Let’s be honest - it’s easy and it’s popular to gripe that music isn’t as good these days as it was when we were in high school. Most of the bands I listen to will probably never be all that fashionable or achieve the kind of mainstream success the White Stripes have, and that’s fine. I’ve grown to accept that. But what’s really frustrating is when a band that I’ve loved for years, releases an album that’s so average, it’s like a watered down version of their former selves. In a way, I would almost rather hear my musical idols release an EP of Abba covers, or even break up altogether, instead of gradually fading away with album after album of musical mediocrity. I’m talking about the kind of albums that you’ll download, or maybe even buy, scouring the tracks for some remnants of the band you once knew and loved, only to wish you’d spent the time listening to their back catalogue instead.

This month saw the release of several such CDs, all of them so-so. Jimmy Eat World came out with Chase This Light (October 16), a somewhat dull and overly polished record that might go down easier, if it weren’t so perfectly over-shadowed by their 1999 masterpiece Clarity. Thrice’s new album The Alchemy Index, Vols. 1-2 (October 16) is OK on its own, but it lacks the raw power and urgency of their more aggressive, earlier work. Likewise, Coheed And Cambria’s No World For Tomorrow (October 23) is expectedly clever and occasionally experimental in its prog noodling, but the passion and intensity of 2002’s Second Stage Turbine Blade is all but gone here. The new Armor For Sleep album, Smile For Them (October 30), is pretty good; I’m just not sure it warranted a review.

So I’ve decided instead to write up one of my favorite records of all time – Downward Is Heavenward, the fourth and final album from Champaign Illinois spacerockers Hum, released in 1998. Hum is perhaps best known for their signature “wall of sound” aesthetic, featuring two droning guitars, slowly crushing you beneath huge waves of layered distortion, while Matt Talbot’s soft voice floats delicately above it all. The dual guitars perpetually build on one another’s dissonance, shaping a sonic landscape of endless lingering suspensions that rarely resolve. Every sound on the album shimmers, from the epic wash of the cymbals to the background noise loops, meticulously generated from delay pedals and multi-effects processors.

Cryptic lyrics about space travel and time machines might serve to obscure the meaning, but underneath the sci-fi allegories and behind the intricately layered arrangements, lies a collection of 10 perfectly crafted love songs. In “Apollo,” the most stripped-down song on the album, Talbot is at his most vulnerable, softly repeating “I’m thinking of a number between everything and two,” while reverb-drenched guitars bounce off each other’s echoes in the distance. The space between lines creates a tension that he refuses to release until the final chord of the song, when he adds “it’s molecules of you,” almost as an afterthought. Every single track on the album is similarly constructed for an intense and moving experience.

Historically, it seems heavily distorted guitars are often employed to distance oneself from the music, to prevent an emotional connection. Yet with Downward Is Heavenward, Hum is somehow able to achieve the opposite effect, their songs sincere and vulnerable, without resorting to visceral screams or high-pitched emo whining. The chemistry between the four musicians is unmistakable, each instrument complementing the others to create a succinct and coherent whole. If you’re able to find the b-sides “Puppets” and “Aphids,” I highly recommend burning all 12 songs on one CD for a solid 62 minutes of transcendent spacerock. Although I wish the band hadn’t broken up 7 years ago, I’m grateful that we have yet to see a wave of imitators selling Hum knock-offs that serve only to cheapen the original, and I’m thankful that we will always have this album as a reminder of what truly great music is capable of achieving.

The residents of Fenton, Massachusetts in 1927 are the sort that enjoy tea with their conversation and champagne with their croquet. A proud history devoid of any crime or scandal has provided the town’s high society citizens with the luxury of fixating on such concerns as wine pairings and the proper knot for a necktie. But when the terrible inconvenience of a nearly double murder shakes the town to its foundation, its inhabitants are forced to reexamine their values and confront their fears. It is with such a set up that Patrick Glendon McCullough begins his debut novel, Son of the Ripper!

The story develops quickly, and as assorted aristocratic gentlemen cast suspicion on each other, a ghastly rumor arises that the murderer could be none other than the son of the infamous Jack the Ripper. The cast of characters falls into place nicely, each citizen dealing with the nuisance of having their life interrupted by a serial killer in their own way. The oft-inebriated sheriff Stewart Trundle and the snotty town genealogist Alistair Praft eventually team up to uncover the mystery, struggling to endure each other’s personalities along the way.

McCullough has a flair for playing up the humor throughout the plot-driven narrative. Alistair’s resistance to the romantic advances of Martha Radcliffe is featured in a few memorable scenes, the awkwardness of their interactions providing the substance of a seemingly accidental and understated comedy. The lighter moments are skillfully balanced with thrilling suspense, as the murders continue and the mounting clues seem to implicate any one of the townspeople. Sudden revelations and requisite plot twists propel the novel to its dramatic conclusion.

The culminating scene is one in which the drama and humor, which had been building separately throughout, ultimately combine as fingers point and accusations fly. Son of the Ripper! resists being overly formulaic, but maintains an easy accessibility in its 300-or-so pages. Its wit is dry but not smug; its action entertaining and light but not predictable or devoid of substance. Indeed one would be hard-pressed to find anything alienating in the entire book, the debut work from a promising young author who we will hopefully be hearing more from in the near future.

Incidentally, Barnes & Noble seems to be selling it for quite a bit less than Amazon, so I would suggest that you purchase it there.