Nellie McKay
Obligatory Villagers
Hungry Mouse
Sounds like: A Broadway mash-up mix
Short take: A schizophrenic wunderkind takes the stage
On Nellie McKay's precocious debut Get Away from Me (a cheeky reference to Norah Jones' Come Away with Me), she was a jazz savant, mixing an education of Mom's bossa nova records with the sass of Eminem (yes, she raps) and the wits of French feminists (yes, she reads). On Obligatory Villagers, her interest in having fingers in all pies is taken to an insane degree. It's full of Broadway influence, with songs fit for plays and musicals. "Oversure," which changes pace twice a minute, sounds like a '20s stroll through New York; "Gin Rummy" is AM radio lounge; "Livin," a 20-second Irish drinking song. That's not all: "Galleon" is '80s hair-rock; "Testify" is a vaudeville chorale, one strident hook and horns honking and hooting. Quite the impressive range. Matt Martin
Avenged Sevenfold
Warner Bros.
Sounds like: More radio rock, less metal
Short take: Sellout softens the vengeance
Billed a few years ago as the new millennium down-and-dirty metal version of Guns N' Roses, Avenged Sevenfold sparked the alt-metal world's attention with 2005's City of Evil. The biggest question surrounding the SoCal act was whether it would parlay (read: soften) its notoriety into more accessible material or stick to its heavy metal sounds. On Avenged Sevenfold's recently released self-titled affair, the answer is, apparently, both. While the 10-track album begins with a loud and abrasive front ("Critical Acclaim" and "Almost Easy"), the second half features more radio-friendly material ("A Little Piece of Heaven" and "Dear God"), which will invariably and for good reason stick in the craw of diehard fans. The writing is on the wall; a self-titled major label album means commerciality over artistic integrity. John Benson
La Cucaracha
Schnitzel/Rounder
Sounds like: Absurdist night at The Gong Show
Short take: Ween tries new age, but doesn't age one bit
Oddball as it is, La Cucaracha, Dean and Gene Ween's 11th album, is more even than most of the band's output. But the duo is still as immature as ever. The album opens with the mariachi-IDM of "Fiesta," then follows with the Raffi-esque "Blue Balloon," complete with Whoopee-cushion synths and bongos. After that is the Pet Shop Boys-mocking Europop of "Friends," and the male chauvinist punfest "Object." La Cucaracha is filled with a bit of everything: bar-room hootenanny, cock rock, pop rock, reggae dub, club jazz and big proggy jams. Most notable are the "new age" songs, like the hilarious "Spirit Walker," which is not only spot on but earnestly funny and enjoyable. Still, La Cucaracha scales back the silliness enough to keep the band from becoming a juvenile novelty. Matt Martin
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