The idea of a member of Maow putting out a fairly traditional "old fashioned" country album isn't as weird as some might think. First, Maow's odd mix of rockabilly and punk isn't all that far from this stuff, and Case certainly has the voice to pull off this labor of love.

And, anyway, the songs are much punchier than the Hank Williams and Patsy Cline stuff Case seems to have been aiming at replicating. Sounds a lot like the Flat Duo Jets (who Case identifies in the liners as her favorite band), and that's always a compliment coming from me.

Projects like this always walk a thin line between slavish devotion and parody. Case manages to keep a firm foothold on the wire and make sit across the chasm with everyone still intact. Not many current country fans would dig this, but that's the point, after all.

The unrestrained performances and one-take sound really help keep this album rolling along. Much more coherent than Maow, and in that way perhaps a better album, too. Well done.

A solid pop sound, with solid pop songwriting. Colorwall tweaks the edges, but doesn't really take any serious chances. What you get is three good tunes, songs with minimal distinguishing marks.

Oh, sure, the usual toying with echo and reverb. And a couple achingly gorgeous moments (particularly on "My Eyes", the most adventurous song of the bunch).

The playing is more than adequate, and the sound is above average. No real complaints, except that I do wish Colorwall would find some way of busting through the formula wall. Maybe it's just these three songs, or maybe I'm asking too much. But there has to be something more.

When this puppy arrived at my friends' now defunct record store in St. Pete, I checked it out, as it had been touted as the "new" Cub record. Not so. This is a compilation of odds and ends, with some favorites ("New York City" and others) from albums.

A ton of covers, some of which are much better than others. Actually, the worst track is the first one, a cover of the Hollies "You Know He Did" that never gets on track. The liners kinda acknowledge this, but still, it shouldn't lead off an album. Whatever.

Of course, complaining about any technical matter when reviewing Cub is insane. The band has improved its playing immeasurably over its career (a fact that is easy to hear here), but still, the main emphasis is on raucous but simple music, strange little lyrical diversions and Lisa Marr's astonishing voice.

A nice disc for catching up with the girls, and a fairly good introduction to the band for those not in the know. And if your record store can't find it, try giving Mint a call. That's who sent it to me.

Somewhere between ³that whole emo thing² and ³that weird-ass Chicago pop stuff², if youknowwhatImean. Sounds a lot like the Regrets, in that the guitar and bass lines are incredibly involved, but still sound laid back much of the time. A nice trick.

Every once in a while there¹s singing, though the music tends to be less interesting on those songs. I prefer the instrumentals; they say much more than the lyrics on the songs with singing.

Since there isn¹t much singing (even on the ³singing² songs), I don¹t have a whole lot to complain about. Dianogah has a real nice touch on this sorta music and is able to take elements from all sorts of styles and incorporate them into a nice, coherent sound.

A very satisfying album, The more I hear, the better it gets. Definitely worth searching out.

With a couple members of the band My Brother's Keeper in its ranks, the Funky Butt Drum Club takes the idea of funk and flings it up against the wall, just to see what is left.

And the results are about what can be expected. There are nice, deep grooves all over this tape, but they aren't always used to their full potential. The most interesting facet of the band is that most of the percussion is played on bongos of some sort, with very little in the way of electric instruments cluttering up the sound.

A lot of this fine work is somewhat spoiled by rather uninspired lyrics and odd attempts to scat "funky butt" style. That's where the charm leaves in my opinion. Still, there are quite a few nice moments, and this is certainly a project with some serious artistic potential. As long as the funky butts keep trying to redefine the boundaries of the Funk.

A truly violent set of beats and samples. Him prefers to ply his trade over some seriously painful sounds, heavily distorted percussion that moves just a bit too slow at all times.

Some songs, like "Twirling Dub" lighten up a bit, but even there the tempo is just a step behind at all times, leaving a sense of slow motion. Kinda like the Slotek project, though with a much clearer sound.

Experimental without losing touch with reality. Him has his finger on something, and he isn't letting go. Interpretive Belief System isn't terribly infectious, but it is arresting nonetheless. This is real work into the science of sound.

Not party music, but music worth celebrating. Electronic music doesn't have to sound artificial or zip around at wild speeds in order to be innovative. Him proves that in spades.

A big chunk of catchy pop-rock, just like Cheap Trick used to play. Hubbard waxes to few more extremes than those midwestern legends, shifting from excessive cheese to cascading riffage in the blink of an eye. And one thing's for certain: Hubbard has an unerring instinct for the hook.

