In New York, one can travel the world without leaving its limits. In a city where you can have your pick from falafel, sushi or pierogi within the confines of one square block, it's no wonder the local music scene is as diversely enriched. Jeremy Noller's newest album release, "Music Notes" (expected to officially drop this September), fuses jazz with the alluring, polyrhythmic textures of West African drumming. Noller, a trained jazz kit drummer and world percussionist, frames an intricate multicultural cross-pollination with ease and comfortableness. Noller's steadiness and feathery touch is natural in its references while evading the overtly 'global' diminutions of less fluent fusion musicians. The recording quality is piercingly clear, displaying Noller's confidence in textural range and technical aptitude.

Though technically impactful, some of Noller's compositions are overly loop-based. In "Dawe," the arrangement sequences aimlessly from loop to loop, emitting a "DVD stuck on menu effect." A sax solo is haphazardly injected as a compositional band-aid. The illusion of intent is not effective and hastily terminated by revisiting one of the many heads. While the construction of Noller's grooves are impressive, the transition between their various permutations are often temerarious. It is not until "Small Arms" that the listener is rewarded with a refreshing breath of space and pensive repose. Noller begins driving the tune with a burning push, playfully taunting his bandmates to keep up. Halfway through the tune the band drops out and the bass is featured in a rubato solo. It is a small but memorable compositional gift he gives. When the groove returns, we feel new ears for its sound.

On the title track "Music Notes," Noller introduces the Gyil, a xylophone from Ghana. The groove is airtight with Noller pattering gently in the background. The rhythmic and melodic interplay of the gyil parts are interesting and recall the influences of Steve Reich and his minimalist compatriots. With the ability to regenerate a traditional concept into a modern configuration, Noller keeps his listener's intrigue in the very bi-lingual palm of his hand.

The album as a whole flirts with many compositional notions, at times bestriding the line between minimalistic and instructional. Nevertheless, his album is contagiously jubilant and successfully clears the preoccupied mind of its woes and strains. I happened to listen to “Music Notes" on the fourth day of successive rainstorms and was blithely leavened in mood and spirit. Thank you, Mr. Noller.

Many artists make their start by joining a group to gain recognition. Once they’ve garnered enough exposure, these artists attempt to shy away from their polished image provided by big record companies and pursue their creative ambitions. British guitarist Jody Porter (formerly of Fountains of Wayne) proves it’s more than possible to shed the pop-rock skin with his debut solo album Close To The Sun (Engine Room Recordings, Released May11, 2010).

While not the best vocalist, Porter displays his remarkable skill and unique ear for sound by producing a smooth fusion of rock and jazz. In “Twilite” Porter creates a slow but steady rock ballad complimented with cymbals. He also smartly eliminated competition between instruments, highlighting a different one in each song, like “In Between Time” – possibly the strongest track on the album – where a horn can be heard immediately followed by a melodic guitar and lively snare. In the somber yet affectionate “You’re Not Alone,” Porter changes the sound by making listeners forget the slow tempo and in its place provides an elusive energy.

Impressively, Porter created an album that flows with ease. Every music lover has experienced the feeling of opening a new CD and listening begrudgingly as they realized it was front-loaded. This album can be played from start to finish without skipping over a single track, a rarity in this industry. Even better, Close To The Sun is a jack of all trades in its ability to adapt. This album would compliment your morning run, a lazy afternoon by the pool or an evening drive. Porter’s music is reminiscent of Brit-rock familiars Oasis, Stereophonics and Kula Shaker. With this album, he has successfully created enough variation to stand out, while drawing in the tracks with enough cohesion and consistency to make the artwork a whole.

From the opening acoustic strums of Shoulders of Giants's self-titled debut (2010 – self released), listeners get a good sense of what they're in for throughout the entirety of the album.  The introductory song “Code of a Madman” spirals in with a few layers of acoustic guitar, equally acoustic bass and skittering mid-tempo rock drumming.  Much of what is to follow adheres to a similar form, each track taking on slight stylistic touches to set them apart from falling into inherent sameness.  Overall, the ever present acoustic guitar and the particular style of David Wilke's drum fills makes much of the album seem burdened with a Dave Matthews Band overtone which could be off-putting to those not predisposed to that particular take on rock. 

