Now 91, Seeger isn’t the vocalist he used to be, but he’s only used this as an excuse to further embrace the group performances he’s always encouraged; his Appleseed Recordings tenure has included a number of collaborations, and that trend continues with the delightful Tomorrow’s Children.

Credited to “Pete Seeger with the Rivertown Kids and Friends,” Tomorrow’s Children is a remarkable late-period testament to Seeger’s career-long belief in the joy of untrammeled creativity. Invited to join in a local fourth-grade teacher’s music lessons, Seeger became a fixture at the school, and here’s the result: 19 tracks of group performances featuring an American icon, a handful of special guests, and a whole bunch of kids who now have one amazing story to tell.

If there’s any kind of gripe to be had, it’s that Tomorrow’s Children doesn’t always sound like a Pete Seeger record; though he performs on all the tracks, he frequently takes a back seat to his young collaborators, who even contributed lyrics to some of the songs. That’s a minor complaint, though, particularly because it always feels like a Seeger album — this is a beautiful, clear-eyed testament to the power of using music to bring people together, of using simple ingredients to create something timeless, and of working locally to effect global change.

Though they’re sometimes humorous, these aren’t silly songs. They don’t pander. They’re for — and by — kids, but they don’t stoop to make their points; they’re direct and honest about their points of view, and they trust their audience to listen accordingly. Modern parents, accustomed to shielding their kids from anything more troublesome than a disagreement between Muno and Brobee, may blanch at the prospect of letting them hear songs about social activism, pollution, and the like, but that isn’t doing anyone any favors. As Seeger demonstrates here yet again, responsible citizenry starts with you — and it starts with nothing more complicated than your voice.

Of course, it isn’t like trad bluegrass is particularly hard for all-ages audiences to enjoy, but that’s no reason to complain about Take It Outside, the Okee Dokees’ follow-up to their 2008 debut, Kids with Beards. Anything that connects kids with the primordial joy of song is all right in my book, and Outside represents an assured next step in the duo’s self-proclaimed “mission to remind children (and adults) of their intrinsic ability to discover, imagine, and create through music.”

For proof that the Okee Dokee Brothers know what they’re doing, you don’t have to look much further than the company they keep — Take It Outside was produced by Tor Hyams and features liner note endorsements by preeminent kindie critics Bill Childs, Christina Refford, and Stefan Shepherd, all of whom know a thing or two about great family entertainment. And it isn’t hard to hear why they’re Okee Dokees fans: This a 13-track bundle of fun, cleverly written bluegrass, recorded with a minimum of fuss and bother, and soaked in kid-friendly charm.

There are moments that your kids will probably enjoy a lot more than you do (I’m thinking specifically of the colossally annoying “Tippy Toes” and “Water Balloon”), but on the whole, Take It Outside is loaded with replay value: Highlights include the lovely, cascading melody and beautiful message of “Neighbors,” the hip tongue-twister “Antidisestablishmentarianism,” the rubbery, gale-force storm of syllables that is “Auctioneer,” the warm-hearted “What We Got,” and the funny ode to nudity “The Naked Truth.”

According to their website, the Okee Dokee Brothers — a.k.a. Joe Mailander and Justin Lansing — were “childhood best friends,” and they sound like it here, wrapping their voices in brotherly harmony and anchoring their songs in the kind of hummable, durable arrangements that beg for back-porch playing. At a time when artifice in music is so commonplace as to be invisible, isn’t that kind of simplicity its own reward?

It’s held on the grounds of a community college in rural northern Massachusetts, but the Green River Festival isn’t the collection of acoustic guitar-toting folk singers you might expect. This year’s lineup, which sprawled out over two hot summer days and nights, included a touch of the traditional (Brooks Williams opened the main stage on Saturday), but made plenty of room for the unexpected (Allen Toussaint, Cake, and Sierra Leone’s Refugee All Stars are just a few eclectic examples).

One of the great things about the festival’s location is room — and plenty of it: Aside from the spacious main stage area, which housed thousands of chair-and-umbrella-toting concertgoers and dozens of craft and food booths, the festivities spilled over into a huge lawn area where lesser-known acts played at the Dance Tent, hot air balloon rides were available for folks who had $250 to burn, and our pal Bill Childs delivered two days of marvelous family entertainment at the Meltdown Stage.

