New & Noteworthy

Marigold

Hillbilly Thomists

Asking whether these folk and bluegrass-playing Dominican friars would be getting traction if they weren’t Dominican friars is like asking whether they’d have gotten to play the Grand Ole Opry two years ago (see You Tube) if they hadn’t been invited by the Knights of Columbus. But even if the answer is “Probably not,” they’re tight enough instrumentally, and what their vocals lack in oomph they make up for in harmonies. Having apparently exhausted their standards repertoire on albums one through three, they’re now down to one Isaac Watts song, writing the other 12 themselves. The one sung from Jonah’s point of view is the longest overdue.

Blessed Be the Burden

Andy P and the Symptoms

Two of the quotes that Andy Pollard lists as his favorites on Facebook come from C.S. Lewis. So the references that he makes in these songs to Jesus as his friend, to his father’s church, and to the voice that says “Fear not, my little flock” should probably be taken seriously. So should the racket from which these references emerge, one that, in keeping with the needle-meets-vinyl sounds in “Oh Euphoria,” hearkens all the way back to the glory daze of Twin/Tone Records. Raw, real, and the grave is not its goal.

My Peace I Give You

Poor Clare Sisters of Arundel 

“[A] good deal of engineering went into the transformation of the Clares’ singing at their own convent to a finished product,” says the PR. And you can hear it. The nuns’ voices and the soft, after-the-fact instrumentation blend into an ethereal echo that achieves the desired peaceful effect but that also makes the lyrics hard to understand unless you know what you’re listening for. The titles often give sufficient clues (“I Will Heal You,” the title cut), but it would be nice to know what these women sounded like when not engineered so much.

Smoke & Fiction

X

Alphabetland, the 2024 comeback from these venerable L.A. punks, ramrodded its way through decades of unfulfilled promise, leaving contemporary punk in the dust and reminding old timers that Billy Zoom and Johnny Ramone had more in common than politics. This album—their last, they say—picks up where that one left off. And speaking of politics, it’s about time that someone repurposed the Goebbels quote about repeating a lie until it becomes the truth (“Baby & All”). And while Zoom, the band’s only Christian, didn’t write its words, “Ruby Church” features a protagonist who’s smiling because he or she is in a “state of grace.”

Encore

Like the career of the late pop-rocker that it honors, And Now, Eric Carmen: The Arista Legacy (Legacy) is a mixed bag. But the loose ends that it ties up deserve to be. After opening with an explosive live mini-set from 1976 that’s one-third Raspberries, it segues (by way of the “All by Myself” single edit) into catchy piano-and-voice demos that more than anything else suggest MTV should’ve slotted Carmen for an episode of Unplugged. Then, with minor variations, the pattern repeats.

Along the way, we encounter ones that got away (“I’ll Never Be the Same Without You,” “My Heart Stops,” the “A Temporary Hero” demo, a 1988 Olympics song) and energetic live performances from Japan (some of which have long been available in lower-fi on YouTube) that more than anything else suggest Legacy should consider stitching together an entire in-concert disc—that is, unless this uneven but enjoyable send-off is the label’s way of washing its hands of the Trump-supporting Carmen for good.