Brad Hammond, one half of the NYC based violin and guitar duo Brazz Tree as well the songwriter behind Shoulders of Giants, is certainly skilled at what he does.  The deft guitar work serving as the spine of “Above The Crowd” is certainly something played by a man who, as Brad seems to be from his reputation, someone who understands the complexity of the guitar.  Overall the album stays pretty relaxed; even with “Alive,” one of the more aggressive songs on Shoulders of Giants, the pinnacle is only fueled by a brief, electric guitar squawl accompanying a later chorus. As the album never really gets the blood rising for too long, it seems the goal of Shoulders of Giants is to keep it mellow.  The finer moments on the album embrace that calm fully and incorporate a delicate swell of cello, provided by Marika Hughes.  This affords the music a beneficial depth, particularly with the somber “Through It All.”  The added warmth that the instrument brings helps fend the album's acoustic domination.

For what shortcomings the album has, it is smartly produced.  Each new element added to the base stew of drums, guitar and vocals is treated well, as with the subtle keyboards in “Pain is our Measure” and the aforementioned cello.  Shoulders of Giants fall close in tone to indie rock successes The Dodos, but the difference lies in where each band finds their influences.  The shortfall of this band is that it feels like they're pulling from less unconventional references, with Tom Crowley's sometimes plainted vocals and the straightforward drumming.  There are definitely people that this will appeal to, as the aesthetic at work speaks to an era of acoustic guitar rock that rests in the past.

Shoulders of Giants finds enough variations on the midtempo acoustic form to keep from getting stale over the course of its 28 minute runtime.  Those who gravitate to their sound with little effort will find a smartly produced record that will sate their needs for acoustic jams to accompany their contemplative moments, but it might be a harder sell for those seeking something different. 

Monuments have a pretty solid sound. Gorgeous guitar riffs, ethereal harmonies, dreamy lead vocals. Their self-titled EP is a touch of alternative rock with a touch of… something that they only have. They aren’t exactly Brontosaur, Thursday, Cursive or Dead Poetic. They’re somewhere in between. And each song on the album rings with their signature sound.

Unfortunately all they have is that one sound. There is no range, so don’t expect any surprises from the album. Everything about Monuments is predictable. Their EP is like one of those albums people liked as teenagers when they went through that phase where they only listened to one very specific genre and were quick to correct anyone who misidentified their favorite type of music. They coded the music into their blog. They went to music festivals to see their favorite band, singing along to every single word surrounded by like-minded fans. And then when they revisit the music five years later, they can no longer tell where one song ends and another song begins. And they think, “What is so great about this again?”

The Monuments EP starts off with “Silver Star,” a perfect example of what the rest of the album will sound like. Their music doesn’t change, but the song names DO become more colorful. Moving on from “White Flag” to “Ice Pick Lobotomy” or “Trust Fund Fuck Baby?” Check! The tempo stays slow so don’t expect any upbeat rock-and-roll jams. But if you like a slower jam session appropriate for a movie where the boy and girl break up and go their separate ways, then definitely check them out.

Sara Curtin’s debut album Fly Her And Keep Her is wondrous and enchanting, a presentation of a personality as strong and unique a conundrum of confounding, confusing depths that one can hardly make sense of it. The music itself is folk(ish), the instrumentation provided mostly by Curtin’s acoustic guitar or ukulele playing, as well as the occasional glockenspiel, accordion, electric guitar, and often a forest of ribbony, velvet voices. While the album seems to draw from traditional folk- and pop-song form, there is an eclecticism that combines clichés into half-yearning for familiarity and this other drive to hear Curtin’s experimentalism.

