Album review: Robbie Williams' 'Reality Killed the Video Star'

"This is a song full of metaphors," Robbie Williams sneers over some dusted-off mid-1970s guitar crunch in the party anthem "Do You Mind," which comes right in the middle of this bullishly diverse album. What song isn't? Dwelling on the obvious is an easy pop star move, but the witty Mr. Williams is usually sharper than that.

Perhaps he's decided that being obvious is his only hope. The attitudinal crooner and former boy band star remains a novelty stateside, though in England he's basically Justin Timberlake minus the grace. Williams' eighth studio effort is a full-body flex matching buttery ballads with laser-flecked dance tracks and arch updates from the music hall; it's meant to both resurrect his flagging career at home and to finally capture America, now that younger stars like Katy Perry have made Williams' brand of power camp acceptable here.

To that end, "Reality" is all about metaphors, puns and other brilliant turns of phrase, from the title that nods to the old Buggles hit by its producer, Trevor Horn, to the rapper-like rhymes ("it's not a blast for me, it's blasphemy") and non sequiturs ("the hairdo of the godhead") scattered throughout its meditations of fame, age and noncommittal romance. Whether upbeat and sci-fi mystical or orchestrated and jaded, these songs showcase the nasally soulful Williams as an irresistibly smart, cosmopolitan manchild of the overly wired world.

He's always written about fame's fun and peril, but with "Reality," Williams focuses hard on the out-of-body experience of the everyday. "I've got no problem with the physical minimal real life," he croons, slightly Auto-tuned, in the Pet Shop Boys homage "Starstruck." But that's a lie.

Reclaiming Williams' spot in the line of self-skewering Brit wits that runs from Noel Coward to Ricky Gervais, "Reality" covers much musical ground while sticking to its main point: that for both the celebrity and the average bloke on date night, life is one big show full of flubbed lines and fumbled choreography.

Horn's production is gorgeous, and Williams benefits greatly from the gifts of the producer's longtime team, including the arranger Anne Dudley. "Reality" unfolds with deliberate variety -- its calculated pleasures won't appeal to those seeking earnest emotion or even slightly ragged sounds. Like the verbal tricks he loves to employ, the appeal of Robbie Williams might still be too tricky to be truly universal. But this album proves that he is a great brain teaser.

-- Ann Powers

Robbie Williams
"Reality Killed the Video Star"
Virgin Records
Three stars (Out of four)

Album review: Bon Jovi's 'The Circle'

"Who's gonna work for the working man?" wonders Jon Bon Jovi on the new album by the long-running outfit that bears his name. Well, Bon Jovi is up to the job: On "The Circle" this band of Jersey boys makes a recession-appropriate return (after appealing forays into pop and country) to its old blue-collar arena-rock style; "Work for the Working Man" even recycles the pumping talk-box groove from the band's 1986 smash "Livin' on a Prayer," and lifts the factory-floor sound effects from Billy Joel's "Allentown" for good measure.

These guys obviously mean business when it comes to the victims of big business.

Produced as were the band's previous two discs by Top 40 staple John Shanks, "The Circle" shows off Bon Jovi's still-sharp knack for wedding blandly optimistic sentiments to predictably soaring choruses. Unfortunately, it's getting pretty hard to tell one song from the next: First the singer's telling us "We Weren't Born to Follow," then he's remembering "When We Were Beautiful"; later, he reveals that "Love Is the Only Rule" before demanding that we "Learn to Love."

After all that sloganeering, "Fast Cars," near the end of the album, appears to promise something simple, refreshing, maybe even Ramones-like. Alas, no dice: "We are fast cars on the inside," Bon Jovi proclaims over a cascade of surging power chords. "There's no turning back on the highway of life."

-- Mikael Wood

Bon Jovi
"The Circle"
Island
One and a half stars (Out of four)

Album review: Wyclef Jean's 'From the Hut, to the Projects, to the Mansion'

During the second track of his latest album, Wyclef Jean relates the tale of an autograph-seeking fan mistaking him for Black Eyed Peas frontman will.i.am. It's an interesting illustration of how far below the radar the former Fugees frontman has fallen since he, Pras and Lauryn Hill topped the charts in the mid-to-late '90s.

