Despite the title, Uri Caine's second album with his electronic trio doesn't restrict itself to current fads. Instead, Bedrock dusts off a number of trends in electronic music of the last few decades and ingests them all. If some are a bit past their expiration dates, that only serves to induce a touch of delirium, in no way impacting the music's freshness. In recent years, Caine has been blurring the boundaries of jazz with his takes on classical repertoire. Shelf-Life defies pigeonholing just as deftly, but with a preference for cheek-tonguing over envelope-pushing. Announcing his intentions with a sketch of jittering feet centered on the shocking-pink cover, Caine throws a funked-up party and invites a number of guests including several fellow Philadelphians. Local landmark Bootsie Barnes and trumpeter Ralph Alessi hold up the jazz end of the proceedings while Barbara Walker and Philly soulster Bunny Sigler vocalize, and Luke Vibert (aka Wagonchrist) reconstructs a few tracks. Opening with two more modern tracks of free jazz-inspired drum 'n' bass, the album suddenly shifts gears with the hilarious "Defenestration," invoking '60s game-show sleaze, albeit with Zach Danziger providing an irresistible groovin' backbeat. "Wolfowitz in Sheep's Clothing" skips ahead a decade for a Headhunters workout featuring Alessi's echo-chamber trumpet. Ensuing tracks veer from wah-wah-heavy '70s cop-show funk to P-Funk-meets-Daft Punk booty-shakers that I'm sure George Clinton could come up with an appropriate polysyllabic compound term for. The brilliantly titled "Strom's Theremin" should win Bedrock the scoring gig for a Love Boat movie if and when the time comes. With each track clocking in at between two and six minutes, the album would be gleefully radio-friendly in a world where radio was still interested in making new friends. As it stands, Caine and friends have the perfect party record for intellectual smart-asses who still like to get up and dance.
--Shaun Brady

www.uricaine.com

Rhymed couplets over driving guitars: It has been the recipe for punk since the genre's inception. On Aim Low, Get High, The Low Budgets expand the formula by adding keyboards (courtesy of the Dead Milkmen's Joe Jack Talcum), but the final product is straightforward pop punk. The intro track casts the band as punk preservationists sworn to defend the "rebellious sounds of rock and roll" from authority types and techno music. So bring on the punk fundamentals: A mere 28 minutes, "brisk" is too long a word to describe Aim Low. The 15 songs race through dire straits of poverty, escalating from an inability to afford health care for a beloved pet on "Stupid Dead Kitty" to being unable to pay for medical care on "Low Budget Life" (at 3:15, the longest song on the album). The Low Budgets wear their influences brazenly ("Oh Yeah" recalls the Kinks), but the meld of frivolity and social criticism on Aim Low is quintessential punk rock that never grows tiresome and is over too quickly to get stale.
--Jesse Delaney

www.lowbudgets.com

Philly's favorite couple Aja Graydon and Fatin Dantzler continue along the righteous path of sophisticated married-person soul with twists musical and lyrical on their second disc. Dantzler howls in his smoked-up tenor. Graydon coos at the top of her baritone range. Each cuts through the other's phrases and praises and hazings and harmonies like hot knives tucking into soft chunky peanut butter, especially on the midtempo "Do You Remember." Was it tough to top 2003's Surrender to Love, the first brilliant holy verse in Kindred's bible of self-discovery and lush complexity? Perhaps. Which is why the duo, with and without the big band that's accompanied them in the past, inches along nicely, continuing the truthful path of a lifelong relationship's ups ("Thru Love") and downs ("Do You Remember"), its weightiness ("Let It All Go"), frankness ("Woman First") and impromptu sexiness ("Sneak a Freak") after the kids have gone to sleep. Done to the accompaniment of an often snakier, harder sound than its predecessor, Together finds its funk in faux bassoon rolls and squelchy synth-bass honks, the latter of which turn "Turn It Up" (and its hot-time-in-the-summer vibe of water ices and soft pretzels) into the feel-good hit of a warm early autumn. Recorded with producer/multi-instrumentalist Chuck Treece, Kindred beep, click and growl along with his slow, spinning-top soul so as to give their harmonies a wider berth. A sweeter second chapter you couldn't have hoped for.
--A.D. Amorosi

www.kindredthefamilysoul.com

(Mythdemeanor Music)

