The best local albums of the year (so far)
As usual, the first six months of 2011 have brought a rush of noteworthy releases. Here are the best, in alphabetical order:
Book of Right On, "All These Songs About Music." If any rock singer deserves to have two drummers behind him, it's David Joe Holiday. His pellet-gun-like vocal stammering finds the perfect rhythmic target in this bombastic noise-punk band, with dueling drum kits and angular, wiry guitar work.
Carnage, "Worth the Wait." By the end of its 13 adrenaline-flooded songs on the veteran rapper's long-overdue debut (think: Public Enemy on gallons of black coffee), you'll believe just about anything he says. The so-called Executioner comes off as superhuman, with his rapid-fire flow, clever but rarely cutesy wordplay, and sheer tirelessness.
Davina & the Vagabonds, "Black Cloud." Piano-plunking Davina Sowers and her horn-blazing quintet finally have a record that captures the versatility and charm of their live sets, and does justice to Sowers' uncanny singing talent (think: Adele singing 50 years ago in a Southern brothel). Part barrelhouse boogie-woogie and funky New Orleans R&B with a little jazzy balladry, the sound is at once rowdy and classy.
The 4onthefloor, "4 x 4." This fast-rising foursome's trademark live show -- in which each has a kick drum -- doesn't mean a thing on record. All that counts are the deep, muddy-water grooves, the snaky guitar licks and the howling rawwwk-god vocals of farmboy frontman Gabriel Douglas, like a whiskey-chased mix of the Doors, AC/DC and Black Keys. It's brawny stuff but brainy, too.
G-Hop, "Pennsyltucky." Painter and art instructor Gregory Rose started singing and slow-rapping random vocal bits for the So-TM label head Chris Heidman and bandmate Jeff Lorentzen. Through ample looping and added instrumentation, they wound up with the Twin Cities' most spirited, smile-inducing dance-pop project since Iffy. The songs are a collage of urban styles, from electronic-heavy hip-hop to Barry White-sexy R&B to -- yes -- a whole lot of synthesized Prince funk.
Low, "C'Mon." After the worldly, war-ravaged predecessor "Drums and Guns," the Duluth couple/band turns more inward and personal on their ninth album, a half-step back to their slow, somber sound of old but with several interesting sidesteps.
Pennyroyal, "Sad Face/Glad Face." Angie Oase looks like a U.K. punk-rocker but sings like she left the Cranberries to join a Patsy Cline tribute band. Her band's full-length debut counterbalances her pretty voice with raw, echoey and vaguely Americana-flavored rock that's as elegant or gritty as it wants to be.