Listening Station: Doves, Tori Amos, A Static Lullaby

Doves celebrate the sound and

Doves

Some Cities

Manchester, England trio Doves is one of those rare rock acts whose albums sound nothing like each other, and yet each collection bears the aesthetic stamp of this wholly unique band. On 2000's Lost Souls, Doves introduced the world to its panoramic, melancholy and dense compositions, finding a seductive middle ground between the expansive soul of Spiritualized and the rhythmic guitar pop of its Mancunian peers, the Stone Roses. With 2002's The Last Broadcast, the band built upon its vista rock with skybusting anthemry, creating a far more hopeful tone than its predecessor.

Some Cities, its newest release, contains elements from Doves' previous two albums, but overall reflects a far different approach in terms of atmosphere and narrative. Whereas Lost Souls simulated an ethereal journey into the hazy ether and The Last Broadcast set course straight for the sun, Some Cities is a much more terrestrial and immediate record, often recalling thriving urban centers and drives through the countryside. The album is the closest musical approximation of the band's Northern England home, which grew more and more unrecognizable whenever the frequently touring Doves returned home. The provincial evocation may not be as strong with American listeners, but there's enough sonic imagery to envisage British working class locales, as the Jam's swinging mod songs did 25 years ago.

The exception to this might be the album's first two songs, the title track and first single "Black and White Town." In both songs, the rhythm section lay down drumbeats and grooves indicative of `60s-era Detroit (as well as the Northern Soul sound the band grew up with in the U.K.). The latter, with its piano melody clanging along with the backbeat and its guitars acting as a horn section, is R&B-flavored rock ecstasy appropriate for both traditional dancehalls and modern discotheques.

Since Some Cities doesn't rely as much on texture, the songwriting feels sharper. Lead singer Jimi Goodwin continues to sound less warbled on any given track, perhaps a result of the group reducing the pedal and synthesizer bluster, and highlighting the 4/4 beats. Even songs that flirt with cacophonous or layered choruses, such as the foot-tapping "Sky Starts Falling" and "Walk on Fire"--similar to the band's 2002's hit "There Goes the Fear"--boast spare, sing-along verses. Even though its sense of noise as always been alluring, the diminished pomposity reveals even more strengths within this always-inspired outfit.--Mike Prevatt

Tori Amos

The Beekeeper

There are two ways to look at the subdued tone of Tori Amos' eighth studio album, The Beekeeper. The more cynical view is to suggest that the singer-songwriter is playing it safe with emotionally temperate piano ballads, having jumped the shark with 1998's From the Choirgirl Hotel. However, a deeper listen suggests a more graceful and less cantankerous approach; Amos focuses on presentation rather than provocation. The Beekeeper rounds its overabundant 19 songs into six metaphorical garden settings, using the album's title character in conjunction with themes of gender, sexuality, spirituality and mythology. Sadly, these opaque lyrical components impede the connectivity of her songs, as they say or evoke little; it's no surprise Amos has also released a companion-of-sorts book and a special edition of the album with DVD song explications. Still, you don't need cohesive narratives to enjoy her prowess at the ivories, Amos commanding both the Bosendorfer piano and the B3 Hammond organ which, when played simultaneously, can produce a delectable amalgamation of classical pop and soul-drenched funk (with a choir supplying gospel touches on occasion). Even at her least compelling, she still has her seductive moments.--Mike Prevatt

A Static Lullaby

Faso Latido

On its second full-length album, Chino, Calif. five-piece A Static Lullaby manage to efficiently split the difference between the screaming metalcore that is becoming increasingly popular and the melodic emo-rock that is becoming decreasingly popular.

After a blurry instrumental intro track, "Smooth Modulator" opens the album with the overused, overwrought yelps of lazy post-punk. But it doesn't take long to recognize that A Static Lullaby is far more melodic than all those bands they share magazine space and tours with, even going so far to employ the occasional vocal harmony. Guitarists Nate Lindeman and Dan Arnold are far more concerned with hooky riffs than thunderous distortion, which creates a refreshing effect on dramatic tracks such as the tempo-changing "Radio Flyer's Last Journey."

But Faso has its moments of heaviness, as well. "Shotgun!" sounds like a mash-up of Tool and At the Drive-In with its tension-building verses and spoken-word rants. Lead vocalist Joe Brown and bassist Phil Pirrone create one of the more intriguing scream-sing duos in this genre.

Instead of latching onto a theme and pounding it senseless like many of their emo-metal brethren, A Static Lullaby opts to take it song-by-song, which makes this record interesting if inconsistent.--Brock Radke

Early Day Miners

All Harm Ends Here

Indiana-based Early Day Miners calls itself a "musical cooperative," which, for us, means another rootsy, soft-spoken, Midwestern slowcore preservation society. The songs on All Harm Ends Here are all good for the first 10 seconds, when they sound like something else you've heard--Rex, Liz Phair, Green-era REM, the Anheuser-Busch horse-drawn sleigh commercial. You figure it out, you're done, but the tune then goes full-length with only a shadow of the involvement suggested at the beginning. It's disconcerting, like grabbing a friend on the street only to find that he's not who you thought. Nine times. Vocals are coy and murky, largely disposable in the end. It really is difficult to find a single angularity or unexpected sound here. Clearly, All Harm Ends Here isn't intended to shake anyone's preconception of anything. That's okay, and slow and sad is just fine. But slow and sad and static and safely stylized gives us zilch to embrace. For moving music in a similar vein, buy Orso's My Dreams Are Back instead.--Dave Surratt