CD Reviews

Wry observations and mordant wit seem to be McMurtry literary traits, and by now singer-songwriter James has, in his own field, proven himself the peer of his distinguished novelist father, Larry, on those counts.

Ghostland Observatory’s third effort announces itself as the breakout album it is intended to be. The aptly titled “Opening Credits” slowly swells over a dramatic 2-1/2 minutes like the soundtrack to 2001: A Space Odyssey before dropping into the tinny robotic beats of “Heavy Heart,” which sweeps upon an ominous bridge of Rush-like prog-rock behind Aaron Behrens’ breathy wail.

Most discerning music aficionados will agree that an artist’s best work isn’t always the stuff that grabs you on the first spin; a lot of truly great records only reveal their beauty and depth over time and many repeated listens.

Willie goes ’round in circles. Some of his work conveys stunning creativity, with just-right pacing and singing and gut-stringed bull’s-eyes from rickety old Trigger. Other times, he sprints through, giving only short bursts of brilliance, then easing on down the road a little too casually. This yin-yang tug of moods happens frequently on Moment of Fever.

After 16 years of being married to Paul Simon, it’s about time Edie Brickell got a good record out of the union. But the Simon she’s teamed with for the Heavy Circles isn’t the hubby; it’s her 35-year-old stepson, Harper Simon, who proves a compelling musical foil for the Dallas-born singer-songwriter.

When you’re as good at what you do as George Strait is, the only thing distinguishing your truly great albums from your merely dependably solid efforts is usually one great song. That handicaps Troubadour right out of the gate, because its predecessor, 2006’s It Just Comes Natural, had enough truly exemplary cuts for at least four great Strait records.

At first blush, one might think: Huh? A fourth live Ely album and his third at a legendary Austin venue?

Bucket, the second album by former Houstonian Mando Saenz, is a calculated construction: “Pocket of Red” is the lush pacesetter; “Pittsburgh” and “Seven Dollars” are the forces propelling the record’s mid-section into the tension-building “I Don’t Like It” and “Come Out Tonight.” “Candy Red” is the climax, and the proverbial come-down is the “Last Goodbye.” The playing leaves little to be desired, with the likes of David Grissom and Chris Carmichael, not to mention the muscled-up production of R

Let’s raise a glass to evolution. Now with two live albums under their belts — the CD/DVD set Live at Antone’s follows the Band of Heathens’ 2006 debut, Live at Momo’s — fans know this rising roots-rock quintet thrives as a free-range outfit. But as shown on their very first studio album, their magic holds up under more controlled circumstances, too.

Carnival Jim struggles for purchase on a better tomorrow. “Her mother was a fat clown little dog act/She used to hit Jean till Jean hit her back,” the character explains in “Carnival Jim and Jean.” “I stole a little red guitar and some gasoline/She won’t do no better without me.” That crucial fulcrum — the pivotal moment when defeat matures into defiance — balances the weight of Eric Taylor’s lasting work. Hollywood Pocketknife might be his most enduring yet.