Which is good, because he sure as hell has no idea how to craft a verse or a bridge. The first song, "Everybody's Doing It" isn't much more than the chorus repeated over and over, with slightly different lyrics. The same disregard for proper song construction follows throughout the disc.

And a damned good thing, too. His unorthodox take on highly accessible music gives Hubbard an advantage in the pop wars: no one writes songs the way he does. And he's not afraid to overdo things, like that truly annoying distorted organ that pervades "Captain of the Teenagers".

We need more free spirits in the pop universe. Hubbard tends a bit too much toward the cheese to completely captivate me, but there's enough here to keep me amused.

A good dose of ska-pop (kinda like the Specials and Madness all those years ago). The production is awful thin, with keyboards that are barely recognizable as such, but the songs are tight and catchy, overcoming any serious problems.

It's nice to hear ska without bombast. The trend during this "revival" period has been to beef up the guitar sound (a la Bosstones) or simply add all sorts of cheesy elements (the whole skadonna approach). Johnny Too Bad and the Strikeouts loop through four cool songs, none getting too out of hand, but each with individual charms.

Now, this isn't pure ska. The emphasis is still on pop, but pop with a skankin' beat and plenty of fat horns. The songs evolve in a natural, easy-going manner, never making demands they can't live up to. A good trick.

I don't know if this sound will ever really capture the imagination of the average teenager, but I like it a lot. Good fun.

Yer basic rawk stuff with some horns thrown in. Knuckle Sandwich seem intent on imitating a few influences, the most obvious being King Kong on "Western Mass Community Fight Song (for Ben Schoolfield)".

The songs just don't seem to have much reason to be next to each other on the disc. It's not that the band ranges all over the place, but the songs simply don't relate. I'm confused.

The playing is pretty good, though the mixing job has left stuff muddled in a few spots (the first track, "Television (The Truth About Me)", in particular). And I still have no idea what Knuckle Sandwich really wants to sound like.

A real mess. I had a tough enough time figuring out the point of most of the songs (not that the lyrics are obtuse; they simply seem nonsensical much of the time), not to mention the general gist of the disc. Too much work for simple music.

The first CD I've heard that opens up with a message from the disc itself. Ah, but these are the mysterious boys with the ray gun musical toys (I couldn't resist). Another venture into the mostly instrumental world of Man or Astro-Man?.

As usual, the guys seem to have put more effort into creating the packaging than the music (which is still up to its usual standards). The liners include lots of faux slides and a schematic flowchart showing how the music has come to this human's ears. I'm so relieved to finally understand.

To be serious for a moment, this is simply another good Man or Astro-Man? outing. Fans know what to expect: surf-type instrumentals with occasional vocals, and always added retro space age weirdness. I dig it. I'm aware of those who find it retarded.

I say those folks should lighten up. Everything surrounding the band may be a big-ass joke, but the music is solid. And that's all I ask of a band.

I've been getting these gushing e-mails from the Deep Elm office (where Muckafurgason is preparing a full-length) for ages, and now finally a taste.

First things first: don't expect anything. I mean, if you think you can anticipate what's coming next, let me just emphasize that you're sadly mistaken. The band is a trio. All three sing, and apparently they like to switch instruments almost as quickly as they cycle sounds.

I generally don't like to do this, but the only way to make sense of these proceedings is to go track by track. "Chevrolet" is a keen little punchy pop song about, well, a Chevrolet. Nothing terribly unusual, with the exception of a Dick Dale-style riff that appears out of nowhere. "Forsyth St." starts off with the premise that "John would kick the ass of all the other Beatles" and then proceeds into a fairly rude Beatles parody. "Sweetie Pie" is a Jolson-style crooner piece that is utterly loony. Then comes "Bad Ass Fucker", which is a clunky pop song that seems to want to rock out, but doesn't quite make it.

Add in the fact that all the lyrics are terribly clever (the one true unifying factor), and you get something like the Dead Milkmen with talent and brains. I hope that doesn't become a sad catchphrase.

An unusual band, to be sure. The press comments are mostly from foreign radio show hosts, and the bio sheet is almost intolerably pretentious. And yet, when the music came on, I forgot about all that.

Moody pop, though generally upbeat (a well-done contradiction), with lyrics that are as incisive as any I've heard in quite some time. It's hard to be philosophical without getting trite once in a while, but One Left manages that trick deftly.

