The Adicts have been around for more than 20 years, and this compilation helps me understand why the band has never quite hit the big time over here. The guys simply played the punk of the times, without ever really trying to do their own thing.

All sorts of trends waft through, from Buzzcocks pop (there's a lot of that, though it doesn't measure up) to ska and even a couple oi tunes. More than a couple songs borrow from the Ramones rather heavily. I honestly can't find much original here.

On the plus side, the stuff is competently played and the lyrics are often somewhat amusing. Not terribly insightful in a life-changing way, but at least good enough to leave a goofy grin.

Fans of pop punk will jump on this, and it's not bad as far as that goes. But to make "legend" claims is going a bit far.

Barely Pink hails from somewhere in the Tampa Bay area. Now, the press claims Tampa, but the mailing address is in St. Pete, as is the one club (well, restaurant, actually), and as a former resident of southeast St. Pete, I'm kinda aware of how such people hate to be stuck in with Tampa. And, for the record, the Devil Rays will be playing baseball in St. Petersburg next year. None of this Tampa crap, okay?

As for the band, the sound is power pop with a lot of Velveeta. The sticker on the cover compares Barely Pink to Cheap Trick (fair enough), T. Rex (not even close) and Big Star (mostly in the way-off harmonies, I guess). Enjoyable fare, but not particularly inspiring.

Whenever any song seems ready to barrel full-steam into some nicely discordant seconds of distortion-laden madness, the sound instead thins out into some clean lines. The hooks are acceptable, if a little tired, but the thing that sticks out is the lack of adventure.

I know that Tom Morris loves to craft an immaculately clean sound with most every album he produces (one of the few insights I get for three years in Florida), but even he should know this kind of music needs to be at least a little dirty. Some grime at the corners, a little sand in the axle grease. It's not here. If Barely Pink were to actually take some shots, it might really get somewhere. This album is far too safe.

Black Fork is a true practitioner of the punk ethos. I can't identify a shred of talent in the singing, playing or songwriting, but as the music is flogged along at a furious tempo, this is sometimes hard to notice.

Black Fork makes the Smears sound like King Crimson. I'm not trying to put anyone down here, but I know that statement is sure to cause hard feelings. Whatever. There are 24 songs on this disc. The full time is 26 minutes. I couldn't tell much of a difference between the songs, except for the occasional sampled intro.

Fun? Sure. But that's as far as I'm going here. There is a large group of people who find this sort of music astonishingly fresh and tasty, because of the pure lack of artistic ambition. Okay. That certainly seems fair.

The three members of Calexico are better known for their session and tour work with lots of famous people. Here, the sound is spare and the musical inspiration is all over the map. There are plenty of Spanish guitar bits and lots of generic American West spookiness (is that a genre? I don't think so...).

Kinda like a more conceptual Palace. The playing and singing is tight, but the songwriting has an ethereal quality that is hard to place, except that Will Oldham and also Smog came immediately to mind.

The stuff was recorded in a home studio, and so the sound can be horrific at times, but that's exactly what the music needs. This is not arena shaking music. It's not even living room shaking music. It's thought wave shaking music.

The best kind of music defies full description, and Calexico has achieved that standard. A timeless album that quickly works itself into your subconscious, where all sorts of damage will most certainly be done.

Wind-Up (nee Grass) licensed this to Thick, and well, Commander Venus sounds a lot like that. This Omaha band (that sounds a lot more like a Lawrence band, but whatever) has general pop intentions, but manages to butcher most of them by the time the band gets finished playing. In short, very cool.

My only really problem is that CV kinda takes the butchering part to heart a bit much, and some of the songs are a bit more mangled than they needed to be. Noise is glorious, and the greatest anthem can always benefit from another nudge of distortion, but I draw the line at cranking out hardcore marching orders.

Still and all, a decent set of tunes. CV has a good ear for both hooks and how to manipulate them. The songs are a lot of fun, even if a bit heavy at times. As the liners point out, there are a lot of great bands in Nebraska (or, at least, there used to be). And these guys measure up pretty well.

