Ron Hawkins is one prolific mofo. Since 1991, the man has pumped out well over a dozen albums, EPs and singles as a member of seminal Canadian alt-rockers Lowest of the Low, at the helm of his own band the Rusty Nails and as a solo artist. Straightjacket Love is his latest effort, and it follows in the vein of 2009’s 10 Kinds of Lonely.
Fans of Hawkins will find Ron returning to themes of alcoholism, star-crossed love and down-and-out struggle and strife. At best – on cuts like “The Sickness” and “Waitin’ on Something that’s Already Here” – Hawkins finds new ways to explore these themes with, for the most part, stripped down arrangements and rootsy twang. At worst, a few moments – “Kill the Lights,” to pick on one track – come close to kicking the last out of the same can he’s been kicking at since Shakespeare My Butt…
I’ve been a fan of Hawkins’ writing and music for over a decade now, which is half as long as he’s been releasing the stuff. I absolutely love Lowest of the Low’s first 2 LPs, though I’ve never really warmed up to much of Hawkins work with the Rusty Nails or the latter day Low output. However, I’ve had Straightjacket Love on repeat for weeks now, and while a few tracks on the album are forgettable, the bulk of the disc is solid gold. (Independent, www.ronhawkins.com) Sheldon Birnie

“We grew up right here / Door frames marked with ice and years / Our lives in crooked frames / And kitchen table coffee stains,” sings three piece Toronto act Elliott Brood on the opening track “Lindsay” of their new LP Days into Years, easing you into the rural charm that fills the disc. Days Into Years, released in September by Paper Bag Records, is full of toe-tappin’ twang rock with throaty vocals and the occasional banjo or harmonica. At the forefront of my mind while listening to DIY, I imagine burly cowboys with thick facial hair, impenitent cowboy boots and wide brimmed hats. I’m not going to actually look up their picture, for fear of that my imagination will be dashed by scrawny city-boys in boring collared polos. Regardless of their “authentic cowboy” status, the lyrics are convincing enough for me. The final four or so tracks on the album are full of fond nostalgia, starting with the porch-front strummed “West End Sky” and (continuing on the ‘up-in-the-air’ track-title wave) “Northern Air.” The final cut, “Their Will,” is a wave goodbye with saddles blazing as the boys finish the ten-track set with a final kick to the wind. I would say that you should go check out Elliot Brood on October 29 at the WECC, but by the time this gets printed they’ll be well on the way to their next tour stop. Hopefully you were there. (Paper Bag Records, paperbagrecords.com) Victoria King

“I’ve got funk, I’ve got country / I’ve got rhythm and booze/ I’ve got this crooked little heart / I’ve got this thing for you.” And what’s that? Following 2009’s Deathbed Pillowtalk, Manitoba’s The Crooked Brothers (Jesse Matas, Darwin Baker and Matt Foster), bring their signature growling and all aforementioned genres to Lawrence, Where’s Your Knife? along with stories of long winters, epidemics, hope, loneliness, and sorrow. “17 Horses” is one of the strongest tracks on here with its super catchy, up-tempo beat and gruff, indulgent vocals. Feline basslines prowl all over this record but spend a sizeable amount of time slinking and stretching around “Kansas” and “Another Sun.” The dobro, mandolin, harmonica, banjo, fiddle, and violin all lend a great bluesy feel to the 10 songs. A favourite is “Good Man”, a calmer piece so warm with harmonicas and swaying guitars that you can practically hear the love the lyrics express: “There ain’t nothing like a good man / to drag you down / I ain’t nothing but a good man / why do you keep me around?” Another must-listen is “Your Love is a Ghost Town” simply because it perfectly captures the eerie stillness of a dusty ghost town: raspy vocals are set off by an excellently creeping, measured bassline. I cringe at twanging and country music’s notoriously trite verses as much as the next person, but what The Crooked Brothers have come out with this time infuses soul and story into sound in one of the most non-cliched ways I’ve yet seen. (Transistor 66,http://www.transistor66.com) Adrienne Yeung

