Fiona Apple

Extraordinary Machine (Epic)

By now nearly everyone's heard the story behind Fiona Apple's long-delayed third album, Extraordinary Machine. As recently as six weeks ago, the album looked to be in permanent limbo, having been deemed too uncommercial by label execs, according to original producer Jon Brion. So when Sony's press release came along mid-August announcing that the album was indeed coming out – in a mostly rerecorded version but with all the same songs – it was a big surprise. As moral victories go, it's not quite on par with Brian Wilson's Smile, but it's a comparable situation, not just for Apple, but for the many rabid fans who petitioned for her under the "Free Fiona" banner.

For all the controversy, Machine is not radically different from Apple's earlier albums, but it is more daring, smarter, and just plain better – musically, lyrically, and vocally. It's a mix of doomed torch songs and jazzy piano rock, with a few added Tin Pan Alley-leaning curveballs and period string arrangements. Those classic elements were more pronounced on the Brion-produced version, but they haven't been forsaken here: New producer Mike Elizondo has worked with Dr. Dre and Eminem, but he hasn't given the album a hip-hop makeover. The more rocking songs – "Get Him Back," "Better Version of Me," and "Please Please Please" – are actually marked improvements, with Roots drummer ?uestlove adding a syncopation and sizzle that was lacking before. Elsewhere, the differences are mostly subtle: fewer strings, more synths, a few looped hand-claps here, and new backing vocals there. The opening title track and the closing "Waltz" are actually here in their original, Brion-produced versions, and it's nice t o hear these extravagantly arranged songs in mixed-and-mastered form. One could write a lengthy essay dissecting all the differences between the two versions and quibbling about details. In the broader sense, though, the new Machine is remarkably faithful to the sound and spirit of the original, which is to say it's darn good. I'm not complaining. Fiona Apple performs Nov. 25, Warfield, SF. (415) 775-7722. (Will York)

JT the Bigga Figga

Who Grind Like Us? (Get Low)

Back in, say, '93, who'd have figured that JT not only had years of shelf life left or that he'd hone his talents and get seriously paid in the process? Not me, and damn was I ever wrong. Because here it is, a dozen years later, and JT owns Get Low Records, wrote a book about the art of doing business, had something to do with launching Dr. Dre's latest project, the Game, and just dropped his best album since maybe 1995's Dwellin' in tha Labb (Priority/Get Low).

He's been accused of favoring quantity over quality: Get Low seems to have dozens of albums in print, and in fact, JT highlights 12 of his own on the liner notes to Who Grind Like Us? It's true that sometimes you'll find the same JT cut on different albums. It's expedient, no doubt, and kids bitch about it in the chat rooms. Th e truth is that his MO puts a damper on what would have been an unqualified rave for this disc. One track, "Drop Ya Thangs," is so strong that it lifts the whole album into orbit all by itself. Unfortunately, the same cut appears on one of the Game's albums. My guess is that JT had a lot to do with creating it, but my guess is also that the Game might disagree (they aren't very friendly these days).

Still, "Drop Ya Thangs" has beats whose strength lies in their simplicity. Over these, JT (and probably the Game, although the credits on the liner notes don't give much info away) raps out more good sense than I've heard in a while. "Drop ya thangs and just box / Nigga just drop ya thangs and just box . . . / Nigga you a bitch wit'cho gun, snitch wit'cho gun / Still get found in a ditch wit'cho gun." It's a steetwise pitch to return to the days when "I'm gonna kill you" was a figure of speech and not a statement of fact. Add to this five or six more solid tracks – including "Who Grind Like Us," "Game Recognize Game 2" (there he goes again), and "Get on Ya Feet Girl" (job counseling aimed at the upwardly mobile young woman) – and guest shots from the Game, San Quinn, Keak the Sneak, and Charlie O, among others. It might be a formula, but JT knows what he's doing – and this album's a winner, no matter how much of it you've heard before . (J.H. Tompkins)

Nada Surf

The Weight is a Gift (Barsuk)

Nothing keeps rock 'n' roll faithful to its axiomatic promise of youthful rebellion. Hand a Marshall and a Paul over to some bathrobed Journey geriatric, and they'll bust out 100 three-chord odes to Metamucil before the irony occurs, if it ever does. The same goes for indie rock. Once sarcastic scribes of exhausting high-school hierarchy – remember "Popular"? – Nada Surf hav e now driven themselves to the kind of sappy, life-after-instant-rock-star ruminations that should be at philosophical odds with their medium.

Matthew Caws croons every refrain in perfectly pronounced resignation and with the same boring piety on every song. But at least the off-the-shelf indie rock backing him shows some vigor: reporting to the loud party song, then the sad, quiet s ong, then the breezy think piece on time, by the book, without distress or complaint. The Weight's crisp production is as responsible as its songwriting, aiming for beauty without taking a risk. To its credit, the result hits more than a few foot-tapping targets. Even Caws's poesy, when sandblasted with reverb and harmony to a silvery streak of self-indulgence, tingles bran-dulled power-pop taste buds. The years will age us all, but the rules will never change: Maturity will be tol erated so long as it's also entertaining. Nada Surf play Oct. 21, Bimbo's 365 Club, SF. (415) 474-0365. (Ian Port)

Dirty Three

Cinder (Touch and Go)

Dirty Three's compositions are as diverse as the locations of their members, who are scattered around the globe, in France, Australia, and the United States. The songs on Cinder range from sitting-on-a-fence, traditional American folk, to frenetic, post-rock boleros more in line with Sonic Youth, to moving pieces that evoke Mediterranean refrains. Somehow, much as violinist Warren Ellis, guitarist Mick Turner, and drummer Jim White reunited to write in a French warehouse, then record in their Australian homeland, Dirty Three have managed to bring together such disparate sounds here.

The downside of Cinder is the songs resemble those on previous D3 albums – this is not one of those rare departures that jumps out in their catalog. Still, D3's charm comes out in their pure instrumental skill and nuance: The tone of the violin melodies, the sharpness of every pizzicato note, and the relative softness and hardness of the drums and guitar accent each piece in a way often lost in rock's wash of reverb and distortion. Cat Power's Chan Marshall lends haunting vocals to "Great Waves," showing how well Dirty Three's sound receives imagery and mood, inviting listeners to project their own narratives onto the rest of the album, a landscape otherwise devoid of human language. Dirty Three play Tues/11-Wed/12, Great American Music Hall, SF. (415) 885-0750. (Sean Maylone)