POP/ROCK: Brendan Benson, "What Kind of World" (Readymade)
Jack White isn't the only member of the Raconteurs with a new album. On "What Kind of World," Benson continues the solo work he's been doing since 1996, a full decade before he and the White Stripes frontman scored an alternative-rock hit with the Raconteurs' "Steady, as She Goes." The new set, Benson's fifth, is as solid as its predecessors, with sparkling power-pop gems ("Light of Day"), fuzz-garage rave-ups ("Happy Most of the Time") and a dreamy piano ballad ("Bad for Me") that evokes early-'70s stuff by Todd Rundgren and Harry Nilsson.
Its best material, though, reveals the effect of Benson's recent move to Nashville: In "Pretty Baby" and "On the Fence," he duets gorgeously with Ashley Monroe of the Pistol Annies, and "No One Else but You" has a slick country-politan polish. Benson also co-wrote the moody "Thru the Ceiling" with Jay Joyce, who has produced three albums by hard-rocking country star Eric Church. The result is like the flip side of White's self-consciously old-timey "Blunderbuss": a stroll down Music Row as it is, not just as it was.
MIKAEL WOOD, LOS ANGELES TIMES
POP/ROCK: Horse Feathers, "Cynic's New Year" (Kill Rock Stars)
With his penchant for slowly plucked banjo, his earnest, understated singing, and his uneasy, often grim lyrics, Justin Ringle sometimes impinges on Bonnie "Prince" Billy's weird, old Americana territory. But Ringle's Horse Feathers comes with strings attached: The Portland, Ore., band -- basically Ringle and violinist Nathan Crockett, plus loads of helpmates -- is at its best when it contrasts his stark songs with luxurious orchestrations, and that happens often on "Cynic's New Year," Horse Feathers' fourth album.
"Fire to Fields/Elegy for Quitters" blends violins, cello, trebly piano and soft drums into a gorgeous suite; "Last Waltz" sounds like a chamber quartet remaking a Bon Iver song. Although Ringle can write a lovely simple acoustic guitar song such as the Iron & Wine-like opener "A Heart Arcane," Horse Feathers is at its best when at its most string-kissed.
STEVE KLINGE, PHILADELPHIA INQUIRER