Amazingly, star-crossed rocker Dwight Twilley, who had gone more than a decade between releases, put out two albums within seven weeks in 1999. In June came Tulsa, his first album of new material in 13 years, followed in July by the archival Between the Cracks, Vol. 1, subtitled, "a collection of rarities." Clearly, the reclusive Tulsa-based musician has been writing and recording all along, and he sifted through more than 20 years of tapes to compile this collection of outtakes, demos, and lost tracks from album projects that were never released. Kent Benjamin's liner notes reference unheard albums like Blueprint and The Luck that were the victims of record company machinations and bad luck, not to mention numerous recording sessions dating back to Twilley's teens. Twilley himself annotates the songs, some of which he has specific recollections about, others that he doesn't even remember writing. Dating from 1973 to 1994, they include polished pop/rock performances in the standard Twilley style, with its driving guitars and heavily echoed vocals, as well as oddities such as a Christmas song ("Christmas Love"), a near re-creation of the sound of Alvin & the Chipmunks called "Eli Bolack" ("I have no idea how, or why, this happened," Twilley writes), and a stately ballad that, as the artist notes, sounds like a song from a musical ("Where the Birds Fly"). Neophytes probably should pick up a copy of XXI, the Twilley best-of, before moving on to the arcana here, but initiates will welcome more of the pop sound the singer/songwriter/guitarist has been making since the mid-1970s. 
Twilley Don't Mind, came much faster and easier; Twilley and Seymour had already been playing most of the material that would make up Twilley Don't Mind on the road touring behind their debut LP, and while the sophomore album's technique is as unassailable as Sincerely, it sounds less like studio craftsmanship than a tight band knocking out their songs in real time. Twilley Don't Mind also pares back a bit of the eclecticism of Sincerely in favor of a more unified and energetic musical approach, embracing the joys of simple but hooky guitar-based rock on "Here She Comes," "Invasion," "Rock and Roll '47" and the title track, though the cool and moody "That I Remember," the neo-psychedelic "Sleeping" and the sparkling folk-rocker "Chance to Get Away" made it clear Twilley still had plenty of ideas left in his bag of tricks. He didn't opt to reveal as many of them on this album, however; featuring only nine tunes, the album feels unnecessarily short, one of the key reasons it feels a bit pale in comparison to Sincerely. However, what Twilley and Seymour did bring to the table on Twilley Don't Mind was first rate power pop every bit as satisfying as Badfinger and Big Star at their best, and anyone with a yen for a smart hook will revel in this.
Hall & Oates were in the middle of recording Private Eyes when Voices suddenly, unexpectedly broke big, with "Kiss on My List" reaching number one not just on the Billboard charts, but in Cashbox and Record World. As the album's producer, Neil Kernon, admits in Ken Sharp's liner notes to the 2004 reissue of the album, everybody knew that the new record would have to do better than Voices, but even if Hall & Oates were under a lot of pressure, they were in the fortunate position of not just having reintroduced their modernized, new wave-influenced blue-eyed soul on their previous record, but they already had much of the material nailed down. In other words, the sound and songs on Private Eyes were essentially conceived when the group was confident of the artistic breakthrough of Voices but not swaggering with the overconfidence of being the biggest pop act in America, and the result is one of their best albums and one of the great mainstream pop albums of the early '80s. Hall & Oates don't repeat the formula of Voices; they expand it, staying grounded in pop-soul but opening up the stylized production, so it sounds both cinematic and sharp. Lots of subtle effects are layered on the voices, guitars, and pianos as they mingle with synthesized instruments, from the keyboard loops that give "Head Above Water" a restless momentum to the drum machine that lends "I Can't Go for That (No Can Do)" a sexy, seductive groove.
Though the production is state of the art for 1981, what keeps Private Eyes from sounding robotic is that it never gets in the way of the kinetic energy of Hall & Oates' touring band, who give the music muscle; they are what keeps the album sounding vibrant 20-plus years after its release, since while elements of the production have dated, it still captures a real band working at a peak. These are the elements that make Private Eyes a sterling example of the sound of mainstream pop circa 1981, but the record was a hit, and has aged well, because both Hall & Oates, along with regular songwriting collaborators Sara and Janna Allen, were at a peak as writers. Yes, Oates' "Mano a Mano" is dorky (arguably in an appealing way), but apart from that there are no duds on the record. "Private Eyes," with its sleek surfaces, widescreen hooks, and unforgettable, handclap-propelled chorus, and "I Can't Go for That (No Can Do)" were the number one hits and the best-known songs here, but the insistent smaller hit "Did It in a Minute" deserved to reach the Top Ten too, as did the album tracks "Head Above Water" and "Looking for a Good Sign," a tribute to the Temptations that is the great forgotten Hall & Oates song. But it isn't just the hits and should-have-been singles; the rest of Private Eyes is filled with strong tunes, such as the reggae-tinged "Tell Me What You Want" and the paranoid vibe of "Some Men," making this a record that improves on Voices in every way, from its sound to its songs. Though they continued their streak of excellent hit singles, Private Eyes was the culmination of the sound they'd been developing since Along the Red Ledge, and it stands as the pinnacle of their time as the biggest pop act in the U.S.A.
And as if to prove that Broadrick indeed has a heart of pop beneath that crushing downtuned exterior, we now have the Conqueror, which if anything, pushes Jesu's sound even further into the glistening dreamy realm of pure pop. But fear not, we're not talking sugary sweet, treacly pop music cheese, no this is Jesu after all, spawn of Godflesh, so there's no shortage of dirgey rhythms, BIG crushing guitars, lurching tempos, thick swaths of buzz and fuzz, but it's all just window dressing for some seriously pretty pop. The opener is shockingly poppy, with sweet melodic hooks, tinkling piano, breathy vocals, all processed and wrapped in a fuzzy dreamlike haze. An immediate classic for sure. The rest of the record strikes a delicate balance between the dirgier heaviness of the first Jesu record and Broadrick's newfound love of the jangle and swoon, each track a glistening pop gem, placed delicately into a blown out landscape of loping drum crush and thick shimmery guitar buzz, coruscating sheets of distortion wrapped tenderly around heartfelt epics, soaring vocals, and dreamy melodies.
We don't so much hear some Godflesh / M83 hybrid now as we do the dirgey dreamlike murky bliss of nineties New Zealand legends Bailter Space, or the heavier side of the shoegazer spectrum, Swervedriver, Chapterhouse and the like. It's a captivating sound for sure, and a logical progression, and while it's distinctly less metal, there is still much heaviness to be had, even at its most soft focus and glimmering, the guitars retain their buzzy crunch, and the tempos are always dirgey and machinelike, but all the sharp edges have been smoothed out, and the rhythms maybe seem more languid than mechanical, and the fuzzy blissy poppy core of each song seems to radiate from within like some alien sun, giving each song, no matter how heavy, a soft burnished glow. 
