"If You Think I'm Happy, You're Right"

Before the Heartbreakers, the hits, the hall of fame, there was Mudcrutch, Tom Petty’s first real band, a gritty Gainesville quintet playing blue collar joints for folks too besotted to remember. They formed in 1970, but the house band at Dub’s was kaput by '75. For some members, obscurity; for others, American Girl.

For 30-plus years, Mudcrutch remained a footnote, an answer to a trivia question. But a funny thing happened when Tom Petty turned 57. With modern life hitting him hard, he became wistful for the good ol’ days and decided to get the jammy, twangy Mudcrutch back together. Two of the guys weren’t hard to find: guitarist Mike Campbell and organist Benmont Tench are solid-gold Heartbreakers. The others, guitarist-vocalist Tom Leadon and drummer Randall Marsh, were dusted off and given plenty to do.

Just like way back when, Petty is once again the band’s bassist, trading in his trusty geetar for some hopalong grooves. On a new album, he writes eight out of 14 songs, and takes the lead vocal on all but a few. (Tench does a great impression of his boss on This Is a Good Street, and Leadon, sounding just like Glenn Frey, steals the mike on Queen of the Go-Go Girls.)

But for all TP’s star power, this is very much a group effort, the Wilburys meet the Byrds meet Pure Prairie League. Petty shares singing duties with Leadon on the opening song, traditional dustup Shady Grove, which sounds like Rawhide with a hint of menace. The nine-minute Crystal River is a sprawling stoner special, with Tench, Leadon and Campbell hogging the spotlight. June Apple is a crunchy instrumental. And on the chuggy Bootleg Flyer, the band sounds as if it never left University Avenue, the tight grooves as vital as anything Petty’s day job has produced in years.

Sticky & Sweet: Madonna's "Hard Candy"

Hey sex kittens, just got the new Madonna in the mail this morning. Hard Candy comes out tomorrow. Here's a first impression...

Madonna
Album: Hard Candy (Warner Bros.)
In stores: Tuesday
Why we care: Forty-nine-year-old mom Madge invites the neighbor boys over for a little while-he’s-away on her 11th studio album. Justin Timberlake, Kanye West, Timbaland and Pharrell bring their synthy booty beats and marching-band samples, Madonna purrs out every dumb “give it to me” cliche, and we all dance naked.
Why we like it: If all that sounds a little desperate, a little forced and a lot of fun, well, it is — how you deal with the morning guilt is up to you. The Timberlake appearance has the intended Mrs. Robinson effect, but Madonna merges best with Pharrell, whose restless rhythms goose her into giving more.
Reminds us of: In the liner notes, Madonna looks like a dancer at Adult World in Syracuse, N.Y. This is not a good thing.
Download these: 4 Minutes (WATCH) Heartbeat (LISTEN) and Candy Shop (LISTEN)
Grade: B

The Black Keys "Attack & Release"

This is awesome to the highest power. Seriously, the summit of Mt. Awesome. Akron's the Black Keys. Love these dudes. (Plus they read Silver Surfer, which geeks me out even more.)

The Black Keys
Album: Attack & Release (Nonesuch)
In stores: Now
Why we care: Gnarls Barkley’s DJ Danger Mouse produces this new full-length from the Akron blues-rock duo. That’s a little like Buck Rogers joining Indiana Jones to fight Nazis. So it’s cool.
Why we like it: Singer-guitarist Dan Auerbach and drummer Patrick Carney lay down Hendrixian licks and assorted crunchery as Danger Mouse drops in subtle psychedelic shimmer and related trippery. The result is more gnarly than Gnarls, and when it works best, it’s totally intoxicating in a puff-puff-pass sorta way.
Reminds us of: Wolfmother — which means they remind us of the greatest new rock band of the 21st century. The Keys rule.
Download these: Strange Times (LISTEN) and Psychotic Girl (LISTEN)
Grade: A

Mariah Carey's "E = MC2"

E = MC2 makes my head hurt.

Mariah Carey, the Long Island mall queen who's never met a note she couldn’t stretch into octave-spanning overkill, opens her new album with a flurry of particularly painful shrieks, a showoff moment that goes horribly, cat-exploding wrong.

I repeat: Ow.

What was she thinking? Or drinking? MC’s previous disc, 2005’s 10-million-selling smash The Emancipation of Mimi, had an unintentionally funny title, a self-indulgent nod to the singer’s flighty tabloid troubles. But the music within (including Grammy-winning ballad We Belong Together) was relatively smart — or relatively smart enough to help her over a midcareer slump.

E = MC2, Carey’s 11th studio album, which comes out next Tuesday, has a rather clever title, a wink-wink twist on the bombshell-with-a-brain mystique, a la Marilyn Monroe. But in this case, the music within turns out to be a lazy, generic mess, limp, brain-poking pop that makes the Einstein-inspired title even more of a ripe, red satirical target.

In Sean's Mailbox: Martha, Michael, Morissette

Wow, do I have a wicked case of spring fever today. I just wanna drink beer, watch baseball on mute and listen to the new Black Keys album, which is the very definition of badass (and produced by Danger Mouse, no less).

I wasn't gonna blog today (not with so much work to be done on my crappy fantasy baseball team). But the mailbox has been especially generous with hot CDs -- the new Alanis, the new Jakob Dylan, etc. -- so I thought I'd brag about my good fortune.

By the way, that George Michael best-of Twenty-five is a bit of a rip-off -- no I Want Your Sex! Dude, now is a lousy time to pretend you're a prude.

Oh, and the picture above is of Martha Wainwright, Rufus' sis, whose new album just showed up, too. Love that gal.

George Michael -- Twenty-five
Be Your Own Pet! -- Get Awkward
Alanis Morissette -- Flavors of Entanglement (out June 10)
Jakob Dylan -- Seeing Things (also out June 10)
Martha Wainwright -- I Know You're Married but I've Got Feelings Too (also out June 10)
The Black Keys -- Attack & Release
Lindsey Buckingham -- Live at the Bass Performance Hall
Black Tide -- Light From Above (WATCH)
Phantom Planet -- Raise the Dead
R.E.M. -- Accelerate
Punch Brothers -- Punch

Be Your Own Pet! "The Kelly Affair"

Be Your Own Pet! singer Jemima Pearl is like a cross between a prom queen and the Yeah Yeah Yeah's Karen O. In other words, she's awesome. This song is off the Nashville quartet's new album, "Get Awkward." Dig in!

"Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings"

Counting Crows
Album: Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings (Geffen)
In stores: Now
Why we care: With his punchdrunk poetry and rambling vocal style as self-indulgent as ever, Adam Duritz returns after a six-year layoff. This concept disc is broken down into sin and salvation, and guitarist/secret weapon David Bryson uses the surprisingly garage-rocking first half to showcase vicious riffs.
Why we like it: Duritz, now 43, is a total headcase, but therein lies his undeniable charm. He’s not afraid to let his usual hangups hang out, from the perils of fame to his battles with depression. He’s also a shameless romantic, and when he spills his glorious guts (“I am the king of nothing!”), you can’t help but embrace him. History will remember the Counting Crows very, very well.
Reminds us of: This sucker would sound even better on crackly, late-night vinyl.
Download these: Los Angeles and Cowboys
Grade: B+

NEW MUSIC: Duffy "Mercy"

Rolling Stone is gaga for this new Brit, who bites her influences from the same joint as Wino Winehouse. Still, I kinda like it. Her backing band sounds like an automatonic Booker T & the MGs.

The Kills "Cheap and Cheerful"

Please enjoy this video from London-based duo the Kills (often referred to as "Bonnie & Clyde with guitars") until the troops are better rested.

REVIEW: Gnarls Barkley "The Odd Couple"

I posted audio clips of the new Gnarls Barkley a few days ago. (LISTEN). I finally got around to digging in. Love these guys.

Gnarls Barkley, The Odd Couple (Atlantic/WEA) GRADE: B+

Once again, the madness begins with the whirrr of an old movie projector. And just like before, the cinematic lunacy is immediate, ping-ponging sounds of acid-dripped go-go and the moans of Al Green's ghost stretched across a torture rack. Depending on whether you bought into this big batch of bonkers the first time around, you’ll either switch it off or resume the Watusi ’til the rubber-room guys cart you away.

Yep, Gnarls Barkley is back. The duo follows up 2006’s multiplatinum St. Elsewhere (and ubiquitous hit Crazy) with The Odd Couple, 13 tracks that further explore their obsession with the cellophane line between sanity and gone-baby-gone.

Like most of GB’s schtick — which includes dressing up in Star Wars garb for concerts — The Odd Couple is played with a grin and a wink. It’s all sleight of hand with these trip-hopping soul men. For instance, the new album was scheduled for April 8 — but at the last minute, they released it in digital form on March 18. Why? Because that’s what Gnarls Barkley does.

Even the album’s title is a bit of a lark. Unlike Felix and Oscar, these two are actually perfect for each other; they’re just odd compared to the rest of us. Danger Mouse, the quiet, lanky L.A. beatmaker, creates paisley soundscapes for partner Cee-Lo, the chatty, stubby Atlanta soul singer who just might be totally unhinged. Heck, compared to these soulmates, the Carpenters looked mismatched.

Gnarls Barkley Pulls iTunes Surprise

And here I thought I was so cool...

Last night I was sent a sneak preview of the new Gnarls Barkley album, The Odd Couple, which wasn't supposed to hit stores until April 8. I didn't get a chance to hear much, but what I did catch was sublime: Danger Mouse was definitely working that acid go-go vibe, and Cee-Lo sounded reliably like Al Green on a torture rack.

Guess what I just found on iTunes? Yep, the entire album for immediate download. No word if the hard copy of the disc is still scheduled to come out in April. With these guys, you never know.

"Goodbye Daughters of the Revolution"

Here's your weekend kickoff song, the Black Crowes' "Goodbye Daughters of the Revolution," from their new album "Warpaint." This cut was obviously birthed from the sweet-sour blood of the Stones' "Sticky Fingers." Crank it up at 5:01 today. Or, you know, 4:20.

Jakob Dylan Solo Album Out May 13

The Wallflowers were a dreadfully dull live band. Some might say they didn't exactly tear up the studio, either. But I've always had a soft spot for Jakob Dylan's roots-rocking crew, especially 1996 gem Bringing Down the Horse. Maybe it's 'cause I dig his Dad so much. Maybe it's because their wordy anthems have a shameless end-credit grandeur to them. Maybe it's because his cyborgian eyes have laser-implanted a chip in my brain. I dunno. But I keep a healthy helping of Jr. Dylan's tunes on my iPod.

So it was with a legit amount of excitement that I opened a press release hyping Seeing Things, Jakob Dylan's first solo album, to be released May 13. Rick Rubin produced, which means JD will no doubt be stripped to his groggy delivery and a coupla quiet guitars. Should be interesting. Well, to me at least.

Anyway, in celebration of this announcement, here's the 10 best Wallflowers songs (and a few of their covers):

10. Hand Me Down (GREAT SONG -- CAN'T EXPLAIN THE VIDEO -- NSFW!!!)
9. Days of Wonder
8. The Beautiful Side of Somewhere (WATCH)
7. Angel on My Bike
6. Heroes (the best thing to come from Godzilla -- WATCH)
5. One Headlight (WATCH)
4. 6th Avenue Heartache
3. I Started a Joke (THIS IS KINDA FREAKY)
2. Everybody Out of the Water
1. God Don't Make Lonely Girls

Let's Do It: SD's 10 Best Albums of '07

10. Alicia Keys, As I Am: This isn’t the masterpiece she’ll one day deliver. But the R&B star continues to take her prodigious skills to soul-kissed extremes.

9. Kanye West, Graduation: School’s out, suckas. And despite the vainglorious tantrums, 'Ye is nothing less than hip-hop’s envelope-pushing valedictorian. (That's right, Stephanie Hayes. I said "vainglorious." You got a problem with that?)

8. Rihanna, Good Girl Gone Bad: This year’s "Off the Wall." A smart, crazy-fun dance disc. Best gams in the biz, too...um, if you're into that sort of thing.

