Queens of the Stone Age – Era Vulgaris

Ugh. Not impressed.

I own Songs for the Deaf, which I really like in spite of the terrible radio station skits. I passed on buying Lullabies to Paralyze because Nick Oliveri left the band and Dave Grohl (my favorite aspect of Deaf) wasn’t involved either. It didn’t help that the record got mixed reviews. I was excited, then, when most of the reviews I read raved about Era Vulgaris. The Queens’ brand of hard rock is out of fashion right now, and there’s hardly anyone doing it well, so this record was coming at the perfect time. (I must admit that playing “No One Knows” repeatedly on Guitar Hero 1 might also have primed me for the release of this album.

But it’s just a bunch of noise. Josh Homme can still play guitar really well, and his band plays some intimidating passages, but there isn’t a song on the album. Compare it to Deaf, which had “Hanging Tree,” “First It Giveth” and others in addition to the awesome singles “No One Knows” and “Go With The Flow.” Each of these was a song I could hum. There’s only one song like that on Era Vulgaris, and it’s “Make It Wit Chu.” Sorry, Queens. Not good enough.

Justice – Cross

I heard about Justice from my friend Kevin, who heard about them from an old Casa Italiana friend of ours, Sarah Gluckstern. I bought the song “Newjack” on iTunes and liked it. Then Justice started getting all sorts of hipster press. They’re a pair of scruffy French guys, who can’t be more than 23 years old. It sounds like a perfect backstory for an indie dance/electronic duo.

The album doesn’t quite measure up, though. Much like Kanye West’s new album, the record is frontloaded with all the good songs, and the back half of the album is a real chore. On the other hand, the opening 5 or 6 tracks are fantastic. Justice’s signature sound consists of some vocal samples, a great drum track, and a bassline all hacked to pieces and assembled like a collage. The end result sounds like a robot symphony. Or like the house DJ at a bar in Blade Runner’s dystopic future Los Angeles. It’s reminiscent of Daft Punk, with their commitment to melody and guitars (or at least guitar-sounding synths), but it’s harder and more ominous. If this sounds interesting, you owe it to yourself to check out “Newjack,” “Genesis,” “D.A.N.C.E.” and “Phantom.”

Spoon – Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga

I bought Spoon’s 2005 album Gimme Fiction after hearing the slyly funky “I Turn My Camera On” at a friend’s house. That album was taut, muscular and spare. I was surprised by Spoon’s serious commitment to rhythm. The tempo was always locked-in, and the arrangements used empty space to highlight the steady pulse. The record rocked without being hard or heavy. It took a few spins, but it turned out to be one of my favorite albums of the year.

Spoon’s new release, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, follows the same blueprint. This time, they’ve incorporated horns to some songs, with awesome results. The throwback “Got Yr Cherry Bomb” evokes classic 60’s Phil Spector or Motown with horns, tambourine, and an organ. “The Underdog” and “Finer Feelings” also sound—dare I say it—joyful. That’s not to say I don’t like the other songs. There’s not a weak track in the bunch, and I look forward to many repeat listens.

Kanye West – Graduation

Kanye’s Late Registration came out two days after I moved to LA, and it was the first record I bought here. (This was, incidentally, the same day New Orleans flooded in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.) So a new release from Kanye is cause for some personal reflection. Kanye seemed to be thinking the same thing, as Graduation is packed with his self-evaluations as a producer, rapper and star. It’s a shame it isn’t a better album.

Maybe my expectations are too high, as the record has several no-doubt-about-it singles and some great moments. The sterling “Good Life” is one of the former, with a can’t-miss sample from Michael Jackson’s “P.Y.T.”. Singer T-Pain adds his wonderful talkbox/vocoder shtick, which is a lot of fun to imitate. (Who doesn’t love talking like a robot?) Another standout is “Champion,” which includes a great patios sing-along section.

But the album suffers in comparison to his prior efforts, especially in the (even more) introspective second half. Honestly, Kanye isn’t good enough as a rapper to overcome tepid production. In the past, that hasn’t been a problem, as his songs typically overflow with full-bodied soul samples and original instrumentation. But starting with track 7, “Barry Bonds,” the album gets real dull real quick. The production gets minimal and experimental, and it’s just no fun to listen to. The worst of the bunch is “Drunk and Hot Girls,” which combines a terrible beat with an unfortunate rhyme pattern. Most egregiously, it wastes an appearance from commander cool Mos Def. Come to think about it, I’m not sure I remember hearing him at all. Unforgiveable.

