“Superhero Brother”
G. Love & Special Sauce, $13.98

You know, I’ve tried.

I’ve really, really tried, but every time I look for the supposed musical genius and innovation within G. Love’s music, I come up with nothing.

I’ll go so far as to say it’s OK. Never once have I been blown away by anything I’ve heard by him. This new album is no different.

Not surprisingly, Garrett “G. Love” Dutton III is a longtime associate of Jack Johnson. Their music is quite similar stylistically and rhythmically. Dubbed “alternative hip-hop” on Wikipedia, the tunes of the G. Love & Special Sauce trio throws together uninventive melodies with a cacophony of some combination of harmonica, drums, bass, piano and guitar — all led by Dutton’s vocals, at times sung, at other times rapped.

The group’s new record is not far from what one would expect. “Wiggle Worm,” with its wild harmonica and tumbling drumbeats, reminds me of basically everything I’ve heard from G. Love since the beginning; it’s the classic G. Love style.

The record isn’t completely hopeless, however. The driving piano chords on the opening track, “Communication,” are fun and lively. Again, not terribly creative, but not bad to listen to. “Wontcha Come Home” has a sweet, island sound that kind of makes me wish I was sipping something from a coconut shell. On “Grandmother,” the group gets a little jazzy, reminding me of some old Soul Coughing tunes; not a bad thing at all.

I’d say my favorite track, though, is the title song at the very end of the album. G. Love sings along to harmonica and acoustic guitar, putting his signature on a classic blues riff — somewhat familiar, but never unwelcome.

I have a feeling that G. Love’s music is probably a lot more fun to listen to in a live atmosphere — at an outdoor amphitheater full of barefooted neo-hippies, with a cooler of beer and some good friends to talk to. It’s the kind of music that works best interactively, otherwise you can’t really ever feel the energy it aims to convey.

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“At Mount Zoomer”
Wolf Parade, $13.98

Listening to Wolf Parade’s sophomore album, I find myself drawing comparisons to a combination of potential influences including U2, the Thompson Twins, Billy Joel and Semisonic — that final one especially, due to the vocals and piano throughout.

With heavy use of synths on much of the record, this is, to me, pretty much an attempt at something I like to call “new new wave” (and a Google search just now has confirmed that I am not the first person to come up with that term, to my disappointment) with a good dose of indie grit. It’s like Flock of Seagulls meets Modest Mouse, successfully resulting in a sound superior to both on their own devices.

The thing that I find very interesting while hearing each song on this album is that many of them only excel for moments at a time. There are rhythm shifts that make my heart thump (in a good way, not a medical-emergency way) and epic crescendos that send shivers through my bones (again, in a good way). The rest of the time, I find myself zoning out and become distracted. The music is largely only stimulating in bursts, but those bursts manage to redeem the remainder.

When the opening track, “Soldier’s Grin,” starts in, it doesn’t sound particularly awesome, but about two-and-a-half minutes in, there is a moment where I love it so much, I’d marry it. In “Call It a Ritual,” the vocal melody makes me melt at just about the one-minute, ten-second mark. I actually really disliked “California Dreamer” on first, second and third listen, but that’s because I let myself become too distracted early on and my attention was consistently elsewhere when the good parts happened.

Some songs really do go the distance, though. “Language City” is just one long burst of awesome. “Fine Young Cannibals,” as light and threadbare as it comes across, is actually what I’d consider the most engaging track on the record.

The album is less interesting during “The Grey Estates” and “An Animal in Your Care.” The former sounds less evolved than of what the rest of the album shows the band to be capable. The latter is thin, and it meanders in a way that never actually leads it anyplace good.

The final track, “Kissing the Beehive” (clocking in at nearly 11 minutes long), unintentionally shares its name with a Jonathan Carroll novel. The instrumentals — especially the break approaching the middle of the song — are very pretty and interesting. The whole thing goes on too long, though. The band could have cut out about three minutes from the end of the song and had something much more relevant.

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Hello music lovers!

Sorry this one is coming a bit late. On Friday, I accompanied members of the Features department on an excursion to the Methow Valley, so my blog resources were inaccessible for a time. Besides, I figured it’d be a good opportunity to do something different with the formula.

