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MARIAH CAREY
“Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel”
(Island)

Mariah Carey’s early records may have functioned solely as vehicles for her spectacular soprano, but what’s been most remarkable about her recent efforts is their tendency toward restraint. “The Emancipation of Mimi,” Carey’s 2005 comeback, found the diva dialing it down, scaling back her theatrics and allowing her voice to be seamlessly woven into the slippery R&B production rather than soaring over the top of it. Last year’s underrated “E=MC2” continued that formula, coming off spry, impish and playful.

But on “Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel”, restraint has given way to inertia. Low-wattage and low-impact, it’s a humdrum descent into midtempo, hopelessly burdened with ballads. In interviews, Carey has described the record as “personal” — the first words she sings are, “Welcome to a day of my life” — and that drive to confess has resulted in slower tempos. “H.A.T.E.U.,” which is built around the refrain “I can’t wait to hate you,” has the steady twinkle of a love song. “Obsessed,” a synth-laden Eminem kiss-off, trudges instead of snaps.

The production, courtesy of Tricky Stewart and The-Dream, feels boilerplate at best. At 17 songs (plus a six-song remix EP), the record is too long, and by the time the exuberant “Up Out My Face” arrives, it feels like it was grafted from a better record. Mostly, “Memoirs” dawdles and sighs, climaxing with a straightforward cover of Foreigner’s “I Want to Know What Love Is.” Confessional albums generally address mysteries in a performer’s life. The real mystery on “Memoirs” is how something so long can feel so slight.

— J. Edward Keyes, Newsday

PARAMORE
“Brand New Eyes”
(Fueled by Ramen)

Five pop-punks who went to platinum on a sinking ship (a misery business, you could say) in 2007 with actual MTV hits and actual word of mouth (on an indie, no less) have something to celebrate. That one began with “For a Pessimist, I’m Pretty Optimistic.” This one’s less optimistic; the first single’s called “Ignorance” (“is your new best friend”). Hope it’s not about fame (“you treat me just like another stranger”) — that would undercut its melodic slash-and-burn, in this case somewhat flamenco-tinged. So far, the tracks they’ve released as singles very much outclass the ones they haven’t, particularly the Rock Band special “That’s What You Get.”

Hayley Willams isn’t a world-class front woman yet, not by a long shot. But she does elevate a cheapened and thin-spread genre with a Pat Benatar-sized clarity and gravity set to give her a huge hit ballad the day she’s ready to sing one. For now, she’s content to add some feminine muscle to her male sidemen’s work. New songs such as “Playing God,” “Feeling Sorry,” and “Where the Lines Overlap” substitute clever chords for personality and anthemic turns for old cliches. Then again, a serious Christian who entrusts a bonus track to the “Twilight” teen-vampire franchise has some chutzpah.

— Dan Weiss, The Philadelphia Inquirer

HOPE SANDOVAL AND THE WARM INVENTIONS
“Through the Devil Softly”
(Nettwerk)

Hope Sandoval is very frugal sharing her talents. Since the last Mazzy Star album in 1996, the darkly psychedelic singer has released only two full-lengths, 2001’s “Bavarian Fruit Bread” and the new “Through the Devil Softly,” both in collaboration with Colm O Ciosoig. Unlike his loud, visceral work as the drummer in My Bloody Valentine, O Ciosoig’s arrangements match Sandoval’s narcoleptic musings with delicate, deliberate acoustic guitars or slowly reverberating electrics. The results are hypnotically beautiful dirges such as “Thinking Like That” and “Wild Roses.” The arrangements are slightly fuller this time, but that’s only a question of degree: The songs occasionally threaten to dissolve into a hazy dreamscape. The spooky “For the Rest of Your Life” and the lullaby-like “Sets the Blaze” meander but seem inert. That may be the intent: This is middle-of-the-night music, built for somnolent reveries.

