'Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga' Spoon

In a just universe, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga would catapult Spoon to the top of the charts and into headlining stadium gigs. The 10 pop songs clock in at 36 minutes, and each is catchier than the one before.

Not that Spoon is trying to sell out. It offers a skewed take on the three-minute pop tune: spare and modestly produced, with fuzzy guitars and insistent piano clanks, and lyrics that raise more questions than they answer.

Spoon even examines the dangers of selling out on Finer Feelings. The verdict? The band won't.

The Ghost of You Lingers is a haunting number propelled by another insistent piano figure, punctuated by ethereal static and characterized by obtuse lyrics. You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb is laden with horns and tambourines and an irresistible chorus.

The disc's top single is the raucous and endearing The Underdog, with jangly acoustic-guitar chords, hand claps, "do do do ah ah ah" backing vocals and more horns. I dare anyone not to sing along.

-- Bill Eichenberger

beichenberger@ dispatch.com

'Sirens of the Ditch' Jason Isbell

The Drive-By Truckers recently dropped off lead guitarist Jason Isbell. The split was amicable.

The Truckers' loss is our gain: Isbell, it turns out, is a remarkable songwriter.

One might expect a song such as Try from a guy whose stinging guitar leaves marks. It's a guitar-crazy dirge about the impossibility of holding onto a woman who doesn't want to be held.

But what one doesn't expect are sophisticated (musically and lyrically) softer, slower numbers -- especially Dress Blues, a poignant reminder that young men are coming back in boxes from Iraq. The closely observed song (the grandmas and mothers who attend a military funeral are "all dressing in black / Drinking sweet tea from Styrofoam cups") conveys more sadness than anger but still has plenty of the latter.

What a brilliant solo debut.

-- B.E.

'Time on Earth' Crowded House

More than 10 years after calling it quits, Crowded House returns with a collection of mostly contemplative -- at times plaintive -- songs that reflect the group's well-established flair for melodic hooks and harmonies.

Singer-songwriter Neil Finn and bassist Nick Seymour, two original members, are accompanied this time by guitarist-keyboardist Mark Hart, who joined the band during its previous studio album in 1993, and drummer Matt Sherrod.

Perhaps because of founding drummer Paul Hester's 1995 suicide, many of the songs on Time on Earth resonate with themes of loss, longing and heartbreak.

Even at its most melancholic, the disc never becomes bleak. The 14 songs include upbeat numbers such as Don't Stop Now, featuring the Smiths and Modest Mouse guitarist Johnny Marr; and Transit Lounge, a sexy, bass-driven track.

-- Alex Veiga

Associated Press

'Bluegrass Melodies' Bobby Osborne

Raised in Dayton, Bobby Osborne is half of the pioneering bluegrass band the Osborne Brothers.

Sonny and Bobby added drums, pedal-steel guitar and amplification to the genre. Tenor-voiced Bobby, 75, is also an acclaimed mandolin player.

This is his second solo album on the Rounder label.

Though not as lively as some of the Osbornes' music, several choice cuts are included.

Bobby and the Rocky Top X-Press tear into Music Makin' Man, have fun on John Denver's Thank God I'm a Country Boy and team up with Rhonda Vincent on the powerful closer, Go Rest High on That Mountain.

-- Gary Budzak

gbudzak@dispatch.com

'Zeitgeist' Smashing Pumpkins

From the title to the cover illustration, there's nothing subtle about this comeback album. (Designed by Shepard Fairey, the cover depicts the Statue of Liberty knee-deep in a rising tide.)

Bandleader Billy Corgan provides songs called For God and Country and Pomp and Circumstances, along with lyrics such as these, from United States: "I want to fight, I want to fight / A revolution tonight."

The album is surprisingly effective in musical terms: drone-laden and distortion-jacked, it sounds about as tough as anything the band has produced.

The problem is what Corgan is saying. In addition to some nonspecific political exhortations, he offers vagaries about personal relations, inner demons and "the light" that everyone should be shining.

Maybe someday Corgan will have to reconcile "It's lonely at the top" with "I don't want to be alone." For now, he seems dauntless in his belief that self-absorption and social responsibility can coexist.

-- Nate Chinen

The New York Times