Some pretty, bashing pop music tied with some of the sludgier vocals around. The Jesus Lizard if fronted by L.G. Petrov (without extra distortion on the vocals). I'll take it.

The puppy just keeps rolling along, one cool tune after another. There's a sense of danger here much of the time, like the band is about to open a closet door on a dark and stormy night. A nice tension before all hell breaks loose.

Yeah, I know you're not surprised that Big'n hails from the windy city. Strange concepts in pop music do seem to emanate from the shores of Lake Michigan. But, you know, that's not a bad thing.

A quirky sense of humor permeates the proceedings. It's obvious that Big'n doesn't take itself too seriously. And while this music would probably excuse any pretentious hack that created it, I'm happy to see that the boys are human.

A big noise, and a wondrous one at that. Keeps me happy.

Obvious fans of the heavier side of 80s metal (Maiden, Dio, etc.), Blackmail winds classical melodies into heavy guitar and bass parts just like you remember. And a title track that may or may not be the first metal anthem to bisexuality.

I'm just not sure if the thing is a joke or not. It almost works better straight (which would be not straight, you see). Whatever. The playing is nice, even if the bass is just a bit too fuzzy. All of the songs are sharp examples of the best in Euro-metal, which makes sense as Blackmail hails from Sweden. A bit of the whole grunge thing creeps in as the disc progresses, which isn't the best thing in the world.

A nice set, even if I was hoping for a bit more of that Euro thing by the end (though the last track, "World of Misery", does get back a bit). I'd be interested in hearing some more from these guys, just to see where they're taking themselves.

A couple shots of emo-core, with a nice nod to midtempo pop. I've heard it before, but Camber does a nice take on the form.

"Hollowed-Out" is rather pretty, with the usual dreary lyrics. I particularly like the lead guitar line, which had a habit of surprising me.

The flip, "Question Marks", is much more intense, with some of the throbbing rhythm work found with Jawbox and the like. The groove is great, and all the pieces fit together very well. Once again the lead line wends its way all over the map in an impressive way.

Both are good songs, though I give the nod to the b-side. A solid effort all around.

It takes balls to start off an album with such a slow, drawling song as "Leaving Loachapoka". The second track, "Guns R Us", a real rip on nasty Republican types, is catchier and probably would grab the casual listener much quicker. But then, Marshall Chapman has the songwriting and performing skills to pull off such a rough trick.

She plumbs the vagaries of the whole country-folk-blues panoply, wrestling eccentricity out of straightforward melodies and simple charm out of overwrought self-exposition.

Um, if that made any sense, that is.

For something arriving on Jimmy Buffet's boutique label, I'm damned impressed. Well, impressed period. Chapman has her finger on a real musical pulse, one that doesn't respect silly ideas like labels and mass acceptance. If you're looking for a disc that all falls into place, go somewhere else. Chapman has no use for minute-to-minute coherence. But her overall vision is astonishingly acute.

At long last, the long-promised new Chemlab album. Raging beats, accessible tunes and the attitude that is almost unmatched anywhere. Nice of Dylan and Jared to get this put together.

William Tucker, who was most recently heard on the Final Cut album, supplies most of the guitar work, and the slightly more analog feel to that element is more than welcome. Just another master touch.

Perhaps even better than Burnout..., which is one of my favorite albums. Some folks know just how to make music, and that feel shows here. As the album skips around from mood to mood, I get more impressed.

This makes two awesome industrial dance albums in two issues from Fifth Colvmn. Yes, I know who runs the joint. Impeccable musical taste combined with real talent is pretty hard to beat. Another fine disc from the Chemlab boys, one that can only help propagate the legend.

This time, 27 song fragments that once again tell a pretty ugly story. The music, though, is still exquisite.

A little fuzzier than last time out, Matt and Zephan have collected a few extra musicians to help with the effort. The sound is a bit more full, which is an easy improvement.

