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Pop music has been knee-deep in the second coming of the soft-rock singer-songwriter for most of this young century. Of course, we no longer call them singer-songwriters; we call them adult-alternative artists. It all started back in 2001 when the double-helix of the new genre, John Mayer and Jack Johnson, dropped their debut full-lengths, Room for Squares and Brushfire Fairytales, respectively. There existed antecedents for sure (Dave Matthews, Tori Amos, Jewel). But it’s Mayer and Johnson who most succinctly sum up what makes an adult-alternative artist different from his or her singer-songwriter ancestors.

John Mayer is 32. In just eight short years he has positioned himself as this generation's James Taylor, Cat Stevens and Eric Clapton combined. Think about it: he's loved for both his sensitive confessionals and virtuoso, pop-blues guitar skills. To soak up the full scope of Mayer's artistry, explore the bundle of playlists Rhapsody has prepared in anticipation of his new album, Battle Studies. Not only do we feature his music, but we also shine a light on the adult-alternative genre that Mayer has helped innovate.

Blister Pop is the name of an album from the Embarrassment, this wonderful little band that has become something of a cult legend over the last two decades. The Kansas-based group crafted a shambolic -- and really quite nervy -- brand of underground awesomeness that fell in the cracks between post-punk, hardcore, power pop and Attractions-style pub rock. Nowadays, the Embarrassment would be considered indie rock or quite possibly pop-punk, but back in the 1980s there wasn't a quality name for what they were doing.

As you scan our 25 best rock albums of the '00s, you'll quickly notice that a lot of these artists could be claimed by other genres: Susan Tedeschi by blues, Drive-By Truckers by alt-country, Wilco by indie. And that's the thing about rock in this young century: it's less a definable genre and more of a fractured aesthetic scattered across numerous genres. But make no mistake -- had Back to the River or Yankee Hotel Foxtrot or Southern Rock Opera come out in the 1970s, they would've been considered nothing but rock.

Because of rock's current state of affairs, readers are going to stumble across new flavors. Fans of Jack Johnson are going to read about High on Fire's Matt Pike, while followers of Nickelback will get to learn about something called Creepjoint. So yeah, keep an open mind and instead of bemoaning what rock has become in the 21st century, embrace it. There are a lot of killer jams to be found here. Be sure to listen to high quality audio of all the artist mentioned here anytime and anywhere you want with your free trial Rhapsody membership. Click here to join!

 

What a week for country music lovers. Rhapsody is bringing you brand-new music from some of today's hottest, most talked-about country stars a week before you'll hear it anywhere else. No kidding: we've got big names, bluegrass names and names you'll soon be acquainted with. So sit back, relax and let's listen to some music!

New albums from Alice in Chains and Pearl Jam have me daydreaming about the days when grunge stormed America and wrapped just about every high school between Seattle and Syracuse in red-and-black checked flannel. Those were heady days for me and my alternative pals Jay, Kerry, Jared and Ted. In the summer before senior year, we’d sit around Ted’s house (his parents were never home) and impatiently wait for MTV to play the “Alive” video or maybe even Temple of the Dog's "Hunger Strike." Feeling intensely nostalgic, I’ve been spinning the popular classics of grunge over the last week or so. Some of these sound really great, others kind of dated and a few haven’t changed at all. I figure I'd share my discoveries … in the form of a stock report.

Lead singers tend to be prima donnas who snag all the front-row babes and front-page accolades. Unfortunately, replacing these ego freaks is almost always an exercise in failure. Though the dude might've skipped a rehearsal or three, he’s the vessel through which all those killer songs are delivered to the masses. The medium is the message and to lose the medium means nose-diving right back into club circuit hell, where green rooms are nothing more than a gutted bathroom plastered in hand-scrawled personals: For a good time call ...

Musicians know all this, and yet there are always going to be successful bands who believe they can succeed with a newbie frontman. Can you blame them? If you were Eddie Van Halen, wouldn’t you feel a powerful urge to stick it to that blowhard D.L.R.? I know I would. Of course, Van Halen are one of the rare exceptions to the rule. Say what you will about Van Hagar and lame-o hits like “Right Now,” but they sold a ton of records. Roth’s popularity, meanwhile, declined with each passing year he wasn’t swinging from the rafters 40 feet above Michael Anthony and his Jack Daniels bass.