7. Rufus Wainwright, Release the Stars: I’m not sure which is bigger: my crush on Keys or Wainwright, whose lazy-river malaise is a thoroughly unique pop instrument.

6. Lily Allen, Alright, Still...: The Brit brat and MySpace pixie blends ska and Piccadilly pop to make a snotty charmer. When Lily smiles, watch your back.

5. Mark Ronson, Version: Producer of the year, Ronson is the throwback guy who made stars out of Allen and Winehouse. Here he calls on his pals to flirt over funky horns, hip-hop beats and L.A.-cool soundscapes.

4. Amy Winehouse, Back to Black: She looks like Dorothy’s house just dropped on her head. But before witchy Winehouse skidded out on drugs, the neo-girl-grouper earned those honors as breakout artist of ’07.

3. Miranda Lambert, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend: Save your sugar and spice: This proudly psychotic outlaw is all parts gunpowder and lead. Looks like a pinup, bites like a pitbull.

2. Robert Plant & Alison Krauss, Raising Sand: Buy your ticket and hop aboard this Southern Gothic tunnel of love. A lesson in chemistry that mixes twang, voodoo and 1,000 haunted, hopeful hearts.

1. M.I.A., Kala: Daughter of a freedom fighter, mother of invention: When Maya Arulpragasam was banned from the U.S.A., the hip-hop rebel scavenged exotic sounds and beats from the rest of the world. "Don’t order me about," she barks at men trying to control her. "I'm an outlaw from the badland." You go, girl.

SD's Best Of '07: Honorable Mentions

Hey Superstars,

On Friday, I'll hit you with my Top 10 Albums of 2007 (seven of which are courtesy of women, including the No. 1 spot).

Today, you get the honorable mentions. If you ask me tomorrow (or the next day or the next), I'd no doubt swap a few of the following into the Top 10 (including Shawn Carter's killer comeback disc.) In other words, it was a helluva year to be a pop music critic.

Here ya go...

Feist, The Reminder
Nicole Atkins, Neptune City (REVIEW)
Rilo Kiley, Under the Blacklight (REVIEW)
Patty Griffin, Children Running Through
Shooter Jennings, The Wolf
Bruce Springsteen, Magic (REVIEW)
John Fogerty, Revival
Eddie Vedder, Into the Wild
The Hives, The Black and White Album (REVIEW)
Mark Knopfler, Kill to Get Crimson
White Stripes, Icky Thump
Jay-Z, American Gangster

John Mellencamp, Freedom’s Road
Arcade Fire, Neon Bible

NEW MUSIC: Rufus & Rivers

Rufus Wainwright
Album: Rufus Does Judy at Carnegie Hall (Geffen)
In stores: Now
Why we care: Despite the crap I'm gonna catch from my buddies, I'm a total sucker for Wainwright, the showbiz kid with the murky past and yowza voice. On this live album, the 34-year-old re-creates Judy Garland's famed ’61 show at the same NYC venue. Depending on your tolerance level, this is either a lush seance that swings -- or the equivalent of being trapped in a closet with Rip Taylor.
Why we like it: With his full-throated lazy-river phrasing — a muddled way of annunciating that turns some listeners off — Wainwright tackles the Great American Songbook with high volume and modern gravitas. Me? I think it's amazing performance. No matter how many times it’s been done, the climactic Over the Rainbow is pretty damn good.
Reminds us of: Rufus' other 2007 album, Release the Stars, is even better.
Download these: The Man That Got Away and Over the Rainbow
Grade: A-

Rivers Cuomo
Album: Alone: The Home Recordings of Rivers Cuomo (Geffen)
In stores: Now
Why we care: Bespectacled misfit leader of power-pop band Weezer, Cuomo is as melodically gifted as he is socially messed-in-the-head. When he’s not obsessing over the perfect hook, he’s hiding in a closet for days on end. These shoddy, crackly demos play like diary entries: creepy, self-indulgent but peppered with catchy genius. For Weezer completists only.
Why we like it: The liner notes (dark, brooding, naive) are more interesting than the music. But there are some interesting tunes, including a bizarro rock opera that's kinda fun before it gets tired. As for legit hits, Crazy One, a tribute to Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound style, is the rare keeper. The jangly rumbler was inspired by an ex with an “extraordinarily unsavory” life. But he falls in love anyway. "You can actually hear my whimpering," Rivers writes about the recording.
Reminds us of: Cuomo reveals that the original lyric for Buddy Holly was "Oo-wee-oo, you look just like Ginger Rogers. Oh-oh, I move just like Fred Astaire."
Album grade: C-

REVIEW: Jordin Sparks

When we first fell in love, big-boned cutie Jordin Sparks, last season’s incandescent American Idol champ, was a teenage goofball with a showbiz-savvy voice. There wasn’t much edge to her, but there was an unmistakable intangible something, and that’s what mattered. I was smitten.

But when the inevitable Idol concert tour came to Tampa — and a nightmare of an amateur-hour it was, too — Sparks headlined with a terribly blah run-through of yawners. Despite the fact that she was begowned in flowing dresses and smiling aplenty, Sparks, in a live setting, failed to hold an arena stage.

Maybe the 17-year-old was having a bad night? Maybe the FLA humidity had wilted her charms? Alas, no. Sparks’ self-titled debut is also a milquetoast R&B affair, Rihanna without the bite, Beyonce without the beats. She even borrows some of Hannah Montana’s people, but lacks the tween-pop kick and ’tude of the Disney star. If Miley Cyrus has taught us anything, it’s that there’s a big difference between G-rated and boring.

As a singer, Sparks is certainly capable; hers is a dimple-cheeked mid-range belt. On TV she displayed a genuine ability to handle such standards as I (Who Have Nothing) and You’ll Never Walk Alone. And indeed, for a showstopping span of 30 seconds on new rock ballad Permanent Monday, she teases you with highwire vocal power.

As for the rest of the album? Sigh. Her new pop songs aren’t very catchy or nuanced. Hardly anything gets faster than midtempo, so forget about slumber-party dancing. No Air, a duet with Chris Brown, mimics the “ella-ella-ella” effect from Rihanna's Umbrella, a perfect example of the creativity vacuum. Even hot producers StarGate, who helm first single Tattoo, can’t muster memorable moments.

