It’s a fun exercise in “What if…?” – and maybe a slightly wistful one, since “Legendary Demos” makes you feel that maybe we lost something by not having King kick off her recording career until 10 years after she’d established her writing career. She could’ve been a great 1960s hitmaker; the mystery is why no one forced her Jane Hancock onto a recording contract years sooner. Read full review

Rob Tannenbaum

Jody Ross

Like its Nuggets-crushing forebears, this Puerto Rican six-piece earns a place on your next house-party playlist with sheer anarchic energy, not to mention a formidable gift for language-transcending hooks. On Davila 666′s underrated 2008 self-titled debut album– plus a handful of vinyl-only releases for HoZac, Douchemaster, and Rob’s House– they established themselves as gleefully filthy purveyors of indecipherably catchy garage-pop. Thankfully, Tan Bajo doubles down on the group’s strengths, delving deeper into screeching sonic chaos while adding an even more memorable batch of songs to shout along with, whether or not you understand the words.

That means Davila 666′s sophomore album is still rowdy enough for an impromptu weekend binge with a few friends, but it also offers enough carefully crafted tunes and feedback-streaked textures to fill your headphones. Stylistic tropes from classic 1960s girl groups complement raucous guitar licks on harmony-drenched “Yo Seria Otro”, with its call-and-response verses and touches of strings, as well as on waltz-time “¡Diablo!”, with its brutally earnest spoken-word section. Meanwhile, the Velvets-JAMC scree explored on the earlier “Ella Dice” only expands on the hypnotically pounding “Si Me Vez…” or the instant-earworm advance mp3 “Esa Nena Nunca Regreso”. When the band breaks into a full Ramones sprint on “Mala” or “Patitas”, anyone with a playground-level knowledge of Spanish can still catch the gist: mierda, caliente, cerveza, cucaracha. That said, at plenty of times Davila 666 continue to delight in their inscrutability, as on the distantly crooned opener or the chocolate-jingle hidden track– inside jokes, maybe? In any event, such dumb fun is a necessary part of what the train-whistling, irrepressibly hey-hey-ing “Los Cruces” reminds us, in a rare English-language moment, is only “rock’n'roll.”

Pitchfork

Right out of the gate, Foxy Shazam offers a track packed with big drums, high-pitched vocals, and the kind of guitars primed for mullets. How can you argue with a song called “Welcome to the Church of Rock and Roll”? Later on, lead single “I Like It” showcases one of the best opening lines to a chorus heard in ages: “That’s the biggest black ass I’ve ever seen, and I like it! I like it!” Cheesy, but come on – it’s delectable.

The entire album is driving, clever, and bombastic. Lead singer Eric Sean Nally’s voice is among the best, and his songwriting is unmatched. Foxy Shazam has placed themselves in the class of new rock. The Church of Rock and Roll is an album for a Friday night, a Monday that needs an extra push, or a Saturday that needs a little more cold beer and spandex. Act accordingly.

Nick Freed

Consequence of Sound

“Fallen Empires,” the sixth studio album from Northern Ireland’s Snow Patrol, drops today after more than three years of radio silence from the band. Despite the lull, lead vocalist Gary Lightbody explains that the six months they took to the make the record in the Malibu sunshine heavily inspired them, allowing a more creative process and dramatically affecting the tone of the album. Here’s a track-by-track look at “Fallen Empires”.

Truer words were never uttered as evidenced by this sophomore release.

Fronted by singing “sisters” Zara Bode and Emily Miller, the sextet specializes in close girl-on-girl rockabilly vocals like an estrogen version of the Everly Brothers. With nary a hint of irony or postmodernism, these six players revel in ’50s sounds to the point of recording on analog equipment, giving their music an organic warmth. Sporting four songwriters, the band creates originals that sound classic while making tunes by Patsy Cline, Hazel Dickens, Dwight Yoakam and the Traveling Wilburys sound fresh and energized.

With sweet fiddles, slapping bass, twanging guitars and those sweet harmonies, these sisters reverently recall the sounds of Wanda Jackson, Carl Perkins, Loretta Lynn and Bob Wills.

– Eric Feber

Reprinted courtesy pf The Virginian Pilot

But questions about timeliness lose meaning pretty fast when listening to Welch teamed with her nearly symbiotic collaborator David Rawlings. Long trafficking in a sometimes spare yet intricately drawn sort of Americana that could fit just as comfortably at the turn of the 20th century, their latest delivers the same deceptively simple alchemy of dustily lilting voices, vivid lyrical twists and crisp acoustic flourishes.

While previous albums could flirt with rambunctious elements — for a folk duo, anyway (drums! electric guitars!) — “The Harrow & the Harvest” generally sticks to Welch and Rawlings’ quiet, almost achingly intimate wheelhouse. “The Way It Will Be” finds the duo’s voices merged to otherworldly effect amid haunting admissions like “I can’t say your name without a crow flying by.” On “Six White Horses,” the banjo, handclaps and harmonica cradle their voices so cozily that a twilit front porch practically appears wherever you might be listening. With “Tennessee” casting a sideways glance at the grim classic “Moonshiner,” and “Scarlet Town” carrying a similar drive as Welch’s “Rock of Ages” from 1998, the duo aren’t necessarily taking listeners anywhere new. But considering how beautifully they’ve constructed their rustic world, it’s just a rare treat to have them take us back again.

Chris Barton, Los Angeles Times

The collection starts on a high note with “Blessed,” with Jilly from Philly sashaying between R&B and hip-hop. It has a surprisingly gentle melody, almost a lullaby, accompanied by lyrics in which Scott tallies up what’s right about her life, such as her 2-year- old son. Uplifting, it sets the stage for other like-minded tunes that brim with grown-up themes.

The three L’s — love, longing and loss — dominate the album. And Scott manages to get all three into the slinky R&B syncopation of “Le BOOM Vent Suite.” It’s a musically complex piece, set in three parts, that smolders with both passion and pride and stands as the record’s peak. The other standout is the breakup song “All Cried Out (Redux),” on which hip-hop vet Doug E. Fresh propels her vocals with his formidable human-beatbox skills.

NY Post