"They Missed The Perfume" - the Disco Biscuits
"Smiling Assassin" - John Herman
"Dick's Picks XXI" - the Grateful Dead
"Amandala" - Fiuczynski's Headless Torsos
"Let It Fall" - Sean Watkins
"The Blues'll Make You Happy, Too!"
"Sound Time" - Chief Stephen Osita Osadebe and his Nigerian Soundmakers
"Scotty Paluza 5" - various artists
"Songs of the South" - Carl Jackson
"Live At St. Andrew's" - Geoff Achison and the Souldiggers
self-titled - Alms For Shanti
"Lift" - Greg Howard Band
"Brushfire Fairytales" - Jack Johnson
"Rest Assured" - Pseudopod
"Secret Sideshow" - the Sacred Clowns
"Light Shining In The Distance" - Vine Sweetland and the Forefathers of the New Millennium

The Disco Biscuits have created what might be the first great jamband album, which isn't as bold a claim as it might initially sound. It's not a perfect disc. In fact, in places it's seriously flawed. Nonetheless, this might be the first album that recognizes what is effective about the genre and adapts it to the studio in a way that isn't superficial by applying the collective approach behind improvised music to a careful sound sculpting process.

There have certainly been great albums created by jambands, but their strengths have always rested on some compromise in values. The Grateful Dead's "American Beauty", for example, is great because it forsakes improvisations and creates something beautiful in terms of the short form. Phish's "the Siket Disc", on the other hand, is nearly perfect because it simply captures a live performance in the stillness of a quiet room.

These are amazing albums, to be sure, but for reasons that either concede the integrity of the improvisation or the medium of the studio. Rarely, if ever, has a band used the studio as a tool for improvisation itself, as opposed to just embellishment. None of this is to say that "They Missed The Perfume" is objectively better than either of the previous examples, just more successful in translating the creative spark.

The album was recorded entirely on a Macintosh G4. At the bottom of the songs lie Sam Altman's programmed drumbeats. There are no live drums on the album. That may be a turn off to some, but - for the Biscuits - it is a completely liberating act. Not only do the drums sound perfectly natural, especially with the rest of the music, but the simple fact that they are electronic force the band to reconsider the way their music fits together.

I'd argue that rhythm is the most instinctual element of music: pure convulsions of the body. Unless one pauses and actively considers it, he doesn't think about the force with which he hits his instrument. Even more than melody, it's a feel. With a programmed beat, the instinct is removed. For one, the rhythm isn't made in real time. For another, a hard beat is produced by no more physical exertion than a soft one -- it all has to be manipulated just so. Talking about his work on the Synclavier, Frank Zappa called this "putting the eyebrows on". When one has to scrutinize every note of a song, it's awfully hard to go into automatic and just play a version like any other.

The bulk of the album was created - in the truest sense of the word - in the studio, as a collective composition between band members, pieces layered atop other pieces in organizable modules. Most of "They Missed The Perfume" - with the exceptions of Home Again and Haleakala Crater - began life as part of a 40 minute construction of Mindless Dribble -- a fact which is ultimately irrelevant, though at least somewhat explanatory as to why the album successfully maintains that ever-elusive vibe.

One place where this disappears is during Haleakala Crater. Haleakala Crater is a well-written song. It is by no means one-dimensional: indeed, it contains probably the best traditional composition on the album in the form on the instrumental section at the end of the tune. But it's also too melodic somehow. The force of the composition dictates a rhythmic vibe quite different from the rest of the album. Ordinarily, this would seem to be a plus, but - in every other respect - "They Missed The Perfume" seems to aim to work as a unified piece of music.

The same theme - known in Biscuits' circles as the Big Happy - forms the basis of both the opening Highwire and the closing I Remember When . In the case of the former (as well as Spacebirdmatingcall), an abstract instrumental creation serves as a bed for what, at first glance, sounds to be a fairly normal song. A closer inspection - in both cases - reveals no distinct chord progressions beyond the Big Happy theme, just the illusion of them -- the aural equivalent of an impressionist painting. If that seems insignificant, it shouldn't. It's as weird as they come. The fact that the Disco Biscuits pull it off without batting an eye - their's or the listener's - is a high achievement.

