PJ Harvey and John Parish, “A Woman A Man Walked By” (Island) After the last two PJ Harvey records, you have to wonder if the British rock goddess is reinventing herself into something elsean art-rock angel or nu-folk nymph.
Harvey’s 2004 record, “Uh Huh Her,” had the singer-songwriter doing what she does best: Melodically intoxicating, lyrically weird, sensually appealing melodic rock. The 2007 follow-up, “White Chalk,” was something else entirely — enjoyable but challenging, if a bit too prodding. This collaboration with writer-producer John Parish isn’t of the same sonic territory, but the philosophy of mining alternate veins is still front and center.
Fans of Harvey’s penchant for scraggly, downbeat songs will connect with the organ-haunted “April,” and it’s easy to hear the singer’s connection to spirited folk music in the howling, backwoods free-form of “Sixteen, Fifteen, Fourteen” — a song that’s oddly reminiscent of John Cale’s most recent work.
Not that Harvey has ever released a record that made for simple listening, but this one takes particular care on the first few listens. Non-fans won’t likely get past the first 90 seconds of “Pig Will Not,” which draws from noise music and art rock alike. “The Soldier” is pretty like a dainty music box, but only if you can find the beauty in Harvey’s deliberately wavy vocals.
Should we be surprised that Harvey released such a challenging, difficult record at this stage in her career? Nope, but she shouldn’t be surprised to lose a couple fans because of it.
The Decemberists, “The Hazards of Love (Capitol) Some records hit you with the immediacy of a slug to the chest. They click into rotation instantly, solidifying their role in your day-to- day life. This fifth record from Portland’s Decemberists is one of those instantly likable CDs, with its brooding breadth, stylistic cohesion and melodic, if slightly overdramatic, presentation.
The band’s previous full- length, “The Crane Wife,” took a while to grow, and it made sense that the indie band would challenge its fans, new and old alike, with its major label debut. But with this album, the Decemberists have crafted something of beauty and character while still keeping the music undeniably compelling.
Sure, there are the indulgences that have become Colin Meloy’s trademark. (Did we really need four takes on the title track?) But the songwriting here is as bright and verbally effusive as the band’s true breakout record, 2005’s “Picaresque,” its last indie release on the Kill Rock Stars label.
Meloy shares vocals with bandmate Jenny Conlee on the stunning “Won’t Want For Love” and the solemnly theatrical “Isn’t It a Lovely Night?” — a brilliant turn that switches the band’s sound up significantly. But the disc’s shining moment is “The Rake’s Song,” a menacingly dark, rock ‘n’ roll approach to anachronistic folk music. Meloy steers this ship with keen wit, a singular sense of storytelling and an uncanny understanding of instrumentation and sound. And that combination makes for an easy first listen that keeps getting better and better. — Ricardo Baca