Torsion's all grown up. In the seven or so years they've been performing in the Philadelphia area, they've often found themselves in the shadow of the bands that helped them break into the market. (Tapping the Vein and Carfax Abbey spring to mind.) But now, thanks to their burgeoning popularity on MySpace.com, a new recording studio they've put together in West Chester and a whole hell of a lot of skill and persistence, their new album is poised to put Torsion firmly in the highest echelon of Philadelphia's dark rock scene. Lead vocalist Kathryn Matuch is more belting banshee than shrieking diva on Faded, and way more sophisticated than other hard-rock corset-bound sirens carefully packaged for mainstream consumption (that's you, Amy Lee). You cannot mistake the influences here: "Broken" pays direct rumbling-bass homage to Stabbing Westward. The infectious MySpace hit "Push Me" could be what'll happen if Garbage crosses swords with Evanescence in a dark alley. The electronic percussion and gnawing guitars throughout echo Downward Spiral-era Nine Inch Nails. But what makes Faded stand out is its production value. Finally a Torsion studio package does justice to their live act.
--Helen H. Thompson

www.myspace.com/torsion

Recently relocated from Brooklyn to Philly, Jneiro Jarel is the innovative left-field hip-hop maestro and MC this city has been longing for. In many ways, he is (or will be) Philly's own OutKast. On his debut album, Three Piece Puzzle, Jarel offers laid-back head-bobbers that are jazzy, soul-oozing, atonal and pleasantly hard to follow — incorporating thought-provoking lyricism and bizarre, abstract production techniques edging on psychedelic that even Aphex Twin or DJ Spooky might appreciate. Featuring collaborations with Dr. Who Dat?, Rocque Wun, Jawwaad and Vinia Mojica, Three Piece Puzzle doesn't have an ounce of bling-bling thuggy-ness. Just as it was with Native Tongues, Tribe and De La back in the day, Jneiro Jarel has created a timeless masterpiece that even the pot-smoking white boys will cream over.
--Sean O'Neal

www.kindred-spirits.nl

For his debut solo CD, DJ/producer/beat maker Sat One and his strings-'n'-things buddy Scott Stallone employ a cast of a thousand MCs to commit the cool crime of making old schoolish, sung hip-hop. While Sat provides breezy, spacious passages and clickety funk tracks, pals like Baby Blak, Dice Raw, Bahamadia and OuterSpace pass the mic. Though these Philly familiars take to Sat's songs with text-messaging rapidity, new friends like Kufie and V eat up their respective moments — the bloopity organ-bopping, rekka-scratching "Many Styles"; the smoothed-over new jack '80s-esque "Weekend" — like reigning champs. Whether an elder or a newbie, they couldn't have done without the One. Lighters up.
--A.D. Amorosi

Not quite an orchestra, Richie Cole's four-horn little big band has an undeniably full sound that belies its relatively meager resources. Having performed with the bands of Buddy Rich and Lionel Hampton in the early '70s, altoist Cole has remained a bebop rock, plugging away in swinging style while various other forms have evolved in the foreground of the music. There's something to be said for that level of consistency, and Back on Top is a timeless set of finger-snappers that have nothing new to say, but say it with an irresistible amiability. Armed with a band of players who tear into his compositions with obvious enthusiasm, Cole is a bop evangelist, lacing his charts with quotes from recognizable standards. His own melodies are nostalgic, and just reminiscent enough of the classic style to seem like a collection of half-remembered tunes that time forgot.
--Shaun Brady

