Obvious fans of such second British invasion acts as the Cure, Depeche Mode and Duran Duran, Arcanum is much more than the sum of those parts.

Brett Schieber and Shazl (um, so there's a spot of pretentiousness here) take care of everything. The rhythms are sequenced, as is most of the music, but instead of using the lack of live band members as an excuse, the guys use the technology to it's fullest extent, creating a full and vibrant sound that never stoops to mediocrity.

Sometimes the songs get a bit too sing-songy (I've never been a big fan of excessive melodramatics), but generally the fine construction and production make up for any lyric and melodic inconsistencies.

While finding plenty of inspiration in that stuff I call "retro", Arcanum is definitely a 90s band. Technology has made it possible to record a great album for almost nothing, without hiring expensive sessionists and all that. Arcanum takes full advantage, and the result is a raw and inventive pop album that is truly unique.

Good post-death metal, grinding stuff with gothic singing, a la Fear Factory. If it weren't so derivative, I'd be a bit more happy.

The riffage is great, and the production is above demo quality, though a bit muffled and treble-heavy (I wish I could hear even a little bass!). But this has been done before (and much better) by Fear Factory.

Perhaps three years ago this would have been good enough to garner some attention, but with all the "death of death metal" laments I've been reading for a couple years, this isn't the time to jump on the bandwagon, even if the tractor is a fine one.

Wrong time, and not quite original enough. But nonetheless a good effort.

Meandering through the experimental electronic universe, Black Rain makes many stops but never really puts down roots. An ambient piece here, a techno-industrial there. And plenty in between, some it virtually unidentifiable. Always a fine thing.

There's a lot going on here, and the casual listener might miss some of the finer points. No problem, as the overt cues are just as compelling as the more subconscious ones. Black Rain seems to be a electronic gadfly, landing just long enough to grab a bit to eat.

The one constant is the fine production, which fills out the sound and gives it a life of its own. I know this is electronic music, but it sounds so... well, real. Not just random sound waves colliding at my middle ear, but a living, breathing entity which forces itself upon me.

And I don't mind being violated this way one bit. Turn the lights off and it's sensory overload, baby!

This album hasn't garnered the acclaim of American Recordings, and the difference is obvious from the get-go. Johnny got himself a backing band (whose day job is playing arenas with the name Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers), and there isn't a moment on this outing that gets as down and out as the highest moment on the last album.

Alright, so Johnny's not dredging the deeps, searching for the spirit of redemption. Hey, you don't need to do that all the time. This set samples songwriters as diverse as Beck and Hal David (back to back, coincidentally), with more special guests than a Cannonball Run movie.

Is it wrong for Johnny Cash to record a fairly happy, somewhat bashing album? Hell, this is the man that perfected boom-chicka-boom, and there's plenty of that archetypal backbeat in evidence here. Perhaps not as emotionally wrenching as its predecessor, Unchained still packs a wallop. And is damned fun to boot.

It's nice to hear Johnny let loose and give a few whoops. This album deserves much better than it's gotten. If you have any feeling for old-time country music (when it went by the name of rock and roll), then this puppy is all wrapped up and waiting.

AKA the Swamp Terrorists and Meathead remixing a load of stuff from each band, along with couple tracks that are original to this set.

The remixes are nothing spectacular, really. Just average German engineering-type stuff with a few bells and whistles. Honestly, I liked the originals better.

Well, actually, the remix of "Remove My Skin" titled "RREEMMOOVVEE MMYY SSKKIINN", which sounds a lot like the stuff on Pigface's Washingmachinemouth remix album (one of my all-time faves), is pretty cool. The two new tracks are fairly cool, being more experimental in nature. Still, not enough to break this set out of the average category.

Sometimes two bands just aren't better than one.

Hasn't Diatribe had an album before this one? I scoured my mind, and then checked the press. Nope. It just seems that way.

I first heard the band alongside Chemlab, Malhavoc and Skrew on the Assimilation 12", where the band's tracks pushed Chemlab pretty hard for ace honors. And then came the cover of the Sugarcubes' "Cold Sweat" on the Shut Up Kitty compilation. And a few other compilation and single appearances, but no full-length. Until now.

Plenty of commercial nods, such as easy choruses and a blocked-out, riff-heavy sound, but Diatribe isn't playing to the masses here. This is a solid effort that connects on every level. The power is palpable in every track. Once again, Diatribe is put in the unenviable position of competing against Chemlab (whose album has been out for a couple months), and once again, the fight is fairly even. Diatribe is bit more anthemic and likes to get a good groove throbbing, but the comparisons are still fair.

