What I did not count on, though, was that DJ Danger Mouse would be on the credits.

Modern Guilt brings together two of the most talented men in music to make an album that is more intriguing that catchy, more introspective than danceable, and without a doubt, more good than bad.

Since Danger Mouse produced and played alongside Beck, it would be impossible to ignore the heavy hip hop influence and how much each song is carried by the wacky and wonderful, the pleasant and powerful Danger Mouse beats.

The samples DM uses are rooted in rock nostalgia. "Orphans" opens with a beach bash beat and bassline. "Gamma Ray" uses similar surfer rock elements with ghostly undertones. The beats work because although they have one foot standing firmly in hip-hop, the other foot moves freely in Beck's own soft, personal, Sea-Change kind of rock and roll.

And this album is very personal. It is an album about one's personal journey to make sense of the world around him.

It's about looking for wisdom, journeying to, "hear what the blind men sing." Its about searching the self and finding things that trap us or way us down, like in the title track when Beck sings, "Modern guilt/I'm stranded with nothing/Modern guilt/I'm under lock and key," or in "Walls": Hey, what are you doing to do/When the walls are falling down on you."

And even the narrative of Beck's personal journey does not seem to resolve, it does ask the right question and searches for the right solutions. Beck asks in the bass-heavy, butt-rock jam "Soul of Man," "What makes the soul/The soul of a man." And, in the closing track, "Volcano," he laments, "Was it all an illusion/All a mirage gone bad/I'm tired of evil/And all that it feeds." It's about seeing the darkness and finding the light.

Modern Guilt is an album with a great delivery, a sad but necessary message, an album that demands to be understood and appreciate for its many musical and lyrical levels.

Personally, there is something to the argument declaring that, for all of the folky, indie, arty music available, something is has been missing for awhile. Call is soul (Sasha Frere-Jones would), call it heart, call it a burning desire to inculcate a sense of passion and fun back into music, but whatever it might be, the folks over at DFA Records have plugged themselves into that zeitgeist and they're pressing their advantage for all it's worth. Fresh off the 2007 success of LCD Soundsystem's Sound Of Silver, this forward-thinking record label has released the eponymous debut LP from Hercules and Love Affair to an awaiting, adoring public. From the pulsing bass rhythms and always-present-but-never-cheesy horn samples to the driving funk drum patterns, the record is pure retro-future bliss, calling to mind Sly and the Family Stone and Depeche Mode, with dashes of ABBA.

Yet, what makes this album some of the most intelligent dance music of this decade is the curiously evocative nature of the arrangements that rest not on safe formula, but instead up the ante on its predecessors' work. The group has brought together its influences, distilled them through a contemporary pop filter, and fronted the music with a series of oddly contrasting voices (including that of Antony from Antony and the Johnsons on half the tracks) to create this captivating record that is at times dark and creeping, while also joyful and smile-inducing. Led by the lead single "Blind," a barnburner destined for stunning remixes and mashups, the record also features "You Belong," with its Quincy Jones styled R&B feel, and "Raise Me Up," a cut that drinks deep from both dubstep (the synths) and disco (the rhythm section). So, whether it's the beats, the breaks, or the impeccable instrumentation, this album is destined to be included on many end-of-the-year "Best of 2008" lists. So, in the end, it matters not why people have started dancing again; what's more important is that they are and that they have music like Hercules and Love Affair to help them with that dancing.

So a while ago, I got a message on facebook from this guy named Micah. He got a hold of me through the Burnside facebook group. He told me he was releasing an album on a smaller record label and asked me if I'd be interested in reviewing it. Having a penchant for new and upcoming artists, I said 'heck yes'. A few weeks later, a package arrived in my mailbox...and a wild and fantastic journey ensued within my ears and mind.

There was a time when albums were more than just 10 tracks of 3 minute radio hits that featured 3 verses, a bridge of some sloppy nature and a chorus. Micah Dalton, however, is a songwriter and a storyteller with something substantial to say. Following an actual character named 'Pawn Shop' through the dusty streets of Georgia in 1965, the lyrics and tracks of the album chart a story of self-discovery and transfiguration. Songs like "I'll Find You In Ohio" take the listener on (what has been self-described by Micah as) a 'multi-sensory experience'. Crossing any and all borders of musical categorization, Micah's style is somewhat similar to an early Prince in the sense that he weaves many different fabrics throughout each song. With an instrumental arsenal that is multi-pronged and many leagues deep, each song is a new page in the same, riveting book as you truly never know what you'll get.

