The New Year, Newness Ends (Touch and Go): While the 10-song disc contains many of the Kadanes' trademarks, such as the music-box guitars and hush-little-baby vocals that graced all three Bedhead records, it's not just a new name for an old group. Newness Ends goes down the same path as Bedhead records, but it jogs instead of walks; imagine Transaction de Novo on a new diet-and-exercise regimen. You can hear it best on a left-right combination that comes just before Newness Ends ends: The band gives the drummer some on "The Block That Doesn't Exist," leaning on Brokaw's snare like a greedy loan shark, which is followed by "Carne Lavare," the most foot-on-the-monitor rawk song the brothers Kadane have ever attempted. ("What Fun Life Is," February 15) --Z.C.
the pAper chAse, cntrl-alt-delete-u (Divot): "As it says in the album notes," singer-guitarist John Congleton says, "'This record is a commentary on the average human's reliance on technology and the division it has drawn between nature and such. It's an A to B conversation, if you will. As to who A and B are, is at your personal digression...By the by, this is not a suggestion on how we can do better; it is only to point out how bad we are, in fact, doing. Sleep well.'" (Scene, Heard, May 10) --Z.C.
Nancy Newberry
Chomsky's Onward Quirky Soldiers was one of the best of the best in 2001.
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Pleasant Grove, Auscultation of the Heart (Glitterhouse): Though the group puts on one of the better live shows around, given the right circumstances (say, playing in another town, perhaps), Auscultation of the Heart is the best place to hear what Pleasant Grove is all about. It's a rock record that doesn't, a country album that isn't, a soul disc just because. Joe Butcher says it's "Willie Nelson meets Pink Floyd," and it is that, in a way, and so much more. "I wish you were better/So when we're together/The magic that happened/Happens again," Bret Egner sings on "Albatross," and it's a sentiment that permeates the entire album, the kind of happy-to-be-sad feeling Marcus Striplin refers to when talking about the songs he and Egner write. "It's all the good what-ifs," he says. "I look at you; I look at everybody. We're all fucking sad, and it's OK." ("Heart to Heart," December 27) --Z.C.
The Polyphonic Spree, The Beginning Stages of... (Good): The Beginning Stages of... is nearly as good as a live performance, highlighting singalong vocals, pretty strings and trumpet and flute flourishes not unlike Spiritualized, without being pretentious or depressive. In fact, that's always been Tim DeLaughter's strength as a musician: He's happy and exudes joy in his music. Polyphonic is definitely a more serious affair than Tripping Daisy but still exciting and playful. (Dallas ObserverMusic Awards 2001, April 19) --Jessica Parker
Red Animal War, Breaking in an Angel (Deep Elm): The songs you hear on Breaking in an Angel--think of a Texan version of Jawbox; complicated time signatures and complicated feelings, with razor-wire guitars and a rhythm section that kicks a hole in your chest--don't necessarily reflect the current incarnation of Red Animal War. Meaning: The songs are good, but the band is even better now. ("War Stories," June 21) --Z.C.
Sorta, Plays for Lovers (Summer Break): Trey Johnson's vocals, raspy and earnest but anchored in the land of tenor, give the band's sound some flexible cohesion, and Danny Balis' clear harmonies evoke the nostalgia of No Depression. But song for song, Carter Albrecht has the swing vote; his keyboard sets each song's subtle undercurrent, from an Attractions stomp to a Gainsbourgian cabaret, from sweeping grand piano to feel-good plinking. And while the band plays with moods, it's within an American indie scope: "Alcohol Drip" is a surprisingly clean anthem to booze and forgetting, while the looser, more soulful "It's a Sign" is more resignedly Westerberg. "Bye Bye" notches things over to staccato rock guitar, and the bluegrassy "Now and Then" comes off like a lost track from Wilco's A.M. It's an impressive debut, given its spontaneity. ("Kinda Sorta," December 20) --Christina Rees
The Toadies, Hell Below/Stars Above (Interscope): Hell Below/Stars Aboveis a kick--anthemic but never bludgeoning, chaotic but never shapeless. You can almost hear guitarist Clark Vogeler standing with one foot on the monitors; you can almost hear the audience shouting along to every word ("We're coming into your living room/We're crawling into your bed--yeeeeaaaah"). It's the sound of a band let loose after years of being restrained, by a manager or a label or perhaps even itself. ("Dallas Stars," March 15) --R.W.