Infectious to the extreme. The wait may have been long, but the payoff is big. Diatribe has thrown down, and now the unwashed must approach in fear.

Wasn't there a Ramones album by the same name? I don't think I'm fucked up here...

But I'll be happy to judge Doctor Hadley on its own merits. Extremely fuzz-heavy pop, with the main action of the songs seeming to take place somewhere a ways away from your ears. I mean, the basic construction of these tunes is light enough to float a balloon, but the band decided to add a few layers of sound between the nugget of the song and the full effect. Something like if Cheap Trick had decided to use the production tricks that Guns N' Roses did on the Use Your Illusion albums.

Which is to say, listening to this will knock you way off-kilter. It just doesn't make any sense, but it's good enough to keep the disc in the machine. The songs aren't aiming for greatness, but they're catchy enough. And the whole effect is just damned strange.

This stuff has alt. pop potential, if folks can accept the unusual presentation. All that work for, well, fairly ordinary songs. Why not, man?

As gimmicks go, this album is about as impressive as any I've seen. The packaging contains: one vinyl LP, one CD (the CD has two extra tracks, and is sequenced somewhat differently), a couple band postcards and a weird business card/band photo. Plus, the sleeve folds out into a two foot by two foot double-sided poster. On the front is a color band picture, and the back is a compendium of some of the wackier liner notes and observations that I've read.

Okay, man, but what about the music?

Fair enough. The Evaporators play a brand of silly pop, but since they're from Vancouver, their bass has to be way over-modulated and fuzzy for anyone's comfort. The vocals are often incomprehensible, and I get the feeling I'm not missing much. The music wanders a bit, but generally fits into simple alternative pop stuff, with enough punk overtones to keep things moving at a smart clip.

I keep getting the idea that there's a big joke here, and I just haven't gotten it. The music is fine, but not terribly interesting, and as I noted, I couldn't find much of interest in the lyrics, even in the provocatively-titled "Dan Quayle vs. Nardwuar", which isn't much more than a typical Quayle malaprop with a few special effects.

I'm just not needing a laugh that badly, I guess.

I didn't like the Grass record, and this EP doesn't get me much more excited, though here Fifteen does show signs of working for more than more pop supremacy.

The bad musical jokes are still in evidence, and in general, Fifteen is a bit too discombobulated to really bring any sort of thought to complete fruition. You can see where the band is headed, but it never seems to get there.

This appears to be some sort of swan song, or maybe it's just that the liners are rather morbid and focus on nice friends of the band who have died. I don't know (well, actually, I finally found the enclosed press info saying that this is, indeed the last Fifteen release).

And yet this isn't a horrid disc by any stretch of the imagination. It just doesn't seem to be saying much (particularly with the inexplicable rendition of "Hey Joe"). But then, sometimes that's what the odds and ends comprise, after all is said and done.

The first direct band-name reference to Pulp Fiction that I've seen. Of course, the music isn't quite so confrontational.

Much more of a contemplative, college roots-rock sound. Actually, the music is right there, from the familiar "railroad" rhythm guitar to the strained vocals. And a cover of the Beatles "She Said" (yes, the same song covered by Overwhelming Colorfast a few years back) just to really annoy me. Well, now I'm getting a bit of a full head.

But everything the band does rubs me the wrong way. The production is pretty decent, if a bit restrained, but the songs tend to go and do precisely what I'm hoping they don't do. A certain chord change, a certain jangly guitar riff. Too much to specify, almost too esoteric to explain.

The folks can play. Just not in a way that I can stand.

Remember that weird (and bad) superstar project Deep Jimi and the Led Zep Creams? Fuzz Beloved takes that whole ponderous psychedelic pop thing to a silly new level.

It would really help if the songs moved faster than the speed of constipated shit. The general construction of the songs is very straightforward, as the psychedelic elements are mostly window dressing and production additions. Take all the peripherals away and you get boring pop music.

And they can't get past that. Kinda like Soundgarden on a half-melted tape, really. Recent Soundgarden, the stuff you wouldn't feed to your worst dog. This stuff is far too annoying to consider any further.

Perhaps two years ago. But the second Collective Soul album bombed (rightfully so), and yet, Generic Joe thinks it can score with pretty much the same formula.

Any band that sounds like this is out to make cash. I hate to be rude or mean, but there isn't much in the way of original musical thought going on. Now, I said the same thing about Better than Ezra, and look what those bastards did with one MTV hit. Of course, their sophomore disc disappeared so quickly you thought the name "Vanilla Ice" had been spoken aloud.