A little over a year ago, I reviewed the Gentle Giant compilation, The Miracle of Levitation. This Kalamazoo label is devoted to perpetrating the furtherance of the noise revolution. The compilation included a track from this act, and this album only strengthens my opinion.

The best noise stuff isn't weird for weird's sake. Instead, true artists craft a sense to the chaos, a road map that may not be apparent on first listen, but that is there if someone listens for it. Cult Junk Cafe is a bit more straightlaced than many noise acts I've heard (there is a strong dedication to call-and-response and variations on a theme), but the execution is as gloriously non-commercial as can be.

So these five or six folks (depending on the song) from Japan pump out wave after wave of sonic sculpture activities, each diverging wildly from the last. There is great care in the construction, as I noted, but the final effects are as exhilarating as a blast of free jazz.

Carefully textured and almost maniacally manipulated, Cult Junk cafe has one of the best noise albums I've ever heard. This is music that stretches a number of envelopes. A challenge to convention and anarchy alike. Genius at work.

King Fowler and company returns with easily the most commercial-sounding Deceased album ever. The thanks yous may still be at death metal-length levels, but the music is very much in the early 80s Eurometal area. Except of course, King is still singing. Of course, he sounds about as tuneful as Iron Maiden's new singer...

And there are a lot of statements in the thank yous proclaiming the high quality of post-Dickinson Maiden. So all that ties together very nicely. And as surprising as it seems, Deceased pulls this new direction off quite well. The playing, while not masterful, is good enough, and the production leaves the guitar lines clear enough to appreciate. And, yes, King Fowler raises his trademark growl to actual singing.

This album is supposed to be some sort of zombie horror flick concept album, and that's where I've got the problem. The lyrics are dreadfully silly much of the time, and all the attention paid to this subject matter led to some real songwriting dead-ends.

It's not Iced Earth or Edge of Sanity or anything close. But this new Deceased sound is still pretty good. Plenty of adrenaline, and that's pretty damned important. A nice rush.

Bubbly, with an Elvis Costello jones that just won't quit. Well, there are a few Joe Jackson quips as well, but I'm getting into splitting hairs.

Flip-Side is also a bit too quick to give in to somewhat annoying tendencies, like "rocking out" or incorporating some marginal ska beats. Almost as if the guys don't have enough faith in their base song, and some other gimmick is needed to kick this stuff over the top.

I appreciate the effort, but honestly, the first instincts here are better. Once Flip-Side quits fucking around and just rips off large doses of hooky pop, the disc beings to shine. Unfortunately, just when I think the guys are ready to really get it going, there's another setback, some silly little bit dropped in.

Boy, there's a lot here to like. And perhaps next time out the band and the producer will have a little more faith in the base material. This is one of those too many cooks moments.

Among the descriptions in the liners is "Far Eastern Swing". Or, to be a bit more succinct, perhaps an Indian (like the sub-continent) hoedown. The instruments are mostly traditional American (guitar, banjo, flute, violin, etc.), but the sound is anything but.

I'm pretty sure these folks are making no pretense toward creating "authentic" music of any kind, but the carefree abandon with which this stuff is played is utterly refreshing. Loony, yeah, but not a parody by any means. Merely an astonishing merging of styles which is bound to offend and delight just about anyone.

Sometimes the songs get a little too cluttered. It's pretty apparent that this was recorded without any overdubs, as it is possible to even detect which singer stood where in relation to the nearest microphone. Lo-tech, providing a most satisfying result.

Utterly unclassifiable, which is to the good. The live show must be better, and this disc is awfully good. A big wad of fun.

Clunky pop which appropriates just about every style imaginable, twisting every melody into an annoying sing-song bit by the finish. Lots of toying with distortion and the manipulation of recording levels, which has left much of the sound plain fuzz.

It doesn't work all the time, but I have to applaud the adventurous spirit. A big load of tunes (28 in all) to cycle through, and my guess is that for every truly aggravating song you'll find one you like.

The songwriting is fair to middling; the real chances are taken with the arrangements and recording. That's enough to get me a bit excited, though I do wish these wildly eccentric sounds had something a little more interesting in the middle. Ah well.