I’ll be writing about the grown-up artists at Popdose later, but here’s a brief rundown of my Meltdown experience:

Elizabeth Mitchell took full advantage of the sign language interpreters on offer under the Meltdown tent, using two — one using what I assume was ASL, and another communicating with what I’m guessing was Korean Sign Language. It’s all part of the multicultural, all-inclusive aesthetic her music has always had; when I arrived at the tent, Mitchell was telling the folks in the audience that on record, the song she was about to perform featured a magic xylophone, but she was sure it’d be fine without it because “everyone has a magic xylophone within them.” It reads pretty airy-fairy, but if you’ve ever heard an Elizabeth Mitchell album, you know it makes perfect sense in the context of her music. Her gently buoyant set was perfect for a hot afternoon; I was pleasantly hypnotized long before her adorable daughter broke out with a harmonica solo. Even with a wall of overdriven amplifiers, she’d be soothing; crooning “peace like a river,” she’s positively heartwarming. I’ve long loved her earlier work — if you aren’t a fan yet, visit her site now and familiarize yourself before her new album, Sunny Day, arrives this fall.

Earlier this year, I missed the New York duo Ratboy Jr. at the Meltdown Festival, and I was determined not to make the same mistake twice. Hailing from New Paltz, NY, the duo of Timmy Sutton (guitars, vocals) and Matty Senzatimore (drums, backing vocals, and amazing simultaneous keyboards) offers a wonderfully down-to-earth alternative to a lot of the sugary, stupidly silly kids’ music on offer by concentrating on stuff kids really love — like dirt, worms, and robots. Timmy told the crowd he was excited to see Cake later in the day, and you can hear a pretty clear line between the two acts, but where I’ve always found Cake painfully corny, there’s something undeniably endearing about Sutton and Senzatimore’s eagerness to get down in the muck and remind us how much fun it really is to connect with the world around us. Like their song “Dirt” says: “Everything is wonderful, including the dirt.” As parents, a lot of our choices are corporate-fed, and they ultimately ring hollow on one level or another; as clever as the Backyardigans’ or the Wonder Pets’ songs might be, they’re still part of a computer-generated product line. Ratboy Jr. is as far away from that as you can get. Read my review of their CD here, or visit them at their Facebook page to sample their wares.

I’ve gone on record with my love for the Flannery Brothers‘ music on more than one occasion, and I’m about to do it again: Their Sunday set, which kicked off the afternoon program at noon, was the second time I’ve seen them give it their all for a crowd that should have been ten times the size. If they aren’t my favorite kids’ band, they come awfully close, and there simply aren’t enough of you listening to their wonderful songs. During the band’s Green River show, vocalist/keyboardist/tambourine player Dan Flannery swiped the title of “hardest working man in children’s show business” from Justin Roberts; even if it hadn’t been 90 degrees outside, he would have quickly worked up a sweat with his energetic antics (at one point, he grabbed his tambourine and sprinted across the field between verses of a song). They’re just a great band, melding funky grooves, tight guitar, and electric keys to funny, charmingly wide-eyed songs about vegetables, riding bikes, and favorite pillows. I’ve heard their upcoming album, The New Explorers Club, and it’s absolutely their best yet. Visit their site, buy some music, and spread the word — the Flannery Brothers have the childlike spirit, the performing talent, and the songwriting skill that listeners of all ages need to hear more of.

Having said all that, the nicest Meltdown Stage surprise of the weekend came in the form of The Primate Fiasco, a local band that describes its sound as “psychedelic Dixieland,” but really offers a much more traditional listening experience than you might expect. Close your eyes, and you’ll imagine guys wearing natty straw hats and suspenders on their arms, but this five-piece crew was full of sweaty, youthful vigor when I saw them; they played a “grown up” set at the Dance Stage before slaying the pint-sized Meltdown crowd with selections from their addictive new family disc, Wheels on the Bus — and then they led a Mardi Gras parade through the festival grounds just before Allen Toussaint took the main stage. I bought both of their albums before I walked out of the tent — give me a banjo, a clarinet, and a tuba, and I’ll be your friend for life — and played Wheels for my kids first thing Sunday morning, at which point they became immediate fans. If you’re not in the Northampton area, your chances of catching a Primate Fiasco show are on the slim side, but nothing’s stopping you from buying either (or both) of their CDs. Vocalist/banjo player/harmonica player Dave DelloRusso told a concertgoer that Wheels on the Bus is his favorite of the two, and I agree with him — but miss their first album, Geek Dreams, and you’ll miss one of the more sublime versions of “Sweet Georgia Brown” that I’ve ever heard. Trust me: You’re a Primate Fiasco fan. You just don’t know it yet.

