Sounds like: It's a dim Jimmy Eat emo-lite, alt-rock World
Short take: Jimmy Eat World chases its tail, again
Really, the question is what do you want out of Jimmy Eat World? Casual fans waiting for another "The Middle," the anthemic 2002 track that transformed this Arizona-based emo act into alt-rock hitmakers, shouldn't waste their time with the group's latest studio effort Chase This Light. The new disc, which bounces between emo inclinations ("Big Casino" and "Electable") and pop-ish alt-rock ("Let it Happen" and "Here it Goes"), suffers from a nondescript feel. Many tracks run together in an easily forgettable fashion. Currently the best part of Chase This Light is its placement on my iPod, with Joe Cocker's classic "Feelin' Alright" alerting me to the fact Jimmy Eat World's album is over. Let's hope the same can't be said about the group's career. John Benson
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Coheed & Cambria
No World For Tomorrow
Columbia
Sounds like: Coheed's homage to Rush
Short take: Less sci-fi means a more compelling Coheed
In case you wondered how a new millennium version of Rush would sound, Coheed & Cambria's latest effort No World For Tomorrow, the fourth and final installment of its apocalyptic storyline offers such insight. Unlike previous Coheed efforts, often bogged down in convoluted prog rock stylings, No World For Tomorrow is the band's most focused, commercially viable album to date. Easily the best track on the album is "Feathers," which combines a classic-rock sensibility with an anthemic feel that could make it a radio hit for decades to come. Singer Claudio Sanchez, whose timbre range is similar to Rush's Geddy Lee, leads the song through choppy guitar licks with insidiously catchy and breezy vocals. Ultimately, songwriting maturity makes it a brighter tomorrow for Coheed & Cambria. John Benson
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Beirut
The Flying Club Cup
Ba Da Bing!
Sounds like: A slide-show soundtrack
Short take: Itinerant musician settles down in France
Beirut's albums are musical travelogues, documenting Santa Fe-native Zach Condon's many visits and globetrots. His first LP, Gulag Orkestar, found him in eastern Europe, where he adapted his band's sounds into a remarkably legit collection of Slavic melody, often accordion- and trumpet-led. He has traveled to western Europe for his sophomore effort, The Flying Club Cup. Its 13 songs are still vignettes of place, indelibly informed by the where, and, this time, he's based largely around France, with his work sounding all the more Gallic for it. He's traded horns for strings and his bravado is bottlenecked into a pensive singsong. He still sounds strangely familiar in his new milieu, though. It's like he's gotten back to a place of childhood rather than simply finding a new dot on a wrinkled map. Matt Martin