Demonstrating his usual off-beat attitude, Young's new album is titled as if it were a follow-up to Chrome Dreams. Problem is, there never was an official album called Chrome Dreams. Originally slated to be released in 1977, Young reputedly shelved it after Joni Mitchell criticized it as being too "all over the place." Well, after the recent genre excursions of Prairie Wind (soft, country-flecked rock), Living With War (loud protest rock) and Living With War Redux (the same stripped to its acoustic bones), he must have felt it was time to deliver an "all over the place" album. And he does so in brilliant fashion. Chrome Dreams II encompasses the varieties of musical styles Young continues to explore, but puts them all in one place. From Crazy Horse-style blow-outs, including epic guitar solos, to folk-rock musings, to country picking, to gentle songs of love and faith, Chrome Dreams II is Young's most musically satisfying album in two decades. Of course, this may be partly due to the fact that, in addition to newly penned tunes, some of the songs recorded here, in fact, stretch all the way back to the 70s and 80s. Whatever their provenance, the songs are strong and the playing is fine. Indeed, Young's guitar playing on the two centerpiece epics presented here, the 18+ minute "Ordinary People" and the 13+ minute ""No Hidden Path," is as fierce as anything he's done since "Like A Hurricane," which the latter, in particular, recalls. While about half the songs revisit the Crazy Horse stylings of past albums, many others veer in other directions, such as the almost lullaby-like "Shining Light," the melodic country lilt of "Beautiful Bluebird," and the child-choir finale of "The Way." "Ordinary People," itself, while perhaps the finest rocker on the album, departs from the usual Crazy Horse template by having Young's guitar solos framed by a pounding horn section and saxophone solos. While the musical stylings on Chrome Dreams II may be varied, the lyrical focus is much more unified. "No Hidden Path" centers on Young's determination that love and faith can still lead the way and offer succor in these times. Numerous other songs see Young recognizing that life is a journey on which we are trying to find the "highway," "road," or "street, (all are mentioned repeatedly) which leads one to such succor. In sum, Young, supported by long-time cohorts Ben Keith and Ralph Molina (with a nice guest shot by Frank "Poncho" Sampredo), intentionally or not, has put out an album which encompasses much of what he's been doing for the 40+ years since he started out with Buffalo Springfield. And what more can you ask for than that?

Banhart has become one of the main faces of the neo/freak/psych folk revival of the new millennium. With his quavering, vibrato-led voice being an instrument of beauty and his undeniable song-writing talent, this is no accident. But on Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon, his fourth or fifth album (depending on how you count EPs), Banhart has put out a record that both encompasses and transcends the limits of any such genre tags. Smokey. . . has beautiful, lilting sambas, show-tune melodies, doo-wop stylings, gospel choruses, gentle reggae, white-boy blues that recalls both prime period Traffic and late period Beatles, as well as gentle folk songs. Indeed, at 16 songs long, Banhart's latest is stuffed to the bursting point with musical gems, with instrumentation including strings, horns and woodwinds. But with that voice, each song sounds like it is coming from a delicate, almost other-worldy place, a place that Banhart wants to show us can include childlike naivete (the brilliant, multi-part "Seahorse"), dumb fun ("My Shabop Shalom Baby"), sigh-inducing beauty ("Samba Vexillographica"), love-fuelled longing ('Bad Girl") and mature reflection ("I Remember"). Smokey. . . is an album that creates it's own idiosyncratic world and invites us to enter into it via Banhart's stunning musical gifts. And once you visit, you'll want to keep coming back.