Recorded at Sunset Sound and Larabee East, Los Angeles, California; The Hit Factory, New York, New York.

Personnel: Gavin DeGraw (vocals, piano, keyboards); Gavin DeGraw; Paulo Coelho (guitar, background vocals); Patrick Warren (harmonium, organ); Alvin Moody (bass guitar, background vocals); Steve Gryphon (programming); Paul Coelho (background vocals); Michael Ward , Oz Noy (guitar); Joey Waronker (drums); Rodney Howard (percussion).

Audio Mixers: Mark Endert ; Jon Kaplan.

Recording information: Dumbo Studios, New York, NY; Larrabee East, Los Angeles, CA; Sunset Sound, Hollywood, CA; The Hid Factory, New York, NY.

Editor: Steve Gryphon.

Photographer: Steven Sebring.

Not as baroque as Rufus Wainwright, and more downtown than Matchbox Twenty, but embodying elements of both acts, Gavin DeGraw's J Records debut is a strong showcase for his soulful wail and piano playing, even if it's occasionally grayed out by bells-and-whistles production that pushes it too strongly toward beigeist AAA accessibility. DeGraw's willowy vocal on opener "Follow Through" brings to mind Jeff Buckley, even if the cut is musically vacant adult alterna-whatever, but the title track and "Just Friends" are much better. There's meaningful sway in the piano, and palpable bitterness/hurt in DeGraw's vocal on the latter. "You were just friends/At least that's what you said," he sings. "Now I know better/From his fingers in your hair." It's a nice little lyric, adding impressive emotional gravity to an easily identifiable everyday moment. The flirty "Chemical Party" crosses chunky electric guitar with easy twang and vintage R&B -- it's a stylistic match with label mates Maroon 5, who took the same cocktail to number one and beyond with 2002's Songs About Jane. While the majority of Chariot follows a similar, basically catchy path, it can be hard to locate DeGraw inside the soundalike arrangements of "Crush" or "(Nice to Meet You) Anyway." Even "I Don't Want to Be," which enjoyed placement as the theme to the WB's high-school-and-perfect-cheekbones drama One Tree Hill, only makes an impression during its rousing chorus. Still, DeGraw's piano and vocal work is strong enough to keep Chariot largely on course, and mark it as a promising, mainstream-ready debut. ~ Johnny Loftus

Triangulated somewhere between the passionate earnestness of David Gray, the polished post-Jeff Buckleyisms of Howie Day, and the Hootie-meets-Petty pop-rock of Pete Yorn, the photogenic young troubadour Gavin DeGraw (he's even got a great name) seems almost preternaturally destined for success on his seamless debut album. Expertly produced by Mark Endert, CHARIOT organically emphasizes the natural hookiness of the material rather than relying on crass production tricks to shove the songs down the public's throat. DeGraw's voice has just the right mix of ragged honesty, falsetto-tinged sweetness, and pure pop melodicism, and the mainstream singer-songwriter rock he turns out is a refreshingly gimmick-free commodity all too rare for its era.

After receiving strong notices from the New York press for his fiery club performances, Gavin DeGraw signed with J Records and issued Chariot, his debut, in July 2003. But while it had promise, Chariot also suffered from a lack of imagination in the production department. There was no denying the humanity and bawdy soul wrapped up in DeGraw's voice, so why was it stifled by unimaginative, mainstream-leaning production? It's unclear what exactly prompted it (perhaps the album's slow burn rise on the charts?), but a full year later DeGraw's Chariot was re-released. However, this time around, the original studio version was joined by a song-for-song acoustic reading of Chariot, and the rawer presentation is exactly what it needed. The basic setup of drums, bass, acoustic guitar, subtle harmonies, and the piano and untreated vocals of DeGraw kicks out the slickness that shriveled cuts like "Follow Through," "Belief," and "Meaning." Here, they're the leafy greenery of a solid band kicking it on a warm April night in New York City. The title track was already a standout, but in its new, understated guise, there's a comforting Ben Harper quality about it. And the brushed snare is a perfectly subtle touch. "Just Friends" gets a new, mildly funky arrangement, and the cynically funny hedonism jam "Chemical Party" -- "You're just too high to see my point/You think your name is 'Pass the joint'" -- becomes a delightfully ragged jam with overtones of Simon & Garfunkel's "Cecilia." You can just imagine DeGraw kicking the piano stool out after the a cappella singalong breakdown. The effect of this "Stripped" format on DeGraw's music is immediate, and made more apparent by the inclusion of the studio cousin. It's an illustration of how great -- how real -- artists can sound when they aren't constrained by radio-ready sheen. ~ Johnny Loftus