Matt Jones, The Black Path (2008): Matt Jones has long been my favorite local singer-songwriter, and it's been a corresponding shame that he's only had one recording to his name for a long time, 2005's EP Right To Arms. Matt's carved out a unique place for himself in the local scene through his offbeat, rather minimal approach to the country-folk style favored by (too) many area bands and artists as well as through his remarkable voice, which is hard to describe--alternately sweet, mellow and abrasive all at once. His (relatively) new full-length album preserves his sound while using masterful production (courtesy of Jim Roll, another great local singer-songwriter) to reach new places. Some songs could have come right off Right To Arms, and in fact, one did: "Marble Sleeves," in this incarnation a mellower, more contemplative tune than its original. The jazzy, subtly anthemic opener, "Threadlines," boasts a strange, repetitive sort of harmony, almost cellular in the sense of Philip Glass or Steve Reich, that recurs in several songs throughout the album, particularly "Jugulars, Bone, and Blisters." "A Sort of So Long" and "Waltzing With Lady Dawn" are live favorites finally transposed to CD that come awfully close to the miniature feel of Right To Arms. Elsewhere, Matt employs his fondness for Americana and obsession with the Civil War to startling effect (we once had a discussion concerning his forearm tattoo, an accurate depiction of the battle lines at Gettysburg, where we both had people on opposite sides), in the gorgeous instrumental "Antietam" and "We Held For Nothing," a swelling, evocatively-titled piece reminiscent of a genuine bluegrass version of a Copland orchestral homage. The closer, "Nothing Joyful," forms a questioning, open-ended conclusion to the album, particularly in its hypnotic instrumental beginning. While favorites of mine--such as "Bearded Faces" and the (so far as I know) only-performed-once "Dagger"--didn't make it, the long-awaited The Black Path is easily one of the best albums to appear locally in a long time.

 Sari Brown, The Color Suite (2009): Speaking of offbeat singer-songwriters with remarkable voices, Sari Brown's also long-awaited follow-up to her 2005 For What Is The Journey has finally come out in a sumptuously designed package that includes poetry and musings about life, friendship and politics. Sari's voice can start out sweet and gentle and then morph almost seamlessly into this leonine growl that stunned the hell out of me when I first heard it. Many of the songs involve colors, hence the album title, and all seem to deal with the same themes explored in the writing. "Blue Ribbon," a deceptively quaint little tune, almost starts off like John Lennon's "Nobody Told Me" in a way that enlivens the rest of the song with the sense that anything can happen. "Purple Mess" is a live favorite with a call-and-response chorus that's almost like a secular hymn. My favorite, "Red Line" (which I don't recall hearing live) is a jazzy, catchy tune with superb string arrangements that remind me of the best of Van Morrison's early stuff. "Lesley" reveals a touching ode to friendship coupled with an open letter to the eponymous correspondent. The last song, "Black Plum," is a little masterpiece, a gently satirical (at least it sounded that way to me) examination of love and how it's seen. All throughout, the songs are strengthened by Sari's voice, the imaginative production, and the percussive force of her guitar playing, which all too often can seem overbearing in lesser hands, but here gives a powerful musical undercurrent to the lyrics. After something of a local drought in my musical universe, The Color Suite (and, indeed, The Black Path) are cause for rejoicing.