I'm a big fan of Voodoo Love Mint, and I figured any split they're on must be good.

No disappointment. Alien Harvest has a Soul Asylum (vintage 1985) feel, with hooks hidden amongst the dirt. Scratchy, error-filled and utterly fun. This is what garage bands want to sound like. A joyous romp into the summer sun.

VLM provides two songs, both showcasing the growth of the band. The songs are a little more calculated, though the loosey-goosey feel is still lying about somewhere. VLM manages to whip out the most serious lyrics with a non-chalant style, smiling through the angst. Of course, a song like "GB" is nothing but loopy fun. Ain't nothing wrong with that.

I found the seven-inch to be a bit dreary, and I wasn't too sure that a full-length was such a good idea. Considering the personnel, I figured the stuff should be better.

It is. Given 10 songs (along with the ubiquitous bonus track), Auntie Christ more fully fleshes out its vision of socially conscious raver punk pop. That enough description for ya?

Exene's voice is in as good form as ever, and D.J. and Matt provide a proper rhythm backing. Lots of hollering and big riffage, of course. Quite satisfying, really.

It doesn't often happen that an album is more consistent than a seven-inch. Yeah, both songs are included on the album, but they make more sense now. I don't think I can explain things any better. This is more what I was expecting, though.

I think I had the speed wrong when I reviewed the Blue Meanies 10" a while back. When my brothers went to a show in the big Q and told me what a great ska band Blue Meanies are, I didn't quite get it.

But, see, I can't fuck up the speed on my CD player. And so this sounds something like ska. Like if Dead Kennedys played ska. Sure there are horns, and the occasional skankin' riffs, but everything is so much... more, really. Where the idea behind skadonna is to strip down the sound and pop out, the Meanies keep adding layer after layer. Something like the Bosstones would have sounded like five years ago if they had any musical sophistication.

The arrangements are astonishing. There is serious interplay amongst just the horns themselves. I've never heard a ska band use all of its instruments in such creative ways. The Meanies prove that no particular genre has to be limiting. All-out, in-yer-face ska-core, with more texturing and side thoughts than Mr. Bungle.

Almost anyone could turn this music into a real mess. It takes serious talent to fashion the elements into great stuff. Blue Meanies come through. And one side note: anyone who calls their publishing Vim Fuego music has to be cool. No bad news here.

These guys are serious. The music has that hardcore "alternative" feel, and the songs tackle heavy emotional targets.

It's all done fairly well, but without much of a spark. There has been some serious work done in the songwriting department, and the playing is immaculate. But in the big effort to sound good, Catchpenny has kept itself from sounding great.

A little calculation has to be sacrificed in order to make an emotional impact. Sludge it up a bit guys, miss a fingering or two. Stop singing like the guys in Devo or Tool. A little humanity would help.

If you needed any other indication that big rock was on its way back, Cellophane closes the case.

There's been a pretty big buzz going around about these guys, and it rather surprised me to find this disc with no label attached. The sound hearkens back to that "post-metal" sound embodied by such diverse acts as Warrior Soul and Jane's Addiction (the Triple X days). Very loud, with lots of extra touches.

And a few modern nods to metalcore, electronica and the industrial side of things. Good enough, but the way this has been assembled, I can smell some serious professional marketing advice in the background. Just a bit too slick to win me over completely.

But still decent enough to impress me. This is a band with some serious commercial potential. The only problem is that its members already know this.

Further explorations into the dark world of lo-fi consciousness. Cheer-Accident has an astonishing line-up of musicians, and when their performances are combined with some of the more creative tape loops in existence, the results are fairly shattering.

The most amazing part is how normal all this sounds. Running the gamut from ambient to pop, with all sorts of stops in between, Cheer- Accident uses sound to make music. Not easy, but mesmerizing when done correctly.

And there is little doubt of that here. The sonic constructions (and occasional songs) convey more thought than the average band can squeeze into 10 albums. This is complicated, heady fare that refuses to compromise.

Yeah, so I'm a sucker for anything unusual. Cheer-Accident takes off from a mass of sound and rises to a level nearly unheard of among musical acts. Experimental, sure, but wondrously accommodating.

