'Metamorphosen' Branford Marsalis (Marsalis Music) On "Metamorphosen," Branford Marsalis makes a strong case that he is the top member of this incredibly talented family, His outlook on music is much more innovative than that of his more-famous brother, Wynton. That shows in forays into the bebop of Thelonious Monk or a new piece by pianist Joey Calderazzo that sounds like part of a concerto. Throughout the album, Marsalis plays nearly flawlessly on soprano, alto and tenor sax, offering songs that are all written by members of his quartet, with the exception of Monk's "Rhythm-A-Ning." The songs include the oddly phrased "Abe Vigoda" by bassist Eric Revis and "The Return of the Jitney Man" by Pittsburgh native and drummer Jeff "Tain" Watts. Also standing out are Calderazzo's "The Last Goodbye," a gorgeous ballad for Marsalis on alto. — Bob Karlovits 'At World's Edge' Philippe Saisse (Koch) If more pop-jazz artists took the route of Philippe Saisse, the curse of smooth jazz would not have fallen on us. Make no mistake, "At World's Edge" is not going to pull anyone from Keith Jarrett, but Saisse's keyboard work, his compositions and arrangements tend to be strong enough to make for a good listen. Oh, there are problems. "The Rover," for instance, should do that and wander away with its cutesy vocal. But "Billy's Blues" is not a bad bit of piano work and "Through Tainted Glass" is a pretty bit of somberness. The album also features saxophonist Kirk Whalum and trumpeter Rich Braun. It never rises far above background music, but does a good job at that. — Bob Karlovits 'Tell 'Em What Your Name Is' Black Joe Lewis & the Honeybears (Lost Highway) "Tell 'Em What Your Name Is" is an invigorating mix of soul, funk and rock, a rousing album that showcases one of the most promising new bands of 2009. Black Joe Lewis & the Honeybears take their cues from James Brown, O.V. Wright, Sly Stone and other soul masters, but there's a distinct, contemporary aspect to the music. "Gunpowder" surges out of the blocks with a Chuck Berry-flavored guitar, wailing horns and Lewis proclaiming as if his life is on the line. In "Sugarfoot," Lewis channels Brown in a spirited call-and-response with the band. "Big Booty Woman" is a delightful detour into southern-flavored soul and "Master Sold My Baby" comes closest to true blues. But the surprise is "Get Yo ..., " the comic antics of a hapless guy on the run from his woman, his past and the law, so entertaining it bears up after repeated listening. — Rege Behe 'My Maudlin Career' Camera Obscura (4AD) "Let's Get Out of This Country" (2006), with its fabulous single "Lloyd, I'm Ready to be Heartbroken," was Camera Obscura's breakthrough. "My Maudlin Career" consolidates and builds on its success. It's gorgeous. The lyrics may be bittersweet -- heartaches and break-ups, primarily -- but "maudlin" would be an exaggeration, especially when the words are paired with music this joyful. The Glasgow quintet, with the help of Jari Haapalainen, the Swedish producer the group worked with last time, looks back, although not slavishly, to the sweetly elaborate orchestrations of the Sixties. Hints of girl-group drama, country-politan sophistication, the Beach Boys' teenage symphonies, and Dusty Springfield's Brit-pop soul mingle in songs that bounce, saunter and sway, all in service of Tracyanne Campbell's reverberating, aching, sighing voice. "This maudlin career has come to an end/I don't want to be sad again," she sings. Sadness becomes her, though, if it results in an album this wonderful. — The Philadelphia Inquirer 'A Woman a Man Walked By' PJ Harvey and John Parish (Island/Universal) In a world of entertainment where more (product) is less (necessary), one can't get enough of Polly Jean Harvey's tangled noise, caterwauling sexuality and bleak or blackly humorous lyricism. Ten albums since 1992, demonstrating how unholy it would sound if Captain Beefheart were a woman, is but a drop in subversive pop's bucket. Harvey first paired with John Parish in 1996's "Dance Hall at Louse Point." Parish writes the music that Harvey sings when they team, and knows that Harvey needs sonorous song, grouchily and sparsely arranged, to conjure a sweet high yelp ("Black Hearted Love"). PJ craves crepuscular cabaret bits for her whispery weird-outs ("Leaving California"), grand plinking folk to usher forth the imagery of trembling trees and other hallmarks of a haunted soul ("Sixteen, Fifteen, Fourteen"), and raw power always ("Pig Will Not"). Harvey responds to Parish's eerie, intimate backgrounds with musky potent poetry (best heard on the wiry title tune), more panting actress-y voices than Meryl Streep can dare and a sense of cinema ("send me home damaged and wanting," she cries) worthy of Welles and Wilder. Brava and bravo. — The Philadelphia Inquirer Additional Information: CDs