Latest releases reviewed
NEW YORK DOLLS
One Day It Will Please Us to Remember Even This
Roadrunner Records
****
Shortlived and short-circuited through a mixture of hard drugs and the kind of hedonism that makes today's rock acts seem like Gilbert O'Sullivan and Nana Mouskouri grooving at the local Glee Club, New York Dolls (well, two from the best-known incarnation of the band, David Johansen and Sylvain Sylvain) return after a veeerrry lengthy layoff with a record that will shock the naysayers and wake up the neighbours. No one was expecting the new songs to be so good, yet here they are - a gaggle of garage rock played with equal measures of proficiency and piss-take, and sung with the 30-a-day grit-gargle of Johansen, with special guest appearances from Iggy Pop and Michael Stipe. The references are few but potent: glam rock, '50s rock'n'roll, Stooges. Pop music with a lipstick scrawl. Simple stuff played with nerve and verve, slithery snake-like guitar solos a specialty. www.nydolls.org - Tony Clayton-Lea
THE SLEEPY JACKSON
Personality - One Was a Spider, One Was a Bird
Virgin
****
Luke Steele's singular musical vision and eccentric personal style has seen him described as a blue eyeliner-wearing Brian Wilson or a mercurial Jonathan Donahue. By his own admission, Steele has a few personality issues, and this second album is a suitably flamboyant attempt by the Perth maestro to come to terms with his own duality. The elaborate cover art evokes Todd Rundgren's A Wizard, a True Star, and the music inside is certainly a stellar display of wizardry, a symphonic blend of Prince, Rufus Wainwright, Burt Bacharach and Flaming Lips. You Needed More, Work Alone and I Understand What You Want But I Don't Agree mark out Steele's self-sufficient path, while Devil Was in My Yard, God Lead Your Soul and Higher Than Hell treat the angels and demons as equals. Although the album is dripping with orchestral arrangements and heavenly backing vocals, there's enough dust and grit to keep it from completely disappearing into the ether. www.thesleepyjackson.com - Kevin Courtney
LISA GERMANO
In the Maybe World
Young God Records
***
With the party of one that is the solo artist, a certain amount of confessionalism is expected. Lisa Germano doesn't just divulge the odd secret, however; she nails all her emotional flags to the mast, omitting nothing. These missives of nightmarish heartbreak are delivered via dreamy pop, and often wrongfoot the listener - how can something that sounds so narcotic be so deftly crafted? Because as well as playing guitar, violin and piano, Germano intuituively produces her own work, carving out her breathless vocals in relief against the less-is-more musical approach. Johnny Marr guests on Wire and Into Oblivion, and Germano serves up bells on the title track and whistling as the only side orders. Alongside talk of ghosts and fairies are more tangible accounts of love and yearning; file these gems under insomniac love songs. www.lisagermano.com - Sinéad Gleeson
JAMES DEAN BRADFIELD
The Great Western
Columbia
***
We've recently had a solo album of bleepy bedsit electronica from Thom Yorke, and it can't be too long before Liam Gallagher puts out his own skiffle LP. None of that sort of experimentation from the Manics singer, though: this is an album of straightforward rock songs, and some rather good ones at that. Nicky Wire's polemical lyrics are replaced by Bradfield's own personal reflections and sharp social observation, although the Manics bassist does write the words of Bad Boys and Painkillers. Without the weight of excess political baggage, tunes such as An English Gentleman (a tribute to the Manics' late publicist, Philip Hall), That's No Way to Tell a Lie (about the link between religious doctrine and Aids), Say Hello to the Pope and On Saturday Morning We Will Rule the World seem less stilted and earnest than some of the Manics' more recent output. For the first time in ages, Bradfield sounds like he really means what he's singing. A cover of Jacques Brel's To See a Friend in Tears rounds off this fine, vanity-free project. www.jamesdeanbradfieldofficial.com - Kevin Courtney
HEFNER
Catfight
Darren Hayman Records
***
Hefner fans, your cup runneth over. Defunct for four years now, the English indie folkateers follow a "best of" with this collection of 43 unreleased tracks culled from their brief career. There's something doubly nostalgic about Hefner's endorsements, coming from such other expired sources as the Melody Maker and John Peel. What each saw in lead man Darren Hayman's wry, occasionally twee and always idiosyncratic output was a lost English eccentricity, a contemporary match for the satire of Ray Davies and the adenoidal delivery of David Bowie. The cost of prolificacy is quality control, but Hefner managed enough variations in colour and style to warrant both discs. And only a killjoy could fail to be won over by Hayman's arch couplets: "Peter Gabriel, please come to gate nine/Sting has saved the rainforest and everything's fine." www.hefnet.com - Peter Crawley
CHIARA BROWNE
Night Time
No label
***
The languid tenor of Chiara Browne's solo debut underscores her antipodean provenance, and marks her out as a Dublin-based singer-songwriter with enough quirkiness to set her apart. She's done her time with The Rose Ponies, and the wisdom of the live performance experience is writ large on Night Time. Lyrically, Browne doesn't exactly push any boundaries. But her vocals, with their musky, lived-in quality, lend ineffable mystery to this easy-listening set. There's a hint of Bonnie Raitt on Lah Lah Lah and just a tincture of soul sisterhood in Ray Charles, while her decision to cover Sonny Condell's Buy a Ticket is inspired, as she breathes fresh life into what could just be an airplay hit. Velveteen accompaniment from Bill Shanley and Mick McCarney mark this one out for late night listening. www.chiarabrowne.com. - Siobhán Long
DONNIE MUNRO
Heart Of America
Greentrax
**
If it's asinine, echoey musak you're after, then Donnie Munro is your only man. Munro is former frontman with Scottish supergroup Runrig, and Heart of America is his third solo effort. While its geography namechecks a rich Celtic heritage (Prince Edward Island, Ellis Island and Raglan Road), its reference points are unapologetically perched so firmly in the middle of the road that there isn't a whiff of risk-taking to be found lurking amid the mix. Plodding percussion and an insistent soprano sax overwhelm whatever heart was struggling to beat in Mhairead Óg, and the perky, attention-seeking keyboard introduction to October Song conjures The Blue Nile at their most saccharine. Big accordions careen across freewheeling electric guitar lines, never pausing long enough to find an earth en route. A synthetic nightmare. www.greentrax.com - Siobhán Long