Bonus points for crafting one of the strangest straight pop albums I've heard. Sure, it could have been better, but it's always better to be different than generic.

I'm just not sure how to take this. Just sampled every sound he used and then cranked out a set of tunes that sound something like Joe Satriani merged with Michael Sembello (remember "Maniac"?) synth cheese and then run over that Mannheim Steamroller-style upbeat-but-annoying rhythm track. And yet, I kinda like what he does.

At least once every song, Just plants a musical thought that is quite original, particularly considering what is generally surrounding it. Sometimes this is the key theme of the piece, and sometimes it is a five-second interlude.

Waiting for that moment is a bitch, though. The new age references almost drive me nuts, and if that wasn't enough, the astonishingly generic filler behind his main ideas is stultifying.

The most annoying thing is that I can tell that Just has some really interesting ideas. He simply doesn't express them very often. This is classy new age music, to be sure, but it could have been a lot more. There's something hidden in the ore.

Kill Switch is part of the amazingly fertile Kalamazoo scene (Twitch, Thought Industry, Bell's Amber Ale--alright, so the last is my favorite beer. Sue me...). This sound is very much in line with the meandering style of Thought Industry. The lyrics to the four songs seem to have something to do with a relationship gone bad, and I get the feeling the end wasn't good.

Kill Switch does a great job of crafting a truly weird sound. The guitars and bass seem to be tuned to different keys, and they seem to be using some strange effects to create this almost unwound feeling. One of the effects is the way Bill Clements has had to play bass since he lost a good part of his right arm a few years back.

Focus isn't a key, but that doesn't bother me too much. This is some really creative stuff. Probably too strange to attract a lot of outside attention, but you never know. Every once in a while unusual music makes a comeback.

Ugly and sublime, Kill Switch is truly intriguing. Anyone who craves experimentation with loud music should get a hold of this disc.

Moody Swedish stuff, sorta like where I imagine Tiamat would be today in a rational progression. The keyboards are excessive, but still used effectively. Mariana Holmberg's alto vocals add to the ethereal qualities of the music.

Interesting, but not intoxicating. My Dying Bride can get away with such simple progressions because of the stark sound and its use of dissonance. Left Hand Solution has a sweet, lush sound which counteracts the potential power of those chord runs.

All the edges smoothed over, and that makes for much less captivating music. Yeah, it sounds pretty, but when things are supposed to get terrifying or at least a little spooky, the heavy instrumentation provides way too much comfort.

These folks have some good ideas. Perhaps a stripped-down version would be much better. Holmberg's voice works very well with this sound, and would sound even better without all the extraneous stuff. A chance missed.

This isn't two completely different bands, really, as the three members of TV Pow are now part of the greater being that is Liminal. This is Gentle Giant, so you should know what's forthcoming.

Tender explorations of the wild noise frontier, of course. Both tracks were recorded live, which adds another layer of grime to the already speckled sound. The TV Pow track, "A Brief History of Flashing Light", which was recorded four years ago, incorporates a white noise base and then slowly adds and subtracts background sounds. Very subtle, and very effective.

The Liminal song, "Atoms Are Not Things", has a lot more going on. There is no underpinning of noise, but simply the effects of a wide variety of sounds playing off each other. This lends to a much deeper sound, one which doesn't seem to have any real end. It's real easy to get lost here.

Sonic adventures of the highest order.

The title is appropriate in at least a couple ways. As most folks know, Living Sacrifice is a Christian death metal band. And now the guys are on the Tooth & Nail roster after a couple albums on R.E.X.

The songwriting and playing are quite improved from the last time I heard the band, which was about three years ago. The production is very clean, which shows off the improved skills quite well. The song lyrics are still somewhat one-dimensional, not reading much differently than the stuff Petra or the Newsboys or whoever might craft.

But even so, I've got to say this is easily the best I've heard from Living Sacrifice. Yeah, they're way behind the death metal (extreme, whatever) trends, but at least this sounds good. That's a big step from the past.

