“The True False Identity” (DMZ/Columbia Records) – T Bone Burnett

Producer, sideman and – for the first time in 14 years – singer-songwriter T-Bone Burnett returns armed with razor-sharp lyrics and tough, taut guitar tones on “The True False Identity.”

It’s a very subterranean sound Burnett gets on this record, which features stellar players like Dennis Crouch on upright bass, Jim Keltner on drums and Marc Ribot on electric and acoustic guitars. Brooding, sinister and funky, like an after-hours jam session in the back room of some late ’50s dive, it’s the perfect setting for Burnett’s acid-tongue commentary on “The Art of the State,” as he titles one half of the collection, but also works on the more reflective “Poems of the Evening” set.

Burnett, a Christian who has produced and-or played on records by fellow believers Bob Dylan and Bruce Cockburn, pulls no punches as he breaks ranks with the conservative right.

On “Blinded by the Darkness,” he raps: “Do we want to inject the concept of sin into the Constitution?/Is this really necessary? Shouldn’t sin be left to the laws of God?”

And in “Palestine Texas,” which relies on some odd rhymes to introduce Frank, Sam, Dean, Joe, Peter and Shecky – apparently the Rat Pack – he pointedly switches gears to allude to a Texan currently living up north: “Presidents come and presidents go/They rise like smoke they fall like snow.”

But lyrics aren’t Burnett’s strongest suit here. At times, he tries to do what Dylan does so well, tossing off self-contained couplets aimed at tickling the ear and maybe the funny bone: “When you’re out for revenge dig two graves/When you run from the truth it comes in waves,” from “Every Time I Feel The Shift.”

But unlike Dylan, Burnett’s word-play comes off more earnest than sly.

“The True False Identity” succeeds when it isn’t trying so hard, when the lyrics just glide on top of the organic, old-school white-boy funk that Burnett conjures so well. – TOM GROENING

“I Sincerely Apologise For All The Trouble I’ve Caused” (Independiente) – David Ford

I’m not sure what he’s supposed to have done, but David Ford’s debut solo album constitutes one of the most wonderful, heartfelt apologies I’ve ever heard.

Any trouble caused has certainly not been due to laziness on Ford’s part. “I Sincerely Apologise…” is a true solo project, written, performed and recorded by Ford himself in the basement of his home on the south coast of England.

This seclusion has delivered a record that has us drifting through landscapes populated by viciously broken relationships, where instead of clutching lovers, people clutch bottles to the beat of a slamming door. “I never made time/You never made much sense/We never stood a chance,” he murmurs beneath a simple acoustic chord progression on the single “I Don’t Care What You Call Me.”

Meanwhile “Katie” is infused with paranoia and fear, and at times the record hints that it could become almost too painful to listen to. However there are slightly lighter textures available from the self-described optimist, such as the initially elegiac “Cheer Up” which finally spirals out of its sorrow to offer us a shadow of hope.

If Ford seldom quite reaches the sublime musical heights of Damien Rice – with whom comparisons come easily – he comes exceptionally close, while his often brutal lyrics provide punches to the gut at nearly every turn.

“I Sincerely Apologise For All The Trouble I’ve Caused” is not recommended for those currently breaking up and trying to get on with their lives. It is, however, eminently recommended for those in need of a good old-fashioned wallow.

Whatever it is he’s done, I forgive him, and you should, too. – ADAM CORRIGAN

“Life Less Ordinary” (Verve/GRP) – Mindi Abair

If ever an album was aptly named, it’s this one by the up-and-coming saxophonist.

“Life Less Ordinary” shows Abair in fine form. It’s already been to the top of the Billboard Contemporary Jazz Album charts, helped by the smooth jazz hit single “True Love.”

Her engaging sax playing, whether on alto or soprano, is prominent throughout the CD. But Abair’s got vocal chops as well, which she displays on the tropically flavored “Ordinary Love” and her cover of Rickie Lee Jones’ “It Must Be Love.”

The Berklee graduate and her musical collaborator, Mathew Hager, wrote most of the songs on the album, and were aided by a group of talented studio musicians. Also lending a hand on “It Must Be Love” are her Berklee classmate, Lalah Hathaway, on background vocals and Keb’ Mo on dobro.

Abair’s smooth jazz is accessible, and could easily fit on any soundtrack. A sound such as this, blending pop and jazz, gives the genre much needed crossover appeal to those who might have found it previously inapproachable.

On “Life Less Ordinary,” Abair has found a way to create pleasurable, hooky jazz that doesn’t slip into being Kenny G-style muzak. – DALE MCGARRIGLE

“Son” (Domino) – Juana Molina

Unfortunately, I only know about ten words in Spanish, so I have no idea what the Argentinean singer Juana Molina is saying on her new album “Son.” But it’s nice to imagine what she might be singing in her lyrics that accompany her haunting, electronic-tinged Latin folk music. The music is so strongly evocative of many things – nature, love, childhood – that it’s not necessarily important that you do understand the words.

Tracks like “La Verdad” feature Molina’s enchanting, whispery vocals over gently plucked acoustic guitar, wobbly synth lines and a surprising but astonishingly beautiful sample of bird song. “Rio Seco” takes a more traditionally Latin stance, with aggressively strummed guitar and a mournful melody, while “Desordenado” features off-kilter keyboard sounds and a pattering percussive beat.

More than anything, Molina brings to mind a Latin cousin to the English songwriter Nick Drake; quiet and hushed, with deceptively simple guitar playing and a kind of comforting innocence. “Son” is a perfect album for a warm summer night, or for lazing about on a Sunday afternoon. – EMILY BURNHAM