I hate to say it, but it’s enough to make you wonder if Sparks’ unmistakable intangible something was nothing but a made-for-TV parlor trick.

A Brit of All Right

If you date a Brit-pop fan, and have zero idea what to get them for the holidays, here ya go, the gift that keeps on giving. A bloody brill 4CD box set from those cheeky blokes at Rhino Records. Retails for around $52. The evolution of the Brit-pop movement (at least from '84 to '99), well worth the cash.

Box set: The Brit Box (Rhino)
In stores: Now
Why we care: We here at Pop Life have a strong desire to be British. And this 4CD set, subtitled UK Indie, Shoegaze and Brit-Pop Gems of the Last Millennium, only enhances our Anglophilic daydreams. Spanning from the early '80s to the late '90s, from the Cure, the Primitives and Primal Scream to Suede, Supergrass (click for a video) and Super Furry Animals, it's a must for anyone who craves jangly, gauzy, randy heart-sleevers.
Why we like it: We've always liked such '90s acts as James, Blur and Pulp (and Oasis, the Verve and Placebo) -- all of whom appear on this box set -- so it’s a thrill to discover such early '80s Brit-pop progenitors as the Primitives, the Pale Saints and the Charlatans UK (click here for video). Cool points go to Rhino for the blinky red-phone-booth design. (There's an on/off switch on the back of the box.)
Reminds us of: "There she goes, there she goes again, racing through my brain..."
Download these: April Skies (The Jesus and Mary Chain), Sight of You (Pale Saints), There She Goes (the La's), Here's Where the Story End (the Sundays)
Grade: A

A Very Angus Christmas

Looking for a reason to throw a Christmas shindig? But can't figure out how to entertain both Grandma with the blue hair and Cousin Greg with the nipple clamps and cellblock 'tude? Have I got a solution for you...

Courtesy of Santa Claws and the Naughty but Nice Orchestra, here's the new and devilishly inspired Hell’s Bells of Christmas: The Holiday Tribute to AC/DC (on the Christmas Rock label).

A Lawrence Welkian ensemble better suited for elevator output puts jingle-jangle spin on such wicked hits as Back in Black, Thunderstruck and that tender yuletide fave, Whole Lotta Rosie. (And yes, they provide a Mistress for Christmas.) Chimes, flutes, xylophones and bells, bells, bells turn the wild 'n' whiskey-eyed Aussie icons into cheeky family fare.

Fun for a few laughs...and a few shots of eggnog. CLICK HERE to sample some clips. (There's also a Green Day version if that's more your bag.)

I'm a close personal friend of Brian Johnson, and I bet the Sarasota resident gets a kick out of this.

NEW MUSIC: Nicole Atkins

Nicole Atkins
Album: Neptune City (Columbia)
In stores: Now

Why we care: This 28-year-old NYC act has described her sound as "a girl group in a David Lynch movie." Weird, but true. There’s a heartache darkness to her songs, as well as a Spectorian grandeur and swooping string parts. The song Maybe Tonight is a marvel of shimmering pop kookiness.

(CLICK HERE to LISTEN to Maybe Tonight. You won't be sorry.)

Why we like it: David Lynch never cared about making hits, but Atkins is a showboat at heart. With a voice not unlike Stevie Nicks’ Wiccan come-on, she builds her songs from the handclaps up. And although she likes to play it cool, she can’t resist the occasional disco beat and vocal flurry.
Reminds us of: If Fleetwood Mac and ABBA started dating.
Download these: Maybe Tonight and Together We’re Both Alone
Grade: B+

NEW MUSIC: Alice Smith

I'm predicting great things for Alice Smith. And while my predictions usually aren't worth a crap, this time it's money in the bank.

Still in her 20s, Alice Smith is a soul singer...and a rock star...and a jazz fan. Raised in Georgia and Washington, D.C., her musical education included James Brown, Wham! and Tchaikovsky. Sounds crazy? Well, she also sounds sublime.

On her rookie album For Lovers, Dreamers & Me, a title that's far more benign than she is, Smith unleashes a four-octave voice that can croon pop or blues or art-rock (or a blue streak, so cover your ears, kids). She’ll mix ’70s funk horns, acoustic strums and bellowing organs -- and make it sound as natural as her talent. Think Sly Stone fronting Queen -- or maybe Norah Jones on peyote buttons.

To hear Alice Smith, CLICK HERE. On iTunes, listen to Woodstock and Gary's Song.

Lovin' the Hives

Finally, a great, grooving, below-the-belt rock album.

With all apologies to the White Stripes and BRMC, I’ve been waiting all year for a straight-up, chest-out, pound-the-wheel disc like this. Something fun for fun's sake. Man, have Sweden’s Hives delivered with The Black and White Album.

Over 14 whiplash garage-rocking tracks, the nattily matched rowdies swing like the Stones on speed and name-check themselves more than Bo Diddley. All they wanna do is rock your a-- off. They've been around for a few years, but this is by far their best.

His Royal Highness Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist is frontman-as-con man, an arrogant persona with a hellbent howl and a Lothario grin.

If the Hives hammed up their "royal highness" schtick any more, they’d be a novelty band. But everything is written by the group's mysterious sixth member, “Randy Fitzsimmons,” and whoever he is (wink wink), the dude can pen one helluva rock tune.

TO LISTEN TO THE MOST EXCELLENT TICK TICK BOOM, CLICK HERE.

Alicia Keys' "As I Am"

Alicia Keys, As I Am (J Records) GRADE: A-

Prodigious R&B star Alicia Keys opens her new album with a baroque piano flurry, a fastest-fingers contest blending classical pomp with funky stomp. The album and the instrumental are both called As I Am, which turns out to be both a mission statement and a stubborn promise. Although she’s pretty enough to be a pinup and clever enough to chart with easy-bake hits, the only game she’s playing is her own.

So what we have here is another solid, safe, at times spectacular Alicia Keys album, one she describes rather boastfully as "Janis Joplin meets Aretha Franklin." The ballads (both the breakups and the back-togethers) burn with that seamless soul-kissed voice, the upbeat tracks get a good grind going and the go-girl messages are in all the right places. It’s a fine album, one of the year’s most pleasing, and it’s going bag Grammys and sell in bunches.

