Detachment Kit

“Of This Blood” (French Kiss)

Compare to: The Blood Brothers, Cursive

Detachment Kit is just what its moniker implies. From the album art to the song lyrics to the bios on its Web site, the band seems completely detached from logic.

It could be marketing genius.

The band’s second album, “Of This Blood,” comes with its very own cartoon scribbles on the cover, which folds out into a game board. Scrawled across the playing surface are junior high sketches of different monsters and traps on which a player could land. The backside is coated in lyrics written in an eclectic miniature font. But the confusion does not end here.

Someone listening would have to be existential enough to appreciate the subtle meaning behind vague lyrics such as “Maybe we could fall down as hesitation/ Pick-up the beat — Has that woman bitten your hand?” Existential, or completely out of his or her mind?

It seems almost unbelievable that this schizophrenic combination of voices is coming from one vocalist. Ian Menard jumps from singsong melodies on “Skyscrapers” and “Pill Cake” to angry screaming on “The Race.” An audible similarity to the Crash Test Dummies can even be caught partway through the fifth track, “Chronology.”

Detachment Kit can’t decide whether to be hardcore or heavenly, and the majority of the songs sound as if they were sung through a drive-through window speaker box, muted and metallic.

Though it may take a while to scrape through the strange surface of this album, it’s definitely worth the work. After three or four times through, ears tune out the importance of lyrics that make sense, and the jolting way songs switch from the acoustic “La, la, la” to the violent “I hate you.”

This is an album caught up in its own delirious ambiguity. If it were a movie, “Of This Blood” would be the scene where John Malkovich goes inside his own head in his namesake film.

“Of This Blood” cannot be pigeonholed into a specific genre, but logical categorization was clearly something Detachment Kit did not have in mind.

— Krista Driscoll

Diana Krall

“The Girl In the Other Room” (Verve)

Compare to: Karrin Allyson, Sylvia McNair, Norah Jones

Platinum records and a Grammy prove Diana Krall can sing. With her latest album, “The Girl in the Other Room,” she has opened herself up to show she can write as well.

Krall wrote six of the 12 tracks in collaboration with her new husband, Elvis Costello. The other tracks are songs by artists such as Joni Mitchell, Mose Allison and Tom Waits.

The Canadian native sings with an organic purity reminiscent of Rosemary Clooney, and her rich vocals are complimented by a natural image. Krall doesn’t need to sell her image in order to sell albums — her talent can support itself.

The melodies dance throughout the album, changing timbre from a languid crawl in “Almost Blue,” (which allows Krall’s vocals to melt with a honey-like quality into the bass) to the halting tenacity of “Abandon Masquerade.”

Krall fills her song “I’ve Changed My Address” with a sultry intimacy. The song tells the story of days gone by, but unable to be returned to: “I sit alone and drink it in/ Practicing blowing up smoke rings/ I learned of the sadness/ The beauty and bitterness/ But since those days/ I’ve changed everything.” The ballad takes its time lingering over some of the verses of memories, hurrying through others much like anyone remembering the past might do.

Krall pays careful attention on all of her songs to not just write music that has a pretty melody and aptly supports the lyrics. Rather, her music could tell the same story and present the same emotions if the lyrics weren’t there.

The various layers of melody, supporting chord structure, rhythm and dynamics have been flawlessly constructed. They are not confined to the standard building blocks of blues and jazz, yet a strict analysis of the music would produce no flaws.

Krall started her career by singing the songs of a past generation’s legends. It now seems within her reach to become one of this generation’s legends of jazz and blues.

— Sarah Kloewer

Dilated Peoples

“Neighborhood Watch” (Capitol)

Compare to: The Beatnuts, Jurassic 5, Hieroglyphics

Dilated Peoples’ newest LP is typical of what you would expect from a relatively young trio from Los Angeles: Good, but not great; fresh, but not innovative; different, but not distinctive.

For their third studio effort, the members of the Peoples set out to make a more mature and refined CD, which they accomplished.

The songs on “Neighborhood Watch” exhibit the growing skills of emcees Rakaa and Evidence while DJ Babu’s busy turntables hold down the mix.

The album starts slow but gets progressively better, a welcome departure from rappers who try to hide their bad songs at the end of the record. The emcees’ intelligent and fluid lyrics dig deeper than blunts and broads, although neither are forgotten. For example, “Big Business” criticizes the government and U.S. involvement in Iraq, wondering if “the opposite of progress is Congress,” and the tune “Marathon” is an anthem about reaching success through personal growth. Songs like “Poisonous,” though, are more mainstream, and in this case they are lamenting money-hungry, untrustworthy hoes at the club.

This variety in Dilated Peoples’ lyrics illustrates one of the main elements of its success: a simultaneous appeal to the underground and the mainstream. As Evidence declares on “Caffeine,” “I’m an underground cat, but still like money and cars.” Hip-hop heads get off on the organic, thoughtful style, and clubgoers can relate to the big, conventional beats. All the same, Dilated Peoples fails to do anything truly special to set its music apart from other good hip-hop acts. The group’s tried-and-true formula produces hard-hitting, effective songs, but they all sound more or less the same. The songs that do stand out, though, such as the turntable showcase “DJ Babu in Deep Concentration,” make the album well worth a listen.

Dilated Peoples is a skilled and polished hip-hop ensemble, but could use a dose of creativity and variety. Keep an eye out for “Neighborhood Watch,” but don’t look too hard.

— Aaron Butzen

Drowning Pool

“Desensitized” (Wind-up)

Compare to: Dope, Mudvayne, Skrape

Despite the addition of a new lead singer after the untimely death of Dave Williams, a subpar sophomore album is all Drowning Pool has to show.

Instead of expanding horizons with innovation, it seems the band has cut and pasted from fellow rockers’ old albums.

Frontman Jason Jones croons and howls like Godsmack’s Sully Erna. The music on “Desensitized” gives a vibe similar to Godsmack’s debut, complete with angry, visceral vocals and guitar melodies. However, the riffs are damp, distorted and bellowing, sounding a bit over-produced at times.

The opening melody to “This Life,” — Drowning Pool’s attempt at a slow metal song — sounds nearly equivalent to the opening riff on Sevendust’s “Waffle.” The whole song is identical, except for the more prevalent syncopation and beat accents by Sevendust’s vastly superior drummer, Morgan Rose.

Variety within the album is also lacking. The lyrics are standard for anger and depression-driven music. Lines such as “The emptiness is building from/ The nothingness we’ve all become/ Leading far away from the soul,” found on “Nothingness,” are the building blocks for the entire album. Themes range from feeling alone to anger and rage at being misunderstood by members of the opposite gender. The words seem make Jones seem as if he is stuck on memories that are unhealthy to dwell on.

This album has so much apathy and anger, it becomes repetitive and hard to listen to after the first few songs.

“Killin’ Me” and “Hate,” the last two tracks, originate from Drowning Pool’s lone hit, “Bodies.”

The last two songs save the album from being a total loss and may represent a couple of potential radio hits. Jones yells at the top of his lungs, and the music has the weight to match.

Beyond people who like to hear music where all concept of hope and happiness is looked down upon, this album has little to no appeal.

— Dan Hopper