Musicologist Christopher Small, in his book Musicking, argued that we use music as a reflection. Music presents back to us how we think that relationships should work, or what kinds of relationships would be “ideal.” This sort of reflection, he said, could be seen both in the music itself and the relationship of those creating the music to those listening. While Small kept his arguments to the classical world of concert halls and symphonies, there is no reason one couldn’t see the same in pop music. In such an overwhelmingly complex society as our own, any true reflection, ideal or not, is going to be pretty artistically dense, and certainly not transparent on first, second, or third listen. It is nothing less than astounding, then, that Okkervil River, a relatively unknown band from Austin, Texas, has managed to combine music and a personal mythology in one of the most powerful artistic statements of this decade so far: Black Sheep Boy. I make such a grand statement because Will Sheff, their chief songwriter, has created an aural world of intense beauty, in the same way that Jeff Mangum and Neutral Milk Hotel did seven years before, or David Bowie did with Ziggy Stardust. This week, Okkervil releases Black Sheep Boy: The Definitve Edition, which includes the original album, the Black Sheep Boy Appendix EP, and several other songs and videos.

Pitchforkmedia.com, for all of its pretense, introduces a lot of great music to the world. Imitation is the side-project of Simon Johns, bassist for Stereolab, a band known for long, drawn-out vamping jams that often veer towards stale.

This coming weekend, Cornell’s music department is presenting a delicious array of new music. The centerpiece of the weekend is the visit of composer Fred Lerdahl from Columbia University. Lerdahl was one of the first current classical composers to recognize what many have come to believe about this genre: a large portion of it isn’t accessible to listeners without an advanced degree in music. He argued that the “compositional grammar,” (essentially, how composers compose), had become estranged from “listening grammar” (how listeners listen). At the same time, he did some truly pioneering work in the growing field of music cognition and coauthored A Generative Theory of Tonal Music.

Norah Jones has always been that singer and pianist who can run the gamut of popular American music without breaking a sweat. On Come Away with Me, she utilized simplistic jazz flourishes to accompany some of the most gorgeously conceived ballads of 2002. In a year dominated by overbearing masculine pomposity — remember Eminem, Creed and Nelly — Jones was able to sell records refreshingly based on pretty little pop tunes. In 2004, Feels Like Home, a less popular album, but still one with a lush sweetness, arrived with country licks and that elusive “down-home” sound. I’ll be honest; I had a crush on this girl who so cleverly utilized disparate elements of different American musical traditions, all the while making it sound so easy and light.

This past Thursday the St. Lawrence String Quartet, came to Cornell all the way from California as a part of our concert series. They showed themselves to be masters of what is one of the most demanding avenues of classical music: chamber music.

Sometimes you can enjoy a band that you don’t necessarily admire. My Chemical Romance’s first record was a poor construction of bland songwriting and an aesthetic that screamed middle school. With The Black Parade, however, MCR wears a more grown up kitsch on its collective sleeve.