'YOU COULD HAVE IT SO MUCH BETTER'

'YOU COULD HAVE IT SO MUCH BETTER'
Franz Ferdinand
Epic
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No chance of a sophomore slump for the Glasgow, Scotland-based quartet Franz Ferdinand, back with a new studio release just 18 months after scoring a monstrous hit with its self-titled debut, which garnered three Grammy nominations stateside and sold 3 million albums worldwide. "You Could Have It So Much Better" has all the cheeky sex, drugs and dance-driven rock 'n' roll of its predecessor, plus more adrenaline, punch and wit than anything this side of early David Bowie and Roxy Music. The group also shows that it's not satisfied merely repeating itself, and has expanded its range to include some moodier, subtler material.
The album begins with three songs that roar by like a top-fuel dragster at full throttle, with vocalist and guitarist Alex Kapranos tearing into edgy opener "The Fallen," the sexy, insanely hooky dance-rocker "Do You Want To," then the out-of-control Iggy meets the Clash meets the Gang of Four monster "This Boy" ("Not a boy but a wealthy bachelor"). You can try and catch your breath for a moment with the palate-cleansing ballad "Walk Away," but then it's once more into the breach with the dangerous and louche "Evil and a Heathen."
Second guitarist Nick McCarthy is the telepathic twin to Kapranos, and bassist Bob Hardy anchors the proceedings nicely. But a special tip of the hat must go to drummer Paul Thomson, who propels everything forward with utter authority and complete abandon. Together these handsome lads have all the goods: literate lyrics that are funny, flirty and a bit dangerous, melodies that stick to your brain like flypaper, and pumping rhythms that are utterly inescapable. This is one of the few albums released these days that leaves you wanting more (it barely clocks in at 40 minutes ).
-- Martin Bandyke, Detroit Free Press
'EXTRAORDINARY MACHINE'
Fiona Apple
Epic
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Too bad the tortured backstory of "Extraordinary Machine" didn't result in an extraordinary album. The Cliffs-Notes version goes something like this: Precocious but neurotic songwriter-vocalist gives up music after 1999 release "When The Pawn ..," is coaxed back to work years later by her old producer, who she later replaces, gets bad reaction from record label about the uncommercial sound of her new music, gets good reaction when songs from the album are leaked onto the Internet, stands her ground with label and completes recording to her own satisfaction. Whew.
Many of the song arrangements are undeniably clever, with their odd juxtapositions of Apple's ever-present piano with a kaleidoscope of strings, marimba, mellotron, pump organ and marxophone, a truly obscure instrument last used prominently on the Doors' 1967 recording of "Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar)." Unfortunately there are those pesky lyrics -- the thoughts of an almost 30-year-old woman with an adolescent, completely self-obsessed worldview that grows tiresome real fast. Nearly every song is a he-loves-me, he-loves-me-not, I-blame-him, I-blame-myself tilt-a-whirl where the listener is left with an upset stomach and mind.
-- Martin Bandyke, Detroit Free Press
'REAL FINE PLACE'
Sara Evans
RCA
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Evans raises the listener's hopes for her fifth album by opening it with the earthy and rambunctious "Coalmine," but mere minutes later, she returns to shoveling through the kind of innocuous, radio-ready fare that has defined far too much of her career (bedroom ballad "The Secrets That We Keep" and the bland "Roll Me Back in Time," co-written by Sheryl Crow).
It's hard to fault the artist for opting to record a surefire hit like the lightweight "A Real Fine Place to Start," which has already hit No. 1 on Billboard's country singles chart. But it's also hard not to notice what a truly fine country singer she is when she sinks her heart and soul into an honest-to-gosh twang-fest like "Cheatin,"' a woman-done-wrong song worthy of Tammy Wynette or Reba McEntire in her heyday.
-- Greg Crawford, Detroit Free Press
'SOMEBODY'S MIRACLE'
Liz Phair
Capitol
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Phair claims her last album, 2003's "Liz Phair," was just as vital to her as her biting, revolutionary "Exile in Guyville," the 1993 collection that was a response to the macho swagger of the Rolling Stones' "Exile on Main Street."
But that 2003 CD was mostly a light, unchallenging album aimed strictly at pop radio. Her new one, in stores Tuesday, isn't a miracle by a long shot, but the highlights show signs of a once-valuable artist trying to reset her creative compass.
Phair is still addressing the basic themes of the last album, looking at sex and relationships long after the youthful fireworks of "Exile," but this time she sometimes brings intelligence and insight to the tunes, not just seductive melodies and cute vocals.
Phair planned this new, mostly pop CD as a response to Stevie Wonder's "Songs in the Key of Life" but wisely settled for simply a collection of songs about love and life.
Without the boundless musical imagination of Wonder, Phair is at her best here when she is at her most personal, as on the wistful reflection of the title tune and the sober self-inventory of the delicate "Table for One." There just aren't enough of those convincing, heartfelt moments.
-- Robert Hilburn, Los Angeles Times
'THE NAKED TRUTH'
Lil' Kim
Atlantic
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For all Lil' Kim's amorous braggadocio and talked-up past connections (B.I.G., Diddy) it's taken two fine albums (and a not-so-good one) to season the flashy, foul-mouthed Bed-Stuy native for this near-perfect fourth.
Kim's "The Naked Truth" drops while the rap mistress is doing a year's time in Philadelphia's Federal Detention Center for a perjury conviction stemming from a 2001 New York shoot-out involving members of her entourage.
Producers Scott Storch and 7 Aurelius and rappers the Game and Snoop help craft "Truth," but this is Kim's show. Her raw silken spit and spite-filled lexicon is clear. Rather than stick to sexual prowess and Biggie as sole lyrical themes (they're here too), Kim bullets through the Caribbean/Spanish-flavored "Lighters Up" with a sniper's aim and a wag's cockiness. But there's a ruminative quality to lines like "Weak lambs get devoured by the lion in the concrete jungle" that show a resignation previously unheard. The quiet of "Last Day" is as softly rendered as it is lyrically hard-lined. Even the snarky savaging of "Shut Up ..." is as much a dark look into her own Kim-ness as into her critics' stupidity. That's the "Truth."
-- A.D. Amorosi, Philadelphia Inquirer