The general songwriting remains a strong point. Meandering all over the pop landscape, the core of the band (Matt Martin and Zephan Courtney) has an unerring eye for kernels of greatness. With only three songs longer than two minutes, the pieces have been collected and assembled with the greatest of care. The thing flows almost seamlessly as the concept lurches toward the apocalypse.

I've never been able to understand precisely how Chevy Heston works, or how the folks manage to craft such astonishing music. I can only appreciate.

The final word on one of the best bands in recent history. When I heard of the band's demise soon after the release of Face of Collapse, I was seriously bummed. This only makes the wounds worse, because genius resides in its collection of singles, compilation tracks and live takes of tracks from the very hard-to-find first album.

And as amazing as the throbbing buzzsaw musical world of Dazzling Killmen can be when recorded, the real joy was watching (and hearing) the guys play live. The energy was positively contagious. No one I knew walked away from a show disappointed.

And now we're left with a final reminder of how great this band really was. The music still sounds current, and almost any band today would love to be able to put out a set of songs with this much power. Sure, the live tracks are not recorded as well as they could have been (the sound is a bit flat, but not terrible), and a couple of the other tracks don't quite measure up. This disc testifies to the greatness that was Dazzling Killmen.

I called it way back when, and I'm happy to have more folks on my side today. All hail Dazzling Killmen.

It's been a while since Dio has put out a good album. One that is acceptable to folks who remember the glory days (and perhaps even wish for them to return). If nothing else, Angry Machines is a worthy successor to Sacred Heart and Last in Line.

Personally, I've thought Dio is at his best singing the uptempo rockers, stuff like "Don't Tell the Kids". Yeah, I know, he pounded out a lot of great tunes with Iommi's pack, but I still like his voice when it moves. And there's a good chunk of that here.

And some stuff that, when applied to a Dio album, can only be called "experimental". On "Black", there's some serious vocal harmony work along with a nice chunk of keyboards. And plenty more new ideas throughout the disc. Sounds good.

I still think there's a bit too much of the plodding stuff, but I'll live with it. This is the best Dio album in over 10 years. I know, that doesn't say much, but if you're a fan of the good old stuff, then you just might want to dig in here.

More American Recordings, if you will. Rick Rubin has recorded this disc emphasizing Donovan's voice and guitar, though there are a few other sounds wafting on the breeze.

Unlike many of my hippie-children friends, I never got into Donovan. He seemed just a bit too silly to really take seriously. Season of the witch? Come on.

Well, none of that has changed. The production is probably the best Donovan has had in his career, and the songs are probably as good as his old stuff (though I'm no authority there). This doesn't suck so much as fail to hold my interest. Well, that cloying voice does drive me up the wall after a few minutes...

I know too many people who like this sorta stuff to really dis it hard. Rubin did do a nice production job, never overwhelming Donovan with extraneous nonsense. And Donovan sounds like Donovan, which should make plenty of people happy. Just not me.

Goddamn if this doesn't rip off Facelift like a motherfucker. Catchier stuff than the last RR grunge effort, Gruntruck. But still dreadfully derivative. But then, a couple of the guys played in Exhorder. Not like you could expect more.

I mean, why would you want to sound like a washed-out Alice in Chains? Cashing in, I guess. No other reason I can think of, unless these guys aren't creative enough to come up with their own sound. I give them more credit than that.

The stuff isn't dreadful; indeed, it is hooky and fairly entertaining. I just got past this music about seven years ago, and I don't want to go back. That's all.

A new album by the masters of the Chicago noise scene. This stuff is a godawful mess, and every drop is worth savoring.

I've had a few readers complain about my taste in music, particularly "that noise crap", as one so nicely put it. In a word, fuck off. I feel I can speak for the Luttenbachers and plenty more. And in this case, I don't know how anyone could call it crap, anyway.

Despite the messy sound, the rhythm section is very tight, and the songs are meticulously crafted. Yes, the end result is a wild squeal of distortion and general discomfort, but even a layman can hear the care that went behind this.