When a band screws up in a live performance, many can write it off to the fact that the music was made in the moment. There are no excuses here: "They Missed The Perfume" represents an elongated moment and the band treats as such. Because it is a conglomeration of small modules, the songs' arrangements are never weighed down by endless takes on basic tracks. Despite the obviously careful manipulation, it still sounds fresh. There are still mistakes, though only ones of judgment, perhaps. Throughout the album, vocals are buried underneath an indistinct haze of reverb and echo. While this is effective in places (Highwire) it is also overblown in others (Home Again, whose end arrangement borders on uncut cheese).

Mostly, it seems to rob the vocals of emotional impact -- which is a shame, because Jon Gutwillig's lyrics (especially on Mindless Dribble) are astonishingly rich. As a centerpiece, Dribble is nothing short of incredible. The dub "jam" that rises from a stop after the song's bridge is a perfect example of how a complete shift in tempo, feel, and rhythm can still remain completely in character with the section that came before it. The atmospheric "jam" is exactly the right kind of chill -- actually relaxing, as opposed to lethargic. And though it drops into the last verse a little abruptly, it still makes sense: its time has come.

For an album as surprising and abstract as "They Missed The Perfume", it's disappointing that the ending is as clumsy as it is. I Remember When begins in much the same vein as the rest of the disc -- poly-textural and complex. Near the end, though, the band drops into an incredibly tasteless Celtic flute break. And, unless it's ironic (which I'd venture to say it isn't), it downright sucks. The last minute of the album is a horribly mood breaking MIDI horn orgy of the grossest proportions. If any album deserved a graceful ending, this was it. After an initial listen, I'd recommend programming the CD player to fade at around the 5:30 mark.

All in all, though, "They Missed The Perfume" is worthy of high merit. It seems that most bands attempt to create great records by adhering to accepted structures and experimenting within them. For their first studio effort in nearly three years, the Disco Biscuits have created an album that bucks convention by refusing to simply make a collection of songs. In both theory and practice, "They Missed The Perfume" is risk-taking, boundary-defying, and consistently surprising -- all the marks of good improvisation.

Jojo Hermann's solo debut houses eleven blues and sweat drenched country tunes from the Widespread Panic keyboard master, the brothers Dickinson of North Mississippi All-Stars' fame, and Paul "Crumpy" Edwards of Bloodkin. The album, recorded in Hermann's hometown of Oxford, Mississippi, features Jojo's songwriting and axe work as he straps on the six-string for the first time on tape. The results are variously raucous, haunting, wistful, and jangly. The toughest trick for a member of a successful band striking out on his own is establishing a distinct and separate voice. Hermann manages the task easily, carving out his own compelling identity as a songwriter, washing it all with muscular and authentic Southern sounds.

Hermann's tunes creep up on the listener gradually, often masking their subtleties under pounding rhythms. The raw and gritty imagery of the opener, Hell for Horses, falls into parallel structures, but avoids the standard chorus in its tales of glue factories and rodeos. The key change in the title track invites Cary Hudson's fiddle into the mix of what is easily the album's most countrified tune. Driving numbers like Don't Look Down and Run You Down set themselves apart. The subtle variations of the former lead the listener by the nose into a saccharine soaked chorus that would be flat and unrewarding if not for the curves before. The latter features absolutely irresistible Ray Manzarek-styled keys and an excellent harmonica counterpoint from Cary Hudson. The honky-tonk piano of Lazy Bum, with its strained chorus is hip-swinging fun, and Daisy Mae features Cody and Luther Dickinson in full stride, kicking out aggressive, ballsy blues like so few can.

Still, the snail-paced and droning blues numbers, washed in the lazy sway of slide guitars, steal the show. Abilene opens the door for these tunes, but it pales next to the bent string beauty of Don't Throw It All Away, whose tone conjures smoky dives and rainy drives across bridges at night. The sun peeks out from behind the clouds when Todd Nance puts down the sticks and picks up the 12-string, but the flash soon fades back into the sodden sway.

