CD reviews: Little Joy, Tracy Chapman

Little Joy, "Little Joy" (Rough Trade)

If you're like me, you regard the Strokes as a letdown and the band's debut album, "Is This It," as a prophetic title for a rather ho-hum career to date. New bands have aped the Velvet Underground with greater originality and success. Strokes lead singer Julian Casablancas has made songs with Santogold, and Strokes guitarist Albert Hammond Jr. has been doing solo records. But when drummer Fabrizio Moretti makes the best non-Strokes music, there's only one thing to say: Dang. On the album debut of trio Little Joy, singer/ukulele-ist/guitarist Rodrigo Amarante of Los Hermanos plays frontman, and fellow Brazilian Moretti writes, sings and acts as multi-instrumentalist. Free of the Strokes' derivative-rock confines, Moretti's tunes are a sweet mix of Brazilian intimacy and classic '60s AM tunesmithing. Sure, there are jittery psychedelic tracks ("No One's Better Sake," "How to Hang a Warhol"), but most Moretti melodies are samba-riffic -- intricate, highly contagious midtempo affairs. The clicking surf sounds of "The Next Time Around" and the Neal Hefti-inspired "Play the Part" sound creamy, Brill-Building-teen-idol dreamy with a hint of bittersweet tenderness. Yum.

A.D. AMOROSI, PHILADELPHIA INQUIRER

Tracy Chapman, "Our Bright Future" (Atlantic)

Chapman has been trying to replicate the success of her stunning 1988 debut album ever since. (Where did those 20 years go?) But, with a few exceptions -- some of 1989's "Crossroads," the overlooked 1992 single "Bang, Bang, Bang" and 2000's nicely varied and melodic "Telling Stories" album -- she has come up short. With her eighth studio album, she follows two similarly lackluster CDs and winds up with her least interesting recording to date. Over the years Chapman's subject matter has grown conventional into mostly relationship-based observations. Her once earthy and warm voice remains her best quality, but it's sweet and pretty now, and her melodies, hooks and tempos have stalled. Chapman manages one distinctive tune: "I Did It All," an old-fashioned cocktail lounge ditty about a life lived regret-free, features a horn flirtatiously circling Chapman's clear voice. "I'll confess without Miranda/Strike a pose for the tabloid camera/And say I did it all," she sings in this little delight. It's the one tune with personality on an album overlong with one soundalike, soporific ballad after another. Hard as it is for a fan to say, it seems that Chapman's "Fast Car" has run out of fuel.