Hey, you don't have to like it. I do, and this album is a perfect example of why noise is a valid type of music. It may sound incoherent on the surface, but the overall effect is just the opposite. Grand opera it ain't, but grand it is.

They did "That Thing You Do", and here they do their own thing, which owes as much to the Posies rendition of Big Star faux-Brit pop as anything straight from the sixties.

Ah, but the roots show right through. Peppy pop tunes, with just enough distortion and discord to hint at the slime underneath. After all, the most subversive songs are the ones that sound so damned nice.

The Fountains crank out plenty of good songs, with a few great ones tossed in just for the hell of it. I have a feeling I'll like this puppy more each time I hear it, which is the sign of a good pop album. No throwaway stuff here.

Well, there might be a bit of filler here and there, but not enough to bother me much. The production could tone the proceedings down just a bit (sometimes that self-conscious noisy crunch starts to grate), but these are minor points. The two main songwriters, Chris Collingwood and Adam Schlesinger, have a good ear for the craft. Future efforts could be truly spectacular.

Heavy, fuzzy pop tunes. A little more restrained than the Godplow I remember from a couple years ago, but still compelling. At times, actually, this reminds me of the long-defunct band Clockhammer, but with a bit more guitar.

The songs flow along following the same pattern, with nice indivisual flourishes on each. Godplow knows how to make attractive pop, and the band's heavier tendencies serve it well, creating a unique sound.

Well, at least one I haven't heard in a while. I can also hear elements of Die Kruezen (one of my favorite bands) trolling along underneath. Keeping a pop sense moving even while cranking up the effects is a spectacular trick.

I wasn't expecting this, but I'm more than happy to sign for it. Better than I could have imagined. An album of the first order.

Classic death metal, along the lines of Benediction. You get some Euro-metal lead guitar and tunes that more nicely along. Pretty damned cool.

And despite temptation, Gomorrah keeps the tempo at just the right spot. Fast enough to keep moving, but not so fast as to become silly. The guys hit every possible problem head on, and pull through with aplomb.

The production is sharp enough to emphasize the obvious musicianship, but leaves just a bit of dirt. Exactly right again.

It's been a while since I've heard such a complete death metal album. This isn't moving the genre anywhere, but it does the job. Gomorrah has ripped itself a big one.

Easygoing pop music, very much like the mellower side of Elvis Costello. The songs are sound pleasant enough, though the dark undercurrents are quite obvious.

But nothing gets too... anything. Hewerdine turns nice enough phrases, and the production has created an achingly gorgeous understated sound. But through it all, I feel quite empty.

Alright, so Hewerdine and I don't share the same world. This isn't much of a crime, but I just can't connect. I know part of the problem is the very meticulous crafting that is evident with every strum of the guitar. Hewerdine sings rather passionately, but about stuff I just don't worry about.

A very nice piece of work that says absolutely nothing to me.

Jawbox faced a tall order with this album: either make a very commercial album, lose its old fans while pleasing the major label hacks or crank out another idiosyncratic post-punk pop masterpiece, make the kids happy and get dropped.

Maybe that's why this album has been in the works so damned long. Just speculation on my part.

The results are something of a compromise, and I'm not sure who's going to be happy about it. The tunes are much more straightforward, but you still recognize the sound as Jawbox. An anthemic, moody rocker like the made-for-MTV "Iodine" is followed by a more representative anarchic blister like "His Only Trade". I prefer the latter, even while the suburban punksters are rallying around the former.

I don't know how much of the whole "You've gotta sell a shitload with this album" mentality leaked through, but I can hear the evidence. Not a bad effort; indeed, if Jawbox could have reversed the timing of its albums for the Atlantic family, it might be on top of the world right now.

Eclectic and occasionally brilliant. Jawbox could no more put out a shitty record than decide not to tour for three years. I don't think this puppy will sell enough, but I'll take it anyway.

Pleasantly sloppy hardcore with a pop edge. Nothing amazing, but quite good nonetheless.