I picked out the latest release by Scottish band the Fratellis. Despite enjoying this type of glam-rock, Brit-pop music, I find I have a difficult time describing the sound of it. That alone implies it’s unremarkable, and that’s certainly not what I aim to imply. It’s fun, upbeat (at times even offbeat, and I mean that in regards to its character, not its rhythm) and draws comparisons to quite a range of musical influences, such as David Bowie (I’m really beginning to wonder what modern rock isn’t inspired by Bowie), the Beatles and Elvis Costello.

Thus, I subjected my workmates — Family and Faith reporter Rochelle Feil and my esteemed Go!-pilot Jefferson — to “Here We Stand” ($13.98) so I could get a more accurate take on it for my blog, and so we’d have some tunes for the road. After sifting through our dialogue, I’ve selected commentary for the standout tracks that excludes our tangents unrelated to the music.

As the album set off with “My Friend John,” Rochelle decided that she likes it. “I worry about what’s gonna happen to John,” Jefferson said. “Sounds ill-fated.”

“A Heady Tale” began, a tune I enjoy because it resembles a good saloon tune; there are not nearly enough bars with pianos in them these days. “Ooo, Ben Folds,” Rochelle squealed. This turns out to be one of her favorites.

As “Shameless” started in, Jefferson immediately recognized an influence I’d overlooked. “These guys sound Social Distortion-y,” he observed. “There’s sort of a psychobilly style,” he added as the song progressed. In fact, a rockabilly element was one of the first things I noticed when I heard my first Fratellis song, “Creeping Up the Backstairs,” a couple years back. “They also understand counterpoint,” Jefferson continued. “They understand you don’t always have to be loud.” Though not the most memorable song on the record, “Shameless” became the epoch of the conversation, where each person seemed to reach a point of cohesion on how they regarded the record.

“Look Out Sunshine!” evoked a good amount of chatter. “Did he say ‘cynical c***?’” Jefferson asked.
“It sounds like he did,” replied Rochelle.
I confirmed the suspicion.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word in a song before,” Rochelle mused.
“That’s what’s so great about Scottish people. It’s part of their everyday speech,” said I.
“It’s what they call their friends,” Jefferson stated.

Aside from lyrical anomalies, the tune also managed to prove itself one of the catchier songs on the album. Energetic and melodic, it makes an impression.

A favorite of Jefferson’s, “Mistress Mabel,” didn’t have the same impact on me and Rochelle, though she does now admit it sounds better on a second listen. We all agree it’s not one of the better songs in the tracklist, but it is appropriate as a single because, as Jefferson put it, “it’s approachable.” “It’s catchy enough for a summer single,” he claimed. “It’d get your attention on the radio.”

As the record played on, more comparisons were drawn among us, such as the White Stripes and Rod Stewart. Responding to “Lupe Brown,” Jefferson mentioned “it has that boozy, womanizing vibe to it.”

Songs that have replay value, as is the consensus from the listening session, are “My Friend John,” “Look Out Sunshine!” and the album’s closing track, “Jesus Stole My Baby.” While hearing the plight of the latter song’s subject, whose girlfriend essentially left him for a bible, Jefferson expressed his sympathy for the poor lad.

Though they found it enjoyable, my associates agreed they would not buy the album, but would also not turn down a listen were it suggested again. Rochelle’s already given it another round in her car since the trip. I have a feeling that at this point, she may think it’s worth shelling out money for.

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“Weezer (Red Album)”
Weezer, $13.98

I’m a Blue Album girl.

There are the music snobs who say “Pinkerton” was the most ambitious Weezer record. There are the next-gen Weezer fans who think Weezer’s career begins and ends with the Green Album. And then there are us, the W33z3r g33k5 (leetspeak for “Weezer geeks”) who have been around since the beginning, who don’t judge the band when it stumbles, who own all the rarities, who stand up for and support vocalist-guitarist Rivers Cuomo even during his “artistic episodes” … We are the Blue Album crew.

It’s the best Weezer album because you can remember where you were the first time you heard “Undone (The Sweater Song)” and you totally remember that one party in high school when you slow danced with your crush to “Say It Ain’t So.” My personal teenage anthem, “In the Garage,” made me feel connected, while “Surf Wax America” and “Holiday” indulged my escapist fantasies. The track list is, for lack of a better word, flawless.

