CD REVIEWS POP/ROCK

Beck, "Modern Guilt" (Geffen)

In 1994, Beck was a baby-faced 24-year-old moaning the tongue-in-cheek funk anthem "Loser." He's now a father of two, a husband and nearing 40. On "Modern Guilt," the singer sighs with the sentiment of a 21st-century man whose fantasies have lapsed into frustration.

Beck's last album, 2006's pop/hip-hop "The Information," hinted at this kind of existential anxiety in its lyrics, and 2002's somber "Sea Change" showed that Beck was capable of serious introspection. Produced by Danger Mouse, one-half of eclectic duo Gnarls Barkley, the new album fuses Danger's minimalist beats with Beck's bleak words. Tunes range from catchy to meandering, even with most songs pared down to less than 3 1/2 minutes.

The album is at its best when the funk flies, dipped in Danger's blend of psychedelic loops and echoed riffs. Environmental shout-out "Gamma Ray" sounds like Gnarls Barkley, propelled by a garage-pop refrain. "Youthless," despite its depressing lyrics, is all sophisticated funk. Still, Beck's disillusioned words, as on the album's airy closer "Volcano," make one wonder how far down the blue-eyed troubadour can go.

Beck performs Sept. 30 at Roy Wilkins Auditorium in St. Paul.

SOLVEJ SCHOU, ASSOCIATED PRESS

The Watson Twins, "Fire Songs" (Vanguard)

On Chandra and Leigh Watson's debut, love comes and goes, fades mysteriously yet lingers where it shouldn't, providing ample opportunity for the comforts of the sisters' close harmony.

The Watson Twins, who are from Louisville, Ky., arrived nationally while collaborating with Rilo Kiley singer Jenny Lewis on "Rabbit Fur Coat" in 2006. But where Lewis grows contentious when love goes bad, the Watson Twins turn melancholy instead. Their songs are full of yearning and forgiveness, not revenge.

Like Rilo Kiley, the Watson Twins are steeped in 1960s and 1970s folk-rock. "Fire Songs" sometimes echoes the Byrds and Neil Young, while the sisters' alto voices also hint at the Celtic inflections of Natalie Merchant and Beth Orton. Their preferred tempos are unhurried, even languid, with their voices moving in close tandem while guitars ripple and peal around them. The songs hold sorrow and longing, keeping self-pity in check with serene grace.

The Watsons perform Friday at the Turf Club in St. Paul.

JON PARELES, NEW YORK TIMES