But what of the other titans of rock who dared switch frontmen? How did they fare? Let's find out ...

Ask much of the civilized world to name an album sequel with "blue" in its title, and the first thing out of their mouth is going to be Jay-Z’s The Blueprint 3. Ask the Classic Rock Crate Digger, however, and it’s going to be John Fogerty's The Blue Ridge Rangers Rides Again, a new collection of vintage country and roots-rock covers that rivals Jigga’s new joint when it comes to pushing product based on the number of high-profile cameos. Check it: there’s the Boss; drummer extraordinaire and Mellencamp cohort Kenny Aronoff; media mogul/producer Lenny Waronker; Eagles Don Henley and Timothy B. Schmit; Americana heavyweight Buddy Miller; and Herb "I've Played with Just About Every Major Country Rocker and Bluegrass Heavyweight of the Last Four Decades" Pedersen.*

I’m no Perez Hilton, or even a young Joan Rivers for that matter, but I think I’ve spotted a pop trend -- albeit a minor one. It dawned on me when I recently stumbled across the video for Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat's “Lucky.” (Nine months behind schedule, I know.) It was the same day I read about Break Up, the new album from Pete Yorn and Scarlett Johansson. I'm talking about this whole he/she retro-pop duo thingy. I’m calling it a trend because I can name four additional examples. There’s She & Him (M. Ward and Zooey Deschanel); Wilco and Feist; Mark Lanegan and Isobel Campbell; and Matthew Sweet and Susanna Hoffs. Without sounding too reductive, all these acts are variations on a theme: take a little Lee and Nancy and some Serge and Brigitte and filter them through a modern alt-pop sensibility (with a dash of Americana thrown in for good measure, of course).

First off, welcome to the first installment of my new column, Classic Rock Crate Digger. Like the dashboard of a vintage Saab, my mission statement is simple and to the point: dive into Rhapsody’s insanely bottomless catalog and explore all the nooks and crannies of that hairy, sweaty behemoth known as classic rock. You see, I love rock 'n' roll from the 1970s, but I’m so sick and tired of the same 40 songs my local DJ has been regurgitating for the last 35 years. Call me crazy, but there’s way more to classic rock than “Free Bird,” “More Than a Feeling” and “The Joker.” For example, just about anybody who worships riff-a-rific hard rock has cranked a little Free, those skinny, blues-rock Brits who sculpted one of the most titanic grooves ever know to man: “All Right Now.” Yet how many out there have dug into sprawling discography of The Groundhogs, who -- in my humble opinion, at least -- rock as hard as Free and Mountain and Grand Funk Railroad COMBINED? Unfortunately, the Groundhogs never scored a hit here in the States, so they're relatively unknown outside select circles. But just about any longhair between the ages of 18 and 65, regardless of his/her classic rock IQ, would absolutely flip for the band’s 1971 magnum opus, Thank Christ for the Bomb.

Basically, I want to help expand the horizons of the average classic rock fan by offering him or her sounds that feel familiar yet new. I want to take Zep fanatics and turn them on to Terry Reid (or maybe even the second Cactus record). I want to explain to Floyd freaks why I dig Obscured by Clouds more than its successor, Dark Side of the Moon.

And you know what? Rhapsody is just perfect for this kind of exploration. Sure, I sound like a corporate shill, but think about it: our service allows all of us to transcend the tyranny of America's classic rock DJs. No longer will we be beholden to their limited and antiquated playlists. We can roam as freely as we want.

Now time for the twin lead...

America lost a genuine cultural treasure when on August 7, 2009, Mike Seeger succumbed to cancer. Though he lacked the high profile of his half-brother Pete, who is more or less considered the patron saint of the American folk revival, Mike is in many ways the greatest artist and musician to have emerged from the extended Seeger clan.

Seeger’s work as a sound explorer, archivist and music historian forms a large chunk of his reputation. He rediscovered and recorded the work of several obscure Southern and Appalachian troubadours, including the now-legendary Dock Boggs. In the last years of Boggs' life, Seeger had become his booking agent and closest confidante. Seeger also played a pivotal role in the bluegrass revival of the 1960s. Along with fellow folklorist Ralph Rinzler, as well as other East Coast “citybillies” utterly obsessed with the music, Seeger helped resuscitate the careers of both Bill Monroe and the Stanley Brothers.

