CD Reviews

Alanis Morissette, The Darkness, Pitbull, Ethan Azarian

Alanis Morissette: "The Collection"
(Maverick)

"How about getting off of these antibiotics?" are the first words on Alanis Morissette's "The Collection," and they sum up everything that's compelling, car-crash fascinating and eye-rollingly irritating about one of the 1990s' most popular artists. Sung over an electric piano melody that morphs into a ginormous breakbeat, the line is awkward, melodramatic, everyday and yes, weirdly catchy.

That nasty adage about old buildings and aging hookers often applies to radio hits of previous decades: They turn awfully respectable. A little distance from the Alanis that was 1995-99 has done wonders for many of these tunes. "Thank You," easily her finest, funniest moment, is one of them; "Hand in Pocket" is another, pretty much anything with co-writer/hits doctor Glen Ballard holds up — dude knows a thing or three about structure. "Ironic" is still the enemy of English-usage nerds everywhere; "You Oughta Know" is still the national anthem of the psycho ex-girlfriend nation; there's too much from 2004's brick "So-Called Chaos" and too little of weird Oprah-Zeppelin from 2002's weird "Under Rug Swept." There's also a cover of Seal's "Crazy" so pointlessly imitative of the original that the set suddenly feels like a career send-off. Will we no longer have Alanis to kick around anymore? Say it ain't so.
— Joe Gross

The Darkness: "One Way Ticket to Hell ... And Back"
(Atlantic)

"Pomp" is a word critics use when they want to imply a sound that's overbaked, arrogant and glammy. As their new album's title implies, the Darkness' new album starts at pomp, transcends to embodying all of '70s hard rock, '80s hair metal and anyone who's ever walked into an arena and yelled "Hello, Cleveland!," and ends up back at pomp.

Maybe it's because these blokes have given us something we never thought possible: the very best album Def Leppard (or is that Queen?) never quite made.

Which isn't damning it with faint praise. Singer Justin Hawkins and band went straight to the source, hooking up with legendary producer Roy Thomas Baker, the man who engineered T. Rex and midwifed Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody," the Cars' entire career and T'Pau, among others. So "One Way" lays on the flutes, sitars, piano, huge drums, billions of guitars and Hawkins' death-defying falsetto. It kicks off with the soaring, pile-driving title track, sounding coked to the gills even as they seem to be coming out against being coked to the gills. ("It was a dusty night/and I'm the first to admit it!") They take a controversial position on the fantastic "Knockers" (they're in favor of them) and cleave the album in two with a "Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time," a mountainous power ballad Meatloaf can't believe he didn't write.

Over the top? Kid, there is no over. There is only the top. The Darkness understands.
— Joe Gross

Pitbull: "Money is Still A Major Issue"
(TVT)

Is there anyone outside of the Trump/Gates/Redstone axis of capital who doesn't feel the truth of that title every day? Probably not. It's also a funny, knowing moniker for a remix album, which reboots a surprising number of tracks from the reggaeton artist's 2004 debut "Money Is A Major Issue (M.I.A.M.I.)"

Lead-off single "Everybody Get Up," featuring Pretty Ricky, is a straightforward club banger and not nearly as interesting as "Rah Rah," a stuttering dancehall track with dancehall smartbomb Elephant Man and fellow reggaeton star Daddy Yankee. Elephant Man also shows up with the Ying Yang Twins on the clicking, blipping "Shake Remix." Lil Jon and Ivy Queen color "Culo Remix" and the amazing "Mil Amores" effortlessly shifts from jungle-ish techno to Latin blips in a heartbeat.
— Joe Gross

Ethan Azarian: "Cross'n Over"
(I Eat Records)

Azarian sweats ideas. The prolific former Orange Mothers leader, who's also a visual artist, has once again released an album that sounds like everything and nothing you've heard before. "Angels" seems based on "Heaven," by the Talking Heads, for instance, but then it veers into a nursery rhyme about the circle of life that's quite chilling.

With Azarian's off-the-wall bent in check for the most part, there's an overriding sweetness to this project, with Gary Newcomb's caressing steel guitar moaning like a needy muse and bassist Jeff Johnston always on the ready to lend a harmony when Azarian's songwriterly vocals need a boost.

These songs sound like they went right from Azarian's mind through Michael Crow's laptop and onto the disc without too much analysis, as if they emerged fully formed. That is not to say they're all gems. At times, this record's title seems like a joke: Azarian too often sounds like a painter who also plays music. Did he just sing "I'm a handsome devil and I've come for your soul?" He's got no shot at the mainstream. But the simple-sounding songs can be admired for being true to themselves, following inspiration without regard to fitting in.
— Michael Corcoran