Tuesday, December 2, 2008

FREEDOM

Akon

Akon has two of the decade's best R&B albums under his belt thanks to an unlikely formula that merged Horatio Alger pluck, Cinemax raunch and Auto-Tune. His recent single, "I'm So Paid," epitomizes the singer's unique sense of soft-core triumphalism: sentimental melodies channeled through foamy keyboards and tales of a mansion so bloated with riches, it's protected by snipers. The American dream, really.

But "Freedom," Akon's third album, isn't about dreams fulfilled. It's about love unrequited and the needs of a streetwise lothario who finally wants to settle down. The man who famously offered to "Smack That" only two years ago is now content to "just stop by and maybe say hi," as he croons over the vapid Euro-club glitz of "Keep You Much Longer." And there's plenty more tepid dance mush where that came from, making Akon's romantic side feel incredibly banal.

"We Don't Care" aims for a different kind of boogie, its sleek disco beat reminiscent of vintage Michael Jackson. And speaking of the gloved one, where is he? A Jackson-Akon duet called "Hold My Hand" leaked onto the Internet over the summer but somehow didn't make the "Freedom" track list. (You can still hear it on YouTube -- it sounds like Bob Marley being shot out of Pachelbel's Canon.)

So with the King of Pop no longer returning his calls, Akon links up with the King of Auto-Tune, T-Pain, for a night on the town. "Holla Holla" finds the duo navigating the club in a prelude to the freaky stuff at which they both claim to excel. Did anyone really expect Akon to go from rags to riches to true love without stopping for some nightclub high jinks along the way?

-- Chris Richards

DOWNLOAD THESE: "I'm So Paid," "Holla Holla"

SUGAR MOUNTAIN: LIVE AT CANTERBURY HOUSE 1968

Neil Young

The latest installment in the Neil Young Archives Performance Series, this intimate collection was culled from a pair of live shows recorded 40 years ago at a coffeehouse at the University of Michigan. Young was fresh from the recently imploded Buffalo Springfield, and apparently there was some concern as to whether his more complex, idiosyncratic songs like "Broken Arrow" and "Expecting to Fly" would translate to a stripped-down solo setting. Just the palpable hush captured on the two-track recorder used to document the experience would have been enough to confirm that those apprehensions were unfounded.

The set opens with a gorgeous, jazz-inflected version of "On the Way Home," one of a half-dozen numbers from Young's Springfield days, including achingly beautiful takes of "Out of My Mind" and "Nowadays Clancy Can't Even Sing." A handful of tracks that wound up on his self-titled, 1969 solo debut are here as well. Benefiting most from the unplugged treatment are "The Old Laughing Lady" and "The Last Trip to Tulsa," the former perhaps more ethereal, the latter more starkly surreal, for the spareness of their instrumental accompaniment. Young's wistful performance of the impressionistic title track, a coming-of-age classic written when he was 19, is the recording that subsequently became a staple of FM radio, and deservedly so. His more meandering between-song banter might not be to everyone's liking, but in all fairness to Young, then 22, this set finds him less self-conscious, and abundantly more gifted, than the often-exasperating likes of, say, Ryan Adams or Devendra Banhart will ever be.

-- Bill Friskics-Warren

DOWNLOAD THESE: "On the Way Home," "Sugar Mountain," "The Old Laughing Lady"