EDITED BY MIKE BREEN

· RAHSAAN ROLAND KIRK -- COMPLIMENTS OF THE MYSTERIOUS PHANTOM (HYENA).

You should need no more than to hear the phrase "Master of the Jazz Nose Flute" to desperately want to hear this 1974 San Diego club gig by one of Jazz's best Post Bop sax soloists. But there's so much more to fall in love with on Mysterious Phantom, a brilliant introduction for the uninitiated and one of the best live Jazz albums of late (well surpassing the label's Bright Moments, recorded on the same tour). The material is all solid golden; the seductive "My One and Only Love" and the low-down Blues boogie-to-rave-up "Blacknuss" are particularly effective. But it's the palpable energy and crowd interaction/noise that Rahsaan Roland Kirk (who was born in Columbus and played many dates around the area) and his crack ensemble help radiate that makes this set a loose but deftly played tour de force. Kirk was a blustery showman in concert, and this disc captures the eccentricities (playing dual horns, crowd sermons and the aforementioned nose tricks) vividly. On the funky "Volunteered Slavery," the band leader veraciously conducts the group and audience interest, interjecting "Hey Jude" and some spiritualized chants to create a whirl of colorful radiance, while the "nose flute" showcases ("Fly Town Nose Blues," "Bright Moments") are Jazz flute clinics -- you only know he's using his nose because he talks about it. Kirk's literal voice is heard on several cuts, humming along or scatting while exhaling and inhaling as if his whole being was built to best play the next note. There's really no one quite like Rahsaan, but if you dig fellow Jazz "characters" like Mingus, Coleman or Ra, you'll take instantly to the "way-out" sound of Mysterious Phantom and desperately wish you were there. The personality Kirk exhibits on this disc is as missed in modern day Jazz as his limitless musical approach. (Mike Breen)
CityBeat grade: A.

· GRANDADDY -- SUMDAY (V2).

In one of the weirdest sonic conjunctions of the '80s, Neil Young attempted to marry his epic Rock/Folk Americana vibe to the burbling drone of Techno on the challenging Trans. Twenty years and whole lot of Indie Rock later, Grandaddy liked Young's idea enough to co-opt it and was talented enough to improve it in the translation. After three albums' worth of dancing around the technique, Jason Lytle and Grandaddy have properly balanced Pop, spacey Electronica and blistering Young-ian Rock psychology on their brilliant new album Sumday with a dusty Pop sensibility suggesting Young's broad genre strokes ("Now It's On") and the synth-flecked melodicism of Jeff Lynne's big Rock candy mountain ("Saddest Vacant Lot in All the World"). More impressive is the material's lyrical focus, a song cycle on middle-age assessment ("O.K. With My Decay," "The Group Who Couldn't Say"), tipped off in the album title's double entendre ("someday" as a point in the future; "sumday" as in your life's final accounting). A personal best for Grandaddy and a lock for end-of-year nods. (Brian Baker)
CityBeat grade: A.

· VARIOUS ARTISTS -- VELVET TINMINE (RPM RECORDS).

Let's hear it for music of dubious cultural significance and minimal redeeming value! Velvet Tinmine unearths 20 Glam-Rock singles from 1973-77, around which time arena rockers and folkies alike fancied themselves Serious Artists. So the music captured here was (and is) a refreshing counterpoint: It aims for the lowest common denominator, and, to its credit, finds it with a startling regularity. This is not highbrow Glam of the David Bowie/Roxy Music variety -- this is foot-stompin', hand-clappin', chant-along stuff. And it's a damn good time. Song titles like "Let's Get the Party Going," "Love Machine" and "Rebels Rule" (and -- I swear to God -- "Bay City Rollers We Love You") should give you a pretty good idea of what you're in for. Even after the novelty wears off, Velvet Tinmine actually holds its own against a good chunk of the crap that's in rotation on Classic Rock radio. Grab your platform boots, your favorite sequined jumpsuit and the cheapest beer you can find. It's gonna be a good night. (Matthew Fenton)
CityBeat grade: B.

· FOUNTAINS OF WAYNE -- WELCOME INTERSTATE MANAGERS (S-CURVE/VIRGIN).

On their first album, Fountains of Wayne displayed moments of Pop brilliance that never quite gelled into a cohesive album. On their astonishing follow-up, Utopia Parkway, FOW presented a concept album of suburban teenage ennui wrapped in Beatlesque splendor that transcended the album's song structure. On their much anticipated Welcome Interstate Managers, the band folds potent sonic elements of is previous albums into a fabulous quasi-Pop opera, moving Utopia Parkway's teens into the adult workaday world ("Bright Future in Sales," "Little Red Light") with the same wistful optimism of young love ("Stacy's Mom," "All Kinds of Time") and the conjunction of the two worlds ("Hey Julie," "Hackensack"). FOW's maturity also finds them incorporating more concrete evidence of their influences -- Jimmy Webb on "Hackensack," Burt Bacharach on "Halley's Waitress," Bob Dylan on "Valley Winter Song," Brian Wilson on "No Better Place," the Beatles throughout. No one would have blamed Fountains of Wayne for not matching Utopia Parkway's greatness, but no one expected them to take it up a notch. (BB)
CityBeat grade: A.

· STEELY DAN -- EVERYTHING MUST GO (REPRISE).

Don't worry, Sherman. There's nothing wrong with the Wayback Machine. It turns out Steely Dan doesn't require a 20-year hiatus to assemble a new album. Of course, the positive reinforcement of four Grammys for 2000's Two Against Nature might have nudged them back to the studio 17 years ahead of schedule for Everything Must Go. Whatever it was, just be thankful. While knees are bent, let's show a little additional gratitude that the Becker/Fagen complex has flawlessly selective memory and has somehow found a way to extract the most memorable and freakishly satisfying aspects of its illustrious Jazz/Pop canon and continually incorporate those sonic shadows into its latest magic lantern presentation. Marvel at the languid swing of "Things I Miss the Most." Smile at the noirish short Jazz story of "Pixeleen." Soak up the funky Soul of the title track and the propulsive Pop of "The Last Mall." Sit slack of jaw at the rest. Build the Andrea Doria out of balsa wood. And thank a deity that you share a lifespan with Steely Dan. (BB)
CityBeat grade: A.

E-mail Mike Breen

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