Alright, so Nick Sakes moved to Minneapolis and found himself some new friends who can play. You take the man out of Dazzling Killmen, but you can't take Dazzling Killmen...

Colossamite is simply the next level. Not an improvement (there wasn't much room, really), but a bit of an evolution. And yet, even with new musicians, plenty remains close to home. The apocalyptic drumming style and Sakes' trademark howling vocals and guitar playing are the same. The bass isn't quite so impertinent (I really don't like that word choice, but it works, I guess), but still, you can tell the pedigree.

And, of course, the conformity to quality still remains. Sakes doesn't know how to make anything but music for the last days, and Colossamite is yet another successful conduit.

Life sucks, then you die and then you don't get to listen to this sorta thing any more. That's a true vision of hell.

The clear attraction here is Eck's mastery of the acoustic guitar. He picks with aplomb and abandon. The delivery is smooth, and the sound impressive.

The songwriting, particularly lyrically, is a bit forced. Eck has a style somewhat similar to Richard Thompson's, complete with pop culture references and tossed off vocals. Plenty of spiritual reflection as well.

But when he tries to get deep, Eck too often comes up trite. The guitar work is stunning throughout, and that makes up for many problems, but eventually it's impossible to get past the weaknesses.

Man, I wish Eck could write words the way he plays his music. That would be something else.

Bass-piano-percussion, to follow the names respectively. This is in the same vein as Fonda's collaboration with Michael Jefry Stevens that I heard last year. Very much solo oriented, but the three players know each other so well that there is plenty of interaction even while one member has the spotlight.

Cool, yes, but with plenty of other inflections. Just when I can feel an edge of complacency coming on, the trio shifts gears and races off to find some new areas to conquer. Never look back

I do wish this trio would be as adventurous as the Fonda/Stevens group, but the inclination to settle down for just a moment isn't necessarily a bad one. And, honestly, some of Morena's lines are simply gorgeous.

A worthy set. An introspective look from three guys who know how to make this music sing.

Silly, atmospheric pop that brings to mind World Party, Michael Penn and, obviously, the Beatles.

The lyrics are dark enough to be interesting, and the mix of acoustic and electric guitars lends a kinda nice popcorn feel to the whole sound. And yet, I'm missing something.

Good, but the Frogs don't know exactly how to express the tough lyrics in the songs. I suppose the lighthearted touch could be considered irony, but I don't buy it.

Add in the slick production, and I really want to hear more. Acceptable, but not star material. Yet.

The sound is a bit low, but none of that nasty muffled demoitis. The songs are pop, though Humbert likes to jumble things up a bit.

Wistful or vengeful, Humbert likes to be both. And, surprisingly, the band does both quite well. These folks know how to crank out a classic pop sound.

And perhaps the most important part is diversity. Humbert doesn't stay in the same place long, but all of its waystations are worthy stops. The various members sing their own songs, with different levels of success, but this democratic approach has also allowed Humbert to keep shaking its sound up.

Real quality work. These guys know how to craft fine pop. And that's not nearly as easy as some think.

After I gave an earlier release one of the more scathing reviews I've written in a while (comparing them to U2, which any regular reader understands is a serious insult), these guys sent me back a note thanking me for my review, quoting Bono.

I liked that. A lot. A sense of humor is really important, particularly when it comes to music.

And I wish that nice, biting humor would come across in the music a bit more. In-Between Blue has crossed over from pretentious and somewhat annoying to full-blown aggravating. The U2 reference is still somewhat valid, but I'd add a serious dose of P.I.L. to the mix.

A moderate change for the better. Of course, the musicianship is first-rate, and I like the way these songs have been utterly crafted. The performance is over-the-top, but maybe I'm mellowing or something, because I like this puppy better. This set of songs is nowhere near as calculatedly commercial as the last one, and that's the biggest improvement.

Just goes to show. When someone disses your work, send them nitrous, not nitro.

J.U.R.S. is Jacek Usnarski, a guy living in southern California. He puts together sonic collages that fall somewhere in the realm of electronica. This does have the sterile feel of a one-man operation, but Usnarski manages to get enough organic samples into to the mix to keep things on a somewhat rational basis.