In the end, the disc is bereft of clunkers, though a few do roll around the rim before falling floorward. Domingo Ortiz and Michael Houser join in for the forgettable Swamp Tag, and the jangle of Mountain Hideaway is only saved by excellent guitar work on the fade away. Doc Pomus' Lonely Avenue, featuring John Bell on vocals feels like dessert. It seems out of place on this disc full of Jojo's pipes, but its gut-wrenching stagger excuses any faults. This disc won't make you wish for John Hermann to quit his day job with Panic, but he has fashioned his own voice apart from the rhythm parade and crafted a disc that will gather no dust.

I am subject to bouts of depression. When they happen, there's really not much I can do. I just keep to myself, listen to sad music, and know that it will lift eventually. Towards the tail end of one of these, my copy of "Dick's Picks XXI" arrived. Typical GDM. They tell you it'll take four to six weeks, and it arrives in five days.

I never have been a huge fan of this show. Sure the setlist is cool, but it's kind of sloppy. I've always preferred the following night, perhaps because 11-2-85 was my first tape. Since I paid the $20 for it, I might as well throw it in.

The first disc starts off with an extremely sloppy Dancing in the Streets. I picked up a book and started reading, turning this show into background music. Bits got my attention - High Time, Comes A Time, Spoonful - but nothing really engaged me. Nothing, that is, until She Belongs to Me. This is a beautiful song. I never have understood why this didn't stay in rotation. I was completely captured by Jerry's voice all throughout the song until... Gloria! Before listening, I didn't reacquaint myself with this setlist. Gloria completely blindsided me. I listened to Bobby bring up the energy:

And her name is G
L
O...

wait a minute, wait a minute

HER NAME IS G
L
O
R
wait a minute, wait a minute

HER NAME IS G!
L!
O!
R!
I-I-I-I-I
GLORIA!

For the first time in days, I found myself laughing. Bobby wants so hard to be a rock star. He tries and tries to pull off the act, but just comes off as silly. It gives hope to all of us: if this goof could play with Jerry, surely we can accomplish stuff too.

The moment passed, but then came the bonus tracks, specifically the 9-2-80 Morning Dew. This isn't a version where Jerry belts out the lyrics, but the jam peaks and peaks. I found myself air guitaring like a fiend and then, "I guess it doesn't matter anyway!" It was a revelation. My problems suddenly, well, didn't seem to matter as much as they did previously. Sugar Magnolia kicked in and I danced around the apartment.

This isn't the best "Dick's Picks" ever. It contains some weak moments, such as the first verse of Gimme Some Lovin' where Brent and Phil are a half second off in their attempts to harmonize. However, I suggest you buy it. Buy it, but don't listen to it. For the first listen, wait for a dark day. Pop it in. No promises, but maybe it'll have the same effect on you.

review by Rob Kallick

Few guitar players compare to David "Fuze" Fiuczynski. His playing will either make your jaw drop or make you scratch your head in confusion. For this album he's dropped the "Screaming" from his Headless Torsos and offers up an all-instrumental album that features his unique brand of guitar.

Fuze unleashes a sonic attack on the listener with a wide selections of sounds, tones and effects. His playing can be lightning quick or more relaxed -- often both in the same song. "Amandala" is essentially a platform for him to go crazy. Most of the songs begin with a theme that eventually morphs into uncharted territory. The bassist and drummer do an excellent job holding everything together and give Fuze room to display his chops.

Fuze's playing brings to mind guitarists such as John Scofield and John McLaughlin -- along with a jazz influence there is a strong urge to get psychedelic and spacey. Fallout Shelter starts with a death-metal-like riff over what sounds like an airplane taking off. Live this song could put a stop to the noodle dancing and incite a mosh pit -- or a riot. This song is one of two on the album written by the band's percussionist Daniel Sadownick, and it shows. Breaking up the album nicely, it centers around the drumming, even with its ominous main riff.

Purple is a much looser, less formulated song. With no clear hook or theme, the songs bounces and darts in all different directions. With basslines covering the majority of the neck and drumming that borders on chaotic, this song is symbolic of the sound on this album. Fuze's guitar is the center of the sound as he is almost asking his fellow musicians to keep up with him and follow his lead. What results is a challenging piece of music that requires the listener's full attention.

