Gordon Lightfoot Book, Music and More!

The first CD by these cringe rockers was a cycle of fragile love songs addressed by lead singer John Crossingham to then-drummer Lesa Hannah, prompting one critic to rightly ask, “Doesn’t this make her blush?” Hannah has since left the Toronto band (to become a fashion journalist) and Crossingham’s sad-core songs now take a broader view. Although he often sounds like Radiohead’s Thom Yorke, Crossingham’s sweet “Gwendolyne,” the groove-laden “Top to Bottom” and the dreamy title track are pure aural ambrosia.

In the early ’90s, Irish singer Glen Hansard landed a part in Alan Parker’s film The Commitments. At the same time, his band the Frames got signed to Island Records. But Hansard’s billing in the movie hamstrung his band while the Frames fell victim to label indifference. Now the Frames are Ireland’s biggest live act, more popular than U2. This live album shows why. Exquisite songs like “Star Star,” “Lay Me Down” “Fitzcarraldo,” all featuring crowd sing-alongs, reveal Hansard to be a gifted songwriter and performer.

With her third album, the Toronto soprano has recorded another two songs by Leonard Cohen (bringing her Lenny quotient up to seven), and one by each of Kurt Weill (13) and Randy Newman (two). A usually inspired interpreter, O’Callaghan unwisely covers “Cry Me a River” and the haunting “Ballad of Lucy Jordan,” which Marianne Faithfull owns. But she redeems herself with a stunning version of Neil Young’s “I Believe in You” and a delightful tango with Barenaked Ladies’ Steven Page on their playful “Sad Boy.” 

He hails from Port Credit, Ontario and has a penchant for Austrian philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein. But don't hold that against him. Barber proves on his major-label debut EP that he’s capable of crafting crisp, memorable songs. He rocks out on “Landline,” about his struggles with new technology, dabbles in acoustic reggae on “Tilt-a-Whirl” and offers bittersweet country-rock harmonies on the title track. But the best is the soaring “Little Love,” a melodic tale of a laundromat romance that constitutes a genuine pop gem.

Sangare is the foremost singer of the hypnotic Malian music known as Wassoulou—and a fearless champion of women’s rights. This two-CD set features controversial favorites like “Diaraby Nene,” the African diva’s ode to female sensuality, and “Dugu Kamalemba,” her attack on polygamy, alongside such stirring new songs as the joyous “Wayeina,” the celebratory “Maladon” and the jittery “Yala” which, by decrying the clubbing, drinking and drug habits of Malian youth, amounts to an anti-slacker anthem.

Great Big Sea’s rousing shanties regularly become boisterous sing-alongs at faux Irish pubs and concert halls. Who could resist the Newfie group’s exuberant, Celtic version of R.E.M.’s “End of the World”?  The group’s seventh CD is only mildly pleasing. While it includes such infectious numbers as “Beat the Drum” and the humorous hockey song “Helmethead,” the album suffers from too many gentle, earnest ballads like “Summer” and “Somedays.” More ranting and roaring and less sensitive-boy sniveling, please.

Rockabilly. Psychobilly. Surfabilly. What sets this Aussie trio apart from other punk outfits like Green Day is its ability to mix it up musically—and to write ridiculously tuneful songs. On its third North American release, the Living End continues to show its pop savvy, serving up catchy numbers like the peppy “What Would You Do” and the apocalyptic “End of the World.” A little ska and a clever song like “Save Us,” about the futility of seeking salvation from politicians, rounds out this thoroughly likeable release.

This Ottawa-bred artist paid his dues in the ’90s playing the Toronto bar circuit in his rock band Gasoline. Obviously, Dirschl learned plenty in that time. On his confident, self-produced solo debut, he sings and plays all the instruments on a dozen original songs that bear the mark of a young Tom Petty or Steve Earle. With material as strong as the country-tinged “Sister Love,” the Celtic rocker “One Night with the Irish” and the sweet confessional ballad “The One and Only Girl,” Dirschl clearly has a promising future.

Norway’s Sondre Lerche didn’t do himself any favors claiming to be a huge fan of compatriots A-ha, the mid-80s trio famous for the cheesy synth-pop hit “Take on Me.” Lerche’s pop pastiche on his sophomore CD is more sophisticated and diverse, evoking the Beatles (“It’s Over”), Burt Bacharach (“Days That are Over”) and Brian Wilson (“Wet Ground”). Some will compare him to Rufus Wainwright, but Lerche’s work, while inventive and dreamy, is lightweight stuff next to Rufus’ grandiose pop symphonies. 

After his last album, All Rise, an extended composition for big band, gospel choir and orchestra, Marsalis returns with his quartet for his Blue Note debut, joined by labelmates Dianne Reeves and Bobby McFerrin. Highlights include the playful “Big Fat Hen,” which blends New Orleans groove with samba, and Reeves’ and Marsalis’ scat/trumpet call-and-response on “Feeling of Jazz.” But the lowlights include the irritating handclaps of “You & Me” and the title track, an uninspired rip-off of “Flight of the Bumblebee.”