Regardless, every new release day is a day for celebration. For me, nothing else Weezer does will probably ever outrank the band’s 1994 debut, but I still almost fell over myself clamoring to get my hands on 2005’s “Make Believe” and, because I love Weezer so much, it would have been worth the pain if I had.

On Tuesday, Weezer’s third self-titled record (the aforementioned Blue and Green Albums being the preceding two) — dubbed the Red Album so it can be told apart from the rest — hit store shelves. I made my weekly post-work visit to Target and picked up a deluxe edition of the band’s sixth full-length studio release, which includes 10 tracks with an additional four bonus songs. And I am quite pleased with the results.

However, I’ll be honest. If you’re not already a Weezer fan, there’s probably little chance there’s anything in this album that’ll interest you. The music remains pretty true-to-form for the power-pop group. If you are a Weezer fan, I probably don’t have to tell you to buy or not to buy this album. You already have it, regardless. This leaves us to those who are unfamiliar with Weezer (if such a phenomenon even exists). You’re the one group that will probably find an album review for this release at all useful.

Do yourself a favor and check out the group’s music video for “Pork and Beans,” the first single from the Red Album. How much you’ll like the album relies rather heavily on how much you like this song (unless you are a sucker for viral videos, in which case you might have to decide whether you enjoy the song for what it is, or for the video that goes along with it). “Pork and Beans” is classic Weezer: light, fun and entirely without pretension. The guys don’t take themselves too seriously, but they care about their craft. They’re like the William Shatner of music.

For the most part, the Red Album’s lyrics are nothing to shout about, but that probably won’t keep people from shouting along with them. Those catchy hooks take hold, and you really have no choice but to sing them. They will stick in your head, too. After giving the entire album a once-around, I was still bopping my head to “Troublemaker,” the opening track. “Troublemaker’s” rhythm reminds me of that old-school baseball taunt, “We want a pitcher, not a belly itcher!”

There are some low points on the record. “Heart Songs,” though it pays homage to the rock veterans who inspired Cuomo to become a rock veteran, comes off sounding boring and amateur. It doesn’t pop like a good Weezer song. Even the group’s slower, simpler tracks generally manage to engage my eardrums, but this song had them scanning the room for other, more stimulating sounds. “Thought I Knew” doesn’t even belong on a Weezer album. It’s got the feel of something punched from the late ’90s alt-rock template, and was written and sung by rhythm guitarist Brian Bell. This isn’t the only song where Cuomo relinquishes vocal duties on this record.

On “Cold Dark World,” bassist Scott Shriner takes the lead. Ideally, Cuomo would be singing this song. As the title suggests, it’s a bit darker than what we usually hear from Weezer, but it’s one of my favorites. Other standout tracks on the Red Album include the bouncy “Dreamin’” and the much-hyped, multi-genre “The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn).” The latter is one of those songs that won’t grab you immediately, but give it a couple listens and it could grow on you. It’s far from the epic that it strives to be, but it’s not nearly as schizophrenic as you’d expect a six-minute-long compilation of about 10 musical styles to be.

The bonus tracks are a little treat (though “King,” another Shriner-sung tune, wouldn’t be missed if it were removed from the list). “Miss Sweeney” is especially beautiful, with a refrain that reminds me of “Susanne,” a much older Weezer song.

Overall, this is a good, solid trip down Weezer Lane. It’s no Blue Album, but I’d never expect it to be. After all, you can’t beat perfection.

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It’s almost June, which means that it’s time to break out the blank tapes — sorry, CD-Rs — and compile your favorite summer tunes onto one easy-to-transport device. Sure, summer doesn’t officially begin until June 20, but (clearly) the sun isn’t waiting around to take its cue.

