HARRY MANX | Mantras for Madmen | Dog My Cat Records

On his sixth album, smooth, bluesy, singer/songwriter Harry Manx applies his knowledge of East Indian music to add subtle world touches to emotionally moving tunes.

Bringing raga into Western blues and pop is nothing new: Mike Bloomfield, the Byrds, Donovan and the Beatles were doing it four decades ago. Yet Manx, who lived in India for five years and studied the Mohan Veena—a multistringed mix of sitar and lap steel guitar—is more than just an outsider looking in.

Only two instrumentals find the disc in full Indian mode. Generally, Manx adds the sounds and scales to spice, rather than base, his Western-style folk-blues curry. He mixes tabla with mandolin and lap slide on “Your Sweet Name” to effortlessly fuse bluegrass, blues, pop and Indian textures in less than four minutes. A cover of J.J. Cale’s “San Diego-Tijuana” brings a shadowy south-of-the-border vibe interestingly consistent with the Eastern scales.

Most importantly, Manx writes charming, memorable melodies wafting with pungent instrumentation that bend genre borders without breaking them. (HH)

THE ELECTED | Sun, Sun, Sun | Sub Pop

In Rilo Kiley, Blake Sennett usually stands behind his former girlfriend, indie queen Jenny Lewis, occasionally emerging to voice a number two. With his own group, the Elected, Sennett can fully blossom as a songwriter.

Though it can’t compare to Lewis’ ambitious debut Rabbit Fur Coat, which was released on the same day, the Elected’s second album, Sun, Sun, Sun is a minor gem. Songs like “I’ll Be Your Man,” where Sennett croons the title alongside Lewis, are so light they seem to float through the speakers. “Old Times” is just as dreamy, as the band sways back and forth against his voice like an old Nashville waltz.

Much like his songwriting partner, Sennett revels in sweet balladry and country rock. Were it not issued on a cool indie label, Sun, Sun, Sun wouldn’t sound out of place on adult contemporary radio between Bonnie Raitt and the Eagles. (MR)

KRIS KRISTOFFERSON | This Old Road | New West

Rhodes scholar. Army pilot. Janitor. Singer/songwriter. Drunkard. Movie star. Kris Kristofferson, who turns 70 this year, has lived enough for 20 men, and he’s not done yet. This Old Road, his first album in 11 years, finds the grizzled troubadour taking stock of a life led well, if not always wisely, and paying tribute to the people who helped him find his true path. One emblematic track, “Wild American,” celebrates the bravery and integrity of such undersung icons as Native American activist John Trudell and alt-country gadfly Steve Earle.

With This Old Road, the antique-piano timbre of his voice, the unassuming adroitness of his phrasing, and the muscular poetry of his lyrics have the ideal conditions in which to flourish, thanks to producer Don Was, who clearly understands that Kristofferson’s music, like Shaker furniture, requires no froufrou embellishments.

Although Was, longtime Kristofferson associate Stephen Bruton, and session man extraordinaire Jim Keltner supply understated accompaniment on a few cuts, most of the album consists of nothing but voice, acoustic guitar, and harmonica, a spareness that allows the listener to notice the subtle complexity infusing even the most apparently simplistic song. The uncharacteristically jaunty “Pilgrim’s Progress” conflates the political and the personal in a series of self-deprecating questions: “Am I young enough to believe in revolution?/Am I strong enough to get down on my knees and pray?/Am I high enough on the chain of evolution/ To respect myself, and my brother and my sister/And perfect myself in my own peculiar way?” (RSS)