Now, those of you who have been reading this site for awhile may remember that Laurie Berkner is one of my main musical nemeses — there’s just something about the way she’s always bouncing around with that smile on her face that bugs me — so I’m naturally predisposed to dislike any band that includes a pink-wigged man and a lead singer who looks like a tiny, hyperactive, Jew-froed Steven Tyler. And to be perfectly honest right up front, I sincerely doubt I’d ever watch or listen to the Dirty Sock Funtime Band on my own; for me, listening to this type of music is like eating frosting. A little goes a long, long way.

That being said, we’ve been all about the DSFB lately, because my daughter loves the DVD/CD combo they’ve just released, titled Sock-A-Delic. No, wait: She looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooves it. Like all semi-functional dads, I am powerless against this.

Essentially, Sock-A-Delic acts as a primer for the upcoming Dirty Sock Funtime Band Show, which is, I’m guessing, being developed for Nick Jr., and presents a sort of Monkees for the pre-K set. In other words, each episode revolves loosely around a silly plot, usually some sort of simple problem solved by music — like “The Surprise Party,” in which the band plans a birthday bash for lead singer/scarf-wearer Mike, and distracts him by leaving a pogo stick out for him to find. There’s music, there’s hammy acting, there’s that dude in the pink wig. All the things kids love and parents tolerate.

As far as this sort of thing goes, Sock-A-Delic is pretty painless. The songs are incredibly catchy, and the production values, while plainly low-budget, are thoroughly professional. (They do a lot with a little, using tricks like the old “hey, half of my body is in black & white” shot.) And really, as much as people love to use the old “__________ the whole FAMILY can enjoy!” line, I’m not the target audience for this stuff, so whether or not I love it is immaterial. It’s entertaining for its target audience, offering colorful visuals and bouncy, positive music you can sing along with after the first listen. It’s silly, and that’s the point. Your little ones will love it.

My trepidation didn’t last long, however, melting in the face of the album’s sunny blend of crunchy guitars, toe-tapping beats, catchy melodies, and funny lyrics. It’s definitely a homebrewed affair, but Roy Handy (otherwise known as Gerry Stanek) keeps things lo-fi without sounding amateurish. It’s an interesting sound for a kids’ record, and it puts the “indie” in “kindie” more than anything I’ve heard in quite awhile; it could function as sort of a gateway drug for the alt-rockers of tomorrow.

Best Friend does have its skippable moments, such as the irritating “Space Kitty!!!,” but on the whole, this is a fun, consistently entertaining record that works its way past your defenses with all the confidence of its title. It may not be your best friend, but you should definitely make its acquaintance.

Now I’ll get a little more in-depth as to just exactly why Justin Roberts is so awesome, and why, if you’re the type of parent who loves music and would like to pass that along to your kids, you need to add his music to your family playlist.

In pure songwriting terms, Roberts outclasses most of the “grown-up” artists I listen to on a daily basis. Like any other kids’ performer, he understands how to address youth-oriented themes, and he does it really well — more on that in a minute. But compositionally, Roberts is in a league of his own, both from a nuts-and-bolts music theory standpoint and from a kitchen-sink production/arrangements standpoint. He loads his songs with the kinds of smart changes that make dyed-in-the-wool pop fans smile, and he’s got a terrific secret weapon in his producer, Liam Davis, a guy who knows how to stuff Roberts’ tracks with everything from French horns to fat stacks of backing vocals without overwhelming Roberts (or the listener). Justin Roberts’ records are pure ear candy; if you could look in the dictionary under “music everyone in the family really, truly, honestly can enjoy,” you’d see a picture of his earnest smile.

