EDITED BY MIKE BREEN

· LIZZ WRIGHT -- SALT (VERVE).

Like Oleta Adams sans sanctification framed by the reverb of Roberta Flack, Lizz Wright is a gift unto herself. Effectively mature black chanteuses are scant so the real ones stand out like car alarms. Most wilt beneath the Whitney Complex -- like Heather Headley -- or, like Audra McDonald, they may even pack originality and talent. However, fault a vault of sterility for felling them short of fully transporting listeners to the peaks of Laura Nyro and Phoebe Snow, those appropriately appointed sheroes emulated by their white counterparts. Then there's Rachelle Ferrell, a singer so phenomenal she's yet to record -- or find -- material suitable and consistent. Her bad. Wright's is a newfangled Jazz voice outside the predictable prescripts of Diane Reeves or the Ella-esque reading regurgitated by Nenna Freelon. In tone, elegance and instinct, Wright most closely resembles the greatly under-appreciated Carmen Lundy and Renee Marie. Her phrasing and control are supple, sincere and pure without the studied self-awareness of Cassandra Wilson. Here's the beauty part: Wright, though only in her mid-20s, immediately deserves ranking beside Wilson as her contemporary, period. And not merely as an also-ran in the pantheon of cleverly reworked classics and smart-ass originals accompanied by "interesting" instrumentation. Drummer Brian Blade (as in Joshua Redman) co-produced Salt and his Pringles-crisp drumming snaps against Wright's alto vibrato. Co-producer Jon Cowherd's acoustic piano work is awash in plaintive sparkles. Taken together it's heady stuff. The song selection is worthy of Wright's voice and the counterpart in duet with it. Her five originals don't hog the covers. Of these, "Salt," "Eternity" and "Fire" celebrate greatness. From Chick Corea's "Open Your Eyes, You Can Fly," to the heartbreakingly beautiful "Soon As I Get Home" from The Wiz, and all the way to "Vocalise/End of the Line" where waves of cellos and a staccato marimba slow screw, Wright owns the songs and they are instant vintage. Salt is far superior to Norah Jones's nauseatingly hyped Come Away With Me; we should've come away with snooze buttons. Salt is exciting; my favorite so far this year. Smart. (Kathy Y. Wilson)
CityBeat grade: A.

· PERNICE BROTHERS -- YOURS, MINE & OURS (ASHMONT RECORDS)

At one point, the new Pernice Brothers record had a working title of Pretty in Pinkerton. One can hear why. The lushly textured Pop Rock of the band's latest, yours, mine & ours, is even more melody infested than their previous leap of harmonic faith, 2001's The World Won't End. Released by frontguy Joe Pernice's own Ashmont Records, yours, mine & ours finds the New England-based five-piece refining their already ample skills while continuing to play up their greatest assets -- Pernice's literate, incisive pen and pining, heartfelt voice. Musically, the Brothers revel in subtle yet potent pleasures. The brief, seemingly off-hand guitar solo on the adrenalized "One Foot in the Grave" is so sublime, it's sure to lodge in your frontal lobe for days. Elsewhere, "How to Live Alone" is the sonic equivalent of a lazy Sunday morning -- all languid guitars and swirling, male/female harmonizing. As is the sweetly swaying "Blinded by the Stars," featuring a Pernice vocal that hits deeper than a cork-enhanced Sammy Sosa blast. And, believe it or not, "Sometimes I Remember" is the best Cure song you've never heard. Lyrically, Pernice's once bleak outlook has turned into something close to amiable (relatively speaking, of course). On the record's blissful opener, "The Weaker Shade of Blue," he pleads to his girl, "But don't cry baby/Please don't cry baby/I'll be tender till the day I die." Say what? This from the guy who opened an earlier record with "I hate my life." Don't worry. By the melancholic, piano-laden closer, "Number Two," Pernice is back to his old self: "I hope this letter finds you crying/It would feel so good to see you cry." Ahh, now that's the Joe we know. (Jason Gargano)
CityBeat grade: A.

· PUSH BUTTON OBJECTS -- GHETTO BLASTER (CHOCOLATE INDUSTRIES).

Despite the best efforts of the bling-blingers, Hip Hop ain't dead yet. Push Button Objects, aka Edgar Farinas, is among the handful of underground artists who are fighting to keep it alive. On Ghetto Blaster, Farinas shows a deft and confident touch as a producer. Nothing is included that isn't essential; each track is built on little more than a well-selected drum track and bass line, and a few samples or snatches of guitar. Within this spare (though hardly minimalist) framework, Ghetto Blaster brings a range of sounds: apocalyptic ("Hustlin'), smooth and jazzy ("360 degrees"), syncopated and funky ("Fly"), old-school (the aptly-titled "Breakers Delight") and haunting ("Sleep"). Uncredited guest MCs, including Cannibal Ox and Del, appear on about half the disc's 11 tracks, and though all perform admirably, it's safe to say that none saved their best rhymes for the PBO project. On balance, Ghetto Blaster is a solid, if not mind-blowing, Hip-Hop effort, and one that helps to restore a little faith in the genre. (Matthew Fenton)
CityBeat grade: B.

· DEATH IN VEGAS -- SCORPIO RISING (BMG UK).

Death in Vegas's Tim Burgess and Richard Fearless have no interest in establishing or following trends. Their 1997 debut, Dead Elvis, found them happy to trade on Fearless' rep as the Chemical Brothers's DJ with a satisfying big beat cocktail of Rock and Dance. 2000's The Contino Sessions was more reaction than continuation as DIV pursued a noir-ish Gothic angle that confused people who pegged them as the new millennium's Dance band. Burgess and Fearless have confounded expectation once again by combining their past accomplishments and throwing in some contemporary electronic Folk to create the eclectic Scorpio Rising. DIV's fingerprint here is the cagey use of guest vocalists, among them Liam Gallagher, ethereal Hope Sandoval, Nicola Kuperus and Paul Weller on an unexpected cover of former Byrd Gene Clark's "So You Say You Lost Your Baby." While Death in Vegas sacrifices some consistency, give them credit for having the courage to be found by an audience while ignoring the safe commercial opportunism of pandering to the faithful. (Brian Baker)
CityBeat grade: B.

E-mail Mike Breen

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