One really shouldn't write reviews in the first person...but for the moment, I could care less. That's right. Me. I said that. For the most part, I have a lot of issues with the music industry and that may never change.

Micah Dalton is a bright light of hope in a dark tunnel that lets me know that the real soul of music is in the roots of the songwriter.

But what do the bands think about free downloads and file sharing?

According to Eric J. Sinrod's article "How do musicians feel about Internet file-sharing?" in USA Today, 83% of the 2,755 musicians and songwriters interviewed by the Pew Internet & American Life Project said that they have provided free samples or previews of their music online. From this vast majority, "35% stated that free downloading has helped their careers, while only 5% reported that it has hurt their careers."

An article from Steven McDougall entitled "How The Internet Will Make The Record Labels Evaporate" further investigated musicians' response to free music files. In his findings, McDougall reported that the musicians that were against the distribution of music over the Internet were ones who actually owned the record label that distributed their albums.

This brings us to one of the most intriguing experiments in free downloading, Radiohead's In Rainbows last fall. After calling record companies a "decaying business model," Thom Yorke released the album through the band's website, giving patrons the opportunity to choose how much they wanted to spend on the album. There were reportedly 1.2 digital downloads. The actual profits have yet to be released.

The truth is, album sales have been steadily declining over the years. PBS' article "Copyright Conundrum" points out that in 2000 sales were down 7% and by 2002 they were down by 11%. Given that most musicians feel that free downloads have helped their careers, this would seem to indicate that record sales and the money the bands earn are not necessarily parallel.

Likewise, even if MySpace is a social vortex, most bands (mainstream and indie alike) have profiles that feature music clips if not full-length songs. This indicates that musicians prefer to have their music available to fans and new listeners, regardless of whether they are directly profiting from the sale of those songs or not. The easy access to their music on social-networking sites helps build a fan base who, even if they don't purchase the album, oftentimes supports the band by attending their concerts and buying merchandise directly from the band instead of their music label.

The figures are not conclusive as to how much money bands make from CD sales, as it widely varies from band to band, record label to record label. What is clear, however, is that in this technological age, bands and record labels have to look beyond album sales to make a profit.

Disclaimer: If a band offers free music, by all means take advantage of it. If it's not free, remember what Jesus said, "Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's" (Matt 22:21).

To add a layer of subtext to the already riveting plotline of Wolf Parade, let's back up a little and look into the humble beginnings of the band. After joining musical forces in 2003 in a tiny Montreal apartment, Spencer Krug and Dan Boeckner had been given a 3 week deadline to form a band. The duo had little to work with and used Krug's computer speakers and drum machine for their percussion section. After adding a few more members (including Synth genius Hadji Bakara) and releasing a few highly sought after EP's, the band gained international attention with the release of 'Apologies To The Queen Mary' in 2005.

The main problem and disjointedness of flow within the bulk of Wolf Parade's material, however, is the completely separate songwriting entities of Spencer Krug and Dan Boeckner. This growing rift between the two styles of musical creation is ultra evident on their newest release 'At Mount Zoomer'. After promising 'no singles' from their new album to their record label Sub Pop (which is an interesting idea to keep the album as a complete work), it seems that Wolf Parade's grandiose multi-tiered sound has confused even the members of the band as to their own musical identity. After much confusion as to missed deadlines and internet release dates, the band finally recorded the album at Petite Eglise which is the Quebec church owned by Arcade Fire that has been somewhat transformed into a recording studio.

Overall, there is nothing really wrong with the album. Perhaps the greatest strength of this band is, in fact, their own hubris - disjointedness and confusion which adds to waves of swelling sound and lyrics soaked in cultural references to funerals, death, birth and sometimes nothing at all. 'At Mount Zoomer' builds upon what Wolf Parade does well and for that reason, a listen-through is highly recommended. There is only one factor that will ultimately stop Wolf Parade in the end from achieving longevity and success within the music world - self-destruction.

I remember my graduation in 1998 like it was last week. I especially remember the music.
Music often defines high school life...the songs we might hum in class or pop in the CD player at our first jobs.

And the '98 graduating class had a particularly awful run. The grunge-era was long over, and the new boy-band pop movement was just beginning.