Wanky "college rock" that is really neither. When the thought is to straighten out that R.E.M. thing, cheese it up a bit and flare the guitars a bit more, well, you've got a recipe for disaster. As always, it must be half-baked.

These guys get points for a well-produced album, one that any major label would be proud to release. If they thought anyone afflicted with musical taste might buy it.

Nicely hooky distortion-drenched pop music. Grither knows when to kick in that catchy chorus, and when to lay back in wait. The guys work their way through a good set of tunes with aplomb.

Well, perhaps it's all the crap I've heard this week, but this Grither really catches my ear. The band isn't afraid to try different musical ideas within the general pre-defined sound. Yeah, we're not talking about the next Mozart or anything, but the tunes are fun.

And as most late November-early December releases a meant to be buried, this is one that deserves some attention. Nothing terribly brilliant, but a solid effort that pleases at every level.

All this should be expected. Mike Allmayer sang and played with the Pedaljets, and bassist Mark Reynolds was also a Pedaljet and most recently played with Cher U.K. Yeah, this is one of them Lawrence/K.C. bands that I like so much. Get off my ass. Buy this album. Thank you.

Yeah, another of those Canadian pseudo-surf punk instrumental bands. Named after one of my favorite dishes (best at the Frontier in Albuquerque with the green sauce). But you knew that already.

And like that famous green sauce, the band just gets better with age. These six tunes showcase the Huevos at their manic best. The guitar work is even better than the last Mint full-length, and the rhythm section is about as tight as you can find.

Six tunes, and they roll off the discer like fine Muscatel.

Well, of course. It's not like you're taking Princess Di to the show, now are you? The Huevos Rancheros embody fun and more fun, so don't bother with prissiness. Dig in with both hands and smear the slop all over your face.

Now, who wouldn't enjoy that?

Hard-working punk-rawk that satisfies, but with something of a lingering afterburn. Maybe it's because once you've heard the first four songs, the rest kinda fall in line behind. Not bad, but once the sound is established, Los Infernos just don't play around at all.

A good thing and a bad thing. That lean guitar sound is really keen, and the rhythm section knows precisely how to define each song. The songs are amusing, the hooks catchy. There's just that certain... something, I guess, that's not here. A good album, but not great.

Kinda like recent Social D (though better), Los Infernos wail their punk through a rockabilly sheen. With full credibility, too. I'm just waiting to hear that one piece, and it's not here. Still, a fine effort.

She's got that whiny, Gaelic yodel-thing going, but McNarland's from Canada. She doesn't even have some sort of fake reverence for local heritage going for her.

The songs take a hell of a long time to get going at all, and mostly they simply sit in a pit of turgid melodies. McNarland wafts her voice all over the place, and it gets grating rather quickly. Some folks call this wrenching songwriting. I call it insipid.

Hey, I'm sorry McNarland has had such a shitty life (at least as depicted in her songs). That doesn't mean she needs to inflict it upon society via a set of inept songs.

This is one of those musical trends I can't wait to kill off.

The latest Release release for Masami Akita, this puppy combines the Merzbow and Man Is the Bastard Noise sets into one 60+ minute opus. Much better than the Pulse Demon album of a couple months back, these 13 tracks really show why Akita (Merzbow) is considered one of the masters of the noise genre.

And to top it off, the liner notes are hilarious. Well, I suppose it might be a little frightening if they were intended seriously, but still. These tracks showcase Merzbow in full astonishing fury, from low rumbles to all-out sonic warfare. The range of sounds is awe-inspiring, and the effect is mesmerizing.

This is what expected last time, and I'm happy to say it's all here now. Noise in all its powerful glory, performed by a true master. No getting around it, Merzbow is one of the wonders of the world. Prime stuff.

While Roadrunner canned most of its ethereal pop acts, the Moon Seven Times has stuck around for its third album. This Champaign, IL, act shares plenty of similarities with such cheesy stuff as the Sundays, but never quite verges into that nasty, cloying territory.

Just contemplative pop music, with Lynn Canfield's vocals floating a bit over the music. I never heard the second album, but I heard plenty of not-so-complimentary things which bummed me, as I quite liked the first set. This album is not as strong as the first, but still a worthy effort.

As before, a strong hand at the production board (provided by Trina Shoemaker) keeps the band grounded and focused. The resulting sound is mellow, but not fluffy. Good work.

The main difference is the songwriting, which wears a bit thin at points. Still, the overall effort is strong. I generally don't like bands that tread these waters, but I like the Moon Seven Times. And this album.

