You'll be seeing this notation quite a bit this week: This is extreme noise music, consisting mostly of sonic disruptions and waves of feedback. Now, if you can handle that, then read on.

This is the work of Marco Corbelli, a guy from Italy who has some really interesting ways of conveying his thoughts via the noise medium. Of course, the uninitiated just call it annoying as hell. But I'm far too silly to buy into that theory.

The entire half-hour (or so) disc was recorded in an hour. By Corbelli himself. Considering the cool texture of the whole recording, that's pretty amazing. Atrax Morgue focuses on rhythm and even uses squeals and sqounks to denote some sort of melodic concept. Corbelli's emotions are laid bare.

Obviously the disturbing work of a disturbed mind. I'm quite pleased to play it quite loudly.

Four Australians who crank out a nice and crunchy form of grindcore that kinda merges the sex raps of Ice-T with the messiness of Anal Cunt (though, actually, this stuff is cleaner--soundwise). Oh, and general mean and vicious "die you motherfucker die" lyrics interspersed with the sex stuff.

Amusing, and there's 32 tracks to keep the faithful going. I found this good for a few laughs, and even the odd cool riff. Nothing substantial, of course.

I find Blood Duster to be more puerile than obscene. Which leaves the band with its moments, but not much more. The complete lack of musical creativity kinda bummed me out. Sure, this is a bit bouncy and silly for grindcore, but I don't think that's much of an advancement.

Worth a shot if you're truly into everything grindcore (since there's not much of the real thing these days). But I've heard this sorta thing done much better.

These guys move from mellow to raucous in the skip of a beat, and then back again just fer the hell of it. Okay. So they like to keep things interesting.

The general mode for the band is a moody Mother Love Bone kinda sound. When I reviewed the single, I compared this to U2. That wasn't completely off the mark, I suppose, but a whole album of the stuff has led me to this more correct comparison. Anthem after anthem, with very linear guitar work and not much focus at all on riff work (rhythm guitar just plays bland chords to advance the composition).

I like that Cave Penny tries to change up its sound more often than not. I don't think this works all the time, and when the sound stays static things get dull. The writing is competent, and the production is really slick, which is the right way to go with this sound. As an incentive, they guys sent me a couple bottles of Cave Penny homebrew ale; I haven't tasted them yet, but I like the idea.

There is enough creativity wandering around this disc to make me very interested in where Cave Penny goes from here. Salamander Smile is not a very good CD by any account, but these folks are trying to achieve something great, and you gotta like that. I know it's cliche and not terribly helpful at the moment, but my big advice is to just work at the stuff more. With more work and live playing, Cave Penny could do something amazing next time out.

He's always been around, but for some reason never quite able to crank out the big hit album that would burst his career into the big time. Perhaps it's because DeVille has no real intention of writing something snappy and insipid.

And while the music on this disc would do quite well with folks who dig Van Morrison or Robbie Robertson (folks who have sold well, if not spectacularly, in the past few years), I'm not sure if that's where the marketing for this lies.

That's not my concern, though. DeVille has crafted a set of songs that borrow from all over his musical roots, from Mexico to Mississippi to New York and back to New Orleans. Plenty of lilting pop gems that seem perfect for lazy evenings of sipping and sitting.

And the production focuses on his voice, which is an instrument as interesting as his songwriting. DeVille never fails to put himself fully into the songs, and the result is this fine set. Yeah, some of the tunes seem a bit too sedated for my speed, but that sounds like my own personal problem. Loup Garou is a pure, simple pleasure.

Finally, Dog Eat Dog finds its groove. Yeah, this is cheesy rap-cum-punk-cum-punk-cum...cum, I guess. Utterly without any real artistic intent or merit, but fun nonetheless. I really enjoyed this disc, and I don't have any excuse.

I've previously entreated the guys to write more for the horns and let the rest of the song take care of itself from there. Most of the tunes here are written around the gang vocal choruses, but the horns always seem to fit well in with that. And if this sounds simply like a punchier version of the Infectious Grooves, well, whatever. I like this, though I wouldn't recommend the sound for anyone starting out. It's taken Dog Eat Dog a few albums to work this out to this level, and even now few folks will call the band members serious musicians.

But as entertainment goes, well, Play Games works. As long as you're not expecting any sort of masterpiece or even serious effort, this will do just fine. A few beers and you even have a party.

Pete Droge may have gotten tongues a wagging and foots a-stomping with his acclaimed 1994 debut Necktie Second, but he's showing his roots on his sophomore effort.

Roots rock, that is.

His penchant for Bob Dylan was obvious on his debut, and he certainly didn't find any resistance in that direction when he opened several legs of Tom Petty's tour a couple years back. Find a Door finds Droge incorporating some Petty influences (especially that whiny slide guitar and echoed harmonies Jeff Lynne used to create the "Wilbury sound") into his melancholic rock sound.