So journey back with me, won't you, through worst of that year.

Will Smith kept making songs.

Treacly major movie soundtrack power-ballads were huge.

Alanis Morissette continues to believe lyrics entail writing long lists about broad topics.

Kid Rock joins Fred Durst on the frat rock scene.

Girl Power rages on, primarily by producing videos for pubescent boys. What did those fishbowls do to warrant such wanton violence?

Matchbox 20 rises to prominence with a song advocating domestic violence. It was a confusing time.

A thousand pop-rock bands unleash themselves on the world and promptly disappear again.

Smashmouth sucked.

The Spice Girls spawned imitators. (Okay, I'll admit it...I kind of like this song.)

Creed, for pete's sake.

And finally, these two obnoxious songs, which I still hear disturbingly often on the radio.

Watch out, adults, those kids are disenfranchised! They're gonna kick your asses!

But it wasn't all bad. There was some great stuff, too. In fact, four of the most influential albums ever made were released that year. Let's journey into the light, shall we?

But does that mean we have to accept unthinkingly and with tin ears everything that a highly favored and preferred band emits from their instruments? Not really. Not at all actually. Listeners and critics alike exist to serve as benchmarks for a group's music: if the fans don't "get" it, the average folk certainly won't. Just because a band feels obligated to perpetually transform their sound in order to stay ahead of some mythical musical curve doesn't mean that we're all going to pack up our headphones and follow along behind blindly and deafly.

This is what has happened on My Morning Jacket's Evil Urges, the newest release from the critically acclaimed and hipster-celebrated Southern jam band. Jim James and the boys have decided to indulge themselves a bit in their influences more than ever before, and do so to their detriment. There are more than a few tracks that plague the record from ever approaching the rock majesty that was their 2005 release Z. For starters, there's the Prince-inflected clunker that is "Highly Suspicious," the most confusing track on any album in awhile, destined to be the track that divides the MMJ camp in two. Then there are songs like "Librarian," which sounds like a Band of Horses B-side (coming full circle by borrowing from a band whose career has borrowed heavily from them), and "Aluminum Park," which comes off as a track from an MMJ cover band.

This is not to say that there aren't solid aspects to the record. "Touch Me I'm Going To Scream" (Parts 1 & 2) and "I'm Amazed" resound with a restrained rock beauty that has come to be a hallmark of the band. "Sec Walkin'" is a whispy, country-flecked song that finds the slide guitar taking a greater technical prominence that in past releases from the group. Finally, "Smokin' From Shootin'" easily comes across as a classic MMJ song that can be easily grown and developed from its 5:07 time frame into a rocking, rollicking live cut. However, Evil Urges is replete with too great a level of quiet, ambient, overly reflective filler that sounds completely out of place on a traditional MMJ project. Sure, I understand why a band might want to expand themselves beyond the bounds of any of their previously recorded material - I get that - but I will never comprehend why a group would want to leave behind their identity is search of an entirely new one. It simply seems that Jim James and My Morning Jacket desperately wanted to experiment with the edges of their sound, but, in the process of doing so, lost their tether, causing them to float away into unknown territory, to a place where many of their fans just might not want to follow.

I once wrote, somewhere I can't find, that Mann possesses an otherworldly grasp of melody. She casts out hummable tunes rivaled only by a combined Lennon/McCartney. Like clockwork, every third year yields a record of tight pop perfection. That's just the way it goes. Yawn.

As far as Aimee Mann records go, @#%&*! Smilers falls somewhere in the middle, higher than the insecurities of Whatever and the blandness of Lost in Space, but short of Bachelor No. 2 and the criminally underrated The Forgotten Arm.

Writing great songs has never been the issue, but Aimee Mann's best records follow themes. When Mann is writing cohesively, songs like "Ghost World" on Bachelor No. 2 work even if they're not individually great. Smilers' high points, particularly opener "Freeway" and "Phoenix", aren't as high as Mann's most memorable tracks, and the lows aren't as low. The production is a bit heavy-handed, as well.

