Powderfinger: Vulture Street (April 26)

In some corners of the Aussie music scene, it's considered an injustice that while these relative greybeards have been plugging away for the past decade, young bucks like Jet and the Vines have already surpassed their international success. But life is unfair, and youthful energy sells more than mature competence - which is what Vulture Street is really all about, despite turning up the voltage considerably from the band's last effort, Odyssey Number Five. Rockin' Rocks gets things off to the sort of start its moniker would imply, but the album soon settles down into a more measured brand of bluesy pop-rock mixed with the odd power ballad. The quality control is top-notch throughout, and the band's mastery of anthemic hooks and choruses means that almost every track - especially Since You've Been Gone, Stumblin' and A Song Called Everything - would hold up as singles (much better than On My Mind, the one song that is getting radio play on this side of the Pacific). But short of trashing a few hotel rooms or cribbing Iggy Pop, Powderfinger will have to leave the Spin covers and iPod commercials to their more youthful countrymen.

Modest Mouse: Good News for People Who Love Bad News (April 19)

Isaac Brock, Modest Mouse's prickly singer/guitarist/songwriter, seems like one of those guys whose main goal in life is to show everyone how smart he is. In person, that probably makes him insufferable. But because he may just be as clever as he thinks he is, and is a compellingly versatile vocalist to boot, it makes for some phenomenally interesting music. Modest Mouse sounds a bit like fellow critical darlings the New Pornographers (there's a shared affinity for Brian Wilsonesque harmonies), with more of a taste for the Tal king Heads and a lot more lyrical ambition. In fact, Brock's fusion of existentialist philosophizing and occasionally raw self-reflection makes Good News for People Who Love Bad News one of the rare albums where reading the liner notes is almost as much fun as listening to the disc. Despite its myriad eccentricities, it's also more accessible than 2000's The Moon & Antarctica courtesy of the anthemic lead single Float On, and equally catchy offerings like Black Cadillacs and the Flaming Lips collaboration The Good Times Are Killing Me. Diehard fans needn't worry, though, about the dangers of appealing to a broader audience beyond the band's campus following. Anyone capable of penning a pleasant tune about God and Charles Bukowski isn't likely to sell out any time soon.

The Hiss: Panic Movement (April 12)

The Hiss are a bit of a curiosity. Possibly Atlanta's only anglophiles, they enlisted Owen Morris of Oasis fame to help put together their debut disc (released in the UK well before it hit North American shelves), and they seem to have borrowed the Gallaghers' songwriting tricks as well as their producer. They also, it should be said, are in the early lead for 2004's ugliest cover art. But because they're able to mix together their Southern-fried rock sensibilities with their Britpop infatuation, what's inside actually works quite nicely. Panic Movement's first two tracks, Clever Kicks and Back on the Radio, are by-the-book rock. But they find their groove with the richer, more tuneful Step Aside and Not for Hire, and mostly keep it through a barrage of dirty, stomping anthems and rock-outs. When they break from the pattern with the more polished Listen to Me, they lose much of their lustre. But the album's closer (aside from the anti-climactic hidden track) is a much more successful gambit. Ghost's Gold is a complete break from the rest of the album, with otherwise average vocalist Adran Barrera suddenly spitting out lyrics like an Exile-era Mick Jagger channeling Dylan over a psychedelic freak-out complete with a moaning choir, and it's a tantalizing hint of what The Hiss might be capable of.

The Cooper Temple Clause: Kick Up the Fire and Let the Flames Break Loose (April 5)

Once in a while, you give an album a preliminary listen and realize it'll be a grower - that it's just too demanding to be appreciated on a once-over, but all its complexities will bear fruit on subsequent airings. On first glance, I thought Kick up The Fire and Let the Flames Break Loose, the sophomore effort from this British six-piece, was such an album. I was wrong. The band's fusion of balladry, electronica and Oasis-style Britrock (vocalist Ben Gaultrey sounds like a poor man's Liam Gallagher) is nothing if not ambitious, but that doesn't mean it works. Little of the attempted fusion blends quite as it should, and many of the tracks - particularly the 10-minute closer, Written Apology - come off as little more than exercises in self-indulgence. Even the relatively straightforward Into My Arms, mostly a pretty ballad that could pass for Spiritualized, inexplicably careens into a closing minute of pointless electronic fiddling. The Cooper Temple Clause has enough potential that the few times its ambitions pan out - notably the terrific Talking to a Brick Wall - almost justify sitting through the other, more meandering efforts. But until they get more discipline, that potential will mostly go unrealized.

The Vines: Winning Days (March 15)

Considering that Vines frontman Craig Nicholls appears to be completely out of his mind, there was an excellent chance the Aussie band's follow-up to Highly Evolved, its much-ballyhooed debut, would be a complete disaster. The good news is that it's not. The bad news is that the Vines don't seem to have evolved much at all. In fact, Winning Days sounds like Highly Evolved, Part II, minus the hints of reggae and other experimentation that added colour the first time out. It's all very professional, and the Vines still sound - in quite a good way - like Nirvana Lite. But aside from a few highs (lead single Ride, the pretty title track, and Rainfall) and the odd low (the insipid Sun Child), the Vines seem to be on autopilot. Whether that's good enough depends on whether you thought they were the next big thing because they were doing great things, or because they had the potential to do great things. If it was the latter, you're in for a bit of a disappointment.

