Impossibly goofy rap and impossibly sunny pop are among the sounds on tap in this month's roundup of local discs:

Jewish Dave & Friends, "Jewish Dave & Friends" (www.polarbearz.net): "Don't laugh," Jewish Dave growls at one point on this disc. "Ain't a damn thing funny." You said it, guy. And this tends to be a problem when you're making a comedy rap CD.

Jewish Dave and company like to think of themselves as Tenacious D meets the Wu-Tang Clan, but in terms of laughs and mic skills, they're more like a cross between Carrot Top and Pretty Ricky. They make lots of poop jokes and lampoon gangsta rap cliches for a few chuckles, but ultimately, this disc packs all the yucks of grandpa asking you to pull his finger.

Dian Diaz, "Dian Diaz" (Strip City Records): Diaz's bedroom-bound torch songs should come packaged with scented candles and a pack of cigarettes. On this libidinous disc, she works herself into such a lather that she ends up panting at one point, backed by wah-wah guitar and a bass line as slinky as the little black dress she wears on the album cover.

Diaz sings in a smoky moan that occasionally pirouettes into the kind of falsetto gymnastics that have made Christina Aguilera a millionaire. And in many ways, Diaz sounds like she's trying to be an Xtina for the adult contemporary set. She occasionally delves into Spanish-inflected sounds, with flamenco guitar and rumba rhythms, but mostly this is sultry couples pop meant to test the durability of your bedsprings.

The Fratellis, "Fist Full of Dynamite" (www.thefratellis.net): The Fratellis' scruffy punk is like an old concert T-shirt you've worn a thousand times: familiar, comfortable, a little ragged, and all the better for it.

The band is all about no-frills, whoa-oh-oh! punk, sounding like true descendants of the Descendants. They bash out gruff, fleet tunes about sleeping the day away and love gone bad. Frontman Dave Ramirez sings in a nasally whelp, backed by gang vocal choruses and go-go-go guitars that come on like a heart attack.

It's a sound nearly as old as punk itself, but as long as there's cheating girlfriends and crappy day jobs to contend with, bands like this always will be welcomed among punk's working class.

Doug Managhan, "One More Cup of Coffee for the Highway" (www.dougmanaghan.com): Doug Managhan doesn't just wear his heart on his sleeve, he practically Fed Exes you the thing on his lovey-dovey debut. Managhan sings iridescent pop tunes in a reedy, resonant voice, sounding like a teen in the midst of his first crush.

Some sample song titles: "Magic of Your Love," "Blessed With Love," "Man, I Really, Really, Really Love Love." (OK, I made that last one up, but you get the idea.)

Managhan plays all the instruments here, buffering his tunes with airy synth lines and perpetually sunny arrangements. Sure, it's sugary enough to send you into a diabetic coma if you're not careful, but the disc still packs enough mood-enhancing powers to save you money on Zoloft.

Jason Bracelin's "Sounding Off" column appears on Tuesdays. Contact him at 383-0476 or e-mail him at jbracelin@ reviewjournal.com.