So why am I still a little disappointed with As I Am, her first studio disc since 2003’s The Diary of Alicia Keys?

Unfair expectations, no doubt. The 26-year-old is the rare modern pop star who’s better in concert than she is on album. She’s capable of playing anything, singing anything, a consummate go-go-go showwoman in a curvy 5-foot-5 frame. In a live setting, everything is given extra oomph, piano-playing as a contact sport. Ask anyone who’s been lucky enough to get a ticket to her show, and they’ll rave in agreement. In this day and age of one-and-done pop stars, Keys is someone will be cheering for 20 years down the road.

Ever since I saw her on a double-bill with John Legend— and then met Keys face-to-face at the MTV VMAs in Miami, where I was rendered mute and drooly — I’ve been a major Keys fan. Album after album, show after show, she keeps getting better. So I honestly expected As I Am to be her masterpiece, her Songs in the Key of Life, her Dusty in Memphis. It was the one album I had circled on my calendar at the beginning of the year. Is that fair? Maybe not. But it’s the truth.

Duran Duran's "Red Carpet Massacre"

Duran Duran, Red Carpet Massacre (Epic) GRADE: B-

Duran Duran's Red Carpet Massacre is a dirty, sexy party album about the evils of dirty, sexy parties. It's a concept disc about vanity, greed and shilling souls recorded by Brit dandies whose oeuvre is built on how rich and pretty they are.

Simon, Nick, Roger and John thumb their noses at the shallow allure of modern celebrity — and then hire Justin Timberlake and producer Timbaland to make sure it’ll burn up the vainglorious neon of the Sunset Strip.

D-Squared want to have their cake and eat it with those girls on film, too. They’re all proud, preaching fathers now; they’re also devastatingly studly rock stars who crave one last taste of MTV. Talk about a tough tightrope walk. Sometimes, when Timbaland or Timberlake or newcomer Nate “Danja” Hills is hammering out the hard hip-hop grooves — as on the grating monotony of Nite-Runner or the awkward title track— the band sounds removed, lost, as if it wandered into the wrong studio. Guitarist Andy Taylor, the band’s resident rocker, reportedly left his mates due to the new direction. What with all the programmed beats, you wonder why drummer Roger Taylor didn’t split, too.

But if Red Carpet Massacre isn't DD's best album, it’s still one of their most interesting. A big reason for that is singer Simon LeBon. His rich, slightly nasally New Romantic pleading has never sounded better — or as comfy. It’s not just the range of his voice but its time-travel ability to link where we are with where we’ve been. On such a schizophrenic album, LeBon knows exactly who he wants to be, and bless him for that.

Ho Ho Huh? New Christmas CDs

On the new Monster Ballads Xmas, Skid Row does one helluva Jingle Bells. Of course, it's not technically a "ballad." But hey, why should anything on something called Monster Ballads Xmas make any sense? Case in point: Twisted Sister and Lita Ford doing a tender I'll Be Home for Christmas. It's raunchy, guitar-grinded and, lo and behold, totally sincere. Same goes for Queensryche's White Christmas and Cinderella's Blue Christmas.

Here we go: It's that time again, when my desk is overrun with the newest Santa season CDs, from the pleasantly obvious (Martina McBride's White Christmas) to the incredibly cool (Raul Malo's Marshmallow World & Other Holiday Favorites) to the aural equivalent of curdled eggnogg (Captain & Tennille's The Secret of Christmas).

In our Nov. 29 Weekend mag (and on Fox 13 that morning), I'll review the best and worst Christmas albums of 2007. Make sure to tune in. For now, here's the epic list of all the new holiday stuff I have to slog thru, including Hannah Montana's ear-bleedingly bad Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree. (Seriously, it'll make your cat explode)

Josh Groban -- Noel
Toby Keith -- Classic Christmas
Daryl Hall & John Oates -- Home for Christmas
Rufus Wainwright, Aimee Mann -- Stockings by the Fire (Starbucks comp)
KT Tunstall -- Holiday Collection
Darlene Love -- It's Christmas, Of Course
Carrie Underwood -- Hear Something Country: Christmas 2007
Olivia Newton-John -- Christmas Wish
Raul Malo -- Marshmallow World & Other Favorites
Jani Lane, Dokken -- Monster Ballads Xmas
Captain & Tennille -- The Secret of Christmas
Ashley Tisdale, Corbin Bleu -- Disney Channel Holiday
Patti LaBelle -- Miss Patti's Christmas
Martina McBride -- White Christmas
The Isley Brothers -- I'll Be Home for Christmas
Rockabye Baby! -- Lullabye Renditions of Christmas Rock Classics
Kidz Bop -- The Coolest Christmas Ever
Michael Bolton -- A Swingin' Christmas
Carnie Wilson -- Christmas With Carnie
Keith Sweat -- A Christmas of Love
Keal'i Reichel -- Mahluhia
Dionne Warwick -- My Favorite Time of the Year
Jon Secada -- A Christmas Fiesta ("with infectious latin flair"!)
Robin Gibb -- My Favourite Carols
Barry Manilow -- In the Swing of Christmas

Eagles Beat Britney, Henley Hugs Satan

Despite having an exclusive album-release deal with Wal-Mart and Sam's Club, the Eagles' new Long Road Out of Eden, the band's first full studio disc in almost 30 years, still sold a whopping 711,000 copies in its first week, making it No. 1 in all the land. This spanked Britney Spears' Blackout, which sold 290,000 its first week. Billboard, the music-biz referee, tweaked earlier sales rules, allowing single-retailer artists to compete for top album honors.

What I find most interesting is that the Eagles' Don Henley is full of caca. This is a dude who supposedly despises big box stores chewing up the land, not to mention related evils of consumer homogenization (his dad was a small-business owner). But now, after inking a deal with Wal-Mart, he's double-talking faster than those politicians he despises. If you want to sort through his blather, go here.

This Will Make EVERYONE Happy

Look! Fresh indie kids covering Bob Dylan songs. Karen O! Cat Power! The Hold Steady! Can we all get along now? Excellent. Here's one of the best albums of the year...