The formula is set: gang vocals, classic riffola and an everpresent upbeat straight 4/4 tempo. The real charm here is the interplay between members of the band. These guys are having fun.

And that transfers well into the songs. Nothing outstanding by themselves, the pure joy of the band carries the day. The production leaves everything a bit muddy, but that's probably best. The playing is ordinary at best, and I think it's better to imagine great vocals rather than be proven wrong.

I had more fun than I probably should have. What the hell.

Brit takes on American soul music somehow always manage to leave most of the soul out. Whether we're talking about Sade, Soul II Soul or whatever, the albums have this cool edge that always seems to overpower any possible feeling.

Skye Edwards has a nice voice, but she rarely really uses it, preferring instead to trill along with the pulsing music provided by Ross and Paul Godfrey. Indeed, the backing music is pieced together wonderfully, with plenty of short asides and nods to current convention while maintaining a cool, funky feel.

But the boys don't let Edwards get anywhere. She certainly isn't singing about much of consequence, and it seems her wonderful voice is being used as window dressing for the overall sound. She deserves better.

It's hard to rip too hard on such a well-made album. Were that it was of some greater consequence, I suppose.

This stuff sounds so easy. When done well. And Pulley has the number on pop-punk. Nice, clean lead guitar work, a driving rhythm section and sharp vocals.

Of course, those pipes belong to Scott from Ten Foot Pole. Other members of this "all-star" outing include Jim and Jordan from Strung Out, A guy named Matt who used to play bass for Face To Face and someone named Mike who played in Scared Straight back when Scott was there.

These sorta albums are usually quite good or simply dreadful. These guys have played together off and on for a while, so the results are predictably good. Highly enjoyable.

My main caveat is a tendency for the anthem, though that generally gets undercut one way or another. Fine work, even if it isn't a regular job.

One of those bands that just keeps on keeping on. Raging Slab has kicking a hole in the blues for a hell of a long time.

The main problem is that the band doesn't take the blues anywhere. Mired somewhere between ZZ Top and Hendrix, the folks just haven't been able to move forward musically. This is no different.

The production is nicely punchy, and the songs are catchier than usual, though that old "metal blues stomp" sound cranks out a bit more than I'd like. I know exactly why Rick Rubin is so enamored of the folks, but I think the results need to be better to warrant their contract.

Good drinking music, I guess, if you usually crank the Sabs when you're downing the Jack. This is better than I expected, but not by much.

Pronounced "shade", just so you know. Seven songs clocking in at over 40 minutes. You know these tunes are going to be long, and they should mean something.

Sharp playing, in a somewhat midwestern style. At least, they sound like a lot of local bands I heard when I was in college at Missouri. Of course, the band lives in Baltimore or something like that. And there are a few overly dramatic touches that don't quite fit in with my description. But still.

The songs have a cool feel, kinda like heavy jamming as the sun goes down. This is a nice album for drinking. Keeps you on your toes and not too despondent. A bit of the swirly guitar thing, but generally tuneful rock music.

And the longer songs make for more interesting compositions. Seade doesn't repeat itself much, preferring to use the extra time to flesh out ideas. Fine by me. As is the whole album.

A nice chunk of that echo-heavy vein of pop minimalism, marked by folks like Seam. Seely hails from Atlanta, and I can hear plenty of other area pop bands (Polvo, Golden Palominos) in this sound as well.

Mesmerizing without getting too annoying. Seely knows when to pull away from the precipice when the going gets intense. No use jumping over a cliff when a nice jete will do.

While Seely might be more at home on a label like Merge or Touch and Go, perhaps the big boys can really break this sound out into the mainstream. I'm not sure how I would market a video or even a single from this album, but that's what the American folks get the big bucks to do.

Good songs, good sound, good work. Seely doesn't really move the genre ahead, but it certainly doesn't wallow in the past, either. A solid effort.

