Gordon Lightfoot Book, Music and More!

Uh oh, you’re thinking—another Hollywood actor with musical ambitions. But Driver, star of such films as Good Will Hunting, was singing in London jazz clubs long before an acting career ever materialized. And her debut album is a pleasant, if a little too low-key, collection of folk and country-tinged original numbers that reveal Driver’s affinity for sensitive, Dido and Sarah McLachlan-style pop. Best tracks are the upbeat “Invisible Girl” and a downtempo, piano-laced take on Bruce Springsteen’s “Hungry Heart.”

It’s no surprise that R.E.M.’s 13th album is also its most political. Joining Springsteen on the Vote for Change tour, the veteran rockers are clearly anti-Bush. “We wanted to say something about our displeasure with the invasion of Iraq,” said bassist Mike Mills. Added singer-lyricist Michael Stipe: “"I feel very betrayed because I think, for a moment, the entire world understood and stood beside us in our shock—and then our leaders blew it.” Potent songs range from the angry “Final Straw” to the hopeful title track.

A strange thing happened while this Montreal band was making its second French album: Jean-Sebastien Boies was diagnosed with a blood poisoning disease, prompting his brother, Jean-Christophe, to try his hand at English lyrics. The label loved the material, leading to collaborations with singer-songwriter Simon Wilcox and this, largely English album. Now, armed with promising songs like “Tell All Your Friends,” Projet Orange is ready to give Simple Plan, another Montreal bilingual band, a run for its money.  

In May, Canadian punkers Sum 41 faced rebel gunfire in the Democratic Republic of the Congo while filming a documentary about war. The group’s third album, named for the United Nations worker, Chuck Pelletier, who saved their lives in Africa, is a naturally more grown-up affair, full of thoughtful ballads and melodic rage. Call it protest metal or political thrash, but songs like the Oasis-like “Some Say” and “We’re All to Blame,” with the clever lyric “supersize our tragedy,” are catchy, topical and altogether admirable.

The parallels between Smith and Kurt Cobain have grown increasingly eerie. Both were among their generation’s most beloved songwriters and their fans have managed to cast doubts on their suicides. This is the first posthumous release of Smith, who died of apparently self-inflicted stab wounds to his chest. Melancholic gems like “Let’s Get Lost” and the grandiose opener “Coast to Coast” will only heighten Smith’s reputation as a gifted but tragically fragile artist, much like the talented Mr. Nirvana himself.

Sweden’s latest export is not another frenetic garage band, but a sumptuous pop act. Originally a girl group, the Concretes have grown into an octet with such guest members as Swedish soccer star Nicolai Dunger. Although tracks like “Diana Ross” and “You Can’t Hurry Love” (not the Supremes’ classic) suggest a devotion to breezy Motown, the band’s tastes mostly run to dreamy, romantic numbers like “Lovin’ Kind” and the exquisite “Warm Night,” which takes the listener on a giddy carnival roundabout ride.

Nelson’s as famous for his battles with the taxman and his unrepentant fondness for cannabis as he is for his music. But the Red Headed Stranger’s talents as a songwriter should never be overlooked—after all, he wrote Patsy Cline’s “Crazy.” And his reedy tenor is as recognizable as the late, great Johnny Cash’s booming baritone. Willie’s latest, featuring duets with Norah Jones, Lucinda Williams and his daughter Paula, includes a Tom Waits cover and at least new original classic: the tender, Tex-Mex-tinged title track.

At first glance, he’s a guitar-toting, two-wheeled fanatic from Canada’s Left Coast: Fisher toured on his bicycle and raises money for a charity that provides bikes to African women so they can get to school. On closer inspection, the Vancouver Island native is simply a freewheelin’ Dylan wannabe, whose “Let it Shine” is a pale imitation of “Subterranean Homesick Blues.” Despite his irritating, adenoidal voice, Fisher’s capable of catchy pop (“Suckerpunch”) and memorable, idealistic ballads (“Fall for Anything”).

Cave’s 13th studio album is actually a two-disc set, recorded with his usual Bad Seed suspects, except guitarist Blixa Bargeld. It’s an ambitious undertaking. The aptly titled Abattoir Blues is the darker of the two recordings, full of harrowing rock numbers like “Hiding All Away” and the ecological warning “There She Goes, My Beautiful World.” The theatrical Lyre of Orpheus is a soothing antidote, with fine spoken verse, gorgeous gospel voices and uplifting songs like “Carry Me” and the flute-filled “Breathless.”

On his debut album, Toronto’s 17-year-old Liam Titcomb writes and sings with surprising maturity and assurance. Songs like the upbeat “Sad Eyes” and the James Taylor-ish “Easy in My Sky” seem tailor-made for radio. But the memorable songs are more obviously autobiographical ones, including “My So Called Life,” which cites his mother and father, Canadian folk legend Brent Titcomb, and “Cover of 17,” which hints at the tension caused by parents who push for their child’s success a little too much.