www.richiecole.com

Medina? He's been running down the voodoo of Afro-jazzy-house and hip-hop since, when? The '60s? Slowly and deeply intoning his unrosy prose ever since Bobby Seale left the Movement to make barbecue sauce? I'm exaggerating. He's no older than I. But there's an aged quality to his transcendental spoken-word work and his softly quixotic, soul-strewn spacefunk. This is not to say taking in Medina is not a future-forward experience. Whether you've caught him spinning Afrorikan Vybe at Fluid over the last six years or Little Ricky's Rib Shack at APT in Manhattan, or spied him on records by King or Jill, you know he's not shilling rickety stuff for retro's sake. The past merely informs his futurist groove, from the way his knowing voice lowers the speaker-boom on "Delirium" to the twinkling melody and head-nodding beats of "Holdin' Up." Dots is beautifully concocted and elegantly arranged, and each heavenly crisscrossing voice (Jneiro Jarel, Ivanna Santilli, Alma Horton) skips alongside his Barry-baritone speech on "Blues Baby." Magic. The only thing that's annoying: The muthafucka shoulda done this years ago.
--A.D. Amorosi

www.richmedina.net

Svitanya
First Light
(self-released)

A Swarthmore-based women's vocal ensemble, Svitanya evokes Eastern European angels singing at, what else, First Light. Or maybe you walk in on them at choir practice in an ancient church, knowing the echoes of these hymns may have been heard by people for centuries. Mostly unaccompanied, but for the tasteful and rare dumbek, accordion or bundur, Svitanya evoke that tranquility. Most of their songs are secular. And when they aren't, Svitanya's multilingual repertoire — Bulgarian, Russian, Macedonian, Ukrainian, on and on — shifts focus on the beauty of the voices away from the meaning of the lyrics.
--Mary Armstrong

www.svitanya.org

You really have to wonder how seriously to take artists who claim to be "a cinematic Western surf band inspired by mariachi and David Lynch." Especially when the "surf" and "David Lynch" elements never really come into play. While Return of El Lobo leaves us with a fine cross-section of Tex-Mex instrumental styles care of one-man Motel Tom Scheponik — see the sad accordion waltz of "Lil' Rooster" and the clave salsa dance of "Familia Especial" — it never really blends into anything cohesive, just a smattering of quirky background music. Or maybe that's what Scheponik means by "cinematic."
--John Vettese

www.gringomotel.com

Haven't been able to find Sun Township on a map anywhere, but perhaps the borders of this fictitious municipality enclose a pond called Walden. For their fifth proper full-length, The Twin Atlas' Sean Byrne and Lucas Zaleski get all Thoreau, crafting 10 songs that revel in the glories of the simply natural and the transcendent qualities thereof, all set against a glistening, occasionally countrified guitar pop background. Byrne's lyrics on "Nylon Test" ("In between every pulse of your blood, you can feel how the world's still alive") and "Lost Way Falling" ("Spin the earth, through the cycle/ let it rinse the day below") reveal something of a hyper-keen awareness of the weather and the elements. It's a feeling that permeates Sun Township's 20-plus minutes, and syncs up so perfectly with the dreamy, somnambulant instrumentation the pair lay down around the words. "Three Loves" and the oblique-but-gorgeous "Rearview Pictures" boast a Cali-country vibe, as does the slide guitar-buttressed "Evergreen," something of an Ansel Adams print in song form. If there are complaints, one would be that for all their hazy beauty, the songs' lolling tempos can be a bit too similar — it's not till track seven, "Seem to Smile," that we get something that could be classified as midtempo. Or, if you're a glass-half-full kinda person, Sun Township's the perfect lazy-day lullaby, the sort of soothing platter that'll send you off to sleepyland with a smile.
--Brian Howard

www.thetwinatlas.com

Listen closely. Hear the drums? No, of course you don't. There aren't any. You won't notice it right away, and once you do, you won't miss them. On his second CD, local songwriter John Conahan creates a captivating sound with only his husky voice, his piano and cellist Oliver Hsu. It's easy to get lost in the rich minimalism and not realize they're all you're hearing — check out how the keys patter like a death-march snare drum on the mortality-themed "How Many People." Songs glisten with sadness ("Our Christmas Night") and serenity ("Fallen"). The rock-driven 2000 CD Songs from Philadelphia revealed a strong singer whose songwriting was suffocated by derivative Dave Matthews funk or Elton John histrionics. The more withdrawn, introspective and sincere "Quiet Song" shows Conahan finding his voice.
--John Vettese

www.johnconahan.com

Kate Gaffney
The New Then
(Tired Wired Productions)