The Haitian born-humanitarian stayed busy throughout the 2000s, producing and penning tunes for the likes of John Legend, Bono and Shakira (for whom he crafted 2007's "Hips Don't Lie.") But as Jean himself declares on "The Streets Pronounce Me Dead," hard-core hip-hop heads were chagrined about his career trajectory: "Last time, [they] felt me was when I rhymed with Big Pun," Jean declares.

Partnering with mix-tape master DJ Drama, Jean seems determined to change that. Here, he introduces his Toussaint St. Jean alter-ego, inspired by Haitian liberator Toussaint L'Ouverture. The fictional guise coupled with furor at his also-ran status has injected a hunger in Jean. Childhood anecdotes about receiving his first pair of shoes and the crushing poverty in Haiti, ("Warrior's Anthem") provide a gritty poignancy he'd lacked since going pop. "Toussaint Vs. Bishop," and "Letter from the Penn" triumph thanks to Jean's sincerity.

The collection is not without its missteps: The M.I.A.-aping "Slumdog Millionaire" enlists Cyndi Lauper for hook duty and bafflingly lets her construct her own hood mythology. But overall, "From the Hut, to the Projects" amounts to a successful resurrection.

-- Jeff Weiss

Wyclef Jean
"From the Hut, to the Projects, to the Mansion"
Carnival House/Megaforce/Sony Music
Three stars (Three stars out of four)

Album review: Rolling Stones' 'Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out!' 40th anniversary box set

Even after the deluge of Woodstock 40th anniversary commemorations we’ve seen this year, a new box set revisiting the Rolling Stones’ celebrated  U.S. tour a couple of months after those three days of peace and music makes an invaluable addition to the pop music archives.

“Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out!: The Rolling Stones in Concert,” being released today, starts with the original 1970 live album, which has long stood as one of the great documents of one of rock’s cornerstone bands in absolute peak form.

That album, culled from two shows at Thanksgiving at New York's Madison Square Garden, is supplemented in this four-disc package ($59.98 list price) by a second disc comprising five tracks not included on the original set. A third CD captures the rest of the evening’s stirring opening sets by B.B. King and Ike and Tina Turner.  The fourth disc contains film footage from the Stones' tour shot by acclaimed documentarians Albert and David Maysles (whose 1964 footage of the Beatles' first U.S. tour provided the inspiration for “A Hard Day’s Night”) for what would become the 1970 film "Gimme Shelter."

There’s also a “super deluxe” set ($99.98) that includes the three music discs on vinyl as well as CD.

By the time of the Garden shows, guitarist Mick Taylor had replaced Brian Jones, who’d been fired a few months earlier and then died under mysterious circumstances. In November, “Let It Bleed” was just being released, so the heart of the Stones’ set list was the material drawn from that album and its 1968 predecessor, “Beggars Banquet.” (Yes, Virginia, once upon a time, the Greatest Rock 'n' Roll Band in the World was more interested in its newest songs than its classics.)

Album review: Weezer's 'Raditude'

To those taken aback by Rivers Cuomo's newfound embrace of songs about slaying honeys in the club while downing Patron shots on "Raditude," he has this to say to you -- "If you was me honey, you would do it too."

Grammar aside, there's a real kernel of truth to this lyric. Name any neurotic, lovelorn bedroom rocker who, upon achieving unlikely arena-filling status, wouldn't take full advantage of having Lil Wayne on speed dial, as evidenced by the rapper's cameo (Weezer and Weezy, get it?) on "Can't Stop Partying."

The weird aftertaste of "Raditude" isn't that Cuomo has so surrendered the oddball charm of his band's first two albums, though. It's that his late-career pursuit of mindless, opulent fun is so transparent that it almost taps a deeper vein of interior sadness than anything on "Pinkerton." Imagine a kind of "Sunset Blvd." set amid the stuccoed wreckage of post-'90s KROQ stardom.