I still think the emphasis on the message (not the message itself) has detracted somewhat from the musical potential, but I'll live with one step at a time. And this is no small hop.

Another one of those Tampa bands I never heard when I lived in the area. LVX Nova crafts stuff that might be best described as ambient light. The sound is purely electronic, but the ideas expressed as generally simpler and less experimental than the top practitioners of the form.

Plenty of nods to that almost omnipresent electronic beat style, though in a very non-threatening style. Creative music for folks who find the Orb frightening and incomprehensible.

Way too sterile for my taste, I guess. The stuff sounds just a little too processed. The best electronic music has a way of not sounding electronic, something that certainly did not happen here.

Still, if the choice is this or Yanni, well, I'll make my bed here. LVX Nova has made quite a few pleasant, if unassuming songs. I simply wish there had been an urge to push the sound just a bit.

The lava lamp take-off on the cover should have warned me. Lots of epochal riffs, with dabs of vocals here and there. A lot like a grungy Black Sabbath.

I've heard worse, but I've also heard this before. Sounds a lot like Soundgarden did about five years ago. I kinda liked Soundgarden back then, so this sound isn't horrifying to my ears, but I do yearn for something original.

On the plus side, the production on this self-made disc is very good. The band has managed to craft a major-label sound (with the exception of the drums, which sound a bit mechanical) on a tight budget. That's a serious accomplishment. Were that the music found a more creative perch.

Leaning on inspiration is one thing, but Maji is far too close to some fairly famous bands to really get very far. I know this is a serious conundrum (if you sound too common or too weird, the big boys don't want you), but that's the biz.

In any language, in any country, cheese pop is cheese pop. Mato Grosso may be huge in Brazil, but then, Julio Iglesias is still big in most of the Spanish-speaking world. We've got our own embarrassments, like Michael Bolton or Kenny G.

It's not entirely fair to lump Mato Grosso in with those folks, because the band does incorporate a laudable number of influences, but, in the finest commercial pop tradition, they're all dumbed down for the masses.

In other words, the casual music fan may dig this because it does sound different from most overblown American cheese. But after a few listens, it becomes apparent to anyone that there simply isn't much here past simplified samba rhythms, a few passes at jazz piano and the odd spot of fusion-style horns.

Proof that there is music for the lowest common denominator in any country.

Sweet pop music coupled with woefully out-of-tune vocals. Terribly addictive, I'm afraid.

Chris Stamey mastered this disc, and the song constructions are straight out of the dBs, though, as I said, the vocals are anything but tight and mellifluous.

That unrestrained feel to the singing is refreshing, providing a good counterpoint to the meticulously played music. An altogether appealing sound, really. All those folks who seem to insist on playing "perfect" music should listen to this and perhaps begin to understand that performance requires skill and emotion, and that with such a visceral thing as rock and roll, the feeling is the more important of the two.

Sure, this stuff always sounds better with the top down in the summer, but I bet I would have loved this if it had arrived in the middle of a January ice storm. Simple, and simply wonderful.

Robert Mirabal is very earnest in his appeal. He combines traditional Native American musical ideas with a mellow rock sensibility, ending up sounding something like Robbie Robertson.

It works better on some songs than others. The best incorporate varied instrumentation (Mirabal plays a variety of flutes and other wind instruments) even as the basic music tracks stick to regular rock.

Many of the ideas for the lyrics came from traditional songs, but translated and re-interpreted. Fine by me. Mirabal doesn't just update; he sometimes provides a commentary on his forebears and culture as a whole, like with "Witch Hunt", whose vocal chant is derived from an old song describing such a scene.

Mirabal's basic musical instincts aren't very complex or unusual. While this helps keep his songs from getting too "out there", it also consigns him to the "regular rock artist" pile, and he's simply a little above average there. Nothing wrong with that, of course.

A little more restrained than previous outings, the Morning Glories are back for a third full-length stab at fame. The pop base is as solid as always, but instead of always going for the jugular, on this set the band just as often drops off, choosing to leave the moment alone.

