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SONIC YOUTH, MURRAY STREET (DGC) After 21 years and 16 albums, eternally young Sonic Youth is still adventurous. Though most of the band, which now includes fifth member Jim O'Rourke, are in their mid to late 40s, Sonic Youth creates dazzling original avant pop -- well, what should we call the band's brand of oddly tuned noise pop? With the layers of guitar brilliance and the detached vocals? The sound is no longer as free-form and angular as it was in 1981. Then again, the sonic-beauty-fest Murray Street isn't strictly pop like 1990's polished Goo.

Never without a vision, Sonic Youth, with its arty New York Lower East Side roots, delivers an "operetta of place" -- according to a press release -- the second installment of a trilogy about the cultural history of Lower Manhattan (the first was 2000's nyc ghosts & flowers). Murray Street heads in a decidedly somber direction, as it should: It's named for the location of the band's studio, near the World Trade Center site. The street was cordoned off for a spell after Sept. 11, and the band had no access to its studio.

Murray Street sounds like a city in disarray, yet one fighting with all its might to keep its center together.

Hear that ripe energy of Radical Adults Lick Godhead Style, with guest saxophones courtesy of downtown jazz gonzos Borbetomagus. The song bristles; there's no other word for it. Singer-guitarist Thurston Moore gives us his best disillusioned mopey boy shtick ever on the creepily catchy Disconnection Notice. Kim Gordon, Moore's wife, gets even creepier on the punky Plastic Sun, the latest in a one-per-album string of signature "Oh, geez, Kim's flipping out" tunes. Guitarist Lee Ranaldo grabs the reins, singing lead and keeping the band's Karen Carpenter jones going, on the sprawling Karen Revisited, a sequel to Goo's heartbreaking Tunic (Song for Karen).

Murray Street is Sonic Youth totally focused, a valentine to the city that nourished the band and gave it its uncompromising spirit. It's a heartfelt caress to a bruised New York, a city still proud and, yes, brave enough to accept such an outpouring of tenderness. A.

-- GINA VIVINETTO, Times pop music critic

SOLOMON BURKE, DON'T GIVE UP ON ME, (FAT POSSUM) Solomon Burke is a corpulent fellow, a legendary soul singer with a large voice to match. Full-bodied and rich, Burke's earnest croon serves as the emotional centerpiece of Don't Give Up On Me, a gem of an album in a distinguished career.

The arrangements are simple, typically just the requisite percussion, gospel-tinged organ, guitar, bass, some piano and an occasional muted horn section. This allows Burke to shine. His wail verges on heartbreaking. It invites listeners in, conveying a deep pain caused by experience.

None of Us Are Free is one of the strongest tracks, a powerful, slow-burning rumination on the meaning of freedom and civil rights. The Joe Henry-penned Flesh and Blood undulates with a slinky brass section, and Burke bombastically sings "Life is for the living." The song questions why people find it so difficult to change their behavior, playing out as an existential conundrum in a smoky, loungelike atmosphere.

Other strong cuts include the title track and the be-boppy, moralistic Soul Searchin'. Other songs were contributed by Bob Dylan, Elvis Costello, Tom Waits and Van Morrison. A-

-- BRIAN ORLOFF, Times staff

DEADSY, COMMENCEMENT (ELEMENTREE/DREAMWORKS) The last Orgy disc came out in 2000, so apparently a yawning void in the world of synth-bass-heavy quasi goth dirge rock was just waiting to be filled.

In steps P. Exeter Blue I, a.k.a. Elijah Blue (yeah, Cher and Greg Allman's kid), with a band, a thesaurus and some kind of high school cosmology/theology/philosophy/who knows what. Each Deadsy member has a strange name and symbolizes something like war or leisure (go figure), and none of the lyrics make much sense (sample: "Now you know, places where I've lived when I couldn't grow downward you'll soon drift on the sailless boat nothing left to give all I see is throat Flowing Glower." That's exactly what the lyric sheet says).

Most of the songs are dreary, bassy drones (follow Commencement with Orgy's Vapor Transmission and you'll remember how good this kind of thing can sound when it's done right).

That having been said, the cover of Rush's Tom Sawyer is funny, and the MTV hit The Key to Gramercy Park isn't bad at all. D

-- DANIEL PUCKETT, Times staff

JERRY CANTRELL, DEGRADATION TRIP (ROADRUNNER) "This record is dedicated to Layne Staley," it says on the back, and with lines like "Faded rock star, push and needle," it's not just dedicated to Jerry Cantrell's old bandmate in Alice in Chains, it's aimed right square at the singer, who was found dead in April. And it rocks.

The tune on the radio, Anger Rising, is a good example of the sound: minor key, grinding, catchy as all get-out. In other words, this is the best Alice album in years, and though hearing Cantrell singing without Staley is strange and sad, the guy has a great voice, a knack for crafting good, grungy hooks, and an ear for music that conveys hopeless, yearning grief. B-plus

-- D.P.

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