CD reviews

POP/ROCK

Smith Westerns, "Dye It Blonde" (Fat Possum)

If 2011 pans out to be the year of sonic upgrade from fuzz-focused recording, let it be known that the precocious Smith Westerns led the brigade. Born in a studio instead of a basement, the Chicagoans' sophomore full-length is tightened and scrubbed clean of a few of the layers of reverb that doused their debut, bringing to the forefront an ambitious and dexterous level of songwriting that belies their ever-so-slightly-post-adolescent ages. It certainly bears the mark of an acute awareness of their lineage -- at times, the Marc Bolan-inspired flourishes feel downright cinematic, from the swirling organ that announces the glam-rock balladry of "All Die Young" to the overpowering electric guitar squeal and piano rollick of "End of the Night."

But luckily, all that studiousness doesn't pave the way for excess self-seriousness; "Dye It Blonde" still packs a patently youthful and gleefully unpoetic punch. "Spend my time wondering if you're falling in love with me," vocalist Cullen Omori pines on "Only One." Later, on the hugely hooky "Dance Away," he chants: "It's like fire to the flame / And we'll dance the night away," and you're absolutely certain that they will.

CARRIE BATTAN, BOSTON GLOBE

Lori McKenna, "Lorraine" (Signature)

There are so many ways for love to rupture, and so many ways for it to heal, and McKenna has songs for most of them. Few moments on her sixth album escape feeling tenuous. It opens with "The Luxury of Knowing," a harrowing account of a hopelessly imbalanced relationship. The quiet trauma of domesticity is McKenna's speciality. But it's notable that this song was first released by Keith Urban, as a bonus track on his 2010 album, "Get Closer." McKenna has long made her way as a songwriter, a career that's unfairly overshadowed her vivid, sometimes tortured solo albums.

"Lorraine" is McKenna's first release after a one-album major label stint -- "Unglamorous" (Warner Bros.) from 2007 -- which came on the heels of her breakthrough success after Faith Hill covered some of her songs on her 2005 album, "Fireflies." Together Hill and McKenna appeared on "The Oprah Winfrey Show," in a segment that painted McKenna as a housewife who'd struck it big. But that plucked-from-obscurity story line always felt mildly insulting to McKenna, who'd been a steady presence in the folk music world for years. On "Lorraine" the tough quaver in her voice that's always been there is hardened; the lyrics, even about defiant love, are bitter cold.

"Lorraine" is evenly split between mercilessly detailed songs ("You Get a Love Song," "All I Ever Do") and frustratingly blank ones ("Sweet Disposition," "Rocket Science"), which feel like hollow templates designed to be inhabited by other, less imaginative singers. On those songs McKenna sounds complacent; discomfort suits her better.

JON CARAMANICA, NEW YORK TIMES