Low Brow
Cyndi Lauper
Bring Ya To The Brink
Cyndi's 1984 debut, She's So Unusual, spawned a million side-pony-tailed technicolor dance parties and, a quarter-century later, Brink will probably set off a million more. Teaming up with artists like Basement Jaxx and Dragonette, Lauper returns to her dance roots with electro-pop updated for the new millennium. Like contemporary Madonna, Lauper's new release proves that middle-aged women can still make people shake their moneymakers. In fact, "Echo," a pulsing, effect-loaded tune, could easily pass as a discarded track from Madonna's Confessions. At 54, Lauper's distinct voice is still youthful, and she showcases it on songs like "Rocking Chair" - a dancehall beat that sounds like her take on M.I.A. Though the constant beats leave you craving a slow-down (something reminiscent of "Time After Time," perhaps), Bring Ya to the Brink will keep you moving.
Tessa Miller
Mid Brow
Weezer
Weezer (Red Album)
I'll go out on a limb here and assert that The Red Album is quite simply the most jaw-dropping, face-smacking, knee-slapping, journey-down-the-rabbit-hole-of-insanity of a pop album assembled since Smile. Yes, not since Brian Wilson took a lot of acid and played in a sandbox with his fire helmet adorning his neurotically drug-addled mind has an artist so completely lost his marbles on record quite like Rivers Cuomo. And what is even more amazing is that not only does The Red Album remind a listener of Smile because of its insanity, but also in the quality and goofy brilliance of the tracks. This is it, people. The album of the decade has finally arrived. Rivers says it best on the mini-suite, "The Greatest Man That Ever Lived:" "If you don't like it, you can shove it. But you don't like it, you love it!" Love it, or shove it. Just turn it the hell up.
Phil Lindert
High Brow
Silver Jews
Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea
This record really bummed me because singer David Berman just sounds flat and listless; he's lapsing into self-parody with ridiculous songs like "Candy Jail" ("Life in a candy jail / peppermint bars / peanut brittle bunk beds and marshmallow walls") just as his buddy Stephen Malkmus did. In previous Silver Jews jaunts like American Water and Tanglewood Numbers, Berman's voice settled into a groove that you could swing along to if you were a little drunk. But the music on this latest album is dull; the production blends all of the instruments together, and there's so little melody that you have no reason to listen without a lyric sheet. The songwriting has suffered too, as Berman resorts to clichés, generalizations, and other tired poetic devices. For a band that's about the lyrics, this is problematic. He's never sounded energetic, but here he just sounds bored.
Jeremy Gordon
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