To illustrate this in the nerdiest way possible, I'll use my iTunes 5 star song ranking system to come up with an album average:

The Forgotten Arm: 3
@#%&*! Smilers: 3
Bachelor No. 2: 2.8
I'm With Stupid: 2.8
Lost in Space: 2.6
Whatever: 2.5

As you can see, Smilers is right up at the top, but the numbers are deceiving. Almost all of the songs are good, but a great album needs at least one or two great songs. Smilers will get plenty of airtime at the Green household. It'll probably crack my top ten at the end of the year. But in the end, Smilers is just another solid piece of work from a brilliant mind, even if it's not quite brilliant on its own.

---

Here's a mix of Aimee Mann's best songs (minus closer "Wise Up" from the Magnolia soundtrack, which is only available live on iTunes).

Recorded at band member Chris Walla's studio "McGerr's Two Sticks", the band literally sat eyeball-to-eyeball, instruments in hands to craft each song on Narrow Stairs. Going for a minimalist approach when it came to overdubs, DCFC also wanted to capture the energy of a live performance in a studio recording. The result is an album that builds on the foundation the band laid with Plans to produce an album that exceeds expectations.

From the release of the first single, "If I Could Possess Your Heart", DCFC fans knew Narrow Stairs wasn't going to be a run-of-the-mill piece of overproduced pop. What artist, in his right mind, would release an eight and a half minute long single...for radio? Ending on a hopeful note, the song is a departure from Gibbard's melancholy musings on relationships and love, which are prevalent in songs like "You Can Do Better Than Me" and "Your New Twin Sized Bed."

Full of movement, "No Sunlight" is a poppy ballad overlaying dismal lyrics. Halfway through singing along with Gibbard's ethereal vocals, the listener realizes that he or she is singing that there is "no sunlight" and "the optimist died in me." The irony is precious.
While songs like "Talking Bird" and "Cath..." may not seem all that impressive to many, the cryptic lyrics and disorganized flow add unpredictability and a taste of DCFC's indie past.

Narrow Stairs is a portrait of Death Cab For Cutie and a tasteful compilation of the band's decade together. Instead of bowing to formulaic rock, DCFC continues to tear at the edges of something new, focusing on artistry, lyrical depth, and experimental sound that doesn't seem to exist outside the world of independent music. Then again, DCFC is just doing what comes natural to them and doing it successfully.

Right from track one of 'Keep It Simple', we are taken down the back roads of blues as the song 'How Can A Poor Boy' repeats the phrase 'How Can A Poor Boy get a message to you' over and over again, making a bold assertion as to Morrison's humble view of himself and his desire to relay his words to the world. It doesn't stop there - track 2's 'School Of Hard Knocks' lets the listener know what school Morrison was educated within (you guessed it - the school of hard knocks). Possibly the most interesting of all of the songs, though, is track 4 - 'That's Entrainment'. The song basically explains Morrison's approach to the album and his approach to songwriting that requires us to lose everything and to just be in the moment of the song.

I put off writing this piece for a long time. I didn't really know how to start an album review about a 50-year experienced pro musician whom I'd never really listened to before. The instrumentation on the album is nothing sinister or otherworldly and I probably won't be listening to it more than a few times. What this album does, though, is present an appreciation and pre-text for all breeds of music fans. Morrison is someone who is a master of making something that appears to be simple into something infinitely complex once it is unraveled - and for that skill, I truly respect him. He has made music the way he wants for many years and let's hope he does the same for many more years to come. The final album track rigidly sums up Morrison's strong foundation in varied styles of music within a wavering industry of marketing and snakey people. Morrison is truly a musician, a man and a legend who has stood the test of time and who can be changed by 'No Thing':

"Everyone is the same - I've watched them come and go/
I don't have time for the status quo/
I say 'blessed be' because I'm on my way/
'Cause it ain't gonna change no thing/'"

Undoubtedly, part of the hype surrounding Attack & Release is a side effect of Danger Mouse having produced it. Danger Mouse, (known for creating The Grey Album which is a remix of The Beatles' The White Album and Jay-Z's The Black Album) who formed and produced Gnarls Barkley, adds an atmospheric layer atop The Black Keys' songs. While the Keys' previous albums were unashamedly lo-fi, Attack & Release feels more commercial. This could be the handiwork of Danger Mouse, but it may also be because it was their first studio album.

Yet another bit of hype is that a wife beater had a mysterious involvement with the band. Apparently, Ike Turner had recorded some of the songs for The Black Keys before passing away last year. Reports are unclear as to the extent of his influence on the final outcome of the album.