This isn't a bad second effort. If you were a fan of the first album, then you'll probably dig this one, too. There is a heavier on roots rock stock in trade: slide guitar, a bit of the ol' country twang and lead guitar licks that take forever to say a word. All that aside, though, Droge hasn't changed his tune much.

--Todd Foltz

I remember the hype for the Crowded House reunion of Neil and Tim Finn (famous, of course, for their earlier work together in Split Enz). The label thought such a ploy might resurrect interest in the band, which hadn't sold well since the rather commercial debut. Unfortunately, Woodface was a dreadful disappointment, both commercially and artistically, and the band kinda drifted into oblivion.

This album has been roaming the earth for a few months now, with the expected interest in Australia but not a whole lot elsewhere. And it deserves better than that.

Really moody pop, with plenty of Beatles references to keep any World Party fan happy. "Last Day of June" not only sounds Lennon-penned, but the vocals (I don't which brother, I'm afraid) highly emulate the dearly departed. Very pretty and depressing.

Much better than that Crowded House thing, Finn Brothers still doesn't really ever crash over into "great" territory. It's not for lack of pretension or anything, but more than a few of these songs sound, well, unfinished. The production is nice and strong, but all the parts don't seem to show up. Of course, that's what folks used to say about R.E.M.

An irrelevant tangent. This puppy won't win over any new converts, though members of the Pavement crowd who never picked up on early Split Enz might be surprised to like this stuff. I do, well enough, anyway. I wish it was more, but this will suffice for now.

Yer basic garage pop thing, with guitar licks from all over the universe and the occasional ethereal vocals. There are lots of things done absolutely wrong, and yet the almost everything works out in the end.

One of the right things is that vocalist Dawn Corso shares singing duties with Amos Tevelow (and Chad Romanski on "Mescaline Highway"). The counterpoint in the singing styles really fleshes out the sound nicely. And while the lyrics are kinda serious and pretentious at times, the whole project is so loopy nothing gets bogged down.

The whole album has a ska feel, though for the most part the beats are fairly straightforward. Just a kinda happy summer feeling, with that loose lead guitar wandering about.

The more I listen, the more I like. Free Range Chicken does grow on you, which is another intangible in the band's favor. I wish I could explain myself better, but the best thing to do is simply find this disc and give it a listen. All should become quite clear.

The first time I have been disappointed by Gorefest. Soul Survivor is poor by the high standards the band has set in the past, although by any rational reckoning it merely comes out in the "middling" pile.

The sharp instinct for the finely crafted death metal song seems to have deserted the guys this time out. The songs are turgid anthems that steal far too much from Uriah Heep and Mountain than is really necessary. Yeah, I like the occasional heavy keys coming out of the woodwork, but the music is completely mundane. No creative spark whatsoever.

Yeah, bands like Sentenced and even Grave have gone to a more "classic rock" feel, but Gorefest was always around to crank out real death metal that also happened to be truly catchy. The closest the band comes to that here is "Dogday", and that song would seem far too commercial on any other album. Here it sounds almost balls out. And once the tres-Judas Priest guitar solo kicks in, well, you know something's up.

I can't believe how disappointing this album is. Gorefest does not know how to cheese out properly (like, say, Sentenced), and this attempt is just plain pathetic. Way too bummed to say anything else.

German guys trying out the whole metal-rap-industrial trip. For once, though, German engineering fails.

The sound is dreadfully wimpy, like the guys are afraid of the guitars that hide in the background. The lyrics are pleasantly anti-social, but the whole package rarely gets above Hard Corps territory, much less approaching (obvious influence) Beastie Boys territory.

I agree with some of the sentiments expressed here, and I like it when people get political. But Headcrash is simply too boring musically, and the gang vocal rap style does not get me off. And you can't crank this up, because all of the jock-rock riffage is buried beneath.

I'd like to know what the intent was here. The disc sure ain't telling.

Jack Grisham and pals arrive with the second Joykiller in a year. Now with full-time piano-basher Ronnie King added to the bunch.

I know, I know, piano ain't punk, but it sure works here. While heavier and faster than even early TSOL, the Joykiller is at heart a rock and roll band. And while the guitar may be the fashion-plate instrument, the piano is at the heart of most of the all-time greatest rock music. Note that I'm not talking about keyboards.

Enough on that almost irrelevant tangent. Fourteen more cool tracks, and the piano does fill out the sound nicely, without compromising even a shred of integrity. In fact, I like this even better than the first one.

Granted, we're talking about fast and dirty rawk, but fuckit. Cheap and easy can be satisfying, too. Particularly when it sounds like this. Fun a plenty, and good music besides. Summer jams, indeed.

Another episode of the Billy Milano show. You know the riffs, you know the aggro lyrics. Nothing new, and nothing really to recommend here.

Even die-hard fans will find it difficult to really groove on this stuff. I mean, whatever creative instinct Milano had disappeared long before last year's greatest hits thing, and it sounds like he got much less cash to produce stuff here. The sound is really terrible.

