Tanglewood Numbers
Silver Jews (Drag City)

On the new Silver Jews album, Tanglewood Numbers, David Berman sings, "God must be cutting the clouds into animals shapes." It's lines like these that have made Berman's alt-country outfit one of the most beguiling bands for the last decade. In a deep, Southern voice, Berman mixes romanticism and smirk -- but you'd have to look very carefully into his deadpan to see even the slightest crack of a smile. Tanglewood Numbers is the fifth album for the Silver Jews, and first since 2001's Bright Flight. While not known widely outside of indie circles, their 1998 disc, American Water, remains a near perfect album of Americana -- and includes possibly the greatest opening line of all-time: "In 1984, I was hospitalized for approaching perfection." The Silver Jews revolve around Berman -- a published poet, as well -- but has usually included contributions from Pavement alums Stephen Malkmus and Bob Nastanovich. They again play here, as does Will Oldham, the harrowing singer-songwriter. After a four-year wait, that lineup built large expectations for Tanglewood Numbers, which are unfortunately unrealized. A more rock 'n' roll, honky-tonk album, it features a fuller, overstuffed sound that often includes the singing of Berman's wife, Cassie. Tanglewood Numbers is also a deeply personal album of darkness and survival -- Berman has fought through drug problems in recent years. But outright statement isn't Berman's style. Instead, we have lines like, "sometimes a pony gets depressed." The lone great track on the album, though, is The Farmer's Hotel, a seven-minute story that pulses with American Water-style rhythm and Malkmus's trademark guitar work. While Tanglewood is inevitably disappointing, for David Berman, one of music's most underrated songwriters, that's a sliding scale. Even the lowest readings rank clouds above the rest. Review by J. Cole.

Back Home
Eric Clapton (Reprise/Duck Records)

Sure legends die and stars inevitably begin to fade. If you're Eric Clapton, though, you simply return home. So it is for the 60-year-old British bluesman's aptly titled Back Home, which brings into sharp focus the reflections of a music man of four decades who has grown to value home and family above all else in the twilight of his years. To make that point, the album's opening track So Tired doesn't chronicle the bone-deep fatigue a seemingly endless string of show nights would bring. Instead it's an uplifting melody to accompany a parent's lament on the daily grind of raising children.