Wilson’s 3rd release sparkles occasionally

Brian Wilson

“Gettin’ in Over My Head” (Brimel/Rhino) •• 1/2

As the author of so many iconic American pop songs, Brian Wilson doesn’t need to issue anything new to enhance his standing. Yet the Beach Boys auteur continues to compose and for the past several years has worked with a band capable of re-creating, and extending, the trademark stacked harmonies and carefree themes of his ‘60s work.

That band provides agile support throughout the erratic, star-studded “Gettin’ in Over My Head,” Wilson’s third solo effort. Its elaborate vocals help transport Wilson back to a more innocent age, and its direct instrumental approach lends “Desert Drive” and the title track — two of the more interesting compositions — an inviting sleekness.

The trouble comes when Wilson tries to accommodate his guests. “How Could We Still Be Dancin’ ” starts promisingly but becomes a rhythmic nostalgia exercise actually diminished by Elton John’s presence. “A Friend Like You” is a feeble collaboration with Paul McCartney that’s not quite redeemed by a massive arrangement.

The less flashy “Soul Searchin’ ” might be more musically consequential. Composed by Wilson and Andy Paley in the early ‘90s, it uses bits of vocals from the late Carl Wilson. Though as obsessed with the past as the rest of the set, it does have that unmistakable Beach Boys sparkle.

— Tom Moon, Philadelphia Inquirer

Brandy

“Afrodisiac” (Atlantic) •••

It doesn’t seem that long ago that Brandy was in a tug-of-war with Monica singing “The Boy Is Mine.” But at 25, the divorced mother has more on her mind these days than adolescent catfights.

After 10 years of watching her grow, you can hear the maturity in her voice and in the themes she chooses. She candidly talks about the dissolution of her brief marriage on “Who I Am” and about keeping busybodies in check on the Kanye West-produced single “Talk About Our Love.”

Brandy’s main collaborator here is Timbaland, who provides her with plenty of funk-infused beats to groove to, including the blistering “Who Is She 2 U.” While a few of the tracks are a bit pedestrian, Brandy still is seductive more often than not.

— Steve Jones, USA Today

Ozomatli

“Street Signs” (Concord) •••

When Rodney King wondered during the 1992 Los Angeles riots whether we can all just get along, this eclectic, multicultural band didn’t exist. Since its founding four years later, Ozomatli has tried to show that, at least musically, L.A.’s cultures can not only co-exist but can also come together to throw the mother of all parties.

In its first studio album in three years, the group has managed to tame the disparate influences that vie for expression in its unruly fusion of Latin rhythms, funk and hip-hop. The problem with all this togetherness is that it smacks of dilettantism, with a U.N.-like guest list that includes Chicano guitarist David Hidalgo of Los Lobos; Nuyorican pianist Eddie Palmieri; Moroccan “sintir” master Hassan Hakmoun; French-Jewish Gypsy violinists Les Yeux Noirs; and the strings of a Prague orchestra.

The stylistic explorations work on individual tracks, but by the end the journey feels dizzying and exhausting. Ozomatli, like L.A. itself, can be fun for those who don’t mind the relentless frenzy.

— Agustin Gurza, Los Angeles Times

Patti Scialfa

“23rd St. Lullaby” (Columbia) •• 1/2

Patti Scialfa’s second solo effort, “23rd Street Lullaby,” opens with a feast of rock images stuffed into a single line: “Underneath the swirling light of jasmine tea and smoke, you traced my face up on the barroom wall.” The overburdened couplet serves as fair warning of what follows: vignettes and vague recollections that want desperately to coalesce into meaningful rock songs.

Best known as Bruce Springsteen’s wife, Scialfa is a competent songwriter prone to too-obvious lyrics and unexceptional, anthemic choruses. Like her husband, she sings of regular folks but sometimes seems to wander off into odd reveries in which she abandons the characters for more metaphysical notions. Laced with thick vocal chorales, the music is pleasant even when the narratives overreach.

Scialfa and drummer Steve Jordan, who co-produced, glance occasionally at the E Street sound (Springsteen plays guitar, and there’s lots of pealing organ) but wisely pursue other roads. Only on the swamp-rock blues “City Boys” does Scialfa cut loose, abandoning her exhaustive rock knowledge to offer music that’s as carefree and buoyant as the album’s opening line is tortured.

— Tom Moon, Philadelphia Inquirer

Bumblebeez 81

“The Printz” (Modular) •••

The cover of this debut album from Australian siblings Chris and Vila Colonna — a photo of a guitarist with his head missing — says a lot about what listeners can expect. Indeed, the mind creating this wonderfully wacky stuff is far removed from reality, or at least what’s ordinarily tried within the confines of rock ‘n’ roll. Out-of-tune, hick guitars are the bass line to a dance track; horror-film screams double as hip-hop beats; lyrics are acted out as sound effects.

Inspired by Chris’ student exchange trip to Brooklyn’s Pratt Institute in 2001 and recorded in his family’s rural Australian farmhouse, “The Printz” is an adventurous attempt at distilling a foreigner’s entire New York experience into a single record. Frenetic, wondrous and all over the map, it sometimes demonstrates an excessive fondness for vocal distortion. But as a whole, it is aural collage at its finest.

— Susan Carpenter, Los Angeles Times