Or maybe it's just a silly attempt to cash in on that "sloppy punk" stuff that was popular six months ago. I don't know. Everything is thrown together in a very messy way, and I'm often not able to locate the guitar lines from the rest of the rhythmic goo. With Milano's voice thrown behind that wall, well, the result is chaos. And that doesn't work well, since M.O.D. isn't one of those acts famous for technical proficiency and artistic impetus.

I wasn't expecting a whole lot, but I thought I'd find a tune or two worthy of jamming at high volume. Not in this set, I'm afraid.

More of that noise stuff I warned you about. Masami Akita has cranked out more Merzbow releases than even he can probably count. This is the second one to get wide U.S. release on, um, Release.

Akita cranks more distortion into his compositions than many noise artists. This stuff could tear speakers apart, I suppose, though mine seem to have survived just fine. My wife, on the other hand...

As always, an acquired taste. I like the way Akita mixes up the sound, from pulsing beats to blind white noise and everywhere in-between. I don't get bored with any of this sorta stuff (I really like to read with it on), but Merzbow is a good starting point for, say, those who dig the more experimental ambient stuff and want to find the next frontier.

Discerning the difference between Merzbow releases (or even songs, for that matter) isn't terribly easy, of course, except over the long haul. So don't lay that trip on me. But if you're of a similar mind, check this out.

The Relapse kids have been playing in the house too long again, so we get another Namanax album. This one doubles the output of the last one: two tracks here.

"Contaminating Influence" (the 11 1/2-minute track) is a cool industrial basher, with Godflesh-like pulses and plenty of awesome noise. The title track runs over 47 minutes, and often resembles a lo-fi ambient recording as much as the noise ideal. Way cool.

I played the last Namanax at a party; scared some folks half to death. More thought my CD played had wiped out. A couple actually liked it tons and wanted to know where to get it.

I did my duty. Perhaps even got a CD sold. Who knows? This album is much more varied, and quite a creative success. The title track particularly would make for a real spooky Halloween soundtrack to scare the kiddies. The noise isn't omnipresent; it comes in waves and wallows in the occasional eddy. Precisely what I'd expect from the guys.

My favorite noise disc of this issue. Namanax has the complete package.

Probably deserves better than the rating, but I have a problem with praising an album that is all covers, even if they are done this well. Something in me just doesn't like that sorta thing.

Most of the songs are not too well known, though that 10cc thing is still damned annoying. If you really want to know where all of the other songs came from, well, write the label yourself. The Beach Boys, Eno, Leonard Cohen, Smiths and Television songs should be obvious, and the others will come with just a little work. Only a couple are truly obscure.

Outrageous Cherry does that minimalist pop thing with verve and snap. Instead of getting stuck in a silly and moronic mellow rut, OC always pulls clear before the slogging gets too deep. And none of the originals escapes the OC treatment unscathed: this band knows what it's doing and is not afraid to do some real damage.

As for personnel, the singer is Matthew Smith, who also sings for the Volebeats, His Name Is Alive and some other bands. The other folks, well, are members of Outrageous Cherry and probably a few other outfits. The press info didn't help me nearly so much there.

Some real joyous pop music here. Sorry I couldn't give it another A or so, but thems the rules. Like I noted at the start, the ratings are mostly crap, anyway. This is good stuff.

No-bullshit big band music (composed by Ed Moss) accompanying the poetry and prose of John Sinclair. A good combination.

This isn't silly "get up and dance like a moron" music, but stuff more along the lines of Thelonious Monk or Duke Ellington. And Sinclair's work is bright and exuberant, covering all facets of existence.

Contemplative stuff, and all very fulfilling. The poetry fits in well with the music (they did rehearse before this was recorded live), and the live music sounds as good as stuff relentlessly overdubbed in a studio.

The music is good enough to be more than enough on its own, but Sinclair's addition makes this an even more attractive package. Easily the best music and spoken word album I've heard.

I didn't see the movie, so I'm not exactly how all of these bands supposedly interact. Doesn't mean I can't like it, though.

The first thing done right was that the music was recorded live, with no overdubs. While this probably had as much to do with financing as anything else, it makes a set of covers (like this is) much more charming than the smarmy "Commitments" soundtracks. And with folks like John Doe (whose band seems to specialize in Lou Reed songs here) doing a large chunk of the playing, you know you're in competent hands.

Mare Winningham has the perfect folky voice for what I think her character is supposed to be, and she acquits herself well. Jennifer Jason Leigh is a little less convincing, particularly when she isn't howling. Still, the stuff sounds nice and real, and the song selection is a cool set of tunes that you only wish local bar bands might pick up and play.

And, by the way, when Sadie introduces "If I Wanted" as Georgia's song, she's not fibbing: the tune was actually written by actress Mare Winningham, who plays Georgia. Ah, the amusement.

I guess I'll be renting this puppy when it comes out on video in late July.