The lyrical content of the songs is varied. It is metaphorical: “Fetch the Broom” pleads for someone to hide her embarrassed, dissolving, ashamed self. And it is literal: “I Knew All Along” is about a going out in Manhattan turned furiously idyllic love-mantra, the feelings portrayed metaphysically in the whispy angelic chorus of anger, fear, regret, disregard, lust and love. Curtin’s voice can retain something of Jeff Buckley or Nina Simone’s emotive direction, but she hardly copies either.

Songs are perplexing: “Yellow Water” doesn’t make sense, it compares the vivaciousness of yellow water (whatever that means) to the nostalgic clinging to youth seemingly squandered. Equally exhilarating is “Airborne,” which is a suicidal rock ballad about flying (but briefly) in a car, and also maybe about peer pressure.

“Rosalie” is the portrait of a sexy, single superheroin, capable of rising each morning with an absurd sense of purpose and poise. “Dream Life” is the Michael Jackson ballad for peace, seemingly about consciousness, sort of, in that Curtin wishes to be able to control her dreams. Sara (like other waking dreamers) finds the warm joy of a gunless, gravity-less extravaganza of mirth. We cannot touch the depths of these many songs, including the bitter finale “Fly Her And Keep Her,” as dark as Jeff Buckley’s “Dream Brother,” and just as sorrowful.

My favorite song is “It’s Not Me,” which really addresses the problems of identity by way of suddenly becoming someone else: “Someday you will see a girl with long legs and dark curly hair, it’s not me, no it’s not me.” It’s also about people’s perception of you, and as my dad told me recently, perhaps the things that you see in someone you love are at first not really her at all, but reflections of yourself.  This album raises some heavy shit, so to speak, yet it sounds effortless.

Trying to rate a really good band in a genre of music that you’re not particularly fond of can be a challenge.  For this reviewer, dub and reggae are genres that can become exhausted rather easily – like, three songs in - and Giant Panda Guerilla Dub Squad falls into this category.  They are a talented bunch, a dub quartet with the jam-bandiness of Phish, and have developed a strong following.  Album Live Up! (2010), a collection of eleven live recordings, is a perfect snapshot of the group.  It opens with a real barnburner, “Love You More,” which has a funky, almost fusion element to it.  Then comes “Seasons Change On The Moon,” which will most likely test the patience of most listeners who have a hard time stomaching 14 straight minutes of dub.  During this song, GPGDS show off their improvisational skills and strengths of harmonizing, something that helps to put them over the hurdle of sounding too repetitive. Those who dislike the genre may not have enough patience for this band, but they are truly a talented group of musicians and will please any dub/reggae fan.

Ben Syversen’s Cracked Vessel is a jazz/rock/classical/improve offering of shrieking aggression and enigmatic melodies, mixing concisely written ideas with improvisations that drift in and out of spiny meters like desperate sleepwalkers. Not to say that this music will put you to sleep, on the contrary Syversen’s compositions come from some unfamiliar place, like a nightmare that you miss after waking up.

The trumpet of Ben Syversen subtly leads and demands much from guitarist Xander Naylor and drummer Jeremy Gustin, who provide the hard spine that undercuts twisted, jagged melodies with graceful heaviness and beautiful ugliness. The album spirals from extremes of melodramatic melodies (as on the enchanting end of “From the Abyss”) and ugly nontonalities (as on the stuttering “Apparition”). “Apparition” is a standout track as it draws you into the creepy atmosphere of understatement, as the band is wary of music that they are hearing but not making, and the heartbreakingly brief melody that appears before the final low rumble.

The phrasing of the musicians goes in waves, sometimes ending together, sometimes playing over each other as three distinct simultaneous personalities, and they are familiar enough with the material and each other to keep the album from retreading itself. Noisy clicks and clacks make way for ferocity exploding with quiet intensity on the spit-flapping trumpet solo on “Krazzle.” “End of Time” is perhaps titled after the amorphous, rumbling melody which decays and pools into solo, duo, and trio formations with melodies that sound like unanswered questions. The final song, “Fried Fruit,” rolls around with its quirky half-step guitar line, and reminds the listener that these musicians are playing. There is a mystical spirit of intrigue and mystery that brings Cracked Vessel to life.

Check out his website here.