CD reviews 10/4: Mastodon, Van Hunt and Das Racist

The Atlanta quartet's fifth studio album is in some ways a more concise, less weighty effort. There's no big concept, unlike previous song cycles such as "Leviathan" (2004), "Blood Mountain" (2006) and "Crack the Skye" (2009) that established the band as metal's heaviest new hitters.

That's not to say "The Hunter" lacks ambition. Once again, the band shows its technical acumen in a variety of formats, from the blistering speed metal of "Blasteroid" to the dreamy psychedelia of "The Sparrow." Riffs dominate rather than the twisting arrangements that characterized some of its longer-form work, but there are touches of progressive ambition: the space-rock effects of "Stargasm," the choir-like vocals of "The Creature Lives." Fantasy dungeons-and-dragons subject matter alternates with themes touching on spirituality and mortality. Unlike many of their metal brethren, who obscure the lyrics with cartoonish growling, Mastodon's Brent Hinds, Troy Sanders and Brann Dailor keep melody paramount with their harmonies.

Whether charging triumphantly "into the afterlife" on "Spectrelight" or shaking an angry fist at the Reaper in "The Ruiner," Mastodon bypasses concept in favor of durable songs. If not quite as mind-blowing as the band's best work, "The Hunter" provides a solid summation of Mastodon's musical range.

A skilled songwriter for countless R&B singers as well as a Grammy-winning artist in his own right, Hunt ran afoul of the music industry with the optimistically titled "Popular" in 2008. The wildly eclectic album was shelved and Hunt cut loose from his major-label deal. He returns with his most adventurous album yet.

From the fractured country feel of "Falls (Violet)" to the hard-rock guitar of "Eyes Like Pearls," the Atlanta singer-songwriter stretches the parameters of R&B with a refreshing lack of self-consciousness. Hunt's refusal to be pigeonholed killed his major-label career, but without bean-counters looking over his shoulder, he sounds frisky and playful. He gives Jimi Hendrix's psychedelic musings a sinister makeover on "Designer Jeans" and turns darkly humorous amid the poverty-strewn punk of "Watching You Go Crazy Is Driving Me Insane."

The setting for much of the album is "North Hollywood" in decline, populated with hustlers, two-timers and at least one French-speaking "Cross Dresser." Money is tight and girlfriends are fickle, but the music feels loose and liberated. In the tradition of musical mavericks unconstrained by limitations such as time, space and genre, Hunt titles one of his songs "A Time Machine Is My New Girlfriend." Sun Ra, Hendrix and George Clinton could probably relate.

Hunt performs Saturday at Bunker's in Minneapolis.

Like an ethnically mixed Beastie Boys, scruffy MCs Victor Vazquez, Himanshu Suri, and hardy-har-har hype man Ashok Kondabolu trade on inside jokes and oddball non sequiturs that pay homage to hip-hop and rap's social ideals while satirizing the form. But on what side of the fence the rappers fall -- giddy farce or serious commentary -- is what makes "Relax" fascinating.

As they did throughout devilishly snarky 2010 mix-tapes "Sit Down, Man" and "Shut Up, Dude," Das Racist's first album is rich with recognizable samples, delectable melodies and riveting rhythms. "The Trick" tips its (high) hat to Tom Tom Club. "Punjabi Song" benefits from a blend of Bhangra and electro. But it's the sinister and silly singsongy voices -- gruff, nasal, cloying -- and the scripts they follow that make Racist exceptional.