By Libby Sterling | Juneau Empire
I was recently chided for my lack of familiarity with Casey Kasem, a radio personality and voice actor who apparently influenced much of America during his nearly 60-year career. For those who also don't know, Kasem is most popular for his role as Shaggy in the "Scooby-Doo" cartoon and as host of the "American Top 40" radio countdown show - he told America what to listen to.
My ignorance to Kasem's existence could possibly be attributed to my age. During the peak of his career, I was busy making stop-motion Playmobil films and dressing up my highly tolerant cats in costumes - being a kid, basically. But I'd like to think that my unawareness of Kasem's reach is due to the way I was brought up to experience the world.
I grew up without cable TV; in its stead, I clung to public broadcasting, the daily news and my local library as my main sources of what was hip and happening at the time. Ask me about LeVar Burton, the Mario Bros. or Bill Watterson's comics, and we'll have something on which to base our conversation. But when it comes to most items of the '80s and '90s mainstream, I've always been pretty removed, clueless when it comes to trivia.
Fast forward to present day. I'll admit, the Internet has enhanced the way that we experience pop culture. It's more difficult to opt-out of marketing messages. Nonetheless, I've found that I still embrace many of the anti-influence habits from my childhood as an adult. I don't much value television - at least not enough to pay for it. I quickly tired of Facebook, and my MySpace page sits dormant, all its direct marketing going to waste.
I don't seem to have trouble following the news of the local music scene, but when it comes to national and world music, it's easy to fall behind. I often don't learn of new releases from artists I think I'm following until well after used copies of the CD are available on Amazon for a penny plus shipping.
Subsequently, I'm forced from time to time to go on the hunt for some new-to-me music to add to my library. Sometimes a friend will supply a much-appreciated tip, but last week I decided to do some digging of my own in unknown territory, not sure of what I'd find. I tossed aside handfuls of mediocre titles, but four albums stood out that I deemed worthy of mention. For all I know, they may already be famous, winning awards and appearing on billboards across the nation. But to me they are simply a breath of fresh, musical air.
Paul Curreri, "California"

While it is cohesive as a whole, each piece in "California" has a different attitude. Some feel like the desert, some allude to the cowboy on the cover, and some make me get all existential. My favorite by far is the title track, "California," for its simplicity and equally for its technical complexity. The song is stripped down to fingerstyle guitar and vocals, and it is composed in a way that really gets inside of me. It makes me want to play music too, and that's one of the highest compliments I can give to any musician. But I have one complaint: I wish so much that the song would just end, rather than simply fading out - what a buzz kill.
Shayfer James, "The Owl & The Elephant"

The tunes range from ballady to epic, most featuring narrative lyrics that tell gripping tales. The most dramatic, "Every Fallen Feather," evokes pictures in my mind of the characters being sung about. Its impassioned storyline is set to an emotive tune.
If you're not one for paying attention to lyrics, I bet you'll still appreciate this album's musical arrangements. Even if all the stories were sung in a foreign language, "The Owl & The Elephant" would still make for an enjoyable listening experience.
The Rescues, "Let Loose the Horses"

If you only want to spend a few dollars on this band, spend them on "Can't Stand The Rain," "The City And The River," "Stay Over" and "Stranger Keeper." Coincidently, these tracks are all located near the end of the album, where the best stuff usually hides.
Vincent Minor, "Vincent Minor"

The music has a timeless feeling to it. It's also unassuming and natural. I picture Minor in his Los Angeles apartment, silencing the ring of his telephone as he composes piece after piece while hunched over his piano, all the while stylishly dressed.
The feeling I get from listening to this album reminds me of the fun I've had over the years listening to The Verve and Badly Drawn Boy, yet I hate to draw comparisons. "Vincent Minor" is unique, a mixed-media painting in a gallery full of black-and-white photographs. The album's tasteful integration of varying levels of orchestration into its songs is well-balanced; there's a lot going on all at once, but it all blends together to create one unit. With each listen of this album in the future, I foresee discovering something I never noticed before.