Former Bay Area jazz guitarist Ryan Scott got religion in 2001, moved to Manhattan and soon traded in his Pat Martino records for a blast of David Cassidy and Bread's David Gates. What on earth moves someone to abandon his serious jazz chops for the unknown territory of open mic nights and $50 gigs? Perhaps sensing the slow decline of what used to be known as "America's classical music," Scott relegated his jazz cred to late night jams, and instead worked on his songwriting, which is in high relief on his debut, Smoke & Licorice (Velour).

Referencing the Davids (Cassidy and Gates) may be an oversimplification, but there is surely a glimmer of soft rock style in Scott's slightly warped sound collages. First up, his warm, honeyed vocals are easy to like, heck, they're actually in tune. But beyond the soft rock component, Scott alludes to a veritable Loss Leaders LP worth of weird and wonderful 70s artists, including whacked out British folk singer John Martyn, Frank Zappa in neo-blues mode (think "Tell Me You Love Me"), "Show Me A Smile" era Fleetwood Mac, and even a touch of Randy California (ditto "Nature's Way"). How does a 24 year old manage to capture the girth and gumption of such ancient pop music? Like Sweden's Dungen, Wales Super Furry Animals, and even the Flaming Lips, Scott shoots for timelessness, free of market demographics, cute band alerts or fast fame. On the other hand, music this eclectic and even esoteric may force Scott into penury or 24 hour shifts at Starbucks, but at least we'll be better off for it.

Some say that a true artist can make a good song work, regardless of style or arrangement, and Scott pulls that off in spades. In "You Might Change Your Mind," Scott declares a serious early Steely Dan vibe, the dusky "Harmony" and "5 O'Clock News" recalls lost drunkard folk genius John Martyn, "I Think I Love You" chugs and bumps like Lowell George channeling Howling Wolf. Weird, spooky, and totally winning.

"Love Thy Neighbor" shows off some jazz theory and a slapdash of electronic tomfoolery. Ben Harper wishes he could write something this dark and mysterious, yet oddly uplifting. Like the rainbow relief after the perfect storm. Tablas and off-kilter drums flummox the song's driving rhythm, brass shouts and Celeste showers drop in to comfort the song's waltzing 3/4 chorus. Singing about "greasy palms" and "daddy's little girl in a microcosm of the past" won't win Scott any fans of literate logic, but in this case, the obfuscation only adds to Smoke & Licorice's dramatic weight.

Ryan Scott: "Love Thy Neighbor"  (MP3, 4:40)

London Calling: Speaking of electronic tomfoolery, UK loudmouth Jamie T. is next up for the Streets/Jack Jack rap sweepstakes. Jamie T. sings, scraps, wretches and roils like Damon Albarn crawling out of some pub in the wee small hours, but Jamie won't be falling into a limo. No, this is the stuff of the London street: bare bones instrumentals, equally razor sharp rhythms and above it all, T.'s caterwauling, histrionic vocals.  Sure, the Clash did this sort of everyman social consciousness thing better than anyone since, to the point where the phony Police-like "Ooohs" in T.'s "Salvador" sound more like drunken teenagers looking up skirts than political refugees intent on destruction. But the song is what matters, right?

The Wimbeldon born T. is by day an impassioned upright bass player, of all things, and by night, a singer/songwriter largely indebted to Woody Guthrie and Billy Bragg. The wonderfully ramshackle tracks of Panic Prevention, T.'s debut, are full of life a young gun intent on deflowering the world. Elvis gets thrown around in T.s vocal barrage; sweet thing Lily Allen guests on bonus track, "Raw Hide" (think the Specials mashed with Marianne Faithful).   

As a self-taught singer songwriter who got his initial brownie points at the young age of 11, T. was precocious to say the least.  Rumors of his inspired mash-ups spread when Jamie self-released "Salvador" on his Pacemaker imprint. This led to his being asked to remix "Kids with Guns" from Gorillaz' Demon Days at the request of Damon Albarn. Ipso facto, Jamie signed to Virgin; he was named Best Solo Artist at the 2007 NME Awards and nominated for a 2007 Nationwide Mercury Prize. Word up!

Jamie T: "Salvador"  (MP3, 3:34)