More mature, more sophisticated, further down the road. At times I do kinda miss the utter free-wheeling nature some of the earlier stuff had, but in general this album is the band's most satisfying.

Just enough craft to work in a few subtleties. Anyone can scream and holler. Talent is saving those wild moments for when they're really needed. The Morning Glories seem to have picked up that skill nicely. About time, too.

Never fear, the songs are still somewhat rambling and idiosyncratic. It's just that the guys seem to be handling that trait much better these days. A solidly satisfying album.

Totally uncontrolled pop. The guitars fly all over the place, the production is a bit treble-heavy (accentuating the mess) and the vocals are often distorted beyond recognition.

And still fairly entertaining. I think New Sweet Breath can only play one speed real well, and that's a notch or two faster than what is really called for by the music. Still, this is a band with an utterly unique sound. Messy and annoying, sure, but still all its own.

And that's the biggest positive, really. I don't think all of the odd elements really blend together well, and many songs are seem so disjointed that they don't end as much as fall apart.

Again, though, that's almost appealing. Yeah, this is truly messy, but there's also a good amount of exhilaration that has to be accounted for at the end. Not totally fulfilling, but certainly intriguing.

Guess what? Another hardcore ska band trying to charge into the universe with heavy chords, tuneful horns and a bag full of hooks. Alright, so the Supertones are rather derivative (hell, the name alone conjures images of a certain Boston product), but at least they produce.

Oh, nothing terribly original or spectacular, but the hooks are decent enough, and skankers who don't pay too much attention to their music will be amused. I'd give this higher marks if it weren't for the obvious "driving the trend into the ground" factor.

And there, the Supertones just don't bring anything new to the table. Yeah, they pull off the expected tricks, but there's nothing to recommend them over any other number of bands in the same arena.

Slick production and catchy hooks are nice, but it's even better when your sound isn't being heard all over the place, played by another (much more successful) band.

Very deliberate jangle-pop delivered with vocals that sound like a southern version of Johnny Rotten. You kinda have to hear this to understand what I'm talking about.

Way too pent up. Both songs are very simply constructed, and the music is far too predictable. This sounds like a young band where the members are still feeling each other out. There is no coherence to the sound at all.

Some more time playing together should help Orange Hat sound a bit more "natural", but I think a bit of an easier hand on the songwriting helm would also be good. And another hint: don't make the key phrase in your big teen anthem "Humpty was pushed!". Cliches suck.

Heavy college-style funk, with loads of horns and that ubiquitous wanky bass. But the rhythm section is the best part here, keeping the songs in line when the melodic parts get a little lost from time to time.

The sound is very flat and straight, which I rather like. The grooves are loose (they should certainly be ratcheted up a bit), and the horns are pretty much an all or nothing attack. Fun, but a little overbearing.

Basic funk song construction, which means groove-based. Plenty of the go-go call and response coming down, but those parts sound contrived when they should sound spontaneous.

Even with the litany of small problems, Rippopotamus does some nice work with the funk. I like the emphasis on the horns and the bass; indeed, if the rest of the band would fall in line, this might be better. Still, a project with more potential than actual accomplishment.

More Brit punk licensed for the U.S. market. Sham 69 does a fair job of approximating the Ramones and Sex Pistols, but certainly nothing more. The really sad thing is that this is one of those "reunion" gigs, as Sham 69 last recorded an album in 1980.

Honestly, "approximating" is being generous, as plenty of riffs are utterly copped. Yeah, alright, so the stuff is reasonably catchy. It's also been done, and almost 20 years ago at that.

Punk is not the home of the world's most original music. But most bands aren't outright thieves. Sham 69 steals without compunction, and the sad thing is, these songs sound much worse.

There's nothing worse than incompetent kleptomaniacs. If you're going to appropriate a riff or hundred, at least use them in a proper way. Sham 69 commits the ultimate sin: stealing music and then making it dull, besides. No need to return.

The first Songs: Ohia release was a single on Palace Music/Drag City, and that's rather fitting. Jason Molina doesn't adorn his music with much more than his guitar, his voice and the odd bit of percussion. He's got a higher voice than Will Oldham, so this sounds a little like James Taylor playing Palace Music.

