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 Entertainment | May 2006 
Critics' Choice - New CD's
 NYTimes
| | The cover of the new self-titled release from "Jagged Edge." |
Red Hot Chili Peppers
"Stadium Arcadium"
(WB)
Since the Beach Boys, no band has been as closely identified with Southern California as the Red Hot Chili Peppers. But since the band formed in 1983, its vision of Los Angeles has changed considerably, from cheerfully anarchic pleasure dome to soul-sucking dystopia where junkies lurk behind every fruit-smoothie stand.
In 1999 they coined a term for succumbing to the glittery contradictions of the city: "Californication." Things get even darker on their new double album, "Stadium Arcadium." On the first track, "Dani California," a messed-up gal last seen standing hopefully under a marquee in 2002's "By the Way" has died. "I love my baby to death," Anthony Kiedis sings wistfully, as if he feels somehow culpable. Moody melodies and images of decay and train-wreck relationships haunt most of the next 27 songs.
But this, the Peppers' ninth studio record, is far from a midlife bummer. The music brims with a creative euphoria almost shocking for a band that has been around since Ronald Reagan's first term. On the surface it's preternaturally catchy arena rock with soaring choruses perfect for beery singalongs. Through a pair of headphones, it's a shimmering collage, and far more ambitious than it needs to be.
John Frusciante is determined to prove the guitar isn't really dead, experimenting with effects like the outer-space synthesizer on "Animal Bar." Like his fellow virtuoso The Edge, he's one of the few current rock guitarists with an instantly recognizable sound. And he doesn't let you forget it, indulging in solo after solo. A willfully overlong mix of power ballads and giddy, free-association rock jams, the record is the Peppers' best work since the 1991 "Blood Sugar Sex Magik." That's where Mr. Kiedis unveiled his vulnerable side on the drug-sick "Under the Bridge."
At 43 he has evolved from a clownish brat into an earnest ex-addict desperate for redemption, whether onstage or in bed. Of course it's hard to throw a pity party for a rock god who looks 29, dated Heidi Klum, and never seems to wear a shirt. He can get unbearably mushy, as on "Death of a Martian," a lament for — no joke — the bassist Flea's dearly departed dog.
But unlike many of his emo rock descendants, Mr. Kiedis actually has something authentic to mope about. His chilling 2004 autobiography "Scar Tissue" reveals a debauched Hollywood childhood that probably should have killed him. Even his sappiest lyrics are invigorated by a lovably flawed voice infused with self-loathing and regret. Take "Hard to Concentrate," in which he imagines Flea proposing to his fiancé. "Finally you have found something perfect," Mr. Kiedis sings with a mix of affection and envy.
It's as if Mr. Kiedis fears that he's too damaged for anyone but the beautifully doomed troubledolls hogging his beach blanket. And he's still not ready to cast them aside. Not yet. SIA MICHEL
Gnarls Barkley
"St. Elsewhere"
(Downtown/Atlantic)
Danger Mouse is the sound-collaging producer who plundered the Beatles' white album ("The Beatles") to remix Jay-Z's "Black Album" as "The Grey Album." Cee-Lo Green sang and rapped with the Goodie Mob and has appeared on various projects from the innovative Atlanta hip-hop scene. Together they are Gnarls Barkley, whose debut, "St. Elsewhere," is a manic, twisted soul album that's part nostalgia and part dementia.
Most of the 14 terse tracks are songs, not raps. The recurring theme is madness: not just in the amiable Motown-meets-Philly-soul single "Crazy," but in songs that detail other abnormal mental states ("Who Cares").
Cee-Lo Green has a genuine Southern soul voice as well as a rapper's articulateness, and he riffles through roles on "St. Elsewhere." He boasts, "I transform," as Danger Mouse puts his voice through speed changes; he's a crooner, a belter, a rapper, a comic "boogie monster," a creepy necrophiliac and even a preacher.
Backing him, Danger Mouse scrambles 1960's and 70's soul, treating vintage samples with hip-hop's analytical crispness, and doing some things that are rare in hip-hop, like changing key ("Go-Go Gadget Gospel"). The songs are funny with dark undercurrents ("Storm Coming"), but Danger Mouse's time-warped combinations and rhythmic snap keep them danceable. Then again, cheerfulness might be just one more of the album's delusional states. JON PARELES
The Isley Brothers
"Baby Makin' Music"
(Def Soul)
The Isley Brothers have made some of the deepest and loveliest records in soul music; at their best, in the 1960's and 70's, there was patience, circumspection, a truly specific masculine tenderness in their music. But times have changed, and Ronald and Ernie Isley, the two that remain, are settling into a protracted sunset of lust.
Having restarted in the late 90's with the help of the singer and producer R. Kelly, they began to make songs about the daily life of an aging lothario. Mr. Kelly's curiosity about stories of sexual intrigue runs to mania, and so he created an alter-ego character for the singer Ronald Isley: Mr. Biggs, a high-roller with unlimited sexual needs.
So much booty tires a man; on "Baby Makin' Music," Mr. Biggs seems ready for a restorative nap. Here are 11 tracks of by-the-numbers slow jams, including one written and produced Mr. Kelly (the rocket-as-metaphor song "Blast Off") that doesn't come close to his work on the album "Body Kiss," three years ago. That record was absurd and obsessive, full of anxieties and twisted desire; this one, made with various producers besides Mr. Kelly including Jermaine Dupri and Troy Taylor, just hollowly repeats dull promises of expensive cars, romantic dinners, and underwear removal. BEN RATLIFF
Jagged Edge
"Jagged Edge"
(Sony Urban)
Like the ancient rhinoceros — or, for that matter, the ancient Regis Philbin — all-male R&B quartets have successfully outlived their era. Four grown men in matching outfits singing love songs together: you might think that hip-hop would have driven this strange beast to extinction. And yet the eager-to-please Atlanta group Jagged Edge (along with others) has thrived in this seemingly inhospitable environment.
On the quartet's generally entertaining new self-titled album, the members pander in all sorts of ways. In the slow-jam single "Good Luck Charm," the members pander to their female listeners: those, at any rate, who enjoy being compared to rabbits' feet. "So Amazing," featuring the reggaetón star Voltio, is a winsome sop to Latino listeners. And best of all is "Stunnaz," with Jermaine Dupri. It's a soft-serve tribute to the raucous Bay Area form of hip-hop known as hyphy, and a first-rate example of musical adaptation. KELEFA SANNEH
Liberty Ellman
"Ophiuchus Butterfly"
(Pi)
The music of the guitarist and composer Liberty Ellman is complex, meticulous and challenging. But it's also groovy, contemporary and sleek. "Ophiuchus Butterfly," his second album on Pi Records, brings all these traits together in an often-intriguing collage of compositions for a six-piece chamber group.
Much of the music is carefully layered, with parts interlocking or brushing against one another with a gentle friction. A pair of saxophonists, Steve Lehman on alto and Mark Shim on tenor, sometimes serve as sparring partners; at other moments, they flutter together over the churn of Jose Davila's tuba, Stephan Crump's acoustic bass and Gerald Cleaver's drums.
Mr. Ellman favors a clean tone and an uncluttered style, and often leans back in the busy polyphony. But his touch and vision are omnipresent: in the album's stuttering funk, its electronic interludes, and its general tone, which is jagged but somehow delicate, like eggshells in a careful pile. NATE CHINEN |
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