Jonas Brothers "A Little Bit Longer" (Hollywood)
* * 1/2
The third album from the alpha boy band of the moment is certainly of the moment. Jersey-born Jonas siblings Nick (15), Kevin (20), and Joe (18) hit all the right-hand pop notes with such numbers as the romping come-on "Got Me Going Crazy," the slightly funky "Burnin' Up" (a selfsame pale imitation of Prince) and the emo-lite of brokenhearted ballad "Can't Have You."
Gazing at the musician brothers with their dashing suits and rocker-boy coifs, a caboodle of their fans' parent might happen it hard not to think of the milklike, dark-haired good looks of '80s heartthrob Rick Springfield (who's enjoying an echo of his own minute with the new album "Venus in Overdrive"). The muscular bubblegum of Springfield's "Jessie's Girl" lives on in the sound of the flirty "BB Good" and the aggressive "One Man Show."
The Jonases show more vulnerability with such numbers as the mid-tempo, yearning honey song "Shelf" and the title lay, with its plaintive vocals and elusive touches of piano and strings. Still, the album is largely a bland gloss, offering no depth or cleverness in material that covers familiar dominion (and is, as we are ofttimes reminded, unremarkably co-written by all trey brothers). At least the almost goofy, Beatles-y "Lovebug" -- with its scope chatter and hanging-in-the-studio vibe -- creates the delusion of personality.
Along with scream-worthy cuteness, the Jonas lads (and their four-man support band) offer their largely young-female audience a training-wheels version of classic male rock stars, all caught up in the cloud nine and drama of love. Although twenty-first century girls certainly deserve better, it's tempting to consider "A Little Bit Longer" dependable as milk River -- until you realise that the songs slot girls neatly into the clich�d roles of unapproachable object, clinging hoochie, hard-to-get prey or troublesome paramour. (There's fifty-fifty a melodic line about groupie leeches, "Video Girl," which is way too jaded for trey young hands who ar so publicly religious and anti-premarital-sex.) Maybe this is, after all, your parents' rock 'n' roll.
--Natalie Nichols
Inara George with Van Dyke Parks "An Invitation" (Everloving Records)
* * * *
Inara George is the tolerant of creative person who'll never get called experimental, because her music sounds so sweet. Yet she is a risk taker -- barely one whose voice is clear and accessible.
In the past few years, the 34-year-old L.A. native has worked her way through shoegazing phratry with the band Merrick, a Joni Mitchell influence on her 2005 solo debut, internationalist pop with the Bird and the Bee, and Andrews Sisters harmonies with the Living Sisters.
"An Invitation" is her orchestral interlude with Van Dyke Parks, wHO has been a church Father figure since his dangling days with her daddy, Lowell George. Empowered by this uneven old pro, George goes somewhere new -- and historical: into the zone of theater music, between poetry and pop, where she connects with the spirits of Stephen Sondheim and Lorenz Hart.
And Dorothy Parker. Like that divinity poison-pen doyenne, George gets at the melancholy of the self-sufficing urban female by way of a wink and a smile. Her lyrics balance a yen for metaphor with an astringent wit. "I'm like a pet salamander," she sings in "Tell Me That You Love Me." "Just cut a few holes for some air, carry me everywhere."
Parks proves an ideal partner for George, who grew up poring over Shakespeare and is marital to a film film director, Jake Kasdan. "An Invitation" sounds like a shed recording -- it's like "Enchanted" for grown-ups -- and the fact that George is the only voice heard reinforces its mood of semi-serene solitariness. The songs are mostly about passion, but even with titles such as "Duet" and "Family Tree," they reflect the thoughts of a woman pensive things, non quite quick to offer her words to the world yet.
Parks' arrangements oftentimes aim for childlike admiration (he's known for having worked with Brian Wilson, but his music for the HBO kids' series "Harold and the Purple Crayon" is also fantabulous), and that too suits George, whose melodies are delicate and young-sounding. Less grand and far more worldly than "Ys," the Joanna Newsom collaboration that brought Parks back into the indie music glare, "An Invitation" suffers the danger of being overlooked.
Here's hoping it finds its audience: little girls, couples in lovemaking, anyone world Health Organization dreams in Technicolor.
-- Ann Powers
Albums are rated on a scale of quadruplet stars (excellent), three (in effect), two (fair) and one (poor). Albums reviewed have been released except as noted.
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