Like nothing else than latter-day 'Mats, Shake Appeal cranks out two, pleasant but undistinguished pop tunes.

Hell, "My Danger" could even come from the Cheap Trick portfolio. That's not necessarily bad, but the band really doesn't breathe a lot of life into a by-the-numbers tune.

"Everything Counts" follows in the same vein, although it is a bit more spirited. It's a little more catchy and little less anthemic. Fun, but forgettable.

Which is pretty much a fair summation of the single. No distinguishing marks.

Rather understated pop, more emo-core than minimalist. So the pop elements are a bit more pronounced, even if the dynamics stay low.

"Cup and String" sticks mostly to guitar and vocal, though toward the end it picks up into a more fully fleshed-out song. Very nice.

The flip, "Whatever Happened to Me", begins where the a-side left off. The playing begins light, but there are four parts from the start. As the song progresses, so do some heavier elements, including (gasp!) electric guitar. Another cool tune.

It's like the two songs were placed so that as the vinyl is played, more parts get added on. An amusing concept, and it works well.

Snotty pop hardcore with just enough moxie to keep me interested. The playing is sloppy, the production worse, but there's still enough redeeming factors to bring the disc back to mediocre.

The lyrics are traditional punk vitriol, mostly railing against authority and rich people (sentiments I can sympathize with, for sure). I wish they were eloquent, or at least witty, but you take what you can get.

Like a messier version of the Leaving Trains. When a song works, it is pretty damned good. But when it doesn't, look out below!

Not enough here to get me excited, but passable.

An intriguing idea: get famous rock and roll keyboard players to take on some of the most famous piano pieces in the history of the world.

One problem: Having played keyboards (organ, whatever) for so long, these guys just don't have a feel for the nuance that a piano affords. So while the performances are note-for-note correct, there is little emotional impact. Bon Jovi's David Bryan probably comes closest, but then he did some time at Julliard. And even his rendition of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" doesn't quite measure up to average symphonic standards.

And a lot of this is just plain bad. Some guys can't even quite get the notes right, which would be interesting as a bluesy technique, but doesn't work here. I applaud the idea of getting kids to listen to all sorts of music (I like to listen to the Met on Saturdays, myself), and maybe this serves that master well. As a purveyor of fine music, though, it just doesn't wash.

Straightforward NYC metalcore, replete with musical cliche after cliche. Even a little straight singing, a la Fear Factory.

Despite all, I kinda like this. It's not great, but the guys know how to entertain. The music is certainly not original, but absolutely serviceable. Vision of Disorder has figured out exactly what it wants to do, and the execution is impeccable.

The tight production leaves a metallic sheen over the proceedings, and that's probably good. The playing is sharp, and the sound helps show that off.

For something I've heard a thousand times before, Vision of Disorder still turned my head. Imagine if the band actually found its own sound.

Assisted by the Dust Brothers on this one, the sound comes out a bit fuller. Of course, there are only so many ways to mutate the same Casio riff. Yes, there can be too much Wesley. Most folks would probably balk at the second album in two months. Whatever.

I just like the stuff, I guess. Wacky and utterly annoying, Willis satisfies some need inside me. Don't know what it is. I don't want to know, either.

What else can be said about Wesley? He rants, he raves, he has only one piece of backing music. And he's still amusing. To me, anyway.

Tim and Darin from Dazzling Killmen (and elsewhere) and Thymme Jones of Brise-Glace, Yona Kit and elsewhere. Boy, I bet you know where this is going.

Well, you knew it was going to be weird, anyway. The guys take all sorts of sounds, and kinda throw them in a blender. Sometimes it comes out like a perfect blueberry shake. And every once in a while you get bass.

As in the Bass-o-Matic 2000. Blended fish isn't the greatest. But then, when you live on the edge like these guys do, it's not hard to get lost once in a while.

Obviously, experimental noise-jazz-pop-whatever isn't everybody's bag. I like what they're doing, and I can't wait to hear more. Beat work like this is damned hard to find.