Album: I'm Not There: Original Soundtrack (Columbia)

In stores: Now

Why we care: Todd Haynes' interpretive Dylan flick, in which variations of Bob are portrayed by Cate Blanchett, Heath Ledger and more, doesn't open 'til late November. But here's hoping the movie is as brilliant as this 34-track soundtrack. Los Lobos and Mark Lanegan, Eddie Vedder and Stephen Malkmus: A who's-who of coolios tackle Dylan with passion and smarts.

Why we like it: The ace performances, recorded with a crunchy, sepia-toned warmth, are too many to mention, but here are a few: Craig Finn captures the casual snideness of Dylan's delivery on the Hold Steady's Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window? Sufjan Stevens explodes the cautious grandeur of Ring Them Bells. And the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Karen O gives Highway 61 Revisited a razor-blade makeover.

Reminds us of: One of the best albums of 1967 -- and 2007. 

Download these: All Along the Watchtower (Eddie Vedder), Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again (Cat Power) and One More Cup of Coffee (Roger McGuinn & Calexico)

Grade: A

REVIEW: Carrie Underwood's Bumpy "Ride"

Carrie Underwood, Carnival Ride (Arista) GRADE: D

She loves Jesus and Jack Daniel’s, the Rolling Stones and Rascal Flatts. She’s the farmgirl-next-door from the great state of Oklahoma; she’s the legs-aplenty champ from American Idol. She sings for the single city gals; she sympathizes with the dirt-road housefraus. She plays state fairs and stadiums, working multiculti crowds with a politician’s precision and a bombshell smile.

Country star Carrie Underwood is all things to all people, which is one heck of a trick for a 24-year-old. Seriously, Willie Mays didn’t cover the bases like Underwood does. As a result, the blond looker is the best-selling musician of the last two years, her 2005 debut, Some Hearts, having sold more than 6 million copies. Hit singles ranged from religious plea Jesus, Take the Wheel to besotted revenge fantasy Before He Cheats. Each song had just enough butter-knife edge to separate them from the rest of the pop-country dreck.

Not that content mattered that much. At a time when selling albums is a Herculean task, Underwood is a marketing marvel, a product of Simon Fuller, Clive Davis and the rest of the Idol starmaking machine. She was born on television, raised on radio and nurtured by a widespread country fan base that believes in brand loyalty. As to the real Carrie Underwood, who the heck knows? She might as well be a Disney princess — which is entirely the point.

With her new album, Carnival Ride, Underwood could wind up being the top seller of 2007, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if she moves more than a million copies this first week alone. Never mind that her second disc lacks the pop punch of the first album. Never mind that it's not very clever. Never mind that it’s actually pretty dull. Underwood keeps her nose clean, dates Dallas Cowboys quarterbacks and does whatever her handlers tell her to do. And for that reason alone, she’ll remain the pop star to beat.

BUY THIS NOW: Ryan Shaw

What the world needs now is another Wilson "Wicked" Pickett, an R&B party star with a lot of soul and a touch of sinister. And wouldn’t you know it, Decatur, Ga., throwback Ryan Shaw has answered that call.

On his debut disc, the newish This Is Ryan Shaw, the 26-year-old lets his backbone slip, dip and do the Watusi, venturing into the Land of 1,000 dances and bringing back a blast. It doesn’t sound forced or phony — it just sounds great.

Shaw built his voice in a church choir, and there’s definitely a touch of the almighty in his rafter-reaching wail. But more than anything, Shaw, who prefers a tight, live band to glossy modern production, wants to get you out of the doldrums and onto the dance floor. In anticipation of his Saturday show in Tampa, head to iTunes and check out Do the 45 and I Do the Jerk. You won’t be sorry — but after all that dancing, you might be sore.

Ryan Shaw, with Bishop Wayne, performs 7 p.m. Friday, Oct. 26 at the Orpheum, Ybor City. $15. Benefits WMNF. (813) 248-9500.

Miley, Shooter, J.Lo & the Crue

A smattering of housekeeping matters...

The letters and vitriol are pouring in regarding my Sunday 1A story on the Hannah Montana ticket imbroglio, brouhaha, hot mess. You can read that ferocious bit of investigative journalism here. Make sure to read all the surly parents sounding off at story's end.

If you missed Sunday's epic LISTEN TO THIS in the Latitudes section of your trusty St. Pete Times, you can find that here. Reviews include Robert Plant & Alison Krauss, Shooter Jennings, Bob Dylan, Jennifer Lopez, the Pipettes and She Wants Revenge.

Bucketloads of new musical crap continue to pour in to Pop Life central. I'm trying to weed thru the lot, giving away what I don't need. But I have severe OCD, so right when I'm about to toss a reissue of Electric Light Orchestra's Balance of Power into the giveaway bin, I imagine a future interview with Jeff Lynne and pull back. I'm a sick, sick man. Anyway, here are today's new CDs...

Motley Crue -- Carnival of Sins Live (2CD)
Eric Clapton -- Complete Clapton (2CD)
Aretha Franklin -- Rare & Unreleased Recordings
Jimmy Eat World -- Chase This Light
Marc Cohn -- Join the Parade
Kenna -- Make Sure They See My Face
Chicago -- Best of Chicago: 40th Anniversary (2CD)
Darlene Love -- It's Christmas, Of Course
City Sleeps -- Not an Angel
Sick City -- Nightlife

Ready to Re-Buy "Houses of the Holy"?

On Nov. 13, for the first time ever, Led Zeppelin's catalog will be available for your iPod. Here's a press release from Rhino Records:

LED ZEPPELIN TO RELEASE DIGITAL CATALOG ON NOV. 13

"LOS ANGELES -- Led Zeppelin's catalog is among the most enduring bodies of musical composition to come out of the 20th century -- and now it's coming to the 21st. As one of digital music's final holdouts, the band's illustrious catalog is one of the most highly anticipated digital releases to date. Beginning November 13, the band's original albums will be available for full-album or a la carte download from all online music retailers.