When I think of summery music, more often than not, I start to remember the tunes from “97.3 KBSG! — Seattle” (yes the jingle did just play in my head) that I grew up listening to when I lived in Redmond. Who can resist the light-hearted fun of a Buddy Holly or Monkees song on a hot summer day? Songs like that were made to be heard while outside catching some rays, sipping on a soda beverage and chomping down burgers. Just thinking about it makes me want to leave the office right now to go chill in the park with sandals and a single-scoop ice cream cone (any more and I’ll make a mess, I guarantee it) blasting “Sugar Shack” by Jimmy Gilmer & The Fireballs. … So, I’m sort of an overgrown eight-year-old, but my stuffed panda Squish prefers me that way. But I digress …

The problem here is that there are too many good songs from that era to fit onto one tape, or even two for that matter. Besides that, what could I include that isn’t already predictable? As much as I want to make a mix that doesn’t exclude Mungo Jerry’s “In the Summertime,” I think it’s about time I gave the summer mixed tape a makeover with some more modern tracks or, at the very least, some lesser-used gems (I couldn’t live with myself if I left off Bachman-Turner Overdrive’s 1975 release, “Hey You,” even if it is technically an oldie) that embody the season’s mood rather than make direct references to it. For good measure, I’ll divide a track list between two discs (what, you didn’t think I’d actually use an audiocassette, did you?): Summer Days and Summer Nights.

SUMMER DAYS
1. “Hey You” by Bachman-Turner Overdrive
2. “September” by Earth, Wind & Fire
3. “You May Be Right” by Billy Joel
4. “Higher Ground” by Stevie Wonder
5. “Island in the Sun” by Weezer
6. “Where It’s At” by Beck
7. “Girlfriend” by Harry Nilsson
8. “San Francisco Bay Blues” by Eric Clapton
9. “I See Love” by Keb’ Mo’
10. “Born on the Bayou” by Creedence Clearwater Revival
11. “Precious Time” by Van Morrison
12. “The Sweet Escape” by Gwen Stefani
13. “Callin’ Out” by Lyrics Born
14. “A Sweet Summer’s Night on Hammer Hill” by Jens Lekman
15. “La Grange” by ZZ Top
16. “Just Like Heaven” by the Cure
17. “Here Comes My Baby” by the Tremeloes
18. “Drift Away” by Dobie Gray

SUMMER NIGHTS
1. “Feeling Good” by Michael Bublé
2. “Lullaby” by Wang Chung
3. “Baby I Love Your Way” by Peter Frampton
4. “Mexico” by James Taylor
5. “Mud on the Tires” by Brad Paisley
6. “One of these Nights” by the Eagles
7. “Such a Night” by Dr. John
8. “Shadow Dancing” by Andy Gibb
9. “Minor Swing” by John Jorgenson
10. “On the Road Again” by Katie Melua
11. “Sinkin’ Soon” by Norah Jones
12. “Lucky” by Jason Mraz (featuring Colbie Caillat)
13. “Marry Me” by Martin Sexton
14. “Family Tree” by Ben Kweller
15. “Dusty Road” by Missy Higgins
16. “1000 Miles Per Hour” by Ok Go
17. “A Wink and a Smile” by Harry Connick Jr.
18. “American Pie” by Don McLean

On these discs, I’ve tried to cover a lot of ground with genre. Summer Days contains some of the more upbeat, danceable tracks for a high energy day in the sunshine. Summer Nights moves into the lazier, ambling tracks, perfect for a drive during twilight with the windows down and the volume up. Both CDs are full of good tunes to sing along to, as well. I’ve highlighted all my special favorites in blue. Some of these tunes are covers; for some reason or another, I felt they fit better here than the original versions.

What, no Jimmy Buffett? you say? How could I have left off the Offspring or System of a Down? I want my Missy Elliot! you demand. I know there are plenty more songs that could have worked well on these mixes, but with so many songs in the world, I just went with my gut … well, and the “top of my head,” as they say. It’s not an essential mix of summer songs (far from it, to be honest); just a very good one, if I do say so myself. Of course, I’m just trying to put the idea in your heads. If you don’t like mine, make your own. Whatever helps you enjoy the season.