And he likes the funk. Not the bombastic funk of ages, but just that little happy funk feel, enough of the Sly to get you going. And once he gets going, he simply keeps a good thing moving along.

All good traits. Usnarski is also smart enough to vary his beats and sounds, bouncing about to keep things interesting. In diversity comes strength, and J.U.R.S. sounds good no matter what the bass is doing.

An impressive home project. This is quality all the way.

Still a mess, though I think that has more to do with the general lack of post-production work than anything else. Hey, Jermflux can make as wild a noise as anyone.

And that gets proved on every song here. The intro samples are amusing, and they lend a Buzzov*en feel (which I think I mentioned before). See, that's one of them good things.

I have no idea where these sessions are going to end up, but I'm happy to extoll their virtue right now. For pure pain and suffering, go no further. Jermflux has that down cold.

The blues and western swing approximations are fairly good, and Candye Kane has a few humorous observations about life, love and size, but in the end her desire to make a point weighs the project down (no pun intended).

Her voice is strong enough to carry a "straight" blues album, but Kane has no desire to walk the acceptable line. Fine by me. And, in fact, she's at her best when she lets loose and really belts out the songs. Often enough, though, she tries to hard, and both her voice and the music sound somewhat strained.

Plenty of fun to be had, even with the problems. The production is a bit overbright, but since this isn't really a blues album (there's far too much going on to characterize the music in any specific way), that's alright.

Whenever it gets tedious, just jump over to the "The Lord Was a Woman", which is sure to make you smile. Hey, if you don't expect much more than a good time, then you'll surely be happy here.

Reasonably amusing pop music that sounds like it was sung out of the side of the singer's mouth. I figured at some point the vocals would open up, but that didn't happen.

The music suffers from the same problem. Yeah, the three chords are rotated on a regular basis, but the structure is simply too mundane. The changes are predictable, and I found myself guessing the lines with way too much regularity.

The Krinkles are obvious devotees of early Young Fresh Fellows, but none of that adulation creates a spark. Indeed, the Krinkles show just how astonishing it is when a pop band clicks.

That didn't happen here. The inspiration wasn't present.

An ungodly racket. Electric guitar, drums and mostly incoherent vocals. Occasionally the parts work together nicely. Nice, however, isn't what Lake of Dracula had in mind.

Hey, there's no way you can ask me to prove intent. I have no idea, either. When this stuff works, the guitar and drums are operating just off-sync from each other, creating a third, overpowering rhythm. The vocals are just an afterthought, though they do provide yet another rhythmic counterpoint.

The sort of thing even I have problems appreciating. Oh, there are cool moments ("Plague of Frogs" and "Blues Fantastique", for starters), but Lake of Dracula needs to figure out just what the hell it really wants to do. Noise for noise's sake is fine and all, but it generally doesn't make for great music.

A big wad of potential disguised as a distortion overload. Nice for the adrenochrome rush. And maybe just a little burnt sienna afterglow. But nothing more.

Long made his mark with Wig and Mule, bands which took the general idea of the blues and then flogged their instruments until every bit of that idea had been exorcised.

He gets a few of his friends to play along while he riffs through a series of bourbon-soaked tales of woe. It may be a bit more traditional than his usual fare, but perhaps Long has something to say.

Or at least some stories to relate. Lots of agony and pain, washed through your basic punk blues filter and then dirtied up just a bit. Nothing complicated, but when it works, man, it works.

And here it does. One of those albums that makes it almost pleasant to be sad. Face down in the mud, perhaps, but Long makes it sound almost like heaven.

Working hard to find the hooks, Midway slogs through a set of roots rock anthems without quite capturing that one, true chorus.

And if I'm going to sit through AOR 101, I'd better get a nice kick at the end. Midway knows how to put the pieces together. They've studied hard, and the craftsmanship shows. But the songs fall apart just when they should coalesce. Doughnuts.

The most important part of this kinda thing is the hook. And Midway dances all about without getting terribly close to a good one. Oh, the playing is quite nice, and the sound much better than your average self-released disc. It's just that the music is far too mundane.

Perhaps a tad heavier (the guys are a year older), Millencolin returns with another set of astonishingly catchy punk tunes. Once again engineered by Dan Swano (is there nothing musical in Sweden he doesn't touch?), this album may have a bad pun for a title, but the music is pure bliss.