Cuomo still turns out more functional hooks before his breakfast tequila than most bands get in a career. "(If You're Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To" and "Put Me Back Together" reclaim gum-snapping pop-punk from Weezer's myriad hijackers. But how does one appropriately respond to tracks like the buffet-soundtrack sitar jam "Love Is the Answer" and the Warrant-worthy ode to post-puberty "The Girl Got Hot?" 

Maybe just relax and order a double.

-- August Brown 

Weezer
"Raditude"
DGC/Interscope
Two stars (Our of four)

Album review: Rickie Lee Jones' 'Balm in Gilead'

This is a big year for Rickie Lee Jones: It's the 30th anniversary of the release of her self-titled debut album, which won her critical acclaim and the title of the Next Big Thing singer-songwriter. It's also the year that her daughter, Charlotte Rose, turns 21, a milestone she celebrates in her new album's opening track, "Wild Girl." It's a love letter to her offspring that also plays out like a reflection on her own youth.

These anniversaries feed the sense that Jones is assessing her place in life as she's on the cusp of turning 55. The 10 songs course through the highs and lows with equanimity, from the pride and hope in Charlotte she expresses to the kindheartedness she displays for those acquaintances who've moved on ("Old Enough," "Bonfires").

Spirituality plays a big role here, in the shimmering textures of "His Jeweled Floor," her yearning for understanding in "The Gospel of Carlos, Norman and Smith" and the ethereal poetry of "Eucalyptus Trail." Musically she also seems to be surveying the various styles she's explored over the years, leaning toward soul and gospel but returning to the purebred folk tradition in "Bonfires" with its finger-picked acoustic guitar backing.

Jones arrives at acceptance, if not always approval, of the complexities of life as an adult. ("Well it's hard to be older and poor / I don't dig it that much anymore" she sings in "Wild Girl"). But by the closing track, "Bayless St.," a reverie clothed in old-timey dobro, mandolin and slide guitar, she has found the peace in acceptance -- the spiritual balm for which the biblical land of Gilead was famous.

-- Randy Lewis

Rickie Lee Jones
Balm in Gilead
Fantasy Records
Three and a half stars (Out of four)

Album review: Carrie Underwood's 'Play On'

If there's a slam-dunk aspect to Carrie Underwood's third album, it's that she's handed her "American Idol" benefactors a theme song for the next episode of "Idol Gives Back." That song is "Change," an exercise in social responsibility that challenges the listener to stay open to the possibility that a small gesture can make a big difference.

Underwood puts that idea across convincingly -- it's one that also would do wonders for her music. Unfortunately, there are no small gestures here. As on 2007's "Carnival Ride," Underwood and producer Mark Bright lunge for one climactic crescendo after another at the expense of vocal nuance, lyric subtlety and even aural clarity, thanks to the excessive sonic compression again applied to most tracks. 

Of course, the same formula has helped her sell more albums than any other "Idol" alum, but "Play On" exhibits a distressing lack of dimension for a singer with Underwood's obvious abilities.

There's another "Before He Cheats"-style tale of vengeance ("Songs Like This") and a red-flag warning about lowlifes in the album's first single ("Cowboy Casanova"). And can someone please institute a two-year moratorium on songs built on greeting-card philosophizing ("Temporary Home")?

That's one of seven songs Underwood gets lead co-writing credit on here, and while it's encouraging to see her more fully contributing to what she sings, it would be more rewarding if she'd explore less thoroughly trod ground, a problem that also hampers "Play On," which closes the album. 

It's an earnest, albeit cliché-heavy, stab at keep-your-chin-up encouragement: "You're gonna make mistakes / It's always worth the sacrifice."

Come to think of it, sounds like an ideal choice for the weekly exit music on the next season of "American Idol." 

