Ron Sexsmith--Forever Endeavour (Cooking Vinyl): His consistency and subtlety are amazing, and all within a pop structure that's existed since the British Invasion (I'm thinking of the Zombies here). Canada's Ron Sexsmith had a health scare in 2011 and has returned with another terrific batch of tunes, reflective and subdued, with a kind of measured sheen that makes them easy to listen to again and again. The production comes from old friend Mitchell Froom, who has been known to overwhelm his artists, but it's obvious that Sexsmith is in charge, molding the arrangements to whatever the song calls for: acoustic guitar, boozy horns, classy motifs.
Samantha Crain--Kid Face (Ramseur): Crain's voice, so evocative and unique, is the center of attention on her third full-length album, with themes that might sound overwrought in other hands--honesty between people and staying true to yourself--yet are delicate and moving in her own. On 2010's breakthrough You (Understood), there were flashes of dissonant chords and heavy drumming, and Kid Face shows none of that. What it illustrates is an artist of high resolve that nobody seems to know. Yet.
Bex Marshall--House of Mercy (Continental Record Services): Perhaps the lack of an easy groove is the thing that's soured me somewhat on Bex Marshall's second release (issued in her native Britain last fall). Just about every arrangement is toughtoughtough without any letup, there's BM's Ozark Resonator guitar--which she plays very well--and her singing falls into a harsh delivery that vocalists like Dana Fuchs, Carolyn Wonderland and Nanette Workman are a little too relentless about. I'm comparing this to Marshall's whimsical 2008 debut, Kitchen Table, which is preferable, at least at this point in my listening experience. "Bite Me" is pretty amusing stuff, but her heartfelt "Barry's Song," just simple and acoustic, takes House of Mercy to a much-needed emotional place without overdoing it and is the gem of the record.
Erin McKeown--Manifestra (TVP): Modern pop music about deceit, elections that are purchased, and the politics of love. McKeown's singing, so light and friendly, almost contradicts what she's dredging up, yet her varied approach to styles and arrangements makes Manifesta perhaps her finest work. A second disc, an acoustic version of the album, is a good concept but a superflous result; rather than revealing demos, it merely sounds like the same album with all tracks removed except for vocal and guitar.
Mimi Fox--Standards, Old and New (Origin): Absolutely gorgeous solo jazz guitar, beautifully recorded. For Ms. Fox, "standards" can mean anything from "I Can't Get Started" to "Cry Me a River" (first popularized by Julie London, with Barney Kessel's guitar work sounding so ethereal) to "She's Leaving Home" and Michael Jackson's "She's Out of My Life." Fox's choice of notes and phrasing are quietly stunning throughout.
Dale Watson & his Lonestars--El Rancho Azul (Red House): Straight-up country music like you don't hear it anymore, full of humor and grace. Watson's tribute to Johnny Cash and the Tennessee Two in 2011 was fun and even riveting, but El Rancho Azul is better at presenting his smooth singing to terrific effect. Why listen to hard rocking yet watered down country radio when we've got this?
Iris DeMent--Sing the Delta (Flariella): DeMent's first album in eight years focuses on the conflict she's often expressed in her music between religious faith and doubt. Her high lonesome vocal sound combines country and gospel, and she evokes her upbringing
(a mother who was a true believer) with a knack for detail. On "The Night I Learned How Not to Pray," DeMent, losing her young brother, goes in the other direction, saying "God does what He wants to do, anyway"--it's something we've all felt, whether spirituality means everything, something or zilch to us. I'm still partial to her first two albums, Infamous Angel and My Life, but Sing the Delta is a welcome return.
Scott Walker--Bish Bosch (4AD): Back in the '60s, Scott Walker was part of the Walker Brothers, Americans who hit it big in England, and after that, he went off in a completely different direction, matching orchestrated pop with often morose imagery. Bish Bosch is another strange journey of sound, fury and the bizarre, moving from short to long pieces, almost violent percussion, and yes, those lyrics: "Nothing clears out a room/like removing a brain" (from "Corps de Blah"). The album demands listener involvement and I confess that I can't quite give in. "Phrasing" is the track I played on the radio, ending in Walker's agonizing cries about "a lousy life." A lousy life? No, that would be the other Scott Walker, the union busting governor of Wisconsin.