Travis

The Man Who

(Epic/Independiente)

American music writers may instinctively dash off Radiohead comparisons with any British rock band with intelligent lyrics, but Scottish indie rock band Travis are far too important, both commercially (2 million UK copies sold, which to put in perspective is almost one-and-a-half times what Britney Spears sold over there) and artistically (Brit Award winners) to be analyzed merely by comparison. Perhaps the best rock album of 1999, The Man Who's sold the world over, and it finally receives a belated American release just in time to support the band's current tour with Oasis.

Unlike their tour mates, Travis never goes in for loud stadium-rocking tunes. The Man Who was named after an Oliver Sacks book on synaesthesia, the condition in which senses are confused so that one can "hear" colors, for instance, and Fran Healy's vocals on the album are so delicately beautiful it seems you can almost feel them on your skin. Somehow Healy manages to sound vulnerable without being precious or self-pitying. Perhaps it's the counterbalancing of pained lyrics (the title of their first single "Why Does It Always Rain on Me?" says it all, really) with catchy choruses. Or maybe it's the occasional moment of sunshine through the rain, such as the guitar introduction for "Writing to Reach You," which obviously alludes to Oasis' optimistic "Wonderwall" before the lyrics proceed to question the happy jangly sound ("what's a wonderwall anyway?"). When the wrenching lyrics of "Driftwood," the album's best song, ("Just driftwood, hollow and of no use/Waterfalls will find you, bind you, grind you") hit you, an almost instinctive shrinking away takes place.

The members of Travis are apparently fun-loving Scots in real life: they do a hilarious cover of Spears' "Baby One More Time" when they perform live. But this album eschews all those hijinks and succeeds in being perfectly, poignantly heartbreaking. A -Daryl Sng

Catatonia

Equally Cursed and Blessed

(Atlantic)

Howls, raps and roars for Cerys (KER-ruhs) Matthews. The voice that leads Brit band Catatonia can be aptly described as Sylvia Plath on stiletto heels-part suicidal poet, part femme fatale. In any given moment her tone is lacerating, yet as diffuse as air breathed through reeds. An eclectic mixture of Beth Gibbons, Lucinda Williams, Julee Cruise and Fiona Apple, Matthews' voice is even more accomplished than the timbres of any of that quartet. Hers is a voice laden with overtones, complexity and luminosity, multi-faceted at times to the point of schizophrenia.

The hypnotically orchestrated "Dead From the Waist Down," the first single from this second U.S. release, could leave a listener in a bout of ecstatic addiction. It succeeds as one of the few pop songs that uses string instruments without contrivance or false pathos. "I caught a glimpse, and it's not me," rasps Matthews, an utterance worthy of King Lear thrown out into the night. In "Shoot the Messenger," Matthews morphs again to give a convincing invocation of Tom Waits circa his "Rain Dogs" album, albeit with a Welsh twang in tow. Yet overall the album causes a disconcerting flush and distress at its inconsistency. Matthews' voice is too good for mere pop. Catatonia's instrumentation is too catchy to act solely as backdrop. Theirs is a hard line to walk. B -Teri Wang

Soundtrack

Romeo Must Die

(Virgin)

You might expect that a movie with Aaliyah and DMX in starring roles (yes, they "act" in it) would have a good soundtrack, even if the movie is an utterly torturous hour and a half of sheer mediocrity. After all, the movie isn't likely to have sensitive portrayals of the deepest recesses of the human soul (no Walkens or De Niros here), but you might expect something on the soundtrack along the lines of "Are You the Somebody" or "Where My Dogs At?"

The movie itself has gotten hosed in the media. Sadly, the soundtrack isn't much better. Saturated with uninspiring and uninspired R&B and R&B-tinged rap from the likes of Joe, Destiny's Child and Ginuwine, the album never manages to transcend the well-packaged, well-polished attempt at violent commercial success that the movie is.

All is not lost, though. You might have already heard Aaliyah's opening track "Try Again" on 94.5, due in large part to its "Hot Boyz"-inspired use of bass and distortion (the lyrics are about as clichd as they come). The second track too-this one with both Aaliyah and DMX-might make its way into a club, somewhere during a full set dedicated to DMX's canine persona. C+ -Franklin J. Leonard

Cracker

Garage d'Or

(Virgin)

Pop isn't sunny anymore. It's kind of pink and bright, but not sunny. But grunge was sunny. Remember Nirvana's "Heart-Shaped Box" video? It had lots of sun. Cracker is the grunge band of sun, so sunny they're almost country.

Garage d'Or is yet another greatest-hits-with-a-few-new-songs album. Unfortunately, it shows Cracker hasn't really made any good songs since 1993, when their Kerosene Hat album came out. It had "Low," the best Cracker song (it's the one with the huge, buzzing guitar opening and the chorus "Be with you girl/Like being low/Hey Hey Hey like being stoned"). "Low" is not a first-class grunge anthem only because it was too simple and was never canonized. It was probably never canonized because Cracker are always fashioning themselves as hayseeds.

Cracker's oeuvre since 1993 has capitalized on the marginal staying power granted any band who left the garage of gold for the barn, like Wilco or the Counting Crows, and much of Garage d'Or has hints of country in its sound. The music gets janglier and vocalist David Lowery sounds more like a has-been. The new material is actually pretty good; but instead of being genius and entertaining, it's merely "haunting." Garage d'Or preserves the good songs from their horny days; the rest is only patly interesting. B -Benjamin E. Lytal