(Interscope)
From the title, one might expect to be a return to the roots of the Jamaican music, but Orange Country rude-folk No Doubt have duped you again'their new album is even less irie than 1995's or 2000's . As the latter represented a subtle turn towards new wave, is an all-out embrace of '80s synth-pop that's often energetic and occasionally dead-on, thanks to a killer orchestra of Moogs, ARPs, and fake Hammond organs.
As the single \Hey Baby"" illustrates, Gwen and her boys are at their best when they stick to simple themes like having parties and hittin' the ladies from the back. This preoccupation permeates the album's best tracks, ""Hella Good"" and ""Platinum Blonde Life,"" which are blessed by the production of The Neptunes and Ric Ocasek, respectively. In a way, Rock Steady is a producer showcase, to see who can do what with Gwen's purr-n-growl, and to hell with what she's saying: Trance auteur William Orbit scores with ""Making Out,"" which proves that Gwen is the only 33-year-old working musician who can successfully channel the mindset of a 12-year old girl.
Only two songs fall completely flat: the techno-reggae of ""Start the Fire"" (""Let's get a little higher,"" etc., etc.) and the cloying Aqua-esque introspection of ""Running"" (""Running, running as fast as we can/Do you think we'll make it?"").
is an easy album to hate if you're so inclined, but don't kid yourself: If No Doubt weren't on MTV and were fronted by a nerdy guy instead of a gorgeous, talented blonde, they'd be called Fountains of Wayne, and you'd call the album of the year.
And they're on tour with The Faint, so eat that, hipsters.
(Too Pure)
Hefner's gentle simplicity interchanges from slightly annoying to unexpectedly indulgent throughout its newest album, Dead Media.
It seems to be in the midst of a battle to decide the future evolution of the band. An evolution that may find it battling for mainstream exposure, or may find it drifting into some weird musical obscurity, hailed by the true seekers of the illustrious underground.
It was recently highlighted by ""Rolling Stone"" as a band that, along with Coldplay, Travis, Starsailor and Idlewild, has the potential to capture its own branch of the American listening contingent, despite their hard-to-acclimate-to mellowness. In Hefner's case, however, this mellowness may actually be a repressed calm, although it is hard to tell.
A few of their songs seem to exist in a pop music bizarro world. ""Trouble Kid"" and ""The King of Summer"" display a talent for sorta radio ready music making.
Other songs push themselves too deep into Hefner's private, keyboard driven world. Half seventh-inning-stretch organ, half Mario era Nintendo, these songs are too special to Hefner master mind, Darren Hayman, to appeal to a widespread audience. That, however, is part of the allure of the music.
The title track pierces both the blandness- seeking ear as well as the mainstream ego. The track closes with a chant of ""The dead, dead cinema,"" mocking the staleness of Hollywood. On this track as well as many others, it is hard to decide just how sarcastic, if at all, the sentiments of Hayman and his lyrics are.
It seems at times that deep down inside Hayman burns raw, punk anger, manifesting it 180 degrees from the Sex Pistols sound-wise. The fun lyrical hooks of some of the songs almost seem to disappear underneath the attention-hogging keyboard.
Still, the best songs may be in between the two extremes Hefner produces. Keeping the keyboards a bit behind the scenes, Hefner lets simplicity shine producing tight tracks like ""Trouble Kid"" and ""The Nights Are Long."" On ""When the Angels Play Their Drum Machines Hayman gives us a bit of unadulterated lyricism: ""And I said, let me, let you, let me down again/She said no' We are both adults/Our eyes are open wide/Lets push away/the world outside."" On , Hefner is fighting that very same battle.
