Zach Bryan [Warner, 2023]
Even before the Navy proffered an honorable discharge so this 25--year-old Okie veteran with eight years of service behind him so he could finally make music fulltime, he'd racked up 2019's solo acoustic DeAnn, 2020's solo acoustic Elisabeth, and the 2022 Warner debut American Heartbreak, which won him a CMA best "new" artist plaudit and is dwarfed by this follow-up, which never falters for 16 tracks. I mean it--not a duff track anywhere from a seaman who stakes his claiml with spoken poesy reporting that "I've taken my motorbike down the Pacific 101 and I have stood atop of the Empire State Building with my father." After which it's distinct tune after distinct tune whether he's hitchhiking through clonopin failure, craving love that survives daylight, finding God in her Holy Roller eyes, reaching out to a gal whose father has had it with Long Island, offering an eastern Montana gal a tourniquet, reaching out from his '88 Ford to a third gal whose mama pawned her wedding ring. He never comes out on the other other side of a song without having marked it with a detail no one's ever thought of before. A

Divinely Uninspired to a Hellish Extent [Capitol, 2019]
Although he shares the writing with an array of minor U.K. song doctors, this very male, unassumingly unsexist 22-year-old Scot deploys his big open white-soul voice with an originality so built-in few outside his growing female fanbase will notice. His secret weapon is that he's no dreamboat, a step or two less sexy than melodic everyman Ed Sheeran--shlubby, blokeish, with white socks, black shoes, and just-woke-up hair, he looks and acts like a goofy guy who does truly need a fangirl's love. And although more of his songs excavate romance's pain than celebrate its bliss, they come with plenty of self-examination and minimal blaming the other: even the opening "I'm not ready to be just another of your mistakes" is pretty mild, and then there's "I was getting kind of used to being someone you loved," "How come I'm the only one who seems to get in my way," and "I'm sayin' thank you to the one who let her get away." While it's likely every one of these lines has been uttered verbatim somewhere somehow, they're each one perfect, and putting them all on one album is a feat of uncommon emotional intelligence. My fond belief is that every word is Capaldi's. The song doctors just made sure they're catchy enough. A-

>>126961847
The E.N.D. [Interscope, 2009]
How dare people call this wondrous album--actual quotes, now--"insipid," "saccharine," "clumsy"? Only I don't mean people--I mean journalists professional and self-appointed, from rockist sourpusses to keepers of the hip-hop flame. Just plain people love it--love it so much that various of its tracks topped the pop charts nonstop for the entire summer. "Party All the Time" is no more a recipe for living than is instant Wi-Fi for all, the message of the supposedly "political" "Now Generation." But in a party anthem it's the definition of intelligence. Sampling classic rap rapaciously and as cool with Auto-Tune as with getting their drunk on, they party beginning to end, which as it happens is a far rarer achievement than signifying beginning to end. Maybe this album is dumb on the surface, though not as much as fools claim. But sure as showbiz it isn't dumb underneath. A

Siamese Dream [Virgin, 1993]
hooked on sonics ("Geek U.S.A.," "Today") ***