And that’s the other thing: Roberts is either a wonderfully warm-hearted guy or a very good actor, because he’s not only very good at writing for children’s themes, he might be the best at communicating them. This starts with Roberts’ voice, which is somewhat childlike itself — it’s high and slightly, sweetly nasal — and extends to his lyrics. He’s the kind of performer who not only knows who to bounce around with the fun stuff (Jungle Gym examples include playing Duck Duck Goose, trick or treating, and playing in a cardboard box), but strikes right at the heart of the startling doses of reality we tend to forget kids have to deal with. This means piano ballads like “Sign My Cast,” but it also means brilliantly, chills-inducingly simple songs like “Never Getting Lost,” about a trip to the mall with Mom that takes a scary turn:

The security guards they’re working very hard
They’re making lots of calls
But there’s nothing they can do
When I only need you
And I try not to let my tears fall

Mom eventually arrives, of course — and part of what makes Roberts so great is that he includes the line “When I saw her there I could almost see / She was looking just as lost as me.” It’s a small touch, and one that might go mostly unnoticed, but it really speaks to the level of care, craft, and understanding he brings to his songs. This is family music, in the truest, best sense of the word.

But don’t take my word for it. Visit Justin Roberts at his website, where you can sample music and videos from earlier albums, as well as download a free mp3 from Jungle Gym. Then go pre-order your copy!

The Final Funktier

Personally, I’ve always found space pretty terrifying, but maybe that’s because I came of age during an era in which space songs were being recorded by freaky, synth-toting dudes like Peter Schilling — or maybe it was because Starship came from space, and they were awful. Either way, Recess Monkey makes leaving Earth sound like a lot of fun, from wearing “Moon Boots” and a “Jet Pack” to meeting up with a “Ukulalien,” sailing in the “Galax Sea,” and doing the “Constellation Conga.” (The band’s shifty manager, Mayor Monkey, even makes an appearance on “Space Elevator Music.”) I’ve always been a firm believer in outlawing concept albums, but The Final Funktier is so good it almost makes up for Tarkus and Tales from Topographic Oceans. (Not this one, though. Shudder.)

If you want to be picky, Funktier‘s actual funk quotient is perhaps overstated in its title — it isn’t like Recess Monkey has turned into Parliament all of a sudden — but this 15-track collection delivers some of the band’s sharpest, most entertaining songs, full of hooks, humor, and that signature Recess Monkey charm. My personal favorite is the brassy “Constellation Conga” — Recess Monkey, please send me an eight-minute dance mix of this track immediately — but there really isn’t a bad tune in the bunch. It’ll make a perfect soundtrack for the next time you head out for new adventures (or, y’know, grocery shopping) in the family car. Watch the band’s video for “Moon Boots,” and then go pre-order your copy today.

Happily, that track listing turns out to be pretty superb — and even better, the whole thing is being done to raise money for the Valerie Fund, a non-profit organization dedicated to providing health care for children with cancer and blood disorders. It isn’t often that a charity compilation is as excellent as the cause it supports, but Sing Me to Sleep is an unqualified pleasure — and the limited edition first pressing throws in seven bonus tracks, including the oddest, most soothing covers of “Kiss Off” (performed by Say Hi) and “Boys of Summer” (courtesy of Papercut) you’re likely to ever hear.

The album’s gorgeous, stately tone is set long before the bonus tracks, however — starting with Stars’ haunting version of the Smiths’ “Asleep” and continuing through appearances from Jenny Owen Youngs, the Real Tuesday Weld (who contribute a cover of “Little Boxes”), Dala (“Dream a Little Dream of Me”), O+S (“You and Your Sister”), Tanya Donelly (“Moon River”), and Trespassers William (“The Rainbow Connection”). Some songs are more successful than others, but this has more to do with an overall willingness to take chances (like, say, Casey Mecija’s creepy cover of “Dear Prudence”) than any real dips in quality. Put another way: If every song here doesn’t quite work as a lullaby for easily freaked little ones, it should still be thoroughly enjoyable for you. Just a beautifully mellow record, stacked high with lovely performances — perfect for a cloudy day, a quiet afternoon, or meals with friends or family. And 100 percent of the proceeds go to help children in need. What else could you ask for?