Mark Ronson – Version

I’ve been a fan of Mark Ronson since I heard “Oooh Wee” a few years ago. That was a hall-of-fame hip-pop song that surprisingly few people are familiar with. Based on that song, I cherry-picked his first album, Here Comes the Fuzz, on iTunes. Later, I discovered he’d produced songs for Nikka Costa and Robbie Williams.

Suddenly, this spring, his work was everywhere. He’s responsible for the amazing sound of Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black and for lots of Lily Allen’s Alright, Still. Also, a pre-release track from this album was floating around. So I was excited to get my hands on this one.

I am not remotely disappointed. The sound Ronson settled on is similar to what we heard on Back to Black, but with a stronger hip-hop feel (even though only one track has any rapping). The result is a sharply rhythmic funk, with lots of horns and guest artists.

A cover of Radiohead’s “Just” is a standout track, as is Amy Winehouse’s contribution, “Valerie.” My personal favorite is the cover of Britney Spears’ “Toxic”, which features a filthy verse from the late, great ODB. “Old Man Dirt get under your skirt, fuck the pussy ‘til it’s orange like Ernie & Bert.” Nuff said.

Arctic Monkeys – Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not

OK, this record has been out for a while, and I’m sure if you were going to buy it, you’ve bought it already. But if you’re an alternative rock fan that likes the direction rock has gone this decade and you haven’t bought this album, here’s a tip: you should probably buy this album.

While nearly every song has an element I dislike (a tempo change, an out-of-place chord, weird song structure), the songs are so alive and fresh it’s impossible not to like this record. I’ll admit, though, that I didn’t get it the first time through. If I concentrate on any one specific song, it’s underwhelming, but as a collection of songs, the Monkeys have produced an awesome document of life for drunken British twentysomethings circa late 2005.

I was also impressed with Alex Turner’s lyrics. He clearly enjoys writing and wordplay, which indicates to me that he’s got a lot to say. This bodes well for future Arctic Monkeys albums.

Thicke – A Beautiful World

My desire to purchase this record can be traced to Blake Lewis’ performance of “When I Get You Alone” on American Idol a few months ago. He turned in a pretty credible version, but it was the song itself that really grabbed me.

First of all, the song is not based on Beethoven’s 5th Symphony, as Ryan Seacrest stated, but rather on Walter Murphy’s “A Fifth of Beethoven”. (Anyone as familiar with the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack as I am—and after all, it’s the most popular soundtrack in history (25 million records sold)—probably noticed that funky bassline immediately. SNF is also graced with the ominously funky “Night on Disco Mountain”.) I hadn’t thought of “A Fifth of Beethoven” in much too long, and I was intrigued that someone else had written a song over the top of it.

Second, Robin Thicke is the son of actor Alan Thicke (dad Jason Seaver from Growing Pains), a fact of which he seems very aware. The lyrics of “Get You Alone” seem to confirm as much: “…does she want me to make a vow? On…my father’s last name?” I just thought it was interesting, because when Blake sang it, that lyric became completely meaningless. Anyway…

I knew the album would have a couple of good songs, but I thought it would be pretty uneven. I was wrong. While there are one or two songs I skip, this is a remarkably consistent debut, especially for a rich white kid singing R&B sex jams. Besides “When I Get You Alone,” I was transfixed by the sunny chorus and odd melody of “Brand New Jones” and by the lurching, two-note thump of “She’s Gangsta.” “Oh Shooter,” “The Stupid Things,” “Suga Mama,” and “Lazy Bones” are all strong songs as well.

What’s most striking about Thicke is the sincerity and forthrightness he brings to these songs. Unlike, say, Har Mar Superstar (who I adore unconditionally), the “let’s-knock-boots” ballads and funky dance workouts don’t seem like a put-on. Psychologically, he refuses to acknowledge that no one will take him seriously singing this music. And you know what? Because he took it so seriously, people are taking him seriously. Food for thought.