Gorgeous Johnny is finally out. Sweet. I’ve been waiting three years for a new album from the Skygreen Leopards. Their last, 2006’s Disciples of California, is so good it had me writing all kinds of wacky copy about Jerry Garcia fronting Television Personalities in a dive bar in Santa Cruz. (Oh, wait a minute. Maybe that was Mickey Dolenz and the Go-Betweens?)

Disciples strikes the perfect balance between 1980s twee and rootsy, West Coast folk-pop. Since its release I’ve stumbled across more than a few indie bands exploring similar turf. I dig a lot of them, particularly San Diego’s Donkeys, whose Living on the Other Side is just splendid. But for the most part very few of them can do what the Leopards do. Even with the Donkeys, you can point to a specific guitar lick or riff and say “That’s so Neil Young” or “Man, that sounds a lot like ‘Ripple.’” What makes Disciples special, in contrast, is how the album channels the golden age of California pop, folk and country without ever aping it, without ever sounding like a Monkees tribute band or the Grateful Dead, Jr. Ultimately, the Leopards are more about capturing the feeling of that era rather than its actual sound.

Now having said all that, Gorgeous Johnny finds the Skygreen Leopards backing away from their love of classic California. I mean, it does have its moments, like the Smile-inspired vocal magic of “Goodnight Anna” (the album’s third best song after (1) “Can Go Back” and (2) the title track). But overall, Gorgeous Johnny is way less pastoral, way less wandering-the-countryside-on-a-Saturday-afternoon music. In fact, it’s really kind of urban. Like one of America’s half-dozen classic flatiron buildings, it’s lined with finely detailed ornamentation. The album’s artwork gives all this away. Where Disciples’ cover is a dusty country road (albeit one with a gigantic skull hovering at its end), this new record sports a colorful painting of a city block full of towering apartment buildings.

Though the Leopards’ artistic core are singer-songwriters Glenn Donaldson and Donovan Quinn, the recent addition of multi-instrumentalist Jason Quever helps explain the sound of the new album. This dude is the brains behind Papercuts. If you dig richly textured dream pop, then check out their latest release You Can Have What You Want, released this past spring. Quever, unlike Quinn and Donaldson, doesn’t sound as if he writes songs while strumming a guitar underneath the protective canopy of a redwood forest. He’s more of a composer-type, one who probably develops ideas on the piano. Of course, I’m just guessing here, but I think I’m on to something. A good chunk of Gorgeous Johnny feels more composed, more baroque -- more rococo. (Ha! That word rules.) Several songs unfold like mini-suites stitched together from two or three song fragments. The most striking just might be the oddly titled “SGL’s et al.” It opens with piano and handclaps drowning in echo, that whole recorded-down-the-hall effect. This ends abruptly, giving way to Quinn mumbling like Lou Reed after staying awake for 36 straight hours. He’s saying something about the band getting in the van and driving to the sea. Gradually, Quinn melts into a hazy, droning chant involving a little strummed guitar and about three or four hushed voices. It’s really quite... gorgeous.

Then again, so is the rest of this more-than-worthy follow-up.

PS - You in need of even more Skygreen Leopards? Then check out their Rhapsody celebrity playlist! It’s packed with all kinds of good stuff: The Kinks, Jerry Jeff Walker, The Clientele, Lou Reed, Outrageous Cherry and more.

The other night I wandered out to the front porch. There, with a sixer of Bell’s Oberon at my feet, I cranked a little New Riders of the Purple Sage and watched the fireflies light up the trees late into the night. It was my own private send-off to John “Marmaduke” Dawson, who died from stomach cancer on July 21 in Mexico. Apparently, the former N.R.P.S. frontman had been living south of the border for quite some time. I always suspected Dawson was battling a serious illness. YouTube footage of a one-off appearance with the New Riders in 2001 shows a tiny man, frail and weak, who looked far older than 56.

Dawson, who co-wrote the American Beauty classic “Friend of the Devil,” was one of the elders of the Grateful Dead tribe. Jerry Garcia, Robert Hunter and he were pals in the mid-1960s, years before Haight-Ashbury and the whole acid rock/hippie thing. Back then, they all hung around Palo Alto and picked old folk music: jug-band tunes, bluegrass, country blues, etc. Another member of the inner circle was guitarist David Nelson, and after the Dead became a national act, Dawson and he began developing a new sound: psychedelic country rock, aka cosmic American music: a mix of hippie vibes, Bakersfield honky-tonk and vintage rockabilly.