Say the words “Disney” and “reggae” together and you might have to suppress the urge to vomit, but the truth is, The Disney Reggae Club isn’t bad. I was disappointed with the track listing, which strays into obvious choices (“Kiss the Girl,” “Under the Sea”) and well-known songs that aren’t really identified with Disney movies (“The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” “What a Wonderful World”). On the other hand, it’s hard to argue with the acts they lined up for the album — and even if you never wanted to hear UB40 do “I Wan’na Be Like You,” and couldn’t recall a note of the Mulan number “True to Your Heart” if you were held at gunpoint (it’s performed here by the Wailing Souls), this is still a mighty fun record. I mean, if you’re going to listen to a reggae version of “Kiss the Girl,” it might as well be performed by Burning Spear, right?

Is it all still a little too sugary? Yeah, probably. But that’s what you do when you’re building a musical gateway — you make it brighter and more immediately gratifying than some of the stuff that lies beyond. Leave the deluxe reissue of Bob Marley’s Legend for their junior high years. The Disney Reggae Club is just the right size for younger ears.

The ever-expanding Scholastic Storybook Treasures library just got even bigger, with the three latest DVDs — Giggle, Giggle, Quack, Runaway Ralph, and He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands — adding 14 stories and roughly three and a half hours to the already formidable stack of books that have been given the “read-along DVD” treatment.

If that sentence made you feel a little funny, you’re not alone. Given that some kids already need quite a bit of encouragement to read instead of watch TV, and given that many of the DVD segments in the series don’t do much besides add voiceovers and karaoke-style text overlays to still art from the books, it can be hard not to wonder just what purpose they really serve, other than helping exceptionally lazy parents avoid reading to their children.

Maybe that’s just cynicism, though. As parents, we’re so used to being inundated with pitches for more crap, and so accustomed to being disappointed by people who are supposed to have our children’s best interests at heart, that something like the Scholastic Storybook Treasures series can seem like a dirty trick even when it isn’t. There’s definitely something a little off-putting about a book publisher porting children’s titles to DVD, but that doesn’t really take away from the fact that these are wonderful books, and if you’re the type of parent who doesn’t see anything wrong with television in moderation, then having the option of letting your kids watch literature instead of Cartoon Network is fairly appealing.

There isn’t much flash in these movies, but that’s part of their charm; these are gentle, low-key shorts, devoid of the usual production gloss and quick-cut edits. In some cases, this is because of their vintage — Runaway Ralph, for instance, stars a young, pre-Wonder Years Fred Savage — but even the newer films have a pleasant, down-to-earth vibe. They’re fun to watch with kids — the kind of entertainment that’s calming without reducing little ones to drooling mouth-breathers. And they’re well made.

Giggle, Giggle, Quack is the funniest of the bunch, collecting three of Doreen Cronin’s Farmer Brown stories (“Giggle, Giggle, Quack,” “Duck for President,” and “Dooby Dooby Moo“) and adding the Harry Bliss-illustrated “Diary of a Worm” and “Diary of a Fly.” The Cronin stories boast suitably folksy narration from Randy Newman, who’s basically perfect for tales of a comedic farmer-duck war; “Diary of a Worm” features Alexander Gould (Finding Nemo, Weeds), and “Diary of a Fly” features Abigail Breslin.

Runaway Ralph is the slimmest title, offering the Savage-led live-action version of the Beverly Cleary classic along with a stop-motion animated adaptation of Jane Yolen’s sci-fi story “Commander Toad in Space,” featuring the voices of Mark Hamill and Nichelle Nichols. At an hour in length, it’s significantly shorter than Giggle, Giggle, Quack, but it’s also got the benefit of having a really well-known title on the cover, so Scholastic can probably get away with going a little light on the extras.

Finally, He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands is the timeliest of the three, collecting seven eco-minded stories — including the classic title song, performed here by Billy Joel bandmate Crystal Taliefero, and an adaptation of Karen Hesse and Jon J. Muth’s beautiful “Come On, Rain,” narrated by Laila Ali — and bundling them into an hour of stories about, well, the world. In terms of length, it might be considered a little light, but Hands includes a lot of great, award-winning stories, and segments like “Come On, Rain” and “Owl Moon” are some of the best in the Storybook Treasures series.

All things being equal, it’s obviously still better to read to your kids, but who says you can only do one? If your kids are already familiar with these books, they’ll get a kick out of seeing them on TV; if they aren’t, these DVDs still contain plenty of excellent entertainment, and at $15 or less, they’re all value priced. What else do you need?