, it's nice to know there's a genre that's always about the search for the perfect marriage of words and music. Say what you will about the lack of imagination in the presentation—after all, most of the bands are just doing variations on Creedence Clearwater Revival and the Flying Burrito Brothers—but these folks know how to lay out a tune.

Case in point: Star City. With its second album Inside the Other Days, The New York quintet keeps to the standard sound of the genre, a clean, dry rock 'n' roll sound with inflections from country, folk and the blues, tastefully colored by keyboards, mandolin and steel guitar. To put it more explicitly, the band knows its shit; you may not hear anything particularly new here, but you'll rarely hear it done better. What really makes Star City something special, though, are the songs. Frontman Jason Lewis has a knack for a hook that doesn't announce its presence with a parade and fireworks; "Town and Country" and the explicitly Stonesy "Rabbit Scared" will have you humming without nudging you in the ribs first. Lyrically, he spins tales of love's down-and-out like Raymond Carver's postpunk protégé. In the shimmering "These Little Pills," the protagonist wonders if he and his lover will feel the same for each other after the Prozac takes effect; the hapless soul of "Come On Down" asks his potential savior if she's willing to join him in the gutter. "I'm gonna go down to the sea/And drink my heart from a cup," Lewis sings in the ballad "You and Me," as waves of guitars crash on the shore in the background, washing his wistful thinking out to sea.

The most remarkable tune is "Still Being Wild." On a barstool of roots pop hooks, the singer talks about indulging in a one-night stand to get back at his drunken, cheating lover; before it's over, he admits that his emotional numbness drove her to stray in the first place. It's a devastating moment of self-revelation and admission, and only the band's rollicking groove and Lewis' dry-as-dust singing make it easy to bear. There's hope on this record, as in the homeward bound "West Virginia Hills," but it's colored by a sense of fai