Though it's Los Angeles legends like Gram Parsons, the Byrds, Gene Clark and the Flying Burrito Brothers who receive the bulk of the credit for pioneering cosmic American music, the New Riders’ contributions cannot be overlooked. Featuring Garcia on pedal steel and Mickey Hart on drums, 1971’s New Riders of the Purple Sage is every bit as seminal as The Gilded Palace of Sin, Sweetheart of the Rodeo and The Fantastic Expedition of Dillard & Clark. In fact, early tunes like “Dirty Business” and “Gypsy Cowboy” find the New Riders diving into the psychedelic void far deeper than their Southern California counterparts.

This will sound kind of strange to a lot of you, especially those who know their jangle pop and roots rock history, but this new Deer Tick album, Born on Flag Day, has my noggin drawing comparisons to the La’s, that Brit pop band who put out one truly astounding record in 1990. To begin with, there’s John McCauley’s voice: The dude croaks, burps, belches and hiccups like Lee Mavers -- had, of course, a witch turned the La’s mercurial frontman into the celebrated jumping frog of Calaveras County. Secondly, and this is the far more important point, Deer Tick is a lot like the mighty La’s in the way the group takes sounds and styles that are more or less pre-British Invasion and feeds them into a scrappy, shaggy brand of alternative rock equal parts quiet/acoustic and loud/electric.

But where Mavers and company drew their inspiration from skiffle, a countryish folk-pop trend popular in the United Kingdom in the late 1950s and early ’60s (see Lonnie Donegan), Deer Tick looks to classic American music from the same period, everything from twangy instrumentalists (the Ventures, Duane Eddy) to rock & roll artists who cut rockabilly with Tin Pan Alley. These include Ritchie Valens, Roy Orbison and Ricky Nelson, as well as Buddy Holly and his legion of followers: the Bobby Fuller Four, Bobby Vee, Tommy Roe, etc. Now if you didn’t spend your childhood with ears glued to the oldies station, then check out this playlist I recently put together. It features a lot of the vintage rockers I just mentioned. It totally rocks, if I do say so myself.

Deer Tick also differ from the La’s in their overt revivalism. Mavers, even when penning timeless jangle pop like “There She Goes,” never really went straight-up retro. McCauly, in contrast, lifts scraps of melodies, rhythms and vintage guitar licks directly from his heroes. “Easy,” Born on Flag Day's opening track, as well as its lead single, isn’t too far removed from the Meat Puppets or Dinosaur Jr. But dig beneath that initial burst of feedback and those scratchy guitars, and you come to rumbling tom-toms and a chiming ride cymbal that are so “I Fought the Law.”

McCauley’s love for early rock & roll reaches a fever pitch on “Straight into the Storm.” From that classic-sounding title to the dude’s exuberant shrieks, this song reeks of nostalgia. You can easily imagine a group of young and greasy punks, maybe the even The Outsiders, rocking out to it back in ’61. Hell, it’s total El Paso rock.

Of course, this entire review, however positive, implies that McCauley is nothing more than a master of pastiche. Oh well. I really don’t think that’s such a bad thing, especially when the master in question can pen a classic ballad like “Smith Hill.” When spinning this track, pay extra special attention at the 2:55 mark. Coming out of the chorus, Deer Tick could easily slip into a guitar solo or whip up yet another verse. Instead, McCauley cranks the string section and reaches for this melodramatic teen opera climax. It’s a trick torn from the pages of the Roy Orbison songbook. Like so much of Born on Flag Day, it’s an utterly delicious chunk of pop music.

Xtina, Celine, Mariah and Elton are cool and all, but there's no beating them old school divas. Goddesses like Billie Holiday, Dusty Springfield and Gloria Gaynor utterly and totally epitomized concepts like grace and class. Plus, they all made some timeless music, from smoky, jazzy ballads to dancefloor anthems. For the perfect overview of history's greatest divas, dig into this killer playlist. May your beloved Rhapsody inspire you to party all night in a vintage sequined evening gown!