Hand It Over (Reprise)

It's a wonder that classic rock radio hasn't made a star out of Dinosaur Jr. Sure main man J Mascis doesn't have Eddie Vedder's looks or Billy Corgan's prowess in the studio, but on Hand It Over, he proves that he can also rework elements of classic rock into breezy tunes that fit right in along with Joni Mitchell and Lynyrd Skynyrd. Earlier Dinosaur albums have punched-up '70s country-rock influences with thunderous punk drumming and squalling guitar. On Hand It Over, the overall mix is still fuzzy, but the arrangements are more consistent than the groundbreaking Dinosaur of old that relied on abrupt changes and guitar parts that obliterated into noise. That's not to say that the album doesn't have distinctive elements. "Nothin's Goin' On" is propelled by a chipper trumpet reminiscent of the Beatles' "Penny Lane" and "Gettin' Rough" has a plucky campfire banjo that makes it amble along nicely. On several songs, Mascis' doeful falsetto is the most mellifluous it's ever been. Hand It Over is hardly Dinosaur's best, but it will get you through those lonely summer nights on the beach.

- Neil Gladstone

Ben Folds Five

Whatever and Ever Amen (550 Music/ Epic)

Contrary to the album title, trio Ben Folds Five hardly sound like jaded 20-somethings on their second release (first for a major label). Pissed-off and invigorated is more like it - perhaps at the mopey, predictable modern-rock world around them. Ben Folds slams and bangs his piano like a punk rock Elton John with drummer Darren Jessee's crashing cymbals and bassist Robert Sledges keeping the arrangements tight (and much less fuzzy than their self-titled debut).

Folds, ever the geeky misanthrope, still favors gooney lyrics. The scenes in the song "Kate" sound like something from Bambi: "And you can see the daisies in her footsteps, dandelions, butterflies." In "One Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces," he's getting rock-star revenge at the bullies in grade school: "Vic you stole lunch money/ made me cry."

Still, his ebullient arrangements and earnest vocal intonation make this an irresistibly charming work. Folds' majestic, indulgent piano recalls everything from Joe Jackson to TV-theme-song pop, sparked by elements of Klezmer and Gershwin. The Chapel Hill, NC, band's gleeful three-part harmonies top off their power-pop like icing on a very rich, if sometimes oversweet confection.

- Margit Detweiler

Jungle Brothers

Raw Deluxe (Gee Street)

Once upon a time, when rhymes were more than a lyrical spray of machismo and hardcore-ness, a group of emcees named the Jungle Brothers traveled into jeeps and danceclubs on wavelengths of positivity and thumpin' basslines. They wore earthy sandals, dashikis and afro beads, expounded on the merits of Afrocentric living and established court with the hip-hop collective fondly known as the Native Tongue Posse.

With their first album, Straight Out The Jungle, Mike G, Afrika Baby Bam and DJ Sammy B blended house tracks with historical consciousness and blessed the hip-hop nation with the battle cry, "I'll House You."

Their groundbreaking second album, Done By The Forces of Nature, found the JBs swinging with "Belly Dancin' Dina," "Doing Our Own Thang" and "Black Woman." As hip-hop morphed into psychopathic abnormality, our Afro-verbalist entered the fray with JBees Wit Da Remedy, which unfortunately fell upon deaf ears and sent the Jungle Brothers, well, back to the jungle.

After a four-year hiatus, rebuilding their fort of vibes and rhymes, the JBs are back in the mix with Raw Deluxe. The opening tracks are obsessively concerned with, dare I say, their comeback, "how they're in it to win it," "time to make money," blase, blase and all that stuff.

It's not until later with cuts like "Brain," "How Ya Want It-We Got It," and "Black Man on Track" that the JBs realize they can't go wrong with substantive, witty lyrics, good beats, and anxiety-free fun. Raw Deluxe is a veritable mix of sinewy samples and mellow tracks good for lounging.

- Major Jackson

Jill Sobule

Happy Town (Lava/Atlantic)

More Twin Peaks than Mayberry, Jill Sobule's "Happy Town" is nostalgic for a world "that never was" and false visions of "the way it used to be, the way it ought to be." Sobule's songs of innocence and experience recreate the idealism of childhood ("Hey, there's Carol Fangler") juxtaposed with the worldliness of adulthood ("before she sliced her wrists.")

The pain of high school is relived in the poignant "Underachiever," a portrait of a girl "in love with her history teacher," plagued by rumors. She wants nothing more than to grow up and move away, but the "adult" songs of the album illustrate that even freedom has its entrapments. "Barren Egg" contrasts the bittersweetness of having "nobody but me" with cloying loneliness. "Bitter" is a refusal to become jaded, even after the ambition of youth has been hindered by circumstance.

Sobule's clean vocal rarely moves to vibrato or pathos; she lets the lyrics carry the burden of emotion rather than play to excessive emotion. Whether bouncy or melancholy, most songs ingratiate themselves from the start, playing long after the tunes have actually ended.

- Elva Ramirez

Supergrass

In It For the Money (Capitol)

Brit-rock trio Supergrass got their start in the rock star business early, rocking out with their frenetic brand of The Jam and Beatles-influenced guitar pop while their classmates back home were toiling away at their homework. It's not surprising, then, that the band's second album, In It For the Money, sees the lads maturing a bit. Trading in The Jam for glam, Supergrass rocks convincingly, and almost symphonically at times. Frontman Gaz's vocals are actually sung, rather than shouted, this time around, and his musical mates have also refined their craft considerably. Still, for all its polish, In It For the Money lacks the raw energy that made their debut, I Should Coco, so much fun. In place of the "We are young/We run free" in Coco, we find a reticent "If you like me/You can buy me" that does little more than depress. The Grass may have matured, but like so many other musical prodigies, their age may be their undoing.

- Ben Dietz

 

 

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