As such, The Black Keys are garnering a following built on big names instead of on actual substance. Fans would be better served by listening to The White Stripes and Jimi Hendrix than the Keys' forgettable mix of the two on Attack & Release. Mind you, forgettable doesn't mean bad. It means the album never really breaks the mold to become great, which in today's over-saturated media-world is a necessity if the band wants to make its mark.

Attack & Release is a balanced mix of rocking vocals over raw guitars and sweet lyrics crooned over haunting melodies. The obvious example of this is the disparity between Side A and Side B of "Remember When," in the middle of the album. "Remember When (Side A)" sounds like it was made in the basement of your favorite indie rocker. Its lo-fi disposition features melancholy, drawn-out vocals over wobbly instrumentals and bolts-from-the-blue notes. "Remember When (Side B)" is the stark opposite. Dan Auerbach's vocals command attention as he sings over loud, stop-and-start guitar and percussion.

On the heavy side of the album, there are the songs "I Got Mine," "Strange Times," and "Oceans & Streams." And on the softer side, there are the songs "All You Ever Wanted," "Psychotic Girl," "Lies," "So He Won't Break," and "Things Ain't Like They Used to Be." "Same Old Things" seems somewhere in between. If this were a record or a double album, the songs could be divided to demonstrate the diversity of The Black Keys' sound and to capture a certain feeling for the listener, perhaps yielding a stronger album. Instead, the anthem-like clapping on "Strange Times" gives way to Patrick Carney's lackadaisical percussion on "Psychotic Girl," so on and so forth, so the listener jumps from one mediocre song to the next.

The album ends with "Things Aint' Like They Used to Be," which sounds just like The Beatles' "Don't Let Me Down." Unfortunately, Attack & Release let me down because it wasn't unique.

For you see, as opposed to crafting scarily cheesy pop music that's barely club-worthy, it seems that Ms. Johansson is a tremendous fan of the music of Tom Waits and she sought to issue forth an album of her favorite Tom Waits songs. That's right - one of the more celebrated young actresses of the 21st century is a fan of an iconic, gravel-voiced folk singer who's been making music longer than she's been alive. The primary issue at hand is this: long before this album was released to stores (much less before this review is posted), two primary schools of thought had arisen regarding what to make of ScarJo's (she doesn't mind me calling her that; we're tight) "album." Camp One believes that ScarJo doesn't have the musical acumen and talent to pay homage to Waits, regardless of how big of a fan she is. Camp Two stands by the assertion that anyone brave enough to reinvent Tom for a younger generation, no matter how contrived the attempt might appear, should do so. The (Lost In) Translation: Camp One is filled with music snobs who want to prevent starlets from making records just because they're bored, while Camp Two is filled with idealistic fans of Scarlett (even if they are music snobs) who are excited to hear how she managed to attract the attention, cooperation, and participation of one of the most talented and left-of-center musicians/producers on the market today.

So, what does the average music fan take away from all of this? Well, Sitek's work stands up strong across the album: the production and musical accompaniment are stark and beautiful, coming across as more organic and rootsy than anything from TVOTR. I concur with what most of the more balanced reviews of this record have declared: Sitek's position on this record is of equal standing with ScarJo's, and often overshadows her, thus proving that a) it's supremely difficult to work with music as transcendent and amazing as that of Tom Waits; and b) just because you're an above-average actress doesn't mean you're also an above-average singer. Scarlett has a passably decent alto voice, but it's much wider than it is deep; she is able to convey the emotion of most songs, but she doesn't have the pipes to hit all of the right notes consistently (which makes sense, since she's a professional actress, not a professional singer).

What is clear is that she is a fan - she loves what she is singing and whose words she is singing, but it doesn't mean that she should have made this album just because she wanted to do so. ScarJo did what average-voiced karaoke singer would love to do: gather together the favorite songs from a favorite singer, find a great producer, and record an album that showcases one's affection for said artist. Yet, while this might be a case of celebrity privilege in use, Anywhere I Lay My Head is not a case of celebrity privilege abuse. Sure, it's easy to poke holes in a tribute album recorded by an actress, but just because you're jealous of her opportunity doesn't mean you get to rain on her parade (I would quite enjoy having Chris Walla produce my tribute to Morrissey).

Adam P. Newton is a freelance writer and concert promoter from Houston, TX.