Gaffney has the kind of voice that makes you believe in reincarnation. Beyond the deliciously low range, the absolute self-assurance of her delivery is rare in youth. "Tired Wired" shares its title with her production company and will resonate with everyone who has more creative ambition, more desire to live and enjoy than can fit into the hours in the day. This is not a blues song for people who make finding themselves their full-time job. Mandolin is a fine surprise in these otherwise rock arrangements. Area booker Jesse Lundy's rock guitar is polished and discreet, the right tool for the job at all times.
--Mary Armstrong

www.kategaffney.com

Pattern Is Movement
Stowaway
(NFI)

Somewhere beneath Pattern Is Movement's brash exterior is a theater troupe just dying to escape. With oddball instrumental proclivities and histrionic vocals, the steadfast Philly indie quartet takes considerable risks on its sophomore outing, ultimately making for a more satisfying listen than last year's The (Im)possibility of Longing. That record showed off Pattern's technical chops, but never really went beyond the safe zone of trendy polyrhythmic post-hardcore structures. At best it was an anonymous echo of Pinback and The Sea and Cake, for whatever buzz it cooked up. So even though Stowaway starts within similar musical boundaries, it quickly travels out of town to try on different sounds and styles. Andrew Thiboldeaux adopts a Stephen Merritt-ish warble on the opening "Maple" while his bandmates prudently maintain a driving seesaw groove. Occasionally they venture outbound with him; "Never Liked This Time of Day" unexpectedly leaps into crooning Vic Damone territory at its chorus, accentuated by playful keys and what sounds like woodwinds. The record is broken up throughout by eclectic interludes, a rustic banjo duet here, clanging cowbells there. The herky-jerky operatics of "People and Touch" sound like something out of Zappa's Absolutely Free, though the set's spastic personality disorder makes for a slight letdown. The reaching moments certainly prove memorable, but random ambition demands some grounding and, unfortunately, Pattern anchors its record with Longing's familiar aesthetic. It still feels too safe given the record's stylistic leaps. Maybe it is holding back somewhat, but Pattern Is Movement carves a unique personality on Stowaway all the same — its best moments are actually the ones with no easy parallels to draw. Only cello and drums back Thiboldeaux for most of "Silver Queen," and as it ascends in intensity and fervor, it proves to be a true show stopper.
--John Vettese

www.patternismovement.com

Hilary Hahn and Natalie Zhu
Mozart: Violin Sonatas, K. 301, 304, 376 & 526
(Deutsche Grammophon)

Even though Mozart himself called these works Sonatas for Piano and Violin, the producers of this CD call them Violin Sonatas on the cover. They are obviously eager to underline the growing star quality of violinist Hilary Hahn, but this mislabeling misconstrues not only Mozart's intentions, but the very essence of this recital, which is the exquisite partnership of Hahn and her musical colleague and friend of over a decade, pianist Natalie Zhu. Zhu may not (yet) have the name recognition of Hahn, but she is fully her equal as an instrumentalist, especially in her mastery of tonal shading. The two met at Curtis, as prodigy students, in 1993. Their earliest collaboration was in the music of Mozart, and that familiarity has led to these performances of astonishing polish and supreme elegance. Listen closely, and hear the dovetailing of phrases, the inner detail, and the complete sublimation of the Mozart style. The recorded sound is superbly lifelike. Put simply, this is one of the most beautiful recordings of this music ever made.
--Peter Burwasser

www.hilaryhahn.com