CD Reviews

Busdriver

RoadKillOvercoat
(Epitaph)

Busdriver's messages are easily relatable—once you decipher his vocal delivery. When the Los Angeles–based rapper presents his most rapid-fire rhyming, as he does on album opener "Casting Agent and Cowgirls," only those attuned to the flow of linguistic innovators like E-40 (the Bay Area rapper with the tongue-twisting jawbonics) can decipher the lessons at hand. Like 40, Busdriver has a penchant for underused or otherwise creative words, which creates confusion. But where his aural innovation could alienate some ears, taking the time to comprehend Busdriver is a rewarding venture. Despite his language, Busdriver often has the average Joe in mind. When he sings, "Recreational paranoia is the sport of now, so kill your employer" ("Kill Your Employer"), over a bed of frenetic video-game bleeps, his postal rage is more of a common denominator than your usual tales of street thuggery. His metaphors for "the man" are also considerably smarter than what's typically on mainstream radio, which would never play a track as intellectually challenging as "The Troglodyte Wins." Subject matter isn't Busdriver's only departure from mainstream hip-hop; RoadKillOvercoat embraces a soundtrack that blinks from techno to punk without losing continuity. It's a pleasantly uncommon effort that reveals more layers and flavors with repeated listens. TAMARA PALMER

Peter Bjorn and John
Writer's Block
(Almost Gold)

Simplicity never sounded as good as it does on Peter Bjorn and John's third long-player. On this sublime new effort, the Swedish trio has truly mastered the art of unadorned yet infectious vocal melodies augmented by spare but precise arrangements. You may have already heard the excellent, critics'-list-topping single, "Young Folks," with its drum shuffle, whistled refrain, and alternating boy-girl vocals. But PB and J aren't one-trick ponies; they blend '60s pysche with post-punk minimalism and catchy indie-pop songwriting for an album's worth of unpretentious rock. The epic "Up Against the Wall," which employs a two-note guitar melody over a steady bass and drums backdrop, builds up to its seven-minute ending mark as yet another charming vocal melody draws the listener in. And the rest of Writer's Block follows suit, as this band (and music blogger's wet dream) actually lives up to its hype and potential. JONAH FLICKER

The Earlies
The Enemy Chorus
(Secretly Canadian)

The fact that the Earlies made a second album is pretty remarkable; having band members scattered on both sides of the Atlantic must make songwriting rather difficult, yet they make it look easy. As in, bands that do get to practice and do get to write in the same room aren't remotely close to getting results like this. It'd also be important to note that the Earlies themselves didn't sound this polished last time. They brought in numerous guests on this album (no one you know), expanding their range of sound. It's mostly trippy electro-prog from the get-go, but the folkie instrumental "Gone for the Most Part" suggests some Pink Floyd–meet–Mercury Rev jam sessions, and "The Ground We Walk On" is a beautiful ballad, on par with your favorite '80s song. Midway through, the Earlies change direction on us, with the horn-laced funk jam "Foundation and Earth." By the time you get to "Breaking Point," you've been led in so many directions, the sitar that dominates this last cut seems wholly normal. While it was cute to think this "band of globalization" was a nice little story a few years ago, they're now actually showing us they've got some depth. ANNIE ZALESKI

Flying Canyon
Flying Canyon
(Soft Abuse)

Singer/songwriter Cayce Lindner sports a thick gray beard, calls Northern California home, and plucks an acoustic guitar. This means a lot of people will describe his new project, Flying Canyon, as a symptom of this whole freak-folk, indie-hippie fad. And although Glenn Donaldson's production—transforming doom-metal grooves into woodland dirges—lends a modern sound to Lindner's rustic folk rock, the dude truly possesses a fragile old soul. On "The Bull Who Knew the Ring," the voice reflectively mutters, "Bring me one last song for Jerry Lee/This old boat ain't gonna make it out to sea," and feels as torn and frayed as Kris Kristofferson's during his "Sunday Morning Coming Down." Meanwhile, the candlelight introspection of "Down to Summer" and "Revolver" recall the lush, summer-of-love balladry of Jefferson Airplane's Marty Balin—"Today" and "Comin' Back to Me," in particular. Then again, Lindner is no retro-revivalist still bemoaning the death of the '60s. His music hovers in a netherworld between the past and present, returning us to Donaldson's recording techniques, which further enhance Flying Canyon's not-this-but-not-that vibe. As a member of the ambient-drone outfit Thuja, the dude honed an aesthetic that can be described only as granola-industrial. It's a sound he applies masterfully to Lindner's tunes, making Flying Canyon's debut a true slice of American beauty. JUSTIN F. FARRAR