Overall this album is quite good. I'll admit it took me a little bit to warm up to the band's sound and Fuze's style, but once I was familiar with it I was able to pick out the intricacies and uncover some of the magic that's there. Turn off the lights, get in the right mood and let Fuze mess with your head a little bit.

Over the last year, the trio of young virtuosos, Nickel Creek, has garnered increased exposure. Unlike most contemporary music acts the band - consisting of Sara and Sean Watkins bulwarked by mandolin extraordinare Chris Thile - mixes acoustic jams and bluegrass into an awe-inspiring display. On any given night, can constantly challenge the textures of acoustic music; forcing the boundaries of "dawg" music and Strength In Numbers' sonic classical and bluegrass fusion.

With the release of Sean Watkins' "Let It Fall", the talents of Nickel Creek's lead guitarist are conspicuous. Moving patiently from bluegrass, Dave Matthews-inspired lilting acoustic tracks, to Django Reinhardt-styled jazz, the eleven songs - including the bonus track - solidify Sean Watkins as an acoustic guitar tour de force. Often aided by his Nickel Creek compatriots - as well as Jerry Douglas, Dennis Caplinger, Stuart Duncan and Glen Phillips - "Let It Fall" becomes an auspicious, precocious debut.

Opening with Neo's Song, Watkins displays a love for the currently popular mix of classical, jazz and bluegrass. Speeding along at a bluegrass clip, each soloist sounds complementary, exhibiting grace and collective spirit. When Watkins' solo enters, he briskly flies through the penatonics, adding jazz and classical phrasings along the way, before giving way to Chris Thile's astounding mandolin solo. Adding Stuart Duncan's fiddle and Dennis Caplinger's banjo to the mix, Neo's Song stands out as a truly masterful, Strength in Numbers influenced track.

The only vocal track on the album, Let It Fall sung by Glen Phillips, has a distinctive Dave Matthews Band feel, reminiscent of several songs on "Remember Two Things". Slow and beautiful, the song features Jerry Douglas's rather poignant dobro and dubiously contains Watkins most skilled and technically prolific solo. While having a pop-folk sound, Let It Fall fits the autumn air of the album, as Neo's Song had a neoteric, sorrowful aura.

Following Let It Fall, the rest of the album progresses languidly with instrumentals. Tracks like January Second, Birth, The Orange Autumn Days and Over the Waterfall all have a smooth, contemplative and introspective feel. Amongst the meditative instrumentals, Ferdinand the Bull comes to life; a bull excited and frightened by the bee which begot the song's title. A Nickel Creek showstopper, Ferdinand the Bull, features everything a music lover could desire: strong instrumentation, perfect harmonics and fast arpeggios approximating a Bachian piece. The song stylistically shifts from new grass to classical phrasings rather easily, as Stuart Duncan's fiddle accentuates the changes. When Watkins moves into classical phrasings, Duncan creates more orchestra-based tones, then briskly follows Watkins into the newgrass, flying through scales with stunning panache.

Overall, "Let It Fall" may not have the speed or energetic flair of a Nickel Creek release. However, Watkins proves himself an adept songwriter with a rather deep knowledge of multiple Western based musical styles, an acumen which allows him the ability to create a lullaby (Birth), an acoustic jazz jam (Bonus Track) and a straight ahead bluegrass composition (The Ant and the Ant). At twenty-four, we can only hope Watkins along with his close musical virtuosos will bring music from contemporary music's doldrums to the brink of a new musical adventure.

- Roomful Of Blues
Rounder Heritage Series 1166-11589-2
review by Rob Kallick

A career retrospective, "The Blue'll Make You Happy, Too!" showcases Roomful of Blues's 30 years of making music. With a full horn section and a focus on singing, this music is still truly rooted in the blues. Throughout their career, Roomful of Blues has always dedicated themselves to making the music they love, regardless of what was popular at the time. The extensive liner notes by manager Bob Bell are worth the price alone, as they go into depth about the trials and tribulations of a band on the road.

But it's the music that obviously makes this CD a must have. Roomful Of Blues has been nominated for a Grammy and has been voted Blues Band of the Year by Down Beat. The band has a certain charm to them that makes their music instantly accessible. Their songs are focused, catchy and just plain fun, a big band sound helping the music swing like none other. It really is a testament to the band's honesty that they were swinging long before the latest revival of the style a few years ago.