Tips on making a mixed CD:
Pick a theme. Try not to become too specific with your themes. Try to keep them broad so you leave yourself with a lot of good song options. A Summer theme works well for this. You could go so far as to do one for Summer Love, or Summer Drives, Summer Nostalgia, etc. But try to stay away from themes such as Songs With My Name in Them. Besides really narrowing your options, you’re going to end up resorting to including songs that you don’t really want to listen to. Which leads me to my next tip …
Omit songs you don’t like. Should go without saying, but some people will go to any length to stick to a theme. Really, don’t do this. Ultimately, you’ll just end up skipping it every time you listen. And even if you don’t skip it, it will soil the experience.
No repeats. Maybe it’s just me, but when I make a mixed tape, I don’t like to repeat artists. Usually, multiple songs by the same artist fit into the same theme, so it’s hard to make a choice, but just pick one. That’s all you need to get your point across. It’s painful for me to accept that one Led Zeppelin song is enough, but in this case, it probably is.
Think of your listeners. More often than not, you’re making this CD to play with friends — at a party, on a road trip, etc. — so make sure to pick songs everyone will like, or at least tolerate. (No matter how much you love “Sunshine Day” by the Brady Bunch, and by “you” I mean “I,” it’s probably not going to be a crowd pleaser.) That’s why I keep some music in my library that I don’t normally want to listen to. It comes in handy for projects like this.

(As always, all the songs I mention are available at the iTunes store for 99 cents each.)

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“Thing of the Past”
Vetiver, $14.98

I entered a world of discovery when I purchased “Thing of the Past,” the latest release by indie-folk band Vetiver: I never realized how influential Norman Greenbaum was to his contemporaries; vetiver is a type of grass; I’ve never even heard of half the artists covered on this album; and I learned that, despite my never having heard of Vetiver, this is the group’s third studio album.

After listening to a lot of the band’s work, I’d decided that it decently pulls off the sound of guitar folk from the late ’60s and early ’70s. My first thought was Harry Nilsson coupled with Roger Miller and, finally, sprinkled with a bit of Neil Young. Then I realized that “Thing of the Past” is entirely composed of covers of songs from the exact era to which I was attributing Vetiver’s sound.

As far as I can tell — for much of the record — I may as well be listening to a Simon & Garfunkel album, except one that’s not quite so frequently depressing. This idea is especially supported on “Roll on Babe,” the mellow and breezy cover of Derroll Adams’ 1975 tune, and on “Standin’,” a cover of a Townes Van Zandt 1972 release.

Vetiver’s covers span a pretty decent range of styles within the genre, from the dreamy, lilting melody of Biff Rose’s “To Baby” to the Delta blues party that is Hawkwind’s “Hurry on Sundown.” Other offerings include Norman Greenbaum’s jam band-ish “Hook & Ladder,” Ian Matthews’ country-esque “Road to Ronderlin” and the anemic cousin to the Doors’ “Roadhouse Blues” that is Michael Hurley’s “Blue Driver,” that’s very good, albeit simple.

These days, these sorts of songs are so standard and familiar, they often come off sounding bland and uninspired. But Vetiver pulls it off so well, it keeps me listening.

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“Rockferry”
by Duffy, $13.98

I decided this week to feed into the hype surrounding Duffy (short for Aimee Duffy), the new hot thing out of Wales. There’s been a lot of buzz about the Welsh singer who touts a soul sound akin to that of Dionne Warwick or Gladys Knight. I was wary. I hear a name like “Duffy” and worry I’m headed for something more Britney Spears-ish.

But a listen through Duffy’s new LP, “Rockferry,” refuted my preconceptions. She may not stand at a level among the greats (yet), but the talent affording her reputation is substantive.

Musically, much of the record sounds like it could have been made by the Temptations. Duffy throws tinges of ’90s alt-rock and ’50s doo-wop (I’m even tempted to include “adult contemporary” in this list) into the mix to establish a sound that transcends the mundanity of the generic pop and R&B riding the airwaves these days.

“Distant Dreamer” is a track that would be right at home in the ’60s, with its dramatic strings and vintage prom anthem rhythm (I can almost taste the taffeta! Mmm … starchy). Duffy gets mellow on “Syrup & Honey,” accompanied by the plucky sway of an electric guitar. “Hanging on Too Long” sounds like a modern day “Ain’t No Sunshine,” that old Bill Withers tune about a lost love that won’t return. The beat picks up on “Mercy,” where Duffy seems to be following the trail of next-gen soul sister Joss Stone.

Though most of the songs on this record are notable — and the album is altogether quite cohesive — the most downloadable track is “Stepping Stone.” It’s one of those songs that feels so familiar, it takes no time at all to sink into. Some songs require some amount of adaptability and consideration, but “Stepping Stone” is like a hug from mom or like lounging around in a favorite sweater. Though, the mood of the track — congruent with much of the CD — communicates ambivalent feelings about love. To anyone whose disposition is influenced by music, or who chooses music directly based on existing emotions, consider this before listening.