The albums being made available include Led Zeppelin (1969), Led Zeppelin II (1969), Led Zeppelin III (1970), Untitled fourth album (1971), Houses Of The Holy (1973), Physical Graffiti (1975), Presence (1976), The Song Remains The Same (1976; recently remixed and remastered for reissue on November 20), In Through The Out Door (1979), Coda (1982), How The West Was Won (2003), and Mothership (available November 13). Featuring such indelible anthems as Communication Breakdown, Whole Lotta Love, Immigrant Song, Stairway To Heaven, D'Yer Mak'er, and Kashmir, these releases, together with various retrospective collections, have sold more than 300 million albums worldwide."

SO: WHAT DO YOU BUY FIRST?

REVIEW: They Ain't No Senator's Sons

Better make room on Mount Rushmore.

Made in America, mad at America, Bruce Springsteen and John Fogerty stand sentry on the covers of their new albums, ready to rock, rage and run for office on the "Music or Lose It" ticket. You think I’m kidding? Why else would they drop politically amped discs tomorrow, the Boss’s Magic, Fogerty’s Revival, on the very same October Tuesday? If these aren’t clarion calls from our new prez and VP — they ain’t no senator’s sons! — I don’t know what is.

Talk about the populist vote. Springsteen, 58, and Fogerty, 62, allies during 2004’s string of Vote for Change concerts, are in full-on crowd-pleasing mode, ready to whip the nation out of a funk and into a fervor. Springsteen is once again taking rock ’n’ roll call with his E Street Band — Clarence (check!), Nils (check!), Max...Max...c’mon, Max, try to keep up (check!). It’s no coincidence that there are moments on Magic when you swear he’s sampling Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out. Bruce figures the best way to wake the populace, the best way to connect us all, is to rock our collective socks off.

Not only does Fogerty call his album Revival and name one number Creedence Song, but he choogles up a swamp stew that sounds very much born on the bayou. Creedence Clearwater Revival tore up the lives of two brothers, John and Tom Fogerty, and led to lawsuits. But John has made peace with his past, which gives him more energy to take aim at the present.

For all their robust strengths, Magic and Revival are are not perfect albums, mind you. Bruce’s lyrics are sometimes hamhandedly opaque. Plus his song Your Own Worst Enemy is a cloying blend of Brian Wilson and Phil Spector, with the singer moying like his toe’s caught in a mousetrap. Fogerty piles on too much vitriol at points. Plus his notable clunker, Summer of Love, clumsily "borrows" riffs from Cream’s Sunshine of Your Love.

Still, these guys are in sweet shape to steamroll the White House. And just wait ’til they get on the campaign trail. These albums are built to thrill in a live setting: plenty of Big Man sax solos (especially on You’ll Be Comin’ Down), plenty of guitars cutting through Fogerty’s songs like Louisiana lightning.

Whereas Fogerty’s lyrics are as muscular as an arm-wrestling contest, Springsteen’s songs drip with a tricky twilight, as the middle-aged icon looks back and ahead, gauging the state of his country and himself. If that sounds like a drag, it’s not. After the pensive beauty of 2005’s Devils & Dust and last year’s old-timey Seeger Sessions, the Boss is reborn to run. Album opener Radio Nowhere, with its final plea of "I just wanna hear your rhythm," sets up Magic’s pervasive theme of disconnectedness, political and personal. It also sets up the album’s sonic assault, as Nils Lofgren puts a sinister tone on his guitar line, Clarence Clemons blows a throwback solo and Max Weinberg snaps a drumstick or two.

Eddie Vedder's "Into the Wild"

What took Sean Penn and Eddie Vedder — two surly, ranting iconoclasts — so long to collaborate? Penn asked the Pearl Jam singer to score his adaptation of author Jon Krakauer’s best-selling true story. You know the drama right? A young man ditches a life of affluence for a tragic existence in the Alaskan wilderness. Total exit the rainmaker job.

I've never been the biggest Pearl Jam fan -- I have five PJ songs on my iPod, including a great cover of Dylan's Masters of War. But this album is 33 minutes of jarring music. Playing almost all of the instruments, and writing all but two of the 11 songs, Vedder delves into the mind of someone rebelling against society and trying to find peace in an unforgiving land. The kid could also be completely bonkers, so Vedder has to factor that in, as well.

This is heavy-duty stuff, as the percussively intricate songs range from prickly ruminations to jarring, giant rockers. It's moving, but also rather disturbing. In related news, St. Pete Times film critic Steve Persall — yet another surly, ranting iconoclast — says Into the Wild could be movie of the year.

My Unhealthy Alicia Keys Crush

Alicia Keys' new album, As I Am, doesn’t come out until Nov. 13, but her passionate, piano-pounded first single, No One, makes me think her third studio effort could be lethally good.

Of course, my ability to fairly critique the classically trained Keys has been hindered ever since I met her face-to-face at the MTV VMA's and realized she was THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN OF ALL TIME. I also saw her at the Grammys a few years ago. Now I'm no fashion expert, but I'm fairly certain her backless dress was THE MOST AWESOME SARTORIAL CHOICE IN THE HISTORY OF CLOTHING.

On No One, currently available on iTunes, the 26-year-old New Yorker borrows from Bob Marley and Brahms, weaving classical and Kingston threads into this sweaty, pleading hit. How romantic is this sucker? Nine months from now, there will be thousands of babies named Alicia. That's how romantic.

Feelin' Perky (or: Crushing on KT)

It really annoys me when record labels -- trying to save money, trying to curb piracy, trying to tick me off -- send review copies in digital form only. Seriously, James Blunt does nothing for me on CD, so I sure as hell ain't downloading a "special player" to listen to that dope.

If that sounds grumpy and unreasonable, too bad. One of the great perks of this gig is free crap. Thankfully, most labels still bust it old-school (but certainly not for long), and over the last two days, there's been a tsunami of new CDs and related perks flooding my desk.

I'm really digging KT Tunstall's new Drastic Fantastic. I think people are buzzing about the Scottish pop star because she's a newcomer at a relatively ripe 32 years old. She has her sh-- together. She's not vapid and blonde. Sure, her music is nothing revolutionary, but it has backbone and catchy melodies. You feel like rooting for her, and there's nothing wrong with that.

Anyway, here are some of the other goodies that have shown up today (not counting my 10th copy of 50 Cent's Curtis)...