This is the perfect album to throw on at a party. It's got a little for everyone, but most importantly it will make people shake their ass. Back on Front Street is one of a few instrumentals on the album and showcases Chris Vachon's stellar guitar playing. He rips line after line with grace and fluidity. His sweet playing is matched by the catchy stylings of the horn section. Over the years the band has had a number of vocalists take over the microphone. Greg Piccolo adds his unique touch to He Know The Rules, one of the more swinging songs on the album.

The great thing about this CD is that there are five different lead singers, including the legendary Big Joe Turner, who heads up a live version of Shake Rattle and Roll, from 1982 which is easily the highlight of the album. It makes no difference that one can barely understand what Turner is singing, as he does it with such flair. This live cut also shows just what the band is capable of in a live setting when they have more room to breath and are free from many constraints of the studio. "The Blues'll Make You Happy, Too!" is a fine tribute to a band that has battled life on the road and come away with many stories to tell.

Indigedisc 495001
review by Pat Buzby

The new IndigeDisc label makes a worthy debut with this compilation. "Sound Time" is a nicely packaged, 70-minute set that creates a worthy portrait of this African artist.

Osadebe is one of the legends of Highlife music, and the selection here is typical of the style. Easy grooves predominate with ensemble vocal chants, occasional mild guitar and horn solos and Osadebe's mellifluous vocals. The liner notes point out the periodic "negative bias" in his music, and the printed, translated lyrics sometimes reflect it ("The word of the world is too much... please if you have a big mouth try to shut up"). The music has no hint of this, though, and a mellow philosophy is more common, as the surprise English musing that appears in Ana Masi Ife Uwa demonstrates.

The playing is sometimes crude - notably the out of tune guitars in the only '70s' cut, Nri Sports Di Uso - but the band has a strong sense of groove. A couple of odd vamps appear - Ana Masi Ife Uwa, the longest cut at 19 minutes (the shortest is six) brings to mind Phish's Piper in its sense of constant non-resolution. Most cuts are milder and, like Phish's recent jams, may require a different listening style than restless Americans such as myself usually prefer. It's a worthwhile effort to make, though.

The liner notes point out Osadebe's periodic shortcomings as well as his triumphs, but the package has some minor shortcomings of its own. There is no explanation as to why a couple of major hits mentioned in the liner notes are not included, and minimal information on the original release dates of this material. As with Osadebe's music itself, though, it is easy enough to ignore the flaws and enjoy the groove.

"Scotty Paluza V" is a collection of live music from the Scotty Paluza festival in Sinclairville, NY from the summer of 2000. "Light the joints and put the kids to bed, it's time to party," says the announcer at the beginning of the album. From the opening sounds of John Brown's Body, it's clear that this is the main reason most people are at this festival. Most of the music on the album follows along with the party vibe -- some with more success than others. The album offers an eclectic mix of sounds, ranging from Babaloo's unique brand of funk to Gordon Stone's pedal-steel driven folk rock. Stone's band gives him room to show off his skills, but also focuses on a more crafted approach at songwriting as this song contains vocals and shows that Stone can do more than just write cool instrumentals. Few songs of the songs actually feel like the advertised "space music". Dr. Didg's digeridoo playing is used to hypnotic effect on "Space Improvisation", filled with eerie samples and drenched, ambient guitar playing that surely pleased most of the partiers at the festival.

The Intrepid Travelers are featured with a song called Zarathustra Jam that is precisely as the name states -- a jam which plays with the "2001" theme towards the end. Otherwise, it's mainly just a funky little guitar solo. The Rype Band offers some improvisational freestyling about a broken guitar that adds a nice element to a a rather somber song. Jomomma's Cheese 'N Crackers is easily the strangest song on the album. It starts off with the singer quietly chanting "cheese'n'crackers" and "biscuits." Instead of wondering why anyone would do this, just enjoy the solid groove layed down by this band. Fast and furious playing with a stellar bass solo results in what is definitely the highlight of the album.

