The latest CD releases reviewed

NORAH JONES
Not Too Late Blue Note **

The queen of easy-listening has settled nicely into a multi-platinum comfort zone, and with more than 40 million albums sold, she can well afford to be snoozily complacent. But Snorah still wants to prove she's more than just a high-class hotel lounge entertainer, so for her third album she's eschewed the cover versions and written all the songs herself - with help from her bassist/producer, Lee Alexander, particularly on Sinkin' Soon, a Tom Waits-style shanty. The songs are less countrified that those on her last album (Feels Like Home), but they still exude all the warmth and fluffiness of a thick-knitted angola sweater. Snorah's subject matter includes fractured friendship (Not My Friend), bedsit living (Little Room) and, of course, love and longing (Thinking About You, Be My Somebody). There's also a naive attempt at political commentary in My Dear Country, but Jones doesn't exactly ruffle any eagle's feathers. The gentle lilt of her voice and the lazy tempo of the tunes are unhindered by complex arrangements; everything is stripped down to almost childlike simplicity, but the end result is still mildly soporific. www.norahjones.com Kevin Courtney

JAMIE T
Panic Prevention EMI/Virgin **

The cult of the amateur has been a constant from the days of mid-'70s punk rock. Anyone out there recall the naivete of "punk poet" Patrick Fitzgerald or the daftness of Jilted John? Novelty has a way of wearing off after a very short time, however, and so it is with Jamie T, who manages to come across like a Grade-A prat rather than the sussed-up wordsmith he would clearly so much like to be. His worldview is not unlike Mike Skinner's, but where Skinner is acutely astute in his wordplay, Jamie T plods along with all the charmlessness of an ordinary bloke thrilled to be the opening act on open mic night at his local boozer. Sludge. www.jamie-t.com  Tony Clayton-Lea

DAVID KARSTEN DANIELS
Sharp Teeth Fat Cat ***

After three low-key albums, David Karsten Daniels announces his arrival at the Fat Cat label with something special. Karsten Daniels claims both Steve Reich and "growing up in the Bible Belt" as influences, so it's no surprise that the keystones of Sharp Teeth are non-linear melodies and morality. Recorded over two years in a farmhouse with 19 musicians, it veers from quiet corners of reflection (We Go Right On) to dizzying epics (Minnows). Balkan brass stabs echo Beirut and whisperings of Jesus and Satan conjure up Will Oldham, hinting at a slightly puritanical tone. For all the precision playing, there are jazzy detours and hairpin turns aplenty, usually in the direction of hazy Americana and alt.country. From baseball to piano instrumentals (Sharp Teeth I, Sharp Teeth II) Karsten Daniels offers beautiful arrangements and wry observations from the heart. www.davidkarstendaniels.com  Sinéad Gleeson

THE COOPER TEMPLE CLAUSE
Make This Your Own Sanctuary **

When TCTC came on the post-Britpop scene, they were being hailed as "the Oasis it's OK to like". Sadly, they quickly became "the Oasis that didn't sell any records" and, when bassist Didz defected to Dirty Pretty Things, and their record label dropped them, it seemed the Temple were doomed. But the tenacious TCTC have reinvented themselves, realigned their sound in a more emo-electro direction, and reconnected with their core fanbase. Whether the collection of frantic, formatted guitar-metal tunes will win them new fans is another thing. While singles Homo Sapiens and Waiting Game sweep you up on an exuberant electronic wave, songs such as Damage, Head and Once More With Feeling don't seem to have a chorus to grab onto, and any melodies are of the bleep-and-you'll-miss-them variety. Fair play to them for not falling in with the Kooks-y consensus, but TCTC sound like a band flailing against the dying of the light. www.thecoopertempleclause.com   Kevin Courtney

THE DECEMBERISTS
The Crane Wife Rough Trade **

One of music's weirdest anomalies is when you're completely puzzled by the fuss surrounding a much-feted band, especially when the parts should add up to a rather special sum. Despite a lush line in shanty narratives about odd characters and multi-instrument alt.folk, this Oregon five-piece repeatedly come across as underwhelming. It would be easy to blame The Decemberists' major label defection (to Capitol in the US) for the plodding nature of The Crane Wife, but then 2005's Picaresque was another batch of anaemic dirges. Colin Meloy pens wry tales, but vocally he's cursed with sounding like Brian Molko from Placebo. When The Decemberists pare things back (Shankill Butchers, Yankee Bayonet) a chink of potential shines through. Too often, however, good ideas tailspin into self-indulgence, letting overblown crescendos cancel out what came before. Less is often more, guys. www.decemberists.com Sinéad Gleeson