I know, the JT reference will garner sneers, but that's not fair. These songs are heartfelt, if extremely unfettered by convention, musings on the human condition. Good stuff, made better by the genuine sound of the songs.

I do think Molina gets a little lost occasionally, losing emotional contact with the listener. There's no need to be linear, but if you're gonna take leave of earthly senses, at least keep building the feeling. There should be a sense of, well, some reason to finish the song. Most of the time he comes through, but it's the odd flat ending that bugs me.

This is a ballsy record, though. Soul-stirring singing and playing, even if none of it can be (or wants to be) called virtuoso. Songs: Ohia seems to want to imitate life. I'm not sure I'd like to live the one depicted, but it does make for fascinating listening.

Spiritualized has one of those "Love 'em or hate 'em" slots in the music world. I know a few folks who think that this sort of over-the-top, heavily-processed moody pop is the stuff of life itself. And I know a few folks who find Spiritualized at least as annoying as U2.

I think both of those camps speaks worlds about themselves. Personally, I"m more in the second camp. Yeah, I can somewhat appreciate all the hard work that went into crafting the lush and gorgeous sound. Boy, laid the overdubs on with a trowel, eh?

And to what effect, I ask? Not much, except to be there. Spiritualized never got over Sgt. Peppers, much less Pink Floyd. Sure, there are some thrashy moments in tunes like "I Think I'm in Love" that recall the duller bits of Love and Rockets ('nuff sed, really), but Spiritualized is in the business of eradicating rational thought and the general world of reality.

The cover and liners are present in the form of a medication wrapper. A bit obvious, aren't we, folks? And that's the whole problem here: Anything good was done to the ultimate excess. No consideration of subtlety or nuance, just smash it over the head. No thanks, man.

A D.C.-area horror punk band not unlike the Groovie Ghoulies. There are some amusing song titles (particularly "Libido Bandido"), but the music is terribly banal.

Almost as if the words were written first, and the band then wrapped the first tune to come to mind around each set of lyrics. There are plenty of almost desperate-sounding shifts in style and sound within individual songs, which doesn't help provide much continuity.

I have a feeling the changing grooves and general off-kilter feel are intentional, but they still don't work. Spur is plying standard rock riffage, and the lyrics aren't clever enough to make up for that fact.

A big boatload of effort, and it kinda bums me out to rag on the guys, but this doesn't cut it. Spur isn't a big name trying to pass a load of tired music on the kids, but the sad thing is the final sound is the same.

Once again, the rhythm section, particularly the drumming, is excellent. The reliance on ancient-sounding grunge riffs and generally boring song construction sinks Stavesacre into a morass of bands hanging on to a Seattle sound that is at least five years past its prime.

And it's too bad, because there are parts that truly shine. And an odd thing: the man on the throne has changed, but the unique drum sound remains. I can't explain.

It's ugly, listening here at the end of a musical trend. Even if the band is reasonably competent, there's very little than can be done to rescue a moribund concept. Trends tend to burn folks out on certain types of music, and this is one of them.

Still plenty of potential, but the final result is just as disappointing as the last album.

One of the first Seattle bands that can really be called a Posies retread. Super Deluxe does a good job of flaming through distortion-filled pop hooks, albeit with a sheen that gets a bit gooey at times.

Still, lots of fun. The lyrics are clever, almost too clever, really. All of the current references kinda take the timeless appeal out of the songs, but perhaps they'll be better appreciated today.

Particularly in the harmonies in the choruses, Super Deluxe gets a little too close to the Posies ideal. I cringe a bit, even when I try to avoid it. My other main complaint is that the sound is way too clean. There's actually space between the chords (what's that all about?), leaving the riffs sounding a bit cookie-cutter.

Don't know why I'm bitching this much, though, because on the whole I had a great ride. I'm not sure this album will hold up over time, but it shines pretty brightly right now.