Overall, this sampler album succeeds in providing a glimpse at what happens at the Scotty Paluza festival. Ending with a the sounds of a drum circle from 6:00 a.m. on Sunday morning, it's clear that the festival is all about having a good time, dancing and partying with one's friends. And a few bands on this CD definitely made that possible.

Carl Jackson, a vocalist/banjoist/guitarist, is prominent throughout Nashville for his backup contributions to numerous bluegrass and country recordings. Beginning his musical career at the early age of fourteen, Jackson played banjo in the bluegrass powerhouse group, Jim & Jesse. While spending most of his time in the '70s and early '80s playing with country singer Glen Campbell, Jackson signed with Sugar Hill Records and recorded several solo albums.

"Songs of the South" draws from the first two Sugar Hill solo records that Jackson recorded, "Banjo Man" (1980) and "Song of the South" (1982). "Banjo Man" is a tribute to the one and only Earl Scruggs, the father of bluegrass banjo. The reissue consists of nine of Scruggs' instrumentals and seven vocal numbers, including two Jackson originals. Though the album contains mainly recycled material, it is blessed with the talents of its collaborators (in no particular order): Vassar Clements, Jerry Douglas, Blaine Sprouse, Marty Stuart, Alan O'Bryant, Emmylou Harris, Jesse McReynolds and Keith Whitley to name a few.

For any fan of bluegrass and especially the banjo, this album seems like a sure winner. However, it must be criticized for its lack of creativity and innovation. From start to finish, Jackson's virtuosity is proven with his impeccable playing and tone. Just the ability to emulate Scruggs' banjo playing is worthy of much praise but, on the other hand, Jackson does not use his skill to take the music one step further. With a few exceptions, the nine instrumentals are almost indistinguishable from the original versions on "Foggy Mountain Jamboree" and "Foggy Mountain Banjo" that Flatt & Scruggs recorded in the early '50s. Any deviation from the originals can be credited mostly to Clements' outstanding fiddle work. Even Jerry Douglas's dobro solos seem to stay true to Josh Graves' originals. Instrumental highlights are the fiddle and banjo duet, Grey Eagle for the flawless playing by both Clements and Jackson and Careless Love, one of Scruggs' lesser known tunes in which Jackson executes the use of the banjo tuners with tact. If you are in the mood for a funky disco-sounding bass solo, listen closely to, Little Darling Pal of Mine. Bill Monroe is surely spinning in his grave.

The other seven songs focus on Jackson's vocal talents, and after one listen to the album it is obvious why he has sung lead and harmony on so many recordings. Jackson's vocals always seem to fit the piece because they are never too ostentatious. Think Alan O'Bryant mixed with an early Glenn Frey. Ranging from traditional bluegrass in Keep on the Sunny Side to country-rock in Jesse and Me, Jackson is at his best while singing alongside Emmylou Harris on the Stanley Brothers' tune, the Lonesome River. Of Jackson's original selections, the sincere Earl Scruggs tribute song Banjo Man is the most salient because he is able to express the emotions of just about every banjo player ever to pick up the five-string.

With a running time of just under 40 minutes, something seems incomplete. Songs of the South could have greatly benefited from using songs from Jackson's other solo album, Banjo Hits. An album that best represents Jackson's unique banjo technique. It didn't make sense to me why the album's liner notes state, "Carl thought in chromatic [melodic] terms and did it better than anybody else," (M. Stuart, 2001), yet the album doesn't contain any songs which showcase such talent. I'm sure the world would love as much as me to hear Jackson's melodic picking.

In a world of Bela Fleck and Alison Brown, a reissue of a tribute to Earl Scruggs doesn't make the top of my list when I have the desire to listen to the five-string. There is better material out there that I would have included if I was going to show people what Carl Jackson contributed to the music world. Hopefully more powerful hands will take notice and re-release such music. While I'm waiting, I'll be listening to Earl.

"Live at St. Andrews," recorded last year, captures him and his Australian version of the Souldiggers (he uses another band when playing abroad) for a set that includes barn-burning blues-rock, funk and even spacey jazz jamming. The band benefits greatly from pianist Mal Logan, whose playing reflects a jazzy elegance.