In trying to explain to a few folks how much I like Millencolin, the general response is "Yeah, but it's just poppy stuff." Yep. And I can't think of many folks who do it better. Think cranking out this sort of peppy punk (overladen with great hooks) is easy? Yeah, you try.

Perhaps most importantly, For Monkeys proves that Millencolin is no fluke. Yeah, I know that Life on a Plate was just their first U.S. album, not their first album in general, but still. After all the hype and exposure, the boys are beginning to escape their teenage years and still can write cool music. A good sign

In short, nothing short of awesome. I had high expectations, and this fulfilled them. With a little extra whipped cream on top.

One of the few grunge-type bands that I find irresistible. Simply put, I think these guys have as good a knack at turning potentially dreadful anthems into great stuff.

First, everything is always in motion. Forget dirges; Mumbleskinny is stirring a pot of stewed riffs. Little bits get dropped in here and here, always in an appropriate manner.

This strict attention to songwriting construction is one of the reasons Mumbleskinny's stuff transcends what has become a really dreary sound. Put the same ideas in the hands of another band, and you'd get Candlebox or something equally dreadful. Instead, here we have some truly fine work.

I had hoped this would live up to the last Mumbleskinny disc I got, and it has. In fact, the songwriting here is even more consistent. A thoroughly enjoyable set.

Crunchy pop with a nice, thick bass sound. Not quite ALL territory, but you can hear it from here.

With a real sense for how to put together a song. Don't push an idea too hard, and don't forget to kick out the hooks. Both tunes are nice, uptempo ravers with clean guitar lines and infectious beats. Solid musicianship and a nice, muted production sound.

The main difference between the two is that the b-side, "Snakecharmer" is instrumental. But like Treepeople, My Favorite Martian manages to speak well enough without using words.

An auspicious single, to say the least.

The moodier side of Girls Against Boys, with a sax as the main instrument here.

Other than that, the GvsB groove rides on. This puppy is immeasurably louder than the last New Wet Kojak album, but even when loud, the feel is cool and mellow.

Far too entertaining to be dismissed as a mere "side project", New Wet Kojak is a fine outfit unto itself. The shared musical ideas are good ones, and the somewhat more "out there" sound is welcome to my ears. And if you want to hear one of the drop-dead great songs of the year, track up "Get the Curse". It's further down the riff line from "Kill the Sexplayer", with everything pumped up to a higher level. Amazing.

And the rest is merely damned good. One thing's for sure: Scott McCloud hasn't lost his sense of musical style. Flows like a river.

The main point here is that Rob Crow (Heavy Vegetable, Thingy, etc.) wanted to explore the musical potential of the Optigan, an instrument made by Mattel in the early 70s. This apparently is yet another toy that I missed out on during my impoverished youth.

Crow and Pea Hix are the "approximate" members of the band (that's the word the press sheet uses), but I'd say most of the songwriting fell to Crow. Optiganally Yours continues in his tradition of whipping out wildy catchy pop with just a bit of musical subversion. So while pure popheads will certainly be happy with most of the tunes, there's always that little bit lying beneath the surface ready to bite.

But unlike his dreadfully self-indulgent solo album, Crow has restrained most of his worst impulses here and presented us with a wacky pop album. The Optigan is something of a sample-driven organ, though you have to use the samples that come with the thing. No recording.

The sound is lo-fi (as the disc notes), but the music is still a big load of fun. Crow strikes again, and this one's a solid hit.

This one's directed at the great white north. Two versions of the title song (in English and French, of course--it wouldn't do to be shunned in a great city like Montreal), a cover of a Maow tune and a pleasant ditty concerning that dread affliction, hockey hair.

Unabashed and free, this single is much better than the recent one on Lookout (I assume, though, as Mint and Lookout have a deal going, that you can get this puppy in the States as well). Much more fun, really.

And fun is one of the band's main themes, so that seems only natural. Go with the flow and get on board. If you want to get offended, well, that's your own damned fault.

In the truest sense of punk, the Piss Shivers have persisted long beyond reason. Yeah, the music is pretty damned good (or at least amusing, which seems to be the point), but really, now.

