Mark Farina
Mushroom Jazz, Vol. 5 (Om)

Mark Farina needs little introduction: he's one of America's most successful DJs, and his brand of choppy house consistently lands him on top of "San Francisco's Favorite DJ" polls. But the fifth installment of the decade-old Mushroom Jazz series is more the soundtrack to a Sunday morning than to a Saturday night, with plenty of the laid-back, largely instrumental hip-hop that initially established Farina in this city. He's a damn good DJ, easily capable of three-record mixes and dashes of beat-juggling, yet on MJ5 he definitely keeps his skills on the down low, preferring to let his programming speak for itself. That doesn't mean he's asleep at the wheel – his third mix is a nicely extended blend of Sound Provider's "Autumn Evening Breeze" and DJ Numark's "Chali 2na Coming Through" – but this CD is more about the music than the mixer. The Bay is well represented, with tracks from labelmates J Boogie, Colossus (whose "The Tribute" features Capitol A), and Zion I, plus his own "Cali Spaces." And Farina also travels a bit with the supersmooth "Come Down," by Sweden's Red Astaire, and a haunting cut from Paris's Jazz Liberatorz. MJ5 may not be full of surprises, but it is full of solid, smoky hip-hop, none better than the sublime closing track by the Foreign Exchange, a somnolent blend of soulful vocals, fuzzy pads, and a head-nodding beat. Mark Farina spins at an MJ5-release party Fri/1, Mighty, S.F. (415) 626-7001. (Peter Nicholson)

Tartufi
So We Are Alive (Thread)

Tartufi are dyed-in-the-rock romantics – sing it loud and sing it proud – and as sentimental as "Mom" tattoos, tribute nights to dead Ramones, and anything leather-clad that encases a heart of gold. This much is evident in Simone Grudzen and Lynne Angel's intertwined voices as they sing, "Free me / From captivity / Like a jailbird I must sing / This romantic loyalty / Is at odds with jealousy" on the opening track, "Jailbird." The almost synth-poppy song breaks down into an impressionist, drifting twang before swinging back into a triumphant, elastic close that recalls Built to Spill. And though one wishes the overall performance was punchier, "Jailbird" embodies the promise of a band in love with rock 'n' roll but eager to crack open that affection, just as they study the hearts pinned to their sleeves. The band play with short-wave transmissions, roots rock reggae rhythms, and the contrasting textures of tinkling piano and guitar crunch, yet there's a sweet clarity to songs like "Distractions." "There are the streets / There are the lights / There are the sounds / There are the fights / Out on the corners that you love / There are the parties / There are the movies / There are the monies that you lack / All these distractions / Baby please come back," Grudzen and Angel wail, sounding like the riot grrrl inheritors of the Crystals or the Ronettes. Despite the music's urgent drive (propelled by now permanent drummer Brian Gorman, also of the Boneless Children Foundation), overall moxie, and occasional cockeyed melodic monkey-wrenching (reminiscent of quirksome groups like Antietam as well as woman-fronted combos like Palomar), the group's magnetism remains embedded in those womanly voices – strong, robust, and generally unencumbered by fuzz, echo, or bells and whistles. At those moments, Tartufi come alive. Tartufi play a CD-release show Thurs/31, Cafe du Nord, S.F. (415) 861-5016. (Kimberly Chun)

Nedelle
From the Lion's Mouth (Kill Rock Stars)

It seems strange that Nedelle Torrisi's music is shelved in indie rock territory, considering this S.F.-based artist's second full-length, From the Lion's Mouth, has as much to do with rock 'n' roll as the Clash have to do with electronica. But then again, Nedelle's sound stems from the same root as locals Devendra Banhart's and Joanna Newsom's. Whereas the latter's folk is mixed with hippie-strange tendencies that can get some people worked up, Nedelle's is gentle folk with a bossa nova twist. Her calling card is simplicity, in which the melodies aren't more than plucked guitar, well-placed strings, and Nedelle's soothing voice layered over jazz harmonies. Her lyrics follow her instrumental lead with innocent tales of love, a kind of Norah Jones for the hipster masses. On "Tell Me a Story," Nedelle sings forebodingly about her pet dog: "Oh, how I'd run when she called my name / Tell me a story that lasts for hours / I don't want to think of her." Clichéd as it may sound, Nedelle's music is as sweet as her voice, the cynicism running only as deep as "Good Grief," which says, "Say you're stuck to me / Like branches to a leaf / Wouldn't you agree / Love is such good grief?" The bottom line is this album is like a day at the beach. Maybe you knew the outcome before you started, but it was worth waiting till the sun set anyway. Nedelle plays Wed/30, Cafe du Nord, S.F. (415) 861-5016. (Stephanie Laemoa)

Society of Rockets
Sunset Homes (Underpop)

Who knew so much rural melancholy could be brewing in a sweltering basement at 16th Street and Mission? Former members of the Shimmer Kids Underpop Association reorganized in June 2003 in a Mission District studio called "the Hole" to become the Society of Rockets, and far from being a formality, the name change signifies a move toward a more lucid and relaxed – albeit folky – sound on their debut, Sunset Homes. Though at times they sound like For Stars playing alt-country, as the album progresses you can feel SoR honing in on their own unique sound that doesn't fit comfortably into any category. This is partly due to engineer Mark Erickson, who allows us to hear the future sound of the band in the present with his halcyon analog recording that captures the rustic outdoors in every instrument. The combination of Erickson's console prowess and vocalist Joshua Babcock's expertly executed falsetto make songs like "Never No Fences" – "I wanna see my true love's face / Make it to the end of the race / But where is the finish line?" – seem powerful and evocative rather than corny or played-out. The achingly understated piano and slide guitar under Babcock's earnest croon, on "Friends and Enemies," force-feed you loss and heartbreak so lovingly that you never want them to stop, while more upbeat moments, like the almost Silkworm-esque "Untitled," just seem out of place. These hiccups are easily forgiven in light of the brilliant slow drones on which SoR seem most comfortable. Though potentially dangerous if played after a breakup, Sunset Homes is filled with late-night cross-country road trips and Arcadian memories too masterfully arrested on pristine recordings to go unheard. (Keith Axline)

Mail stuff for review to Sarah Han, Bay Guardian Building, 135 Mississippi St., S.F. CA 94107.