Eddie Vedder -- Into the Wild
John Fogerty -- Revival
Diana Krall -- The Very Best Of
Emmylou Harris -- Songbird (4CD/DVD)
Hot Hot Heat -- Happiness Ltd.
Athlete -- Beyond the Neighbourhood
John Scofield -- This Meets That
Sea Wolf -- Leaves in the Rover

Gypsy Mountain Hop?

Raising Sand, the curiouser and curiouser duets album by crotch-driven rock god Robert Plant and bluegrass fairy Alison Krauss, doesn't come out until Oct. 23. But because I'm special, I received my copy last week. I was skeptical. I expected wispy, folky crap driven by Plant's love for the Sixties.

But lo and behold, this sucker is good. Haunted. Creepy. Moody. Like menacing gypsy carnival music. A little Danny Elfman, a little Daniel Lanois. Usually, one of them will take the lead, while the other provides background wails, Plant's iconic muezzin's call, Krauss's crystalline soprano coo.

The album is produced by the great T Bone Burnett, who, among myriad achievements, produced the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack. The guy's money in the bank.

I'll write longer about Raising Sand closer to the release date; in fact, I'm sure a lot of people will. But put it on your wish list. It'll be one of fall's big buzzmakers.

Mark Knoplfer's Stunning New Album

Dire Straits, like Creedence Clearwater Revival, is one of those acts that most women hate. If I'm wrong, ladies, let me know about it. But I'm sticking to my guns. I hear it again and again. [UPDATE: The above statement has not been received well by my female co-workers. When I tried to explain that my attempts at generalizing were puckish, they scared me with mean looks.]

That said, if you played "most women" Mark Knopfler's solo work, from Darling Pretty to his soundtrack stuff, they'd no doubt swoon. There's something about Knopfler when he's away from the boys: more sensitive, more baroque, more romantic. [UPDATE: Yeah, this part's not going over too well, either. Instead of "swoon," I might as well have said "they'd no doubt get the vapors."]

New album Kill to Get Crimson, in stores Sept. 18, is phenomenally atmospheric, dreamy, smart. I can't get enough of it. It's instantly gratifying. There's a song on there, The Scaffolder's Wife, that has a gentle, vaguely Celtic swoon -- until about a minute in, when Knopfler's signature guitar (that tone!) kicks in, and you realize the heroine is not as innocent as you once thought. Wow. I'll write more in the future, but for now, keep Kill to Get Crimson on your radar.

REVIEWS: Kanye, 50 Cent

On his new album, Kanye West dubs himself "the fly Malcolm X, by any jeans necessary"; on his new album, 50 Cent frowns that he "still will kill." The always eccentric West samples Steely Dan and Parisian electronica oddballs Daft Punk; the forever gangsta Fiddy unloads more gunshot effects than a Rambo flick. Mr. West’s new liner notes feature a cartoon bear; Mr. Cent’s liner notes feature the star eating a handgun with knife and fork.

For all the talk of the hyper Kanye West and the brooding 50 Cent battling for hip-hop supremacy this week, there’s one thing to remember: They excel at two totally different styles, and their new albums, West’s Graduation and Fiddy’s Curtis, both released today, will no doubt appeal to different audiences.

Sure, they both rap, they both brag, they both sport egos the size of zeppelins. They also have myriad special guests to spare: Coldplay’s Chris Martin and rappers Mos Def and Lil Wayne back Kanye; Justin Timberlake, Akon and Mary J. Blige help 50.

But West, who calls himself "the Louis Vuitton don," hails from the middle-class ’burbs of Chicago. He’s famously vainglorious, but he’s also insecure, a bipolar act that never fails to entertain. The Queens-born 50 Cent, aka Curtis Jackson, is a former drug dealer who’s been shot nine times. He’s John Wayne in da club, an asphalt gunslinger, and he plays the part of the ultimate, all-id male, no apologies.

So instead of comparing them to each other, you should compare them to themselves. Graduation and Curtis are third albums for both, and while one artist continues to push the envelope on hiphop song structure, the other is content to strut down the same ol’ bang-bang street, guns cocked, banks robbed, the clock set to High Noon.

Kanye vs. Fiddy: Super Tuesday Showdown

Between Britney Spears' chunky-zombie cha-cha and Justin Timberlake’s snotty disdain for the network that made him, Sunday’s MTV Video Music Awards were yet again an awkward, unlikable affair. But there was one glimmer of puckish fun, a surprising show of humor and optimism from a crew of talents that could use a little ha-ha.

After reports came out that dunderheaded rockers Tommy Lee and Kid Rock had scrapped in the name of Pamela Anderson’s bust size, hip-hoppers from P. Diddy to Yung Joc to Jamie Foxx started whooping it up, cheekily calling for an end to "white-on-white violence." It was a great gag, finally a much-needed respite for musicians plagued by ugly news of feuds, bloodshed and wayward braggadocio.

Even more important, it was a big boost and a positive lead-in for what could very well be the biggest sales day the music industry has had in years. Tomorrow, on what is called a "Super Tuesday," Chicago rapper Kanye West and Queens rhymer 50 Cent — both of whom hammed it up on the VMAs, going toe-to-toe in mock Ali-Frazier (but forgoing fisticuffs)— are releasing new albums. Adding fuel to the fire, country star Kenny Chesney is also entering the fray with his new disc.

Super Tuesday is an industry term for that rare occasion when heavy-hitters drop albums on the same day. Much like movie studios jockeying for choice summer weekends, music labels prefer to release their biggest albums against little or no competition, giving music fans but one way to spend their hard-earned cash.

Not tomorrow. Mr. West, who is on the Roc-A-Fella label, and Mr. Cent, who is on Aftermath, are releasing what could be the two biggest albums of 2007. There was talk about moving the release of one album or the other, but neither has chickened out. You gotta dig that.

Both new discs — Kanye's Graduation, Fiddy's Curtis — are the artists’ third studio efforts. Together, the musicians have sold close to 30-million albums. So not only will Kanye and 50's sales figures determine whether the dismal, dizzied music industry has a bad year or a horrific year — album sales are down 14 percent compared with '06, which was one of the worst in his