— Steve Klinge, The Philadelphia Inquirer

TOM RUSSELL
“Blood and Candle Smoke”
(Shout! Factory)

As one of Americana’s greatest storytellers, Tom Russell has produced some magnificent epics, from dramatic narratives like “Gallo del Cielo” to sweeping concept albums like “The Man From God Knows Where.” The 12-song “Blood and Candle Smoke,” at once intimate and grand, ranks among his deepest and most moving works.

Certainly the musical accompaniment is among the richest of Russell’s career, as members of Calexico help to provide a full-bodied, organic bed that includes keyboards and horns. Like Ry Cooder, Russell laments a gone America and seeks to shed a light on the soul-crushing effects of what’s been lost in the slide toward vapid homogeneity. He does that with another powerful blend of the personal and the political. “Finding You” is a simple declaration of love, while “Santa Ana Wind” and “Mississippi River Running Backwards” look outward with apocalyptic dread.

As usual, Russell does all this in the context of cinematic stories and characters, and a vivid sense of place. In “The Most Dangerous Woman in America,” for instance, his portrait of one desperate soul also makes a wrenching statement about the decline of the labor movement.

— Nick Cristiano, The Philadelphia Inquirer

CHRIS YOUNG
“The Man I Want to Be”
(RCA Nashville)

With “That Makes Me,” Chris Young begins his second album by declaring himself be “a throwback.” In one sense it’s an uncharacteristic bit of chest-thumping, but it’s not just posturing. The young Tennessee native, who got his break by winning the “Nashville Star” TV competition, continues the traditional-country style he displayed to winning effect on his self-titled 2006 debut.

Young can bring a rocking edge to the material, as he does on “That Makes Me” and “Twenty-One Candles,” and he flashes an easygoing charm on the swaying “Gettin’ You Home,” a top-10 hit. But he really excels as a balladeer: With his smooth baritone and measured delivery, reminiscent of Josh Turner, he brings a beyond-his-years gravity to such moving tales as “The Dashboard” and “The Shoebox.” “Rainy Night in Georgia,” meanwhile, is a perfectly chosen cover: The mournful, after-hours feel is right in his wheelhouse, and he knocks this one out of the park.

—N.C.

GRETCHEN PARLATO
“In a Dream” (ObliqSound)

Singer Gretchen Parlato isn’t afraid to ditch the melody. Her voice soars like a horn or doubles as tonal percussion on her inventive take on Wayne Shorter’s “ESP.”

Parlato won the 2004 Thelonious Monk International Jazz Vocals Competition (Quincy Jones, Dee Dee Bridgewater, and Little Jimmy Scott were among the judges). This follow-up to her first, self-titled CD in 2005 adds to her luster and boasts an impressive cast of young lions backing her.

Parlato has a soft and breathy style. She’s deep into the jazz-as-art thing and occasionally remote. But she also shows a musical vibe and an appreciation for things Brazilian, as on her bossa nova take on Stevie Wonder’s “I Can’t Help It.”

Mostly, though, she’s an unexpected voice with little fear. “Turning Into Blue” showcases her brand of Buddhist lyrics. Herbie Hancock’s “Butterfly,” which begins with a demonstrative baby showing a strong rhythmic sense, is a smooth occasion, while “On the Other Side” projects this playful, Caribbean feel.

Raising the session are guitarist Lionel Loueke, pianist Aaron Parks, bassist Derrick Hodge, and drummer Kendrick Scott, none of whom are folks recycling the same old thing.

— K.S

PUSH PLAY “Found” Grade: A-minus
Is it impolite to gush so early in a career? Local power-pop band Push Play makes it easy to say nice things with the release of “Found” (Wind-up). From the synthy splash of “Watch It Burn” and grown-up lines of “Midnight Romeo” (“Show me yours/And I’ll show you mine”), it’s clear the group’s not dealing in kid stuff, even if the quartet is made up of 19-year-olds. The group — CJ Baran (vocals, guitar, keyboards), Steve Scarola (guitar, keyboards), Nick Deturris (bass) and Derek Ries (drums) — also finds success with “Heart Attack,” “Covergirl” and “This Is Us Breaking Up (Better Off).” Get the disc and push play.

— Kevin Amorim, Newsday