Right off the bat, I was offended that Martha Wainwright (or her label) used using her sexuality and rock hard abs to sell an album. Should her talent and lyrics and music speak for itself? Couldn't she choose instead to leech of her famous brother, Rufus Wainwright? According to some, Martha's an artist in her own right, and apparently people like her; I'm not one of them.

Sounding a bit like Leigh Nash on crack, Martha manages to screech though songs with perfectly lovely melodies, ruining them with not only her voice, but her dark lyrics (that is, when the lyrics make sense). For example, "Bleeding All Over You" has a great melody, decent vocals, but horrible lyrics like, "My heart was made for bleeding all over you/I know you're married but I've got feelings too/ I still love you." Nice, Martha - you're married, too. I realize this seems irrelevant to Martha who may be channeling the emotion from another place and another time.

And just when it seems like a song's lyrics are good, the melody is off as in the case with "Love Is A Stranger" and the waltz-like "Tower Song." It gets even worse when Martha adds unearthly vocals to her music, sounding more like a banshee crying out for a mate than a female singer.

However, "I'm Coming Tonight" and "See Emily Play" aren't bad songs. Unfortunately, two okay songs can't carry an entire album, even one with a provocative title. Incidentally, Martha's really into controversial titles. She released an EP in 2004 called Bloody Mother F**kin' A**shole. Classy.

I Know You're Married is a mess--vocally, musically, and lyrically. If Martha Wainwright was trying to make an artsy, experimental album, she failed...miserably.

The Living Room in Providence, RI = Cancelled
The Iron Horse in Northampton, MA = Cancelled
9:30 Club in Philly = Cancelled
Williamsburg Music Hall in Brooklyn = Cancelled
So on and so forth.... Cancelled, cancelled, cancelled.

I have it on pretty good authority that these are the venues to be seen in these days if you're of the indie-rock variety (which nowadays explains the genre as much as the label status), so I'm impressed and concerned at the same time. If a band has managed to get booked in these venues, what would be cause for cancellation?

Just nine days after they post that the band will be coming to our hometowns (note: my hometown was not listed), they posted this cryptic message on January 16:

Due to personal issues within the band, Marah have made the difficult decision to postpone their January and February US tour dates. They hope to reschedule the tour for later in the year and will make sure to keep their fans posted.

Are they breaking up? Did one of the members get sick? These questions beg to be answered.

So as any good investigative journalist would do, I went to Wikipedia. There I learned the following:

... plans for an extensive US tour were cancelled following the departure of Garbinski, Peterson, and Henderson. A statement from Dave Bielenko stated that the current line-up could not agree on tour plans, and that to acquiesce to rhythm section would have represented a "musical regression."

A little further background research revealed that Garbinski and Peterson are none other than Adam Garbinski and Dave Peterson, previously of the Christian ska band Squad Five-O. (If you went through a Christian ska phase like I did thanks to the likes of the O.C. Supertones and Five Iron Frenzy, this is a very exciting revelation into the character of Marah; if not, it still gives weight to the religious imagery that appears in Angels of Destruction!). As it turns out, this isn't the first time Marah has had some difficulties keeping its memebers. Garbinski and Peterson joined Marah in 2005, but the band had already been around since 1993, with members coming and going.

Two days later, the following message was posted on the Marah webpage:

ALL EUROPEAN DATES ARE HAPPENING!
Yep Roc:
"We've spoken to the band and they are very excited to hit the road in support of what has been their most critically acclaimed album to date. Their top priority is to reorganize and get this music out to fans in a live setting, the setting where Marah truly shines."
Whoever is touring and wherever they're touring doesn't quite matter unless the album is any good. Hailing it as "their most critically acclaimed album to date" only means it's better than their previous efforts, which have been lauded by authors Stephen King and Nick Hornby but have gotten mixed reviews by actual music critics. With that, let's have our own look at Marah's latest album.

* * *

Angels of Destruction! has religious-tinged lyrics strewn through a classic-rock sensibility. Other critics have favorably compared Marah to The Arcade Fire, The Hold Steady, and Wilco, and The Thermals could easily be added to that list. Like those bands, Marah may not be neatly categorized as Christian music (note their album is nowhere to be found on http://www.familychristian.com or http://www.musichristian.com), and yet their fervent religious musings illicit meditation. The songs don't have a clear-cut message. Instead, it's the type of album that provokes long conversations over coffee or beer as friends begin hashing out the lyrics but end up talking about God and life and love.