Of course, the same should be said for A&A. And now that I reside in the same state as these guys, well, perhaps I should be examining my own motives. After all, the Piss Shiver bang out high energy punk with sneering smiles.

The trick is not to slow down, because that's when folks figure out you can't play. And, actually, the playing isn't bad. And neither is the production, which presents these proceedings in a pleasant muddle.

Eight songs in 12 minutes, which seems about right, all things said. I don't know why these guys persist, but I'm glad they do.

Groove-oriented hard rock. Not in a funky way, but in that "alterna-pop" cycle. An unusual idea, but I'll go along for the ride.

The usual massive riffage, with nods to Aerosmith, the Clash and, well, R.E.M. Acoustic guitars appear a bit more often than I expected, but that works alright. In fact, all this works better than I guessed at the start.

Any band that names itself after an actor on Fawlty Towers can't suck completely. Well, then again, Toad the Wet Sprocket has that Monty Python connection, and I can't think of one redeeming factor there. Forget it.

Prunella Scales does get a bit overwrought from time to time, turning a nice hook into dreary anthemese, but there's potential as well. Merely middling now, but with some work, well, there just might be something.

Formerly Vitreous Humor (with a change at bass). The reason for the name change is completely obvious. Where Vitreous Humor was a full-blown pop outfit, capable of blowing the roof out of an awesome hook, the Regrets are an eclectic emo band, relying on musical and lyrical subtlety.

This "new direction" isn't bad, but I wasn't expecting it. I really liked Vitreous Humor, and it's gonna take me a few moments to collect myself.

(a few moments pass)

I don't like this style quite so much, but the inerrring ear for fine music remains. Much more indescribable than before, the Regrets are, indeed, just what the fine folks at Crank! purport: an original rock band. I like that.

I shouldn't have doubted. This is fine stuff, if a bit less accessible than before. Then again, perhaps limited access is better, after all.

Somewhere between country, rock and folk. The songs are slowly-building emotional bits of self-exploration. Amusement, anger, angst and plenty of other feelings course through the music and the lyrics.

Precisely the sort of music that is too often rendered overblown and bombastic by an inept hand at the boards. Schrock and co-producer and Steve Drown do get a little happy with some of the extras, but the guitars and keyboards are kept in check.

And since the main attraction here is Schrock's voice and lyrics, there's no need for anything to drown them out. Sure, she occasionally loses flow, trying to say more than necessary in one line, but not enough to grate.

A beautiful album, one that doesn't compromise in any way. Heavy hands would have wrecked it, but Schrock knew what she wanted, and the results speak for themselves.

I had a pretty good idea of what a collaboration between Mount Shasta and Space Streakings would sound like. A somewhat more pounding version of the Nintendo jazz that Space Streakings is famous for rendering, perhaps.

What seems to have happened instead is that everyone played a few songs, and then the creative types went into the booth and spliced up something completely new. Sample-driven in a nicely organic way, with more layers of subtext than an Umberto Eco novel.

Still wildly enjoyable, of course. And, actually, "Shacho" comes kinda close to what I figured this would sound like. Not that I'm complaining. After all, half this composite band's name is "Surprise", is it not? Why should I have expected anything less?

These rhetorical questions are going to clog my arteries and kill me one of these days. Fans of both groups will have already flocked to the stores to score these puppies. Like me, they trust that two great bands can't completely fuck up when playing together. They're right, and in fact, the combination of the two is at least as good as both bands are separately. A large accomplishment in and of itself.

Lots causes to stump for here. Snothead is donating 10% of the profits of this disc to PETA, and there's also information on fighting censorship (which is how the title track got itself written). The sound is an all-out sample-crazed industrial attack.

And that sound is the best part. I like the way the songs are put together musically. Not infectious, but certainly intoxicating. The lyrics are bit simplistic, escpecially considering the ideas that are being expressed. In fact, this emphasis on causes at times brings the music down to a lower level.

It's a bitch to be passionate about a message and translate that into great music. Snothead is more successful than many, but what it often comes down to is that there has to be a sacrifice somewhere. And when necessary, the music seems to be the victim.

On the other hand, there is some simply wonderful experimentation in the interludes. That's the best part for me. I'd prefer the band to stick more to worrying about music, but I understand the need to make a point. It's all in priorities.

