CASS McCOMBS
"Tip of the Sphere"
BOTTOM LINE: Stretching the boundaries of jam rock and Americana.
Nothing about Cass McCombs is ever straightforward, though he is often quite a striking storyteller.
He makes the most of that skill on his new album, "Tip of the Sphere" (Anti-), leading us around life in the nation's wide-open spaces. Though his Americana tales don't always have a specific point, they do generally convey a feeling.
Take the 10-minute closer, "Rounder," which is drenched in Grateful Dead guitar as it wanders from one musical circle to another as McCombs wonders about a series of questions, including "Are you tired of drying?" and "How are you keeling?" The seven-minute "I Followed the River South to What" feels more directed, though it seems more about the journey, not the destination.
When McCombs focuses his efforts, like in the lovely guitar ballad "Estrella" or the bluesy, piano-driven regret "Absentee," he fares better. But he shines brightest when he builds his own model, like the oddly upbeat-sounding "Sleeping Volcanoes," where he begs, "Help us, Armageddon," or the beat poetry of "American Canyon Sutra," which rides a stark trap beat. It's all a weird trip, though one worth taking.
BOB MOULD
"Sunshine Rock"
BOTTOM LINE: Using his power (pop) for good times.
Indie-rock pioneer Bob Mould has used his recent albums to work through some serious issues.
The Husker Du and Sugar frontman wrote his "Beauty and Ruin" album after his father died and wrote "Patch the Sky" after losing his mom. For "Sunshine Rock" (Merge), Mould made a conscious effort to focus on happier themes.
If the album title wasn't enough of a clue, there are also songs called "Sunny Love Song," "Camp Sunshine" and "Western Sunset." All that sunniness hasn't blunted Mould's edge, though.
"Thirty Dozen Roses" is as raucous as ever, with Jon Wurster pounding away at the drums and bassist Jason Narducy thumping along to show why the Foo Fighters have long idolized Mould. "What Do You Want Me to Do" is another hard-hitting triumph in the same vein as the Husker Du classic "Makes No Sense at All."
However, it's the softer moments of "Sunshine Rock" that show how much things have changed for Mould, who now makes his home in Germany. He approaches "Camp Sunshine" with childlike wonder, as he sings about the thrill of "the days I get to spend making music with my friends." It's a sweet change of pace, as is "The Final Years," with a serene synthesizer riff and a groove reminiscent of Smashing Pumpkins' "1979" that Mould crowns with dramatic vocals, like he's channeling David Bowie or Peter Murphy.
Of course, not everything is lighthearted here. The single "Lost Faith" addresses a crisis of conscience, as Mould sings, "I've lost faith in everything, every thing" over a driving beat. But by the time he reaches the chorus, he offers hope, singing, "We all lose faith in troubled times, you know I'm gonna be right here."
That line encapsulates the feel of "Sunshine Rock" and it also pays tribute to the comfort that Mould's near-constant high level of craftsmanship has been for nearly four decades.
