FUTURE: Pluto
Epic, 57 minutes
Rating: 3.5/5

Of all those on XXL’s Freshmen 2012 roster, Georgia’s Future seemed one of the most likely to see commercial success. His heavily auto-tuned, half-sung half-rapped style walks carefully between hip hop and R&B, his beats are casual and crisp, and he knows how to parse high-profile guests (here, Snoop, Drake, R. Kelly) without being overshadowed.

But after months of delay and limited chart action, Pluto arrives without the fanfare it could have had. That’s a shame; it’s a solid, coherent major label record in a genre notorious for treating the album format haphazardly. It drops pop bait (“Magic,” featuring a fresh-outta-jail T.I.) without lowering the bar. The spacey aesthetic, laid out in an intro from Future’s Dungeon Family crew member Big Rube, holds strong even with new producers credited on almost every track.

What Future lacks isn’t skill or good taste, but a unique personality. He hides so far behind vocal effects and glossy sound his soul shines through infrequently. Is he the laid-back, drugged-up neighborhood kid in “Permanent Scar,” or a nerd taking over the club in “Astronaut Chick”? How close is he to being “Tony Montana” (featuring Drake, another not-very-threatening rapper)? Pluto is rewarding on close inspection, but being the most anonymous-looking dude on that XXL cover probably wasn’t an accident.

KRIEF: Hundred Thousand Pieces
Sony Music / Pirates Blend, 45 minutes
Rating: 4.5/5

By cover alone you’d think Patrick Krief stopped to make Hundred Thousand Pieces on his way to a Sears catalogue photo shoot, but beneath its bland exterior and unassuming song titles lies one of the most immediately striking albums of the year.

Krief, guitarist for The Dears who writes and produces his own solo material and plays quite a broad range of instruments, has complete tonal control of his music. He knows how to envelop the listener. “Lost in Japan” and “Tell Yourself” are flooring standouts, the latter granting Krief a credit for “marching drums,” to offer a hint of its bold, powerful sound. Hundred Thousand Pieces is full of sonic delights, from the cello striking like electricity across “Lost in Japan,” to the far-off, haunting synth layers in “Love Without Fear.” Writing good songs is one thing, but Krief’s attention to aural detail helps make them great.

If I could offer Krief some advice, it would be to simply reconsider his design choices. At first glance he and Hundred Thousand Pieces don’t make much of an impression, but diving into the music itself is a fantastic surprise.

OLIVIER JARDA: Good Luck Cartel
Jam Jar, 41 minutes
Rating: 3/5

Here’s something I wasn’t expecting today: music from a Haitian-Canadian, East Coast-based artist with a vaguely Spanish-sounding name, informed by an aborted career in a Washington D.C. think tank ... and it sounds a lot like The Decemberists.


Wherever Jarda gets his influence, he uses it well. Verbose but warm, Good Luck Cartel is like a user’s guide on how to offset twisting, intricate lyrics with accessible melodies, something Colin Meloy seems to have forgotten over the past few years.

Jarda starts each song with one good idea, and rarely breaks from that; “Ship of Fools” is a seafaring tale that could represent any number of modern personal conflicts, if you wanted it to, but Jarda tells his story straight. Ditto “Fiddle”: obvious, perhaps, in its metaphorical look at the weak half of a relationship, but at least Jarda knows exactly what he wants to say.

If you couldn’t care less about lyrics, however, Good Luck Cartel might sound overly generic. Jarda’s gentle, folky songwriting doesn’t always match his themes and ambition, but the album offers a fine showcase for his emerging talent.