And while the D.C. scene is one of the most diverse and fertile around, I sure wouldn't have expected a band like this. Not that I'm complaining or anything. Just an observation.

The sound is a bit dark without getting overbearing, which suits the songs just fine. And the songs are the stars here. Stellar writing, which generally leads to a great album. No diversion from that here.

The third Sike release I've reviewed in this issue, and damned if it doesn't sound anything like either of the other two. A good trend for the label.

But One Ton Shotgun isn't much more than a middling hardcore band that needs better production. The songs are fair, but the production sucks out all of the potential power and energy, and I really can't tell if they would be much more effective live.

Kinda like Sloppy Seconds without the sense of humor. It was always easy to laugh off those guys' sound problems because the songs were so amusing. Not the case here. This stuff simply needs more oomph.

Digging deep into the Big Star bag, and then giving everything the musical equivalent of a watercolor wash, the Orange Peels are simply alt.pop.lite. And a bit clunky, at that.

Decent writing, particularly in the lyrics, but too often the music fails to shift gears (not to mention chords) smoothly. Playing great is not a prerequisite for this sorta stuff, but a base level of competence is required. I'm not sure where the problem lies, but the sound is a bit herky-jerky.

The Orange Peels also don't really take any chances. There are a few nice bells and whistles (the production is good, with a fine mix that allows each instrument to be heard), but those seem to have been dropped in to hide some deficiencies.

Even with the problems, this stuff isn't terrible. Just mundane. And with the plethora of pop bands making the rounds these days, better is necessary.

I still haven't figured out if the folks at Silvertone are aware that the fruit is spelled "plum", and that "plumb" has something to do with depths. I suppose they didn't want to draw attention to the shallowness of this band.

Sounds like a lesser version of Magnapop, a band not renowned for greatness. I could also call this an annoying rip-off of such faux "chick rock" like Garbage, but even that is giving too much credence.

There's so much producer interference (most of the tracks use a drum machine and loads of keyboards and other "refinements") that I really have no idea what the songs actually sounded like when the band wrote them. This sounds like one of those albums that no one actually played on, just ripped a sample into the computer and let the producer do the rest.

Ah, hell, maybe I'm just getting too used to raw stuff. But these songs are not good, and the sound is generic major label sheen. Dull, and annoying to boot. Bleah.

With each album, Poster Children has increasingly relied upon technology, and, in what seems to be something of an oxymoron, has actually been able to flesh out its songs better.

There are elements of the grunge days (sort of a flashback, really), but most of this album continues in the power pop ways that have characterized the band since it signed into the big time. Of course, clever lyrics and seemingly random shifts in mood tend to alienate the youth of America, and I'm not sure how well the Kids are selling. But they're still on Reprise, so something must be going right.

Certainly, there can be no complaint about the music. Poster Children hasn't so much followed the trends as just managed to incorporate small bits and pieces into its overall sound. So this is the first PC album to incorporate keyboards in any serious amount, and like the last album, there are a couple punky ravers.

And yet, this sounds a lot like the Poster Children did when I first saw them in CBGB's six years ago (ironic really, a Missouri kid catching an Illinois act in New York). The presence that blew me away back then is still there, and that self-assured feel is just one of the elements that keeps the music fresh.

A side note: the extra CD-Rom stuff on this disc is easily the best I've seen on any album. Rose outdid herself; you can get samples of just about every recorded PC song, bio info, a tutorial on writing web sites, notes on how to run an indie record company and even a couple (lame, but still) games. I spent a couple hours wandering through, which is about two hours more than I could stand in any other "enhanced" CD thingy.

Moreso than any other instrument in jazz, the electric guitar seems to be an awesomely inhibiting force. Keeping exceptions like Pat Metheny in the back of my head, most all other jazz guitarists have kept pretty much to the tradition set down by Charlie Christian when he played with Benny Goodman. Keep the sound smooth, with an emphasis on proper technique and established sounds.

Silbergleit has surrounded himself with a fine set of musicians, and they, not he, take most of the musical risks. This isn't happy jazz territory, but the guitar work, while accomplished, isn't groundbreaking.

I'm not sure what it is about the guitar that seems to influence its top practitioners to stick in the same ruts. After all, most instrumental guitar rock albums also sound pretty stilted, passing through the same town over and over again. Yeah, Silbergleit wrote some nice melodies, and he sure can play, but the sound stays the same, and that really inhibits the expression of emotion. He leaves that to his sides.