Rather crunchy, disjointed pop. I'm not sure if Sperm is trying to sound like Pearl Jam playing Squeeze, but that's the impression I get.

It might work better if the songs had a flow of any sort. Instead, the sometimes insightful lyrics are kinda flung out over woefully inept music. No hooks, no grooves, just rather painful-sounding notes.

Nothing works. Pop gone bad can be a seriously distressing listening experience, and that's what I had here. These guys are obviously working very hard, and they play well. But the songwriting machine needs an overhaul.

Still sounding way too much like Eric Clapton, Corey Stevens plows through a set of decent rockin' blues. But, see, it does help to try and do your own thing.

He wrote or co-wrote every song here, which makes his fixation even worse. I mean, if he can write in this style so well (the stuff is better than Clapton has done is ages, which still isn't saying much), my guess is that he can write in a more unique style that would give him a personal voice.

Until then, though, I just can't get behind Stevens. There are plenty of folks who would be satisfied with white-boy blues like this and not worry about any comparisons. That's not my style, unfortunately.

If The Lost World is a high concept movie, then Storm & Stress is perhaps the ultimate low concept band. There is simply no way to explain what this band is doing (much less try and guess why) in my standard 150-word review.

Perhaps this will explain things better: Two of the guys play with Marc Ribot, and Ian plays guitar for Don Caballero. Indeed, the first main obstacle for the band is figuring out where to practice, as Pittsburgh and New York aren't exactly neighbors.

But once they worked all that out, this disc got produced. Seven songs over 59 minutes, so you know you shouldn't give up on a song just because the first six minutes made no sense.

In fact, very little here makes sense in a lineal, mathematical equation approach to music. Luckily, there are other ways of approaching things, and Storm & Stress has found but one.

In yet another chaos-inducing move, the photos which decorate the album were shot in a truck which was decelerating very fast (this is why everything seems to be flying). Pretty damned cool, eh? I thought so.

Some odds and ends from one of the preeminent goth/dark wave bands. Much more experimental and creative than anything I've heard from these folks in the past. I'm quite impressed.

There are a couple early tracks from the pre-Cleopatra days, a couple remixes, a couple new studio tracks (which are the highlight), a live track and a radio interview.

The early stuff sounds, well, a little unrefined, which is kinda nice, considering how excessively produced the last album sounded. I do really like the new stuff, particularly "Chain". All this somewhat surprises me.

In a good way. A pretty cool package, all told.

Thingy is just another word for Heavy Vegetable. Rob Crow is still the songwriter, and Elea Tenuta still sings all the pretty stuff. The other side folks have changed, but the sound hasn't.

The EP was just enough of a taste to get me slavering for another full dose. Once again, a huge load of songs (24) that average a little less than two minutes in length. Complex, melodic pop music that is always in motion. Elea and Rob's voices compliment each other perfectly, lending an almost alien sound to the music.

I'm still at a loss to explain how Crow's solo album could have been so bad when he was working on this and other project which have turned out so well. Weird. But hell, as long as we get stuff like this, he's allowed a few back alleys.

As good as expected, and my expectations ran high. If you claim to be a pop music fan, you simply have to get cozy with Mr. Crow, who is one of the few true masters of the form.

Splicing acid jazz riffs with the more experimental techno structures (including trance and ambient), Trance Groove probably has found as descriptive a name for what it does as can be located.

The sound is immediately arresting, and what's probably more impressive is how well it stands up over repeated plays. From the heady club feel of "Trainspotting" to the gorgeously varied structures in the very next track "Ange Garden" (a 15-minute ride worth every second), Trance Groove has proved it is a master of music. Period.

Whenever this many people are contributing a blip here and there, not to mention samples beyond belief, a project can sound cluttered and incoherent without much trouble. Trance Groove avoids this trap, instead melding the various sounds into a unifying piece of music.

Difficult, but not impossible. A superb accomplishment, taking all of the technology available and making such a warm-sounding album. Trance Groove is not simply electronica, jazz or r&b. It's all of them at once.

