Need New Body
Need New Body (File 13)

Need New Body treat magnetic tape as just another vessel for transubstantiation and creating a séance in sound waves. They conjure up sticky clusters of free skronk and awkward jams. The creepy groove they build on Need New Body has a kinetic potential that settles between your ears before taking flight.

This debut came out on Cenotaph Audio last year, and File 13 recently saw to its rerelease – which offers a good opportunity to peek into a musical cult that's sprouted in the wake of post-rock. Though the band are based in Philly, with roots in Bent Leg Fatima, their closest compatriots in jazz-bo collusion are Chicago's Bablicon; unsurprisingly, Bablicon members play on the record and produce.

Instead of falling in line with established models, Need New Body infuse their experiments with a much-needed sense of humor and damage. The record has pretensions, but most of its long shots pay off.

"Dirty Bitch" kicks it off with a churning Beefheart-like bass line that repeats with horns and percussion locked in a tightening spiral. Studio tricks like stereo pans and tiny clown horns make it even more unnerving.

There are more "mini-songs" than actual songs on here, like the interstitial segments that tie together the best comedy shows. "20$sh" has a sketchy character skit with tumbling piano and clanking metal as a percussive backdrop to some obtuse drama in which the narrator sucks you in as an accomplice.

"Gamble On" 's lockstep harmonics rise and fall; the klezmer-sounding woodwinds and a chorus of harmonizing voices make this jamboree a spiritual and sonic smorgasbord. Voices refuse to conform to pleasantries – they are rough and masculine, like Tom Waits lost in some Blair Witch backwoods, chanting in off-key polyglot.

The band are willing to go out on a limb with their Frankenstein monster and execute those implausible premises with skill. Their psychedelic excursions don't reach for a Zen ideal of emptiness. Instead they add to a postmodern clutter that turns Coke bottles into oracles. In this confusion of secular and spiritual, orientalist and occidental, Need New Body would rather straddle the fence than pick a team. (George Chen)

Insight
Updated Software V. 2.5 (Brick)

Insight is part of Boston, Mass.'s thriving hip-hop scene, alongside Edan, Mr. Lif (who also logs time in the Bay Area), Reks, 7L and Esoteric, and several others. Like Edan's recent, critically acclaimed Primitive Plus, Updated Software V. 2.5 is the sound of a b-boy flipping out in the lab (i.e., the bedroom), making tracks as homage to old-school rap heroes like Gangstarr and the Juice Crew. "I like to keep a low profile / Have space to create and get into a style," he says on "Drama."

It's no surprise, then, that Updated Software V. 2.5 reveals Insight to have too much time on his hands. In addition to an 18-track album with a hidden song, the double-disc set contains 27 instrumentals, two videos, an interactive program featuring a simulated SP-1200 sampler, and no guest appearances. Songs like "Swift," "Words of Encouragement," and "Ghetto Blaster" find Insight fast rapping, tripping over his words as if he is desperately trying to exhaust his thoughts and battle rhymes before the beat runs out. On "Version 2.2" the music cuts off just as he answers an MC's request for a beat by stating emphatically, "Let me think about it ... No," his "no" metaphorically drawing a line between himself and scores of hip-poppers ready to play ethnic stereotypes for a quick buck.

Stylistically, Insight chops up his loops for beats, layering them down sequentially as if he were picking a guitar, and adds samples from films and old records for the choruses. Admittedly, it's a technique that will forever be associated with Gangstarr producer DJ Premier. But at his best, Insight eschews comparisons by using piano loops that sound quieter than Premier's modulated, head-ringing bells and whistles, turning album highlights like "Music Lover" and "That Ain't Hot" into introspective escapades. "Here's something smooth to pop in your tape decks," Insight rhymes on "That Ain't Hot," "guaranteed to break necks." Updated Software V. 2.5 is a portentous debut. (Mosi Reeves)

Darden Smith
Sunflower (Dualtone)

A new SUV commercial bids us to "start by rejecting what is." Darden Smith isn't buying it. The philosophy, that is. The veteran Austin, Texas, singer-songwriter opens his latest album with a tender reconciliation with the now. "I know what standing still is worth," he sings in a comfortable voice. More familiar with critical acclaim than commercial success, Smith recorded Sunflower after losing his record contract and his marriage and learning to sit patiently with the hard times. He came up with a rare collection of original songs that reflect the precious qualities of life without blatantly advertising what is obviously the singer's newfound spiritual foundation. A lesser craftsman might have made pretentious poetry out of his "New Gospel," which recognizes the pitfalls of clinging to a barren love, the power of gratitude and surrender, the transformative shift from delusion to clarity, and "the difference between a miracle and a magic trick." But Smith casts his lessons in concrete storytelling rather than abstract philosophizing.

Musically, Smith and coproducer Stewart Lerman (Loudon Wainwright III's Last Man on Earth) opt for a soft-focus production akin to, but subtler and less fuzzy than, what Daniel Lanois crafted for Bob Dylan and Emmylou Harris. An atmospheric mix of ethereal guitars and keyboards, restrained drumming and beat programming, and breezy vocal harmonies (Patty Griffin and Kim Richey make guest appearances) adds cozy warmth to Smith's sturdy melodies. What Sunflower lacks in driving Texas energy and twang is more than made up for in intimacy, vulnerability, and hard-earned wisdom. Darden Smith opens for Chris Whitley Sun/12, Slim's, S.F. (415) 522-0333. (Derk Richardson)

Ruts D.C. vs. Mad Professor vs. Zion Train
Rhythm Collision Volume 1 and Remix Versions (Select Cuts)

History will always have a place for the Ruts, particularly for "Babylon's Burning," on which vocalist-frontperson Malcolm Owen exhales fury into a two-and-a-half-minute social hurricane. The band was transformed by its association with reggae band Misty in Roots and the Rock Against Racism movement, a pivotal interracial crossing for the late-'70s British youth movement. But by 1980, Owen was dead of a heroin overdose, and the band labored on, adding the suffix "Da Capo" – a new beginning. Rhythm Collision would become Ruts D.C.'s own claim to history.

Mixed by Mad Professor, the 1982 record – paired here in a definitive 20th-anniversary edition with a second CD of remixes by new-dub crew Zion Train – is a gem. While reggae would become a stylistic affectation for many white post-punk bands, the Ruts seemed to be in a deeper dialogue with the culture. Perhaps Owen's death allowed the group to go deeper than it might have.

A post-punk classic, Rhythm Collision tried to capture RAR's imagined utopia of racial and cultural miscegenation in eight largely instrumental tracks. The dubs of "Whatever We Do" and the title track are direct, simple, and elegant. Perhaps because of the clarity of vision, Mad Professor mostly eases out of the way, allowing the riddims to do the talking. Zion Train's new-dub remixes are equally respectful.