Oh, and some more music

Dirty Three Horse Stories (Touch and Go)

"Songs without words are best," du Maurier said, and although I appreciate a good lyric as much as the next guy (or gal), I have to agree with the old fellow. Music, like a photograph or ballet or the look in someone's eyes, can often convey so much more than can be expressed verbally. Sad, then, that instrumentals are an all but lost art form in today's popular music.

Dirty Three (along with similar-minded bands like Tortoise) might just be the ones to do something about that. Comprised of three (natch) ex-punks from Melbourne, Dirty Three makes music so vital and cathartic that lyrics would be distracting, if not downright ruinous. Working with a non-traditional set-up of guitars, drums and violin (fiddle, if you prefer), the band draws on influences as diverse as traditional folk, free-form jazz and, yes, punk to create a style so unique as to render categorization useless. Violinist Warren Ellis, drummer Jim White and guitarist Mick Turner are the very definition of a band. They share a chemistry that defies belief and infuses the songs with a quality of life-a sense that the songs are not merely written, but born. Although structure in the traditional sense is virtually absent from these songs, the band never loses control of its creations. Or at least it maintains the illusion of control. Songs like "Red" and "I Remember a Time When You Used to Love Me" seem as if they might go spinning right out of the stereo, only to be harnessed at the last possible moment.

It might seem counterintuitive (or even vain) to call an album of instrumentals "stories." For a point of reference (if you have to have one) think of Palace (Brothers, Songs, Music) at their most poignant, sans Will's vocals. But stories are exactly what we have here. We might all hear different ones, but that's the point, isn't it? This is easily one of the best albums of the year.

Interbabe Concern is another deliciously screwed-up slab of pop genius from America's most consistently underrated singer-songwriter, Scott Miller. Miller has labored in relative obscurity ever since the early '80s, producing album after album of hook-laden and profoundly literate rock-and-roll in his bands, Game Theory, and now, The Loud Family. Although he is a favorite among critics and has a small cadre of obsessive and adoring fans, Miller has consistently doomed himself to demi-stardom by producing songs somewhere just on the other side of what's considered "accessible."

This latest album is no exception. Interbabe Concern has more hooks than a Bassmaster's tackle box. Stripped bare of the coughs and clicks and other eccentricities found herein, many of these songs would be eaten up by "commercial alternative" (how's that for an oxymoron?) radio. But that is not Miller's style. There are at least a dozen great songs on this album, but that's not necessarily apparent at first listen. Most of Interbabe Concern was recorded by Miller at home on ADAT. I can just imagine him waking up in the middle of the night with an idea that came to him in a dream, walking into the living room and putting it on tape. In fact, that's how much of the album comes across. The songs are like visions-some are fully realized, some are just glimpses. And there are occasional moments of revelation. A lyric here ("I didn't know how your kisses felt/Until I saw you kiss someone else" from "The Softest Tip of Her Baby Tongue"), a guitar riff there (the anthemic release of "Asleep and Awake on the Man's Freeway").

Interbabe Concern is not for everyone. Those who like their pop presented in pretty package and those unwilling to work for their rewards need not apply. But for anyone who is willing to endure one man's idiosyncrasies for some gloriously catchy music, this album is pure bliss.