Plenty of good work, but the road is well-worn. This isn't challenging, but merely entertaining, playing. I ask for more.

John Strohm has been a member of such bands as Antenna, the Blake Babies and the Lemonheads (back when it was a band, and he's out on tour with the Dando now). One unifying factor in these bands is that they play(ed) very tight, calculated music. Oh, it was intended to sound off-the-cuff in all cases, but I was never convinced.

Here I am. Okay, so the sound is that whole post-Uncle Tupelo clunky midwestern rock thing, but my five years at Missouri kinda predisposed me to like that stuff. And unlike many of his other projects, Strohm has managed to achieve a loose, easy feel. The songs simply keep rolling out at their own pace, each one relating well to its neighbors on the disc.

Nothing pretentious or overbearing, and I think that's why this succeeds. The members of the Blake Babies were simply prodigies who didn't really know how to harness their various talents, and with Antenna, Strohm was trying too hard to convince people of his genius. Yeah, Velo Deluxe was (is) better, but still, I think this is perhaps the best complete package he has delivered.

A good range of topics and emotions. A fine set of roots rock pieces that stand up to my tough scrutiny. This is the genuine article. Strohm has finally started to pay off on his potential.

A lot of Canadian bands, many of them Mint (or former Mint) acts. Names like Cub, Pluto, the McCrackins, Huevos Rancheros, the Smugglers, the Forbidden Dimension and the Stand GT you've all seen in these here parts before. For the most part, the tracks aren't new, but they do present a pretty picture of the punk scene in the Great White north.

In general, the songs are good examples of the bands, and so this 18-track sampler is a nice little pack for someone who hasn't quite caught on. And there's at least one or two songs here that you haven't heard, no matter what your failiarity with the scene is.

A good, diverse set. I wish more of the tracks were previously unreleased, but hell, my guess is that most Aussies (not to mention Americans) haven't heard any of these folks. Cool enough.

Following in the footsteps of Crank!s excellent (Don't Forget to) Breathe compilation (which covered a bit more territory than the whole emo movement, but still), this puppy presents some of the finer practitioners of the movement.

For those who doubt how widespread this sound has become, there isn't one band that appears on both collections. So the idea that 30 great bands are out there making this general style of punk music is pretty strong testimony.

Projects like this and the Crank! disc are the real reason for compilations. I've been onto this stuff for a long time, though it took me a while to really get into it. Early bands like Engine Kid annoyed me at first, but I fell into the groove after a while (as did the music). And so if you give this disc time, I figure you'll be converted as well.

For those who want more inspiration, this disc contains the first new Samiam to come down the pike in a while. Along with bands like Jimmy Eat World, Pohgoh, Lazycain and Camber (ooh-la-la). A labor of love, and a lovely one at that.

Speaking of emo (if you're reading the reviews in order): Here's a pretty good band that wends its way around that style. Lots of punch, but the tempos are fairly slow. An emphasis on unusual lead guitar lines is particularly gratifying.

The lyrics fly all over the place, generally delineating some source of pain or frustration, which the music then proceeds to alleviate. A good trick, one done better than many emo acts.

I'm so wiped from reviewing the compilation that I'm almost out of words for this fine project. I'd sure like to emphasize how impressive the recording was, though. The keyboards don't sound like keys at all, but more like some sort of guitar undercurrent. Well, sometimes they sound like a broken-down organ, but that's pretty cool as well.

Sure, this is the pop side of emo (the songs are fairly strictly constructed, though there are a few meanders now and again), but it's some damn fine stuff, and no one will convince me otherwise. A cool surprise at the end of the day.

Fully orchestrated roots stuff, complete with fiddle, piano and occasional horns. Whiskeytown prefers to plays full on, with a sparsely recorded but still resplendent sound. Sounds a lot like the Jayhawks of 10 years ago, which I liked quite a bit.

The songs generally relate some dreadful situation which managed to resolve itself, most of the time not in the favor of the song's subject. And the songs' styles mutate nicely to better describe the tale within. Everything from the blues to western swing is broached and twirled into the basic Whiskeytown sound with nary so much as a wink.

This is a group of folks who know precisely what they wanted, and they got that. Each song is well-conceived and expertly executed, all with a loose-as-they-come feel. The genuine article.

Maybe its just the oncoming rush of cooler air and better days that's got me feeling so good. But my guess is that Whiskeytown has a pretty big hand in that mellow, contented feeling as well.