Gothic industrial rantings that would probably be better if the production ranged better than demo quality. I like the echo-y effect on the vocals, but I think this is more an accident than intention.

The songs are a cool romp through that trendy goth world, flitting from dance floor musings to introspective keyboard flights. About what you'd expect from this sort of band, but Next Level X easily exceeds expectations.

Well, except for the muffled production. I like what I can hear in the songs, but too much lies behind that invisible barrier that far too many demos carry as excess baggage. If that gets taken away, who knows what might be heard. On the whole, though, the songs are strong. Worth a listen.

Sort of a warm-up for the upcoming new album. A couple new tracks, a couple covers and a new version of an old Potatomen song. All with that lilting pop thing going on. Oh, and Rose Melberg of Go Sailor and the Softies adds her vocals to the mix on three of the songs.

Sad music for happy people, or is it the other way around? The press compares the guys to the Smiths, but the Potatomen just aren't that self-absorbed.

Just cool music for a rainy evening. Well, that's what it's doing here now, and the tunes are a perfect compliment. I'd say more nice thing about the band, but the album is coming soon and I'd better rest up. In the meantime, check this out.

One of the worst production jobs I've heard in ages. But then, when your live show consists of grinding metal and (not always) simulated sexual gratification, maybe other things are important.

Like the general mordant nature of the songs. Spo-It's (no, I don't know what the name means or even if it is grammatically correct) makes every attempt to offend most any person inhabiting the U.S. of A. With an astonishingly high success rate, I'd imagine.

A description? Sample-driven, with lots of crap going on in the muffled background and generally ranted vocals. And the aforementioned nasty lyric content. Amusing, but are we dealing with an awesome talent or just a royal mess?

Well, the music isn't coherent in any proper sense of the word, but it does move, and I can only imagine the live accompaniment. And the lyrics are quite amusing, even if they don't necessarily make sense, either.

Far too "out there" for mainstream humanity, Spo-It's just might have found a nice niche amongst the educated lunatic fringe.

Any album that comes with a replacement cover must have something interesting flowing through it. This is the second Templebeat disc I've had cross my desk in the past couple years, and this puppy is much more experimental than the first.

And the extra messiness helps downplay the obvious generic nature of the riffs and vocal distortion. Without all the little tricks, Templebeat would be merely mediocre. But all that "stuff" more than makes up for a generic base formula.

Add in a weird cover of "You Spin Me Round (like a Record)", one that is so ponderous that it's almost impossible to imagine any club play. Of course, this plays right into Templebeat's avowed media manipulation campaign.

All the bells and whistles don't lift Templebeat up into the stratosphere. Mediasickness is a fine concept, with a few nicely realized tracks, but the overall effect is left understated.

I know, the rating seems a bit low for 26 tracks of Lookout greatness. Particularly when you only have to pay $6 for the privilege of owning this ready-made mix tape.

But the stuff is, indeed, all previously released (from Lookout's 1996 release roster, if the title didn't help you out). And despite some of the obvious great points (the Queers, Cub, Pansy Division, Sweet Baby and such), I've heard almost all of these songs already.

Of course, if you just can't get enough of that East Bay sound (and its far-flung friends), then you simply must plop the six down. Almost as cheap as making the tape yourself.

Kinda like Bad Religion, except substituting slacker philosophy for the politics. Actually, a lot like that.

And damn, I've missed that pop-punk buzzsaw attack, so this is a stroll down memory lane for me. And even a full-on cover of "Suspicious Minds". What could be better?

Well, the lyrics are inane at best. And after a few riffs, the Welts seem content to stick along in the same mode for the whole album. A nod to various current movements (ska, really poppy stuff, etc.) here and there, but mostly the same old-same old.

What I like about Welt is also what I don't like. Call it conundrum corner, but that's the way it is. And by the way, that cover of "Suspicious Minds" is indicative of the album: It's starts out with a bang, and ends in a sea of mindless, repetitive nonsense. I know, that's pop. But it doesn't have to be punk.

A 55+ minute EP? Only on CD, man.

Four versions of "Scorched Blood", each radically different from the other, but all bearing the stamp of Bat, the being behind Xorcist. This stuff inhabits the hard techno universe, where anything is possible, and almost everything is legal.

Oh, and a couple other tracks as well, just to fill out the disc. "Burning the House Down" and the remix of "Crack" are just as worthy as the "Scorched" tracks. Music like this makes you feel alone even in the busiest corridors of cyberspace.

Perhaps a little more accessible than the Phantoms retrospective, this set is still more than worthy of the Xorcist name. Still miles away from reality.