Every Web site I’ve visited on the Internet offers “Rockferry” with a list of 10 songs. The copy I purchased (downloaded from iTunes for $9.99) has a dozen tracks. The final two are worth the digital download. “Save It for Your Prayers” and “Oh Boy” sound like unrefined demo versions, and were offered separately on the “Mercy” and “Rockferry” singles respectively. Her voice is at times smoky and husky, and other times smooth like honey — and it sounds good either way in the rawer form offered by these tracks.

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“The Age of the Understatement”
by the Last Shadow Puppets, $13.98

The Last Shadow Puppets is a collaboration between Alex Turner (lead singer of the Arctic Monkeys), Miles Kane (lead guitarist and vocalist of The Rascals), and drummer James Ford of Simian Mobile Disco.

While listening to the band’s debut full-length album, at times I feel as though I’m listening to ’70s TV themes or an old James Bond soundtrack. At other times I detect what could be described as the Doors of the new millennium. I should also note that the group’s “Age of the Understatement EP” from iTunes, released in April, contains a quite true-to-form cover of David Bowie’s “In the Heat of the Morning.” If any of these sounds appeals to you, you’ll probably love this release.

It’s a brisk and breezy record that’s easy to get through in one sitting. Most of the songs are under three minutes.

The band’s first and title track begs to be a radio hit, and it probably will be. It’s got galloping drums and guitar that make it sound strangely similar to “Knights of Cydonia” by Muse. Hmm … I wonder if somebody’s trying to get a spot on Guitar Hero IV.

Where the Last Shadow Puppets really gains my heart is on the third track, “Calm Like You,” with its brass section and surf-rock guitar. Turner channels the late Jim Morrison on the following song, “Separate and Ever Deadly.” The album’s moment of glory really happens on “Meeting Place,” a nostalgic tune about — or that seems to be about — a lost love that’s hard to let go: “He’s worried she’s waiting in his dreams/ to drag him back to the meeting place/ His love had left him there.” It’s the musical equivalent of standing under a street lamp on a calm, cool evening — stylish, peaceful, and evoking a specific and palpable mood.

The cool thing about this album is that it takes you back and takes you forward at the same time. Whether you’re looking for nostalgia or something fresh and new, you’ll find it casted in the Last Shadow Puppets.

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I can’t say I am particularly pleased with this week’s new music releases. Some of it certainly isn’t bad, but it’s not anything I’m especially interested in spending my money on. I’ve got a mortgage to pay, afterall, so I’m pretty particular about where my discretionary funds end up.

So, I won’t be reviewing anything today … not exactly. However, a new record released Tuesday by Madonna, “Hard Candy,” has compelled me to discuss musical integrity based on her lack thereof. This could also apply to Carly Simon’s latest “comeback” (she put out a new bossa nova-ish album, “This Kind of Love,” this week), but I actually have some level of respect for her as an iconic musician with passion for the craft, so I’ll forgive her for her limited number of mistakes.

Some people just don’t know when to stop. Music is supposed to be inspired, organic and meaningful, not manufactured and marketed. This is probably going to make me sound like a total hippie, but quality music can’t be made unless it is first felt. Madonna’s new album wasn’t felt at all. It was all forced — created from a predetermined design. Judging by the content of this album, I figure she was not inspired to make a new record because she was overflowing with musical ideas; she quite clearly wanted to make a new record simply because it’s her “career.” I frequently wonder if Madonna chose the wrong career. She was just inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this year and she’s been churning out records for over two decades, so I suppose I have a lot of opposition on this idea.

Sure, I’ll admit that not all of her music is bad. What she did up until about 1995 was pretty good, and some of it even becomes better with time. I think I enjoy “Like a Virgin” about 10 times more than I did when it was brand new. But just because your older songs are becoming more valuable, Madonna, is not an invitation for you to make something new. Trust me, in another 25 years, more people will remember “Into the Groove” than anything you’ve made over the past decade. Even your perverted rendition of the Don McLean classic “American Pie” will be long forgotten (if there is any justice in this world).