Achison might best finds supporters in fans of the Allman Brothers Band and the Radiators, although he's not close to being in their league. The disc opens with the appropriate Souldigger, a theme song of sorts. Based on a simple blues shuffle, it gives Achison plenty of room to show off his formidable chops. He doesn't try to rip the hair off your head with his playing - although he probably could - but rather allows his six-string prowess to gradually creep into your consciousness. If "Live At St. Andrew's" were to follow with similar material as the somewhat generic Souldigger, the disc wouldn't be half as good as it is. For starters the tune is rife with lyrical blues cliches. Instead, Achison and band - which also includes bassist Roger McLachlan and drummer Kevin Murphy - veer off into some interesting directions.

It is followed by Natch'l Fax which bears an eerie resemblance to Golden Earring's Radar Love. Still the song works and showcases his gruff and urgent vocal delivery, which loosely resembles Joe Cocker. There's also some fleet fingered soloing in an extended instrumental break.

Credited to Deadric Malone, the stage name of roots music impresario Don Robey, who sometimes didn't write a note of the songs he took credit for, As the Years Go Passing By is obviously the hit song for Bobby "Blue" Bland. Achison makes a daring yet successful move by putting it into a reggae groove. The Souldiggers often open things up with five of the disc's nine cuts exceeding nine minutes. Stepping Stones, for instance, builds with jazz sensibility to a tremendous jam that gets nice and spacey. Hold On To What You Got, on the other hand starts off with a basic but fun funk riff until Achison cleverly quotes a few Jimi Hendrix riffs. The closing Same Old Blues is great Southern soul and includes righteous piano from Logan and arguably Achison's best vocal performance on the disc.

Achison isn't reinventing the wheel but he is a refreshing welcome to a genre full of guitarists who recycle ideas and bombard listeners' senses with a million notes a minute.

Alms for Shanti is a project of Uday Benegal and Jayesh Gandhi, both formerly of the popular Indian rock group Indus Creed. It is their effort to blend East and West, combining rock with more traditional Indian sounds. Recorded in Bombay, it features some of the India's finest classical and folk musicians playing a variety of traditional Indian percussion, flute and string instruments, and adding Eastern rhythms and melodies underneath the rock guitars, keyboards, drums and English vocals.

Unfortunately, the two very divergent influences haven't fully fused on this album. Many songs start out with a lilting tabla or some other classical Indian groove, before degenerating with the entrance of drum machines and crunching guitars. The traditional Indian music is always the more interesting of the two parts and, when coupled with drum machines, can't help but be a little bit confined by rigid Western meter. And, as one of my friends put it, "I wouldn't use some of those guitar effects ever, even in a regular rock band: they're just ugly." I also take issue with some of the lyrics. Lines such as "somebody's been driving my karma" and "in space-time continuums how we dared / so recklessly we tore through the strange" are so heavy-handed I can only shake my head when I hear them.

That said, I must confess that the album has grown on me tremendously in the last month. Upon first listen, I didn't like it at all, partly because I couldn't get past the lyrics. (One of the reasons I like listening to world music is so I don't have to get distracted by shitty lyrics; if I can't understand them they don't bother me). There are some great melodies on the CD and all the performers are first class musicians. Benegal's vocals are smooth, and some of the fusions work really well. I particularly like the fourth track, Superbowl, which combines a traditional rhythmic Indian singing style with a variety of percussion, bass, and some English lyrics. Alms For Shanti has been in the studio recently and I'm curious to hear what they've come up with - I definitely think that the concept has promise - but as of now, if I want to hear something Indian I'd rather listen to Ravi Shankar.

Most of you probably have no idea what a Chapman Stick is, unless you have seen the incomparable Tony Levin play one with King Crimson. This unusual little instrument is capable of sounding like a bass, a guitar, and a synthesizer -- sometimes all at the same time. Greg Howard is one of the few people who make a living playing this strange contraption, and "Lift" is his new album.

Dissent, the opening tune, has a keening Middle Eastern sound and a fractured rhythm that would sound perfectly at home on King Crimson's "Discipline". While it is usually considered an insult to relate a band so closely with another, let me say that as a big fan of King Crimson, this is meant as high praise. Cross Country, the second tune, treads dangerously close to cheese fusion at times, but a strong rhythmic sense and inventive song structures keep things fresh.

