Prince Paul

I thought that the skits between the songs would bother me, like they usually do, but here the transitions are consistently ingenious. For example, in order to get to Keith's "Weapon World" song, he has to enter his "voice activation code"—which is the song itself. "The Other Line" is a phone conversation as a seamless rhyme between Breeze and his girl, played by Heroine, complete with other line click-overs that are dead on the beat. This is really hard to record and beautifully executed.

The sad part is that "A Prince Among Thieves" will never make Paul the mad cash he deserves, because it is too innovative. But he knows that, and even says in the liner notes: "I made this album to encourage art, creativity, and sincerity, which is now at an all-time low…this is why my choice of artists on my albums are not necessarily Billboard's top 10 but the world's top 10: Not a popular marketing plan for a record label, but Prince Paul's marketing plan for life." Let's just hope that one day the rest of the world will catch up to this guy.—Concetta "Princess" Kirschner

British songwriter Beth Orton has a small but fiercely devoted following, and I get the feeling that's it's growing steadily. While I was listening to her new album, "Central Reservation," at my favorite watering hole with my bartender friend, Jane, three different customers came up and asked what was playing. When Jane told them that it was Beth Orton, they smiled and nodded appreciatively, and I was left with the impression that "Central Reservation" would find its way into their baskets during their next trip to the record store.

Orton's vocals—which somehow combine the coloration of Toni Childs with Natalie Merchant's phrasing—are arresting and beautiful, and "Central Reservation" provides an ideal setting. The tunes are lush, seductive, and atmospheric, leaving enough space for her understated singing to say more with less. Her roots as a folkie are evident throughout, but thankfully, she steers away from the Jewel-esque girl-with-an-acoustic-guitar thing by incorporating elements from various genres into the mix: a trip-hop beat here, a jazz bassline there, and Latin percussion popping up occasionally. Despite the sonic variety—and the presence of five different producers—the songs on "Central Reservation" unite into an extended meditation on love as the center of the human condition.

For Orton, love is a complicated thing. "Stolen Car," the album's first single (which boasts a ferociously slinky guitar solo by guest Ben Harper), finds her facing up to love's moral ambiguities: "While every lie speaks the language of love/It never held the meaning I was thinking of." As a songwriter, Orton is not dependent on verbiage or overly ornate metaphor; it is often her simplest lyrics that strike home with the ring of truth. "Some of the worst wrongs get righted on three chords," she sings on "Love Like Laughter," "like a promise, or a kiss goodbye." The acid test for any songwriter is how his or her songs survive different interpretations, and the album includes two versions of "Central Reservation," one a dreamy folk ballad, the other a hip-hop, synth-bass remix by Ben Watt of Everything But the Girl. It is a testament to Orton's considerable talents that both sound fresh and authentic. But as good as the songs are—and there's not a clunker in the bunch—it is Orton's voice that will win listeners over to her substantial charms.—Andrew Clevenger

I first saw the Gunga Din a year ago at Arlene's Grocery and, since then, I've been haunted. Finally their music has been exorcised out of my head and propelled into my CD player with the release of "Introducing…the Gunga Din."

The Gunga Din is fueled by sometimes ethereal/sometimes harsh vocals, eerie organs, and driving drums. The emphasis on percussion had to be a nice little perk for the album's producer, Jim Sclavunos, percussionist for Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (as well as a frequent drum dabbler with Sonic Youth). Frontwoman Siobhan Duffy possesses a dreamy, raw voice and powerful drumming skills. Though Sclavunos has since become the band's new drummert, this album has Duffy holding court behind the kitr, a position she initiated and is clearly quite at home with, judging by the relentless pulse she creates for each song. And then there are her vocals: hypnotic at times, such as in the lulling "Bathing in the Moonlight" and the gut-wrenching "Sang Her Every Song," then flying to a lilting pitch in "Deadbeat Daddy." The combination of her voice with the strong vocal range of guitarist Bill Bronson, is sometimes reminiscent of early X. Chris Pravdica adds to the mix by practicing the perfect amount of bass restraint. But the queen of this sideshow would have to be Maria Zastrow and her oh-so-moody organ, who offers invaluable aid in creating the haunted technicolor circus that the Gunga Din have become.—Kay Olsen