There’s a little phrase that applies here: “Quit while you’re ahead.” There was a time when Madonna was beloved and exciting. She should have quit before that time ended — when she didn’t have to rely simply on her diehard fans for record sales. You diehard fans all get a gold star for keeping the Material Girl from feeling like a failure. But honestly, as a diehard music fan, I’m somewhat insulted that she continues to create records that lack talent and passion just for the sake of keeping up with the demands of the industry and not losing her place in the spotlight.

In Madonna’s defense, she’s not the only aging musician who’s made this mistake. Most people were unable to escape the debut of Paula Abdul’s new single, “Dance Like There’s No Tomorrow,” on the “Randy Jackson’s Music Club, Volume 1″ compilation. Abdul’s last album (aside from some greatest hits compilations) was released in 1995. There’s no reason for her to ever make another, but she will. Oh, just you wait and see, she will. And it will never compare to the hits she had in her heyday, like “Cold Hearted” or “Straight Up.”

And that’s just one other example. I could bring up some more, but I’m sure you get the idea.

Music is art. It isn’t business. Listen to the blues — John Lee Hooker, Buddy Guy, Stevie Ray Vaughan — and you’ll get a perfect taste of what music sounds like when it’s truly inspired. Some great examples of music that really means something, that has heart, can be found on old records of Jimi Hendrix and Neil Young (Jefferson suggested Mr. Young, and I couldn’t very well argue with that one); deep within the basslines of Fleetwood Mac or the guitar riffs of AC/DC. From the compositions of Camille Saint-Saens to those of the Foo Fighters’ Dave Grohl … It’s all real, and it’s all beautiful, and it all stands the test of time because the music chose them — they didn’t choose the music. Great musicians are merely the vessels that bring great music to life.

That’s what I like in my music, because that’s what I think true music ought to be. If there’s not already a song in your heart, then please, I beg of you, don’t sing. But more importantly, don’t let Madonna sing. I don’t know what her heart is breeding now, but it’s certainly nothing to sing about.

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“Flight of the Conchords”
Flight of the Conchords, $15.99

I actually first heard about Flight of the Conchords when the New Zealand-based comedy duo was promoting its HBO series on myspace.com. Of course, I paid no mind to this at the time; I just figured it was another mindless program pandering to trend-watching teenagers. It was, in fact, several months later that I grew aware of my folly. A friend of mine was listening to “Business Time,” a song from the group’s Aug. 2007 EP, “The Distant Future.”

“Business Time,” also included on the new record, is by far the greatest thing Flight of the Conchords has ever done. The song is full of “win and leetness” — in other words, it’s wicked awesome. It’s a Barry White-esque groove that gives an honest and humorous look at the mating rituals of married folks, or people in otherwise long-term, committed relationships. The song opens with a familiar circumstance of anyone who’s been in that type of relationship: “Girl, tonight we’re gonna make love/ You know how I know/ Because it’s Wednesday/ And Wednesday night is the night that we usually make love.” It only becomes more hilarious from there, describing how the rest of the evening unfolds.

I greatly looked forward to the release of the duo’s full-length, self-titled album, hoping to hear more of the same. Well, it’s not exactly more of the same, but a lot of it is very good. The group’s style manages to cover most bases, with some R&B, hip-hop, folk and rock, complete with a hilarious riff on David “Ziggy Stardust” Bowie on its next-to-last track, “Bowie.”

I wasn’t especially pleased with the musical aspect of about half of the songs on the track list, but the lyrics more than make up for it. These guys are seriously funny.

Some songs succeed in both aspects, such as “Robots,” about what the world would be like in the year 2000 if robots had taken over the world and destroyed all the humans. Another song that really stands out above the others is “Leggy Blonde.” “Everyday I look across the office floor/ There you were/ Your hair down to your legs/ And your legs down to the floor,” the singer begins as he laments the departure of his eye candy coworker. I especially enjoy this sweet, melodic track because about a minute into the song, he slips in some very random lyrics that seem completely irrelevant: “I had a budgy but it died/ Whoa ah whoa/ I like pie.”

It’s music like this that makes me really happy to be a part of this particular generation. Though, I’m still mildly upset that I had to miss out on the ’70s.

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