Wilco’s eighth studio album, The Whole Love, is an exciting and enjoyable cruise through familiar territory. Of the dozen tracks on the album, none veer the Wilco train wildly off the tracks, though there are some interesting and welcome detours along the way.
The opener, “Art of Almost,” gets wild early, though the rest of the disc fails to kick out the jams to such heights again. The arrangements throughout are tight, interesting, and, of course, catchy as can be. With the exception of the leading and closing tracks, each tune is a compact, easily digestible example of Jeff Tweedy’s pop song writing skills. The closing track, “One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley’s Boyfriend),” is a meandering folk jam clocking in at the 12-minute mark that quite beautifully captures the feeling of a Sunday morning in autumn.
If you’re already a Wilco fan, you probably own this album already. If more than one person whose musical taste you trust has told you that you might like Wilco, you’ll probably dig this album. If you’ve already grown tired of Tweedy & Co’s act, well, you won’t be surprised if this album doesn’t grab you by the balls. Personally, I dig the album, but I’m not about to drop 30 bucks on the LP just yet. But the disc is certainly a creeper, with tunes lingering around in my head days after I’ve politely invited them to leave the party. After a few more spins, I may have to re-evaluate my position and invite The Whole Love in to stay awhile. (dBmp, dbpmrecords.com) Sheldon Birnie

Once in a lifetime, the planets align and we are left with a cosmic event that rocks the foundation of what we – the human race call music. The man, the myth, the legend, the captain, the Shat is back. From 1978 when William Shatner hosted “The Science Fiction Film Awards” the world was then introduced to the Captain’s unique recipe of blending his Shakespearean acting with modern day pop music in his interpretation of Elton John’s “Rocket Man.” Now “Rocket Man” is featured along with other space themed classics on Shatner’s new double album Seeking Major Tom. Beginning with actual NASA sounds before going into a dramatic interpretation of Peter Schilling’s new wave song “Major Tom,” the album is Shatner at warp-speed tearing though classics like David Bowie’s “Space Oddity,” and boldly going where no crooner has gone before with a cover of Hawkwind’s “Sliver Machine” with the MC5’s Wayne Kramer on guitar.
There are other guests who join the Shat on a tune or two including Bootsy Collins on a funky “She Blinded Me With Science.” Highlights include the epic version of “Bohemian Rhapsody,” “Space Truckin’” by Deep Purple where Shatner finds the right mix of rock ’n’ lounge, along with the ballad “Mrs. Major Tom,” a touching tribute for Shatner’s late wife sung by Sheryl Crow. Overall the double album seems a bit daunting and overarching. Is there such a thing as too much Shat? I don’t know? Many of the songs seem to get lost between the epic production work, special effect pieces, repeat sound clips of previous songs and cameos that may be too mainstream – I’m talking about you, Brad Paisley. It may be too much to sift though in one sitting, but at the ripe age of 80 Shatner seems to be pulling out all the stops as he journeys toward the great beyond. Showing no signs of slowing down, he’s currently in the midst of a cross-country tour with a new book and this epic album. (Cleopatra, www.williamshatner.com) Kent Davies

I’ve never owned one of those ordinary-looking rocks chopped in half with amethyst crystals bulging out like grape Kool-Aid, but in front of me is the Montreal-based band Adam and the Amethysts’ second album of indie pop, and it’s pretty darn nice. Genre-wise, it also fits under the euphemous description “psychedelic folk,” but it’s crafted from pretty familiar ingredients. Nothing about this record strikes me as particularly memorable, but that doesn’t mean it’s not enjoyable. Flickering Flashlight is delicate but never weak, and filled with little odds and ends that keep things interesting. Here and there are gleeful yells, and the tune to “Auld Lang Syne”; a rhythm reminiscent of music boxes, and strains of violin like sunlit ripples on the lake. “Gitchee Gumee Yeah Yeah” is an unabashedly fun song.  “Get me out of my clothes, and into the cool lake,” croons Adam over a funky bassline and all sorts of dizzying sound effects. “If it seems like I’m dreaming, don’t wake me,” is another lovely line from the song “Dreaming,” filled with low-key beachy sounds. The album ends with “Untitled,” a stirring 40 seconds of melancholy cello. This isn’t going to knock you off your feet, but  it’ll come up on shuffle while you’re riding your bike on a sunny day, and slowly the world will look and sound warmer, crisper, sweeter. The equivalent of apple crumble for your cochleas? Yeah, bring it on. (Kelp Records, www.kelprecords.ca) Adrienne Yeung