I have this theory that Albuquerque is a long-lost suburb of San Diego. I mean, Rocket FTC and Drive Like Jehu have been through there a gazillion times, and my brothers (the Lies guys) have been raving about Tanner for as long as I can remember. The first gig they saw was at the Dingo, though don't quote me on that.

Whatever. Tanner sounds a lot like the San Diego punk ideal, which means lots of extra sauce. Oh, the chords are basic enough, but they're never played the same way twice, and most songs have a rambling sorta construction that only makes sense if you let go of your seat and grab the big sound wave pipeline.

A little clunky at times, but generally chock full of action. As with RFTC, the band is at its best when all of the extraneous nonsense is dropped for two bars and the band simply clicks on a basic groove before once again departing for the nether regions of good musical sense.

And never without a big-ass punch. Tanner is best appreciated loud, turned up to 11 or even 12. There isn't a whole lot of distortion in the sound, but when you crank your stereo right up against the limit, enough gets generated. Trust me, the sound is sublime.

A head-first drop into adrenaline madness. Don't ask Tanner to make sense, and the guy won't put you in the hospital. Otherwise, all bets are off.

You really should know what to expect from these guys by now. If you can't handle mordant musical madness, then abandon ship before the whale thrashes you with his tail.

The most important thing about U.S. Maple is not the music itself, but what resides between the notes. Jim O'Rourke produces again, and he's left vast spaces in the sound, wherein the main thoughts seem to reside. This is not to say the music is nonsense, exactly, except that you're definitely missing half the picture if you only pay attention to the audible sound.

And even if you are able to wrap your brain around my strange concept, I'm not sure any of this will make all that much more sense. U.S. Maple makes demanding music, music that cries out for intense reckoning. Obviously, this isn't the sort of album that beckons out to the lost legion of Nelson fans, or even Sonic Youth fans, for that matter. This is hard music.

All I can say is that submitting to the music is very rewarding. Keep your mind tuned toward the abstract, and perhaps you'll return with your sanity.

A few cheap Bowie licks, some white boy blues guitar licks and a serious dose of flower power sentimentality. Yeah, it's fairly pretentious and anthemic and all, but at times Universal works.

At times being the operative phrase. If this entire disc had been distilled down into a two-song single, most of the musical ideas would still be around, and the songs would be pretty damned good. But these guys seem to have one musical groove, and no matter how you spice that up, once the same riff has appeared in five straight songs it gets a bit tiring.

I still like the spirit, and some of the choruses here have some nice hooks. Oh, the music does not come close to the intent, but it's nice to hear someone reach for something, even if they don't make it.

A good start, really, but Universal needs to change up its songwriting routine and try to branch out a bit. The sound is good, the content needs to catch up.

Really terrible live sound permeates this disc, generally rendering all vocals utterly incoherent. The one good thing is that this collection of music from the Holidays in the Sun festival focuses on lesser-known acts. Perhaps the big names (The Godfathers, Buzzcocks, The Damned, etc.) cost too much, but who knows.

It's not so much that these bands are horrible (though many are), but the general poor quality of the mix pretty much obliterates any good things that might exist.

True punk fans will have the (generally) better studio recordings (where they exist), but even the unusual bit here just aren't worth savoring much.

Better sound would have made this at least a good set. Hey, I'm all for true punk spirit, but I'm quite sure there is one competent punk sound guy in England. Really, now.

The loopy photo collage (showing the trio in various "pals" positions) is but a hint of the stuff that lurks inside. This EP from the guys is one 17 1/2 minute piece.

The title is "Pals", after all, and the piece is a rambling (kinda dictated by the length as much as anything) musical discourse which moves from introspective to rather assertive in a shockingly short period of time. I could quite easily picture various scenes of innocence lost when I heard this, and perhaps that's what You Fantastic was trying to bring across.

Or maybe my head is up my ass, as usual. That's the beautiful thing with music like this: there's no right answer! When music is this intricate and compelling, each listener has to figure out for herself what the hell to think. I like that. A lot.

So come along and lend an ear to the continuing saga of You Fantastic. This one won't bite. Well, at least it probably won't break the skin.