-- Randy Lewis 

Carrie Underwood
Play On
19 Recordings/Arista Nashville
Two stars (Out of four)

Album review: Wolfmother's 'Cosmic Egg'

This Australian retro-rock outfit emerged in 2006 with a fat-free debut that played like "Led Zeppelin II" for Generation ADHD. Despite the band's worldwide success, two-thirds of Wolfmother's original lineup quit the group last year, citing irreconcilable creative differences with big-haired frontman Andrew Stockdale. Perhaps they were tired of killer and hungry for filler.

Or maybe it was the other way around: Assisted by three fresh recruits unlikely to tell their new boss no, Stockdale stretches his prog-metal legs on "Cosmic Egg," which with its lengthy guitar solos, trippy instrumental bits and overheated sci-fi lyrics seems more suited to genre enthusiasts than to Top 40 tourists. Given Stockdale's way with an economy-size hook, that's an unfortunate allocation of resources; too few of the dozen tracks here reach out and demand your attention the way older songs like "Woman" or "Dimension" did.

Some tunes are catchier than others: Opener "California Queen" has a leanly insistent two-note riff, while "White Feather" rides a heavy-funk groove. And as trippy instrumental bits go, well, Wolfmother's do the job; in "Violence of the Sun," for instance, there's a droning keyboard part that sounds like blood pumping through your brain.

Yet for all his laser-light-show aspirations, Stockdale's strength doesn't really lie in blowing your mind. He's more of a move-your-feet kind of guy.

-- Mikael Wood

Wolfmother
"Cosmic Egg"
DGC/Interscope
Two stars (Out of four)

Album review: Devendra Banhart's 'What Will We Be'

When Devendra Banhart released "Oh Me Oh My . . ." in 2002 on Young God Records, critics immediately crowned him the prince of the burgeoning New Weird America scene. It didn't quite fit the Texan-cum-Venezuelan who's also spent time in Topanga Canyon: Banhart's not a ruler, he's the people's troubadour.

On his latest recording "What Will We Be," 28-year-old Banhart steps back from his early, raw intensity with a creased collection of drifting tunes freshly produced by A Band of Bees' Paul Butler.

He filches from a variety of genres -- Brazilian Tropicalia, glam rock, lounge jazz, Zeppelin-like psychedelia -- but it never sounds awkward. He loosens the stitches on each to fashion his own unique costume. "Take me as I am or might become," Banhart sings in a slurry whisper on "Goin' Back," one of the most exquisitely laid-back songs he's ever recorded, with its finger-picked chords and beach-sandy drums.

Playing with the same ensemble that backed him on 2007's "Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon," Banhart's first outing on a major label is not a concession to the big guns, but rather an attuned jog through their artistic obstacle course.

-- Margaret Wappler

Devendra Banhart
"What Will We Be"
Warner Bros.
Three and a half stars (Out of four)

Album review: Carly Simon's 'Never Been Gone'

Artists who re-record touchstone songs from their catalogs, as Carly Simon does on her latest full-length collection, take on the burden of coming up with something different enough to make that material newly relevant. Perhaps not surprisingly, her tour through her nearly four-decade catalog succeeds best when she mixes things up the most.

The opening reading of "The Right Thing to Do" is pleasant, but it seems eerily close to what the song might have sounded like in the hands of her ex, James Taylor -- the presence here of their musician son, Ben, could have something to do with that. Things pick up, however, with the vintage R&B groove of "It Happens Every Day," then deepen with a sophisticated treatment of "Boys in the Trees."

"You're So Vain" turns wistful rather than spiteful, while "You Belong to Me" is given a sultry Latin jazz arrangement, possibly an outgrowth of her Brazilian-tinged 2008 album "This Kind of Love." "That's The Way I've Always Heard It Should Be," is more melancholy than when she released it in 1971 thanks to simple finger-picked guitar backing sweetened with strings and flutes.

What Simon does here is flip through the musical photo album and talk honestly about what place those old memories hold in her life now.

-- Randy Lewis

Carly Simon
"Never Been Gone"
Iris Records
Three stars (Out of four)