Plenty of folks have asked me why there aren't any all-female or woman-led death metal (extreme, whatever terminology you wish to use) bands. I usually don't answer that question directly, instead saying that there are some, but none of them have made it much past the self-released album stage.

The good folks at Dwell are trying to change that. Most of the bands here are merely guys with a female lead singer, but even that's fairly innovative.

And while the goals may be high-minded, this compilation also shows why many of these bands aren't well-known: they're not very good. While Gehenna is one of the most accessible bands on the disc, it's also one of the few with a coherently written and performed song.

I also liked the tracks from Witches, Demonic Christ and Damad. The rest were merely middling, if not worse. Extreme doesn't necessary mean shitty, now.

Enough good stuff here to satisfy anyone searching for this sorta thing. But once you take the novelty appeal off, this compilation is merely average. I'm not going to say that women don't belong in extreme music. Not at all. It's just that not many of these bands will convince people otherwise.

A cool roadmap to the emo universe. Plenty of previously released stuff, but chances are you never saw it in stores. Bands like Boys Life, Mineral, Christie Front Drive and Drive Like Jehu (in a special this-time-only indie setting) helping to define and expand upon one of the trendier sounds around.

Simply put, a great idea. If you kinda like this moody, kinda excessive form of punk, well, this is a good spot to start your education. Alright, so some big names like Texas Is the Reason and (insert your favorite band here) aren't included. Big deal.

Mostly because this is already a horn of plenty. Instead of being just another cheesy label sampler (hey, I know they've got their purposes, but still...), this disc fulfills a higher purpose: collecting history. And unlike those nasty techno collections that now fill cutout bins, there's no filler here. Just good music.

A pretty decent blueprint for similar collections, really.

Two discs. The first features remixes by folks such as Chemical Brothers, the Prodigy, Orbital and Front 242. The second is simply somewhat related stuff by acts like Din, Xylon, Bypass Unit and Anubian Lights.

All decent enough, with a few very nice tracks. The thing is, this is a lot like the techno discs I spoke of in the last review. Now, as you get two discs for the price of one, there's more good stuff than usual. And more filler.

There are better places to look for this sort of thing. This compilation is for novices, only.

Not your average label sampler. First, the fine folks at Mint crammed 20 songs onto this puppy. Second, there are five Cub songs (hell, no one called these folks stupid or anything). And third, with its Lookout linkup, Mint has access to top U.S. punk outfits as well.

Yes, this is all previously released. And, yes, the Mr. T Experience, Groovie Ghoulies and Pansy Division stuff came from the Lookout pipeline. You still can't complain about the music.

Some of my favorite albums of the past two years have been on Mint. Cub and Duotang, most specifically, but the stuff from Huevos Ranchers, Gob, Maow and the Smugglers was all well above average.

If you haven't yet figured what cool things are crossing the border these days, this set might help you out.

A much better set than the two-disc In To the Mix thing I reviewed earlier in the issue. Instead of relying on celebrity remix personnel, the focus here was on finding good material and getting a good remix.

Now, some mixes are still better than others, but this stuff is much more representative of the possibilities inherent in the electronic beat movement. From sterile and clean to down and dirty, it all depends on the imagination of the remixer.

And there's plenty of imagination here. With bands like THC, Spahn Ranch and Art of Noise supplying the original tracks, the output had to be decent. One of the better electronica samplers I've heard.

Yeah, okay, so it's a re-issue. This is the first time it's been available on glorious vinyl (and trust me, it is glorious). And you get two songs from Superunit, which is Zeni Geva plus Steve Albini and someone named Mas-P.

Whenever Zeni Geva is on the turntable, pain is on the menu. I've seen entire sections of records stores devoted to K.K. Null and his output (including this band and well beyond). To say that he is a visionary and a trailblazer is almost silly at this point.

Nai-Ha shows why. Even five years later, this album sounds revolutionary. Yeah, so a few folks in the U.S. like Dazzling Killmen caught on. This album still could have been recorded yesterday.

As for the bonus, Superunit doesn't stray far from the Zeni Geva formula of pain for pleasure. These two untitled songs were recorded in the same sessions, and they have a similar feel, except that Albini sings. Yowza.

Someday this sorta stuff will be recognized for the genius that it represents. Until then, we must carry the torch.