The band doesn't proselytize, but rather they invite the listener in on vignettes of their life. Take for instance, "Angels on a Passing Train." What begins with the sentimental lyrics "Sunday morning sunlight, mixed with moonlight in your eyes from last night," turns to the more thought-provoking "Your laughter is my Jesus, cut down from the cross shaken but alive." Here, one could convict the band for calling someone's laughter Jesus or one could relate to the fact that sometimes we find the love and joy of Jesus in other people. Like many of the lyrics, it's up to one's own interpretation.

But they aren't all love songs. With the imagery of razors, cigarettes, and bottles, "Can't Take It With You" tells of going straight to the devil. From song to song, the band--like any listener--oscillates between the good and the bad, light and dark, God and the devil. It's not surprising that the band would name itself Marah, after the place where God used Moses to turn bitter water drinkable for the complaining Israelites during the Exodus. The human experience is full of moments both bitter and sweet. It's full of times when we're completely dependent on God to change our circumstances, while we wander in the desert, in the dark, looking for substances to fill us, or at least numb us.

Unfortunately, it takes a lot of analysis to interpret these lyrics on this deep of a level. Most of the time, the songs are generic. There are flashes of beauty and moments of introspection, but one really has to dig for it. It's evident that the band has a lot to say, but they just don't say it as well as the bands they're often compared to.

Musically, Marah brings out an adult rock sound as it dips into a variety of genres: "Coughing Up Blood" is soul-rific, "Jesus in the Temple" dances toward bluegrass, and "Wilderness" mixes grit with wildly fun percussions. Shooting blindly at these different categories of music, it has a lot of hits, but ultimately misses the mark. Angels of Destruction! has many fun moments (like "Songbirdz") and is a great album to listen to while getting ready for a night out, but there's just too much going on for the album as a whole to warrant great listening.

In the end, you're not missing too much if Marah doesn't reschedule their tour dates.

Although that may be true, I would recommend that R.E.M.'s newest offering has been hyped up far beyond its actual substance and I'll gladly expand upon that assertion. Upon initially hearing about the 'stripped-down, guitar-driven, raw essence' of this album, I was actually excited to give it a thorough listen and hear what had emerged in the four-year hiatus since R.E.M.'s last release (and commercial failure) 'Around The Sun'. Despite a few nice radio-friendly poppy hits ('Supernatural Superserious, 'Man-Sized Wreath'), there are just some overly jarring arrangements on this album, leaving the impression that this double-decade band is reaching for something. It's definitely stripped down in comparison to some of the grandiose orchestral arrangements of the band's history, but it still leaves the listener uncertain as to what they are trying to accomplish. Distinctive tracks like 'Hollow Man' let you know you are definitely still listening to the riff-picky, jangly R.E.M. fans have come to know and love, but the song 'Living Well is the Best Revenge' almost sounds like a Social Distortion wanna-be act (right down to Stipe's reaching, growly vocals).

Overall, though, I wouldn't be satisfied with myself if I said this album is not worth listening to - Stipe's lyricism is something of a rarity in today's market and I would definitely recommend a listen-through to this album, if only for some of his interesting word-play. 'Until The Day Is Done' is a fair portrayal of Stipe's tumultuous and relevant mind as the singer envisions a time where everything material is stripped away from humanity:

As we've written our stories to entertain/
These notions of glory and bull market gain/
The teleprompt flutters, the power surge brings/
An easy speed message falls into routine/

Providence blinked, facing the sun/
Where are we left to carry on/
Until the day is done/
Until the day is done/

Ruining the cause of the words, though, is the acoustic guitar riff of this song which sounds a lot like Bon Jovi's 'Blaze Of Glory' (from the soundtrack of Young Guns II - Yes, there was a sequel and I own it.) Thus lies my major beef with this album and the group's career; R.E.M. has always appeared to be a band that suffers from a massive identity crisis. Although the pressures of commercialization are monstrous within the world of music, I think the true followers of R.E.M. have appreciated this band for their ability to sound distinctly different than the mainstream over the years with creative gems like 'Nightswimming','Drive' and 'Losing My Religion'. Unfortunately, Accelerate is an album that sounds just like everything else that is already popular and wrong within music - a group of musicians trying to be something they are not.