‘soulbook’

‘soulbook’

Rod Stewart (J Records)

Grade: B

Rod Stewart reinvented himself in the new millennium by exercising his distinctly soulful pipes on classic standards with his “Great American Songbook” collection. Now he returns to his soul roots on “Soulbook,” a 13-song collection that represents the soul sounds of Philadelphia, Memphis and Motown.

Stewart kicks things off with a dramatic rendition of the Four Tops classic “It’s the Same Old Song” and between that and the last song, he honors soul music’s greats, including The O’Jays, the Temptations and Sam Cooke. And while it’s a pretty good record, it does have a few minor bumps.

Whenever an artist covers somebody else’s material, it’s important that they offer something fresh in return, and for the most part, Stewart delivers. But some of the arrangements are too close to the originals. No one will ever confuse Stewart with Jimmy Ruffin on “What Becomes of the Broken Hearted,” or Brook Benton on “Rainy Night in Georgia,” but he breaks no new ground on either song.

— John Carucci, Associated Press

‘strict joy’

The Swell Season (Anti-)

Grade: A-

Heartbreak and unease have rarely sounded prettier.

Maybe it’s the circumstance — The Swell Season’s Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova were a real-life couple before they played one in the movie “Once” and subsequently broke up just as the accolades, including an Oscar for best original song, started rolling in. Or maybe it’s that Hansard’s weary delivery of raw, introspective lyrics fit perfectly with Irglova’s delicate harmonies and the spare, acoustic folk backdrop.

In either case, The Swell Season’s latest effort, “Strict Joy,” shows how simple arrangements can still communicate volumes about life’s complexities. Hansard’s vocals and compositions are uniquely flexible, summoning Damien Rice’s vocal pain one moment (“Back Broke”) and R.E.M. guitarist Peter Buck (“High Horses”) the next, sliding between acoustic Radiohead orchestration (“The Verb”) and current country (“In These Arms,” which any number of Nashville singers should be lining up to cover right now).

It’s no accident that the most joyous moment on “Strict Joy” comes during “I Have Loved You Wrong,” where Irglova takes over the lead vocals. After asking for forgiveness for several verses, she builds a bridge of possibility by repeating, “You’re every now and then on my mind” as Hansard’s harmonies and the accompaniment swell and retreat until the duo is singing a cappella and they seem caught up in a happy memory.

— Glenn Gamboa, Long Island Newsday

‘closer to the bone’

Kris Kristofferson (New West)

Grade: B

“Ain’t you getting better / Running out of time,” Kris Kristofferson observes on the title song of his new album, the “you” seemingly referring to himself. At 73, the craggy troubadour and sometime movie star may no longer scale the heights of his groundbreaking ’60s and ’70s work, but in recent years he has come as close as he ever has.

The sense of mortality in “Closer to the Bone” appears to have sharpened Kristofferson’s muse. It gives him a renewed appreciation for life and love, one informed by a lifetime of sometimes hard-earned experience, to keep things from getting too sappy or sentimental. It all plays out in compositions with arrangements as spare as his lyrics, putting his ragged spoken-sung vocals — singing was never his strong suit — in their best light. And check out the hidden track, which Kristofferson claims is the first song he ever wrote. Pretty precocious stuff for an 11-year-old.

— Nick Cristiano, Philadelphia Inquirer

‘between my head and the sky’

Yoko Ono Plastic Ono Band (Chimera)

Grade: A

Few women have caught more flak for loving their men than Yoko Ono, especially when you consider the widow Lennon’s aesthetic pedigree. Ono has long been prominent as artist and collaborator in the international avant-garde, made worthy stabs into electro dance music during the last decade, and has been an icon to noisemakers and No Wavers. Still, critics turn a jaundiced ear. Now, at 76, Ono may have her best and most fully realized work. With son Sean Lennon, Ono takes on ruminations over her own death with dark humor (the discordant funk of “Waiting for the D Train”), as well as themes such as decaying elegance (”I’m Going Away Smiling”) and the passing of young friends on the precious, haunting ballad “Memory of Footsteps.” The bass-heavy “The Sun Is Down” and the snarling, psychedelic “Calling” benefit from her raw but clarion call, as does all of Head’s primal, jazzy roar of saxophones and guitar. Pushing herself to sing in tones more roughly expressive and beautiful than ever, Ono becomes one with the music in a way she hasn’t since the cracked blues of the initial Plastic Ono Band recordings of 1970.

— A.D. Amorosi, Philadelphia Inquirer