Barry Adamson, Stranger on the Sofa

What is this? How should I know? Why do I like it? I don't know. It's a mishmash of electronica, pop, experimental music, and noise-rock, with a sensibility so tentacled and topsy-turvy that it feels unnecessary to worry about what to make of it.

Barry Adamson has been part of two very different bands: Magazine, and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. There's some of the latter on this record, not much of the former. "The Long Way Back Again" is a good pop song. "Officer Bentley's Fairly Serious Dilemma" has one section that is also a good pop song but then it becomes a radio-communication thing and then a swollen funk jam. Later on the record there's some stuff that makes me think of Eno and Weill. There's also some stuff in French. The Bowie-esque "Theresa Green" is sweet, sweet, sweet. And the coolest thing of all? Hardly any of it is set to dance beats. (If I never hear another dance beat in my life...)

Every section has not just its own sound but its own groove. Noir moods, Euros, easy sounds, clanky sounds. Is that why I like it? What is it, actually? Who is this guy? And what's this about working with Barry White a few years ago? That doesn't make any sense. I like things that don't make sense. This is a CD that I like. Do you like it? I like it.

Laura Vecchione, Deeper Waters

Laura Vecchione's dark, throaty voice and biting harmonies are reminiscent of Stevie Nicks, while the thoughtful tone of many of her original songs suggests Rosanne Cash. But she also has a playful side, something that's lacking in certain Nashville stars (hence the enormous popularity of the gimmicky but fun Big and Rich). That, combined with the high quality of her songs (eight of these ten are originals), makes this soul-splashed country-rock CD a winner.

The opening track, "Jane," is a towering anthem of self-assertion in the best tradition of stand-tall country singles. "Fool's Gold" is a minor-key haunter in the vein of Patty Loveless, with Vecchione wringing every possible drop of emotion out of the dusky lyrics. It's also a good example of genre-crossing, reminding me as much of soul-rockers like Nicola as of traditional country singers like Loveless.

The lovely, unusually well-written ballads lean towards the pop end of the country spectrum, with the exception of "Breaking Heart in NYC," a slow, sweet shuffle whose country-and-western swagger is lit up by an old-timey clarinet solo.

On the lighter, uptempo side, Vecchione's cover of the Beatles' "Lady Madonna" bops nicely, and her rendition of Dr. John's "Qualified" is inspired (actually, "kick-ass" is the technical term that comes to mind).

The CD is good enough that one is led to think carefully about whether Vecchione, a passionate and technically expert singer, has quite enough heft to her voice to rise to the top of country music. Her voice tugs at the heart, breaking, calling, and twanging, but is it rich enough? Is she fundamentally a country singer, or a roots-rock/pop singer like Melissa Etheridge or Sheryl Crow? At the top level of the recording industry, where standards and specifics are pretty unforgiving, these things tend to matter. Meanwhile, such questions aside, Vecchione is forging her own path to excellence.