The Soulsavers are an English-bred production duo who have previously specialized in downtempo electronica. Their sophomore effort, however, strays far beyond this territory thanks to the addition of former Screaming Trees/sometimes Queens Of The Stone Age/current solo artist Mark Lanegan on vocals (and lyrics). Lanegan's smoky baritone always lends a dark, foreboding, even funereal presence to his musical undertakings, and this album dives deep into this abyss. With elements of folk, blues, country, and particularly gospel stirred into the drum loops and cinematic sweeps employed by the Soulsavers, It's Not How Far You Fall. . . provides us with a rich, yet unsettling foray into Lanegan's twin themes of penance and sin. "Revival" opens the proceedings with a drum crash and church-like organ, with Lanegan intoning "Say there's gonna be a revival tonigh/Ohh-oh/I wanna see a revival," and then lets the music sweep him away into the details of his quest. "Ghosts Of You And Me" follows with a honking sax wailing in the background while feedbacked guitar loops provide the foreground for Lanegan's talk of black cat bones and thoughts like "The cemetery is my home". Lanegan's own "Kingdom Of Rain" is a beautiful piano-led ballad underscored by depressed musings such as "This rain beats down like death." Film-noir-like instrumental passages add to the atmosphere, as do a surprising duo of covers. Tom Waits' "Through My Sails" actually provides a momentary bit of uplift, as Lanegan and Will Oldham (aka Bonnie Prince Billy) sing a slow but optimistic love song, accompanied by steady bass and superb slide guitar. The album closes with a tour-de-force version of the Rolling Stones' "No Expectations," transforming it from a country-blues to a haunting groover. So when you're in the mood for something dark, yet musically superb, "It's Not How Far You Fall. . . " will fill the bill in fine fashion.

The Americana genre has become as trite and tired as any other, as everyone with a rough-hewn voice and a country collection has jumped into the fray to offer us their views on the life of the "forgotten man". So what are we to make when Barton Carroll, the former merchandise manager for indie-rock lynchpins Archers of Loaf and support instrumentalist for Eric Bachman's Crooked Fingers, enters the alt-country arena? Well, one listen makes you realize that here is an artist with both the musical goods and lyrical skills to make the genre sound fresh and vital all over again. The Lost One is full of acoustic instruments, crying pedal steel guitars, and occasional fiddle breaks. Songs alternate between strummed and rapidly picked acoustic guitars, with dollops of accordion and, in one instance, a haunting electric guitar line recalling "House Of The Rising Sun". Some numbers are jauntily uptempo (Irish-Americana?), with others being slower and more ballad-based. But the real genius of Carroll's work is in his words. On opener "Pretty Girl's Going To Ruin My Life (Again)," he says, "Let me know what you want me to sing/For that look in your eye I'll play anything/All my life I've looked to the light/You're blocking it now, but that's alright." On the light-picking love song "Those Days Are Gone, And My Heart Is Breaking," Carroll captures both sadness and disillusionment with the lines, "She met some other man who gave his name to my son/I guess the damage is done/And there's no way I can fake it. . . ./I always thought my heart would be a dark horse/Laying low till race day came along/Lately my heart feels like a dartboard/And that's not something I planned at all". And for "Brooklyn Girl, You're Going To Be My Bride" (the man is quite fond of long song titles), Carroll's self-deprecating nature comes through as he sings, "What to do/He Thinks he's prettier than you/Well, you'll never have that problem with me." In sum, Carroll has put out a little- noticed gem of a record that deserves wider attention.