Lisa Johnson
Old 9
Lee Setty
Shibboleth Lee Setty
7's Lisa Johnson
Tony Wann
Record Hop Tony Wann
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While most year-end lists make it under the wire before the calendars begin anew, there was just too much quality Texas tuneage to fit into one 12-month span. So, I'm spilling over into the new year a bit, wrapping up my review of the discs that dropped my jaw in 2008. Let me also take this opportunity to encourage any and all acts to send me your music (CD, MP3, eight-track . . . wax cylinder, for all I care), give me a heads-up about shows and any other tidbits you think I should know about. My mailing address is 400 W. Seventh St., Fort Worth, TX 76102. We'll return to our regularly scheduled programming next week.
Jefferson Colby, My Cosmic Self: Pummeling indie rock from a Burleson-bred trio — Danny Mabe, Matt Mabe and Jeff Moore — following the well-received full-length debut Inadaze. Produced by Jeff Mount, Self is six tracks of sharp, slate-hard sound (highlights include Far Away People and The Unknown) with a hint of danger.
Scott Johnson, Clutch: You wouldn't peg Cleburne as a hip-hop hotbed, but that's precisely where rapper/producer Johnson calls home. His debut aims to "rep D-FW from the streets to the clubs" with a mixture of engaging beats, crisp production and a few downright witty rhymes. At 23 tracks, Clutch is a bit bloated(like so many hip-hop/R&B discs), but in this case, it's just too much of a good thing.
James McMurtry, Just Us Kids: Fort Worth native McMurtry's latest album deftly juggles the personal with the political; alongside evocative sketches like Ruby and Carlos, McMurtry takes aim at the powers that be on Cheney's Toyand The Governor. Still, it's the most elemental aspects of songwriting, not seething political grudges, that fuel his work.
Mount Righteous, When the Music Starts: The Grapevine collective's full-length John Congleton-produced debut is an effervescent, charmingly ragged affair that incorporates a dash of The Decemberists, a pinch of Polyphonic Spree, a fillip of Flaming Lips and — why not? — a disarmingly intense klezmer vibe, topped off with shiny-happy lyrics. One of the year's most impressive freshman efforts.
Old 97's, Blame It on Gravity: The first new music from the 97's in four years captures Dallas' native sons in all of their messy, glorious unpredictability, veering from the pulse-quickening pop of lead single Dance With Me to the mournful, alt-country brilliance of the Murry Hammond-fronted Color of a Lonely Heart Is Blue.
Record Hop, self-titled: This heat-seeking Denton band's self-titled (and Steve Albini-assisted) sophomore disc is a razor-sharp, intensely focused affair that builds upon the considerable promise of 2004's Pareidolia. Ashley Cromeens (whose searing vocals are a consistent highlight), Scott Porter, Cory Ward and Tony Wann are, collectively, a force to be reckoned with.
Rodney Parker & Fifty Peso Reward, The Lonesome Dirge: Denton's Parker has one of those great alt-country voices — too many smoky, beery nights filtered through sandpaper. It's in full effect throughout Dirge, Parker's sophomore album, a disc that feels like an evocation of every aimless night ever spent away from the bright lights and big city.
Shibboleth, Experiment in Error: The music made by Shibboleth is a gleeful amalgam of almost every genre under the sun. Error, the Dallas-based instrumental trio's sophomore effort further cements these dazzling, dexterous artists as some of the Metroplex's most exciting.
Sorta, self-titled: Just over a year after losing multi-instrumentalist Carter Albrecht in a tragic shooting death, Sorta released this eponymous follow-up to 2006's Strange and Sad But True. It's far from a dour, depressing record, but Albrecht's death suffuses almost every track. Nevertheless, Sorta is a fitting tribute not only to Albrecht but also to the five men with whom he made this music.
Josh Weathers Band, The New Serenade: A fearsomely talented Fort Worth quartet that gets sticky-sweet soul all over its agreeable pop-rock to fantastic effect. These nine tracks are steeped in a variety of sounds, and the fellas wisely shy away from leaning too heavily on any one influence.