The unsung hero of this disc, which was recorded in the Netherlands, is a sax player with the un-rock-star-like name of Hubert Heeringa. His lyrical melodies and lush textures are the perfect counterpoint to Howard's stick, and he shines on Cross Country. The Offering is possibly the most Crimson-oriented song on the album, complete with bizarre scratching noises that sound like they were sampled from Larks Tongues In Aspic. However, there is also something about this track that is distinctly European and reminiscent of Weirdo Hall of Fame members Can.

Still Water may be the best track on the album, with its intricate stick riff and lengthy jam segment. Another favorite of mine is Blues for Ayman, whose tightly wrapped riff reminded me of John Zorn's klezmer-influenced band Masada. Here, as on many of the songs on this album, there is a guitar solo with no guitar credit. It is intriguing to ponder whether it was produced on the Chapman Stick or Heeringa's violin or on some synthesizer, but it captures the unique tone and phrasing of a guitar in a way that never seems forced.

If you are up for some music that is genuinely different, this may be for you. As I said before, the lighter tracks flirt with Muzak territory, but even then there is a sense of dynamics and hushed atmospherics that elevate this disc well above the "lite jazz" crowd. There is a lot of creativity here, and if you are willing to expand your ears to include a new instrument, you may be pleasantly surprised.

"Brushfire Fairytales" is the first album from Jack Johnson. Hailed as one of the youngest legends of the professional surfing circuit, critically renowned for his film and video making, he was discovered by Garrett "G-Love" Dutton, and produced by J. P. Plunier (Ben Harper). Johnson is a renaissance man in the 21st century sense of the phrase. Despite marginal musical success in his recent past (Johnson¹s old band once opened for Dave Matthews and Sublime) only now are his lyrical and vocal skills captured on his own release. After collaborating with G-Love on his "Philadelphonic" album, lending the song Rodeo Clowns, Johnson was swarmed by major labels looking to launch his career. He passed on the quick route to the top, instead signing with Enjoy Records, founded by Plunier and Andy Factor. The major labels' loss is everyone else's gain.

"Brushfire Fairytales" is almost like a collection of poems set to music. Johnson plays acoustic guitar and even piano on a tune, but his silky-smooth vocals are what this album is all about. The cadence of the words, the rhythm of his annunciation, and even the quick moments when he stops to take a breath all seem to flow in one natural motion. It's easy to see how his admiration for Ben Harper translates into performance. Harper even joins him on a track with some well-balanced vocals and slide guitar work. The instrumentation on the album is not particularly complex. Adam Topol supports Johnson on drums and percussion, while Merlo adds bass.

The album almost seems like its has two recognizable sections to it. The first six songs are rather upbeat, with a brighter tone than the rest. Those that follow are a little slower, more pensive, and somewhat less accessible. The notable exception is Mudfootball, which revisits childhood days of play in the schoolyard. Otherwise, the strength of the album is on the front end. Inaudible Melodies incorporates the album's title into the opening verse, juxtaposing contrasting words and phrases to paint a very bizarre picture with spoken sound. "Silent movies are full of sound" is one lyric from that song.

Middle Man and Posters both have brisk, moving beats, not necessarily conducive to poetic lyrics. Johnson quickly and carefully places each word, almost to the point of rapping the verses. He shows off his vocal range on the former song, hitting the high notes to nice effect. Sexy Plexi is almost a self-describing title for the fourth track. Seductive and deliberate, the song almost sounds like it should have some horns in the background. Ben Harper guests on Flake. The voices of Johnson and Harper mesh together well. It also has some steel drum to add a nice effect. This tune and the one that follows it are the highlight of the album. Bubble Toes is the strongest song on the album, mixing an Afro-Caribbean vibe with measured lyrical changes, making the song both complex and satisfying.

This album is a great example of word-crafting and minimalist expression. There isn't much jamming on the album in an instrumental sense, but music fans that can appreciate playful, cerebral lyrics will surely enjoy it. Even taking into account the lesser songs near the end of the album, the first half really does make it worth checking out.