Controller.Controller: History (March 8)

Still don't believe the '80s are coming back again? Controller.Controller's debut disc, currently all the buzz in Toronto indie circles, might change your mind. Years ago, dance-rock was considered passe. Then it attained a sort of retro-cool. And now, it's back to being new and hip again - which explains this five-piece outfit making waves by inspiring normally passive local audiences to shuffle around. Bottling up that success on record is a daunting task, and Controller.Controller has approached it modestly with a seven-track release that hints at their potential rather than laying it all on the line. But it's a tantalizing offering all the same, especially when the mixture of guitars and beats strikes a perfect balance halfway through in Sleep Over It. And throughout, it's lent a terrific punkish edge by Nirmala Basnayake's punchy vocals.This is not what indie-rock is supposed to sound like. But for people who've outgrown the sort of dance music manufactured by computer geeks, it will sound awfully refreshing.

Franz Ferdinand: Franz Ferdinand (March 1)

The defining moment of Franz Ferdinand's eponymous debut comes less than a minute into its third track (and the Glasgow band's latest single), Take Me Out. Having started out sounding very much like a blatant - if effective - Strokes rip-off, it suddenly sheds its affected cool and becomes a throbbing, joyous, danceable rock-out. In the process, it becomes something much cooler - what the Strokes might sound like with a bit of imagination and a lot less aversion to taking risks. The rest of the disc proceeds in similar fashion, veering off in various unexpected directions that make each track a demanding and ultimately rewarding experience. The band has mined '80s art rock for inspiration, which should have had all kinds of potential for disaster. But by infusing a bit of new wave spirit into the current obsession with '70s-style garage rock, they've come up with something that sounds surprisingly new and exciting. The British music press, in typically understated fashion, has worked itself into a tizzy over these guys, and it remains to be seen whether one good album qualifies as the dawn of a brave new era of intelligent rock 'n' roll. But if we're going to be hearing from the '80s again, better it should be Franz Ferdinand than The Darkness.

The Von Bondies: Pawn Shoppe Heart (February 23)

It seems every write-up of the Von Bondies is required to begin the same way, so lest I be accused of not doing my part: Yes, this is the band best known for its front man, Jason Stollsteimer, having his face rearranged by the White Stripes' Jack White. Thankfully, Stollsteimer's authoritative pipes mean he has more than his looks to go on - although Detroit's best-known rock spat would be easier to forget if he didn't sound quite as much like his (allegedly) punch-packing nemesis. In fact, much of Pawn Shoppe Heart is essentially White Stripes lite - a little more emotional, a little more glam, but mostly the same devotion to making classic garage rock sound imaginative again. For the first three tracks (especially the stomping, slightly ominous No Regrets) it works quite nicely. But if the Von Bondies don't fully lose their way, they never quite find it - because the rest of Pawn Shoppe Heart is a mish -mash. Some psychedelia in Mairead, some bubblegum in The Fever, but never a clear sense of purpose or identity. Most of the short, punchy (no pun intended) tracks would make perfectly good singles, but the combined experience is somehow less than fully satisfying.

Courtney Love: America's Sweetheart (February 9)

Courtney Love may be music's answer to Mike Tyson. Her best days behind her, known more for her antics outside the ring/studio than anything inside it, she sells records the same way Tyson sells pay-per-view fights - as a glimpse at a car wreck you can't quite look away from, and an outside chance to witness one final, spectacular freak-out. But there's one notable difference: Unlike Iron Mike, Courtney is still pretty damn good at what she does. In fact, if it had come out 10 years ago, or maybe even from a different artist today, her solo debut would be hailed as a semi-punk classic. It's angry and raw (so much so that you feel slightly sleazy listening to her massive unloading of emotional baggage), but as in her Hole days, Love's secret weapon is an endless supply of catchy riffs and - more surprisingly - hummable tunes. Just how much her producers and co-songwriters have covered for her is an open question - especially considering Life Despite God, the album's one veritable disaster, in which a slurring, nearly incoherent Courtney is left to her own devices and pays the price. But at this point in her life, it's amazing she managed to make it to the studio in one piece. That America's Sweetheart actually rocks is a minor miracle.

Five for Fighting: The Battle for Everything (February 2)

Starsailor: Silence Is Easy (January 19)

On first glance, Starsailor appears to be yet another scrawny lovechild of U2 and Radiohead, with neither the former's power nor the latter's intellect. Certainly, that's the impression one got from their debut offering, Love Is Here, most memorable for the well-earned slagging of its pitiable "Daddy was an alcoholic" lyrics. But with their sophomore release, they've put the rest of the Coldplay clones to shame. The Music Was Saved, Silence Is Easy's high-voltage lead track, is a veritable knockout - a confident, catchy mission statement. Its energy can't possibly be sustained through an entire album, but an emboldened James Walsh and his cohorts pull out enough surprises to come close. From the unexpectedly funky Four to the Floor to Born Again, which showcases Walsh's newfound lyrical and vocal maturity, nearly every gambit pays off - and in between, we find a bunch of pretty little gems that stand just fine on their own. Phil Spector briefly resurfaced to work with Starsailor, and has been given much of the credit for the album's rich, textured sound. But considering he only produced two tracks that made the final cut (neither of which particularly stands out), maybe it's time to give an underrated band its due.

2003 CD Review archive