A fragile world, a critical eye

Ray Davies

“Working Man’s Cafe” (New West/Ammal)

*** 1/2

With its political upheaval and economic uncertainty, its spiritual values and social conventions in disarray, the modern world is a sitting duck for the sights of Ray Davies. Rock’s great chronicler of human frailty in the ‘60s and ‘70s, the leader of the Kinks faded away for a while, but on his second solo album (in stores Tuesday) in the last two years he goes toe-to-toe with the beast.

The Englishman’s familiar themes -- the common man’s helplessness, the fading of the old ways, the loss of cultural identity -- are brought up to date, with “Vietnam Cowboys” depicting the messy effect of globalization, and the title song and “One More Time” eyeballing American product imperialism and the “economic vultures” of the corporate sphere.

Teaming with Nashville veteran Ray Kennedy as co-producer, the singer has mounted a strong, flavorful sound that refreshes his familiar array of folk-rock, music hall, Protestant hymn et al. He draws deeply on the 2004 incident in which he was shot by a robber on a New Orleans street. Inept bureaucracy sparks the comedic “No One Listen,” and Davies wrestles with complexities of right and wrong in “Angola (Wrong Side of the Law),” a song that feels like a capstone but is billed, oddly, as a bonus track.

Ultimately, the aftermath proves as debilitating as the assault, but he also gets a gem of a vignette out of his intensive-care observations in “Morphine Song.” Overall, the album’s humor level is a little lower than usual for Davies, but the reflective songs are among his most intimate and touching.

Perhaps inspired by that brush, Davies depicts personal identity going from elusive to nonexistent in the sublime “Imaginary Man.” And “In a Moment” is a sanctification of the time just before dawn, a gorgeously framed image for the capacity to be transfigured.

-- Richard Cromelin

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An odd pairing helps vet shine Willie Nelson

“Moment of Forever” (Lost Highway)

***

The Red Headed Stranger goes all moody on us for much of this collaboration (due Tuesday) with, of all people, Kenny Chesney, who co-produced with Nashville veteran Buddy Cannon. Odd couple-ish as it may sound, Chesney and Cannon sculpt evocative, Daniel Lanois-like sonic surroundings in the mesmerizing lead-off track, “Over You Again,” which Nelson wrote with his sons Micah and Lukas, and for Nelson’s intensely intimate performance of the Kris Kristofferson-Danny Timms title track, a celebration of one of those moments when love felt perfect.

Many songs center on tapping the wisdom that comes from experience, especially wisdom that grows out of regret over the inevitable missteps along life’s path. Chesney steps in as a singer on “Worry B Gone,” a Guy Clark-Gary Nicholson-Lee Roy Parnell ode to the substances that can provide relief from those missteps, however temporary that relief may be.

There’s a dab of sociopolitical commentary in versions of Dave Matthews’ “Gravedigger” and a modest update of Randy Newman’s “Louisiana 1927,” (the titular year and the song’s original reference to President Coolidge dropped here to make it sound more like the post-Katrina anthem it’s become).

The throwaways -- “Big Kenny” Alphin’s pirate-themed curiosity “The Bob Song” and Nelson’s frivolous “You Don’t Think I’m Funny Anymore” -- don’t interrupt the momentum for long.

-- Randy Lewis

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The reggae is finally turned up

Various Artists

“Spirits in the Material World:

A Reggae Tribute to the Police” (Shanachie)

***

A reggae tribute to the Police is like a rock ‘n’ roll tribute to Elvis: Assembled artists don’t so much cover classic songs as reclaim them. The trio, after all, were more than merely influenced by reggae; they made music that was, to cite their 1979 album title, reggatta de blanc: white reggae.

So it’s a pleasure to hear the reggae-ness in their classic tunes amplified, by an array of performers: old- and new-school Jamaican artists, a third-wave ska band and such soul singers as Joan Osborne and Cyril Neville.

Grammy-winning reggae band Inner Circle produced the album (in stores Tuesday) and pairs the right tune with the right act. Junior Reid, lately enjoying his crossover moment (he’s featured on remixes of Mims’ “This Is Why I’m Hot” and Alicia Keys’ “No One”), delivers a fiery, dancehall-tinged version of “Syncronicity I”; Bob Marley contemporaries the Wailing Souls add rootsy, Marley-esque touches to “One World (Not Three).”

The true standouts here are by a timeless act and a newcomer with a classic feel. Toots & the Maytals turn “De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da” into a soulful ska jam, which Toots belts out in his signature rough-around-the-edges style. On “King of Pain,” Tarrus Riley proves why he’s one of Jamaica’s most promising new singer-songwriters: He croons in a voice so lucid and soulful, it borders on operatic. Riley need not call himself the “King of Pain” -- the tears in his voice say it all.

-- Baz Dreisinger

Nashville sure can pick them

The SteelDrivers

“The SteelDrivers” (Rounder Records)

***

Maybe it’s delayed influence from the success of Alison Krauss, the “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” soundtrack and Nickel Creek, but a string-band resurgence is really taking hold. Not wanting to leave all the pickin’ and grinnin’ fun to the kids, these Nashville veterans assembled in a classic bluegrass lineup (Richard Bailey, banjo; Mike Fleming, upright bass; Tammy Rogers, fiddle; Mike Henderson, mandolin; Chris Stapleton, guitar), resulting in this debut album brimming with both spirit and experienced chops.

With Stapleton’s vocals (low ‘n’ gruff rather than bluegrass-standard high ‘n’ lonesome) up front, many of the all-original songs, (some having already been hits for other artists) lean toward the acoustic country side, in particular the opening triad of “Blue Side of the Mountain,” “Drinkin’ Dark Whiskey” and “Midnight Train to Memphis,” all chugging along with the ensemble in full swing. “Midnight Tears,” though, veers into Stapleton’s Kentucky roots, with a melody reaching back more than a century as heard in such folk/blues standards as “In the Pines.”

There’s nothing revolutionary here but when the strings are all buzzing and the harmonies take flight, there are plenty of reasons to grin.

-- Steve Hochman

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Albums are reviewed on a scale of four stars (excellent), three stars (good), two stars (fair) and one star (poor). Albums reviewed have been released except as indicated.