You ever been on a road that you knew was going somewhere, but with all of the pretty scenery about you weren't so concerned about the destination as the trip itself? I guess you can figure out what I'm going to say next...

Aerial M is David Pajo and a few of his very good friends (just imagine who else has released records on Drag City, and you have a good start). The songs are instrumental, all focusing on meandering, but never quite lost, guitar work. Pajo likes to give his melodies a solid workout before he consigns them to the "finished" bin.

And that leads to the somewhat lackadaisical feel to this disc. But don't be fooled: This puppy was intricately crafted. Listen to what's behind the guitar. Figure out how Pajo and company use the absence of sound to create a wonderful effect. I know, I've harped on this before, but when you're recording it's almost as important how you manage the silence as to how you manage the sound itself. Aerial M does everything right.

Aerial M may sound simple at first, but once you start to really ponder the music, the hook is set and you can't get away. Fine work.

I also got a tape from these folks; that will be reviewed in the next issue. The Bellrays are yer basic rockin' blooze foursome. Lisa Leilani Kekaula has a great wail, and the band doesn't slouch behind her.

The songs are well-written, and manage to avoid any obvious cliches (a real accomplishment within this particular vein of music). Alright, so the production leaves a lot to be desired (the sound simply drops out in the middle, and the bass is barely hanging on. A little more power would be good.

But the base is solid. Good playing, great singing and three solid songs. A good set.

While most popsters these days prefer to crank out their songs with exuberant abandon, the BMX Bandits toss off three-chord nuggets with all the enthusiasm of an environmentalist running a paper mill. I'm not sure if this is supposed to be ironic or what, but it sure isn't much fun.

And the songs rarely climb above the sophistication level of another Scottish pop outfit. Dull presentation and truly insipid lyrics. I'm still trying to figure this out.

And having no luck whatsoever. There has to be some reason, really, but I'm feeling dense and stupid today. These folks sure have the format down pat, but the BMX Bandits simply don't go anywhere with it. The sound comes up lame.

A very strange album. I have the feeling I'm missing the boat here, but I guess that's bound to happen from time to time.

I saw these guys open up for NOFX a couple years back, and I was unimpressed. In fact, my review of those proceedings inspired a big load of protests from Bouncing Souls fans. My lame response was that perhaps the band had a bad night.

And listening to this, I think that's possible. Much like NOFX, the Bouncing Souls write songs that draw from just about every corner of the punk arena. This is good for diversity and the overall sound of the band, but it can lead to some real presentation problems, particularly live. You know, am I skankin' or rockin' out right now? Honestly, the band seemed confused at that show I saw.

Not much confusion here. The songs are tight, and they certainly do have a nice bounce. This isn't a classic album, but the Bouncing Souls show quite a bit of potential here. I haven't heard their two previous albums, but I would guess that there has been a decent progression. And so the next time out might be something special.

Quite good. My ladder of expectations has been raised.

They may be from Leeds originally, but Chumbawamba has decided to go back to Manchester. And since the only thing to expect from this band is the unexpected, why not? The tunes are high on sugar overdose, both in beats and choruses. There's some artistic noodling amongst the shiny surface, and the result lies somewhere between Stereolab and Jesus Jones.

Because once you get past the waves of hooks at the center of each song, there is a lot of interesting stuff weaving about underneath. The band isn't afraid of outright theft, and since the folks are such accomplished shoplifters, there's plenty of references to decipher. Maybe this is what Negativland would sound like if it totally sold out.

Alright, so I'm working too hard with that one. Chumbawamba is utterly pop, though there is a rumble of subversion beneath the glitter. And the stuff is so immaculately presented, I really can't complain.

Utterly addictive. Highly creative and completely accessible. An almost impossible combination, and yet here it is. It would probably help to have something of an affinity for Britpop, but that's not required. Chumbawamba translates well.

Despite a good solo album that featured some GN'R mates and plenty of other famous friends, Gilby Clarke found himself out on the unsigned seas when sales didn't pan out.

And, honestly, this weird slightly-metallized power pop is kinda hard to dig at first. The old Gunners fans thought it was way too soft, and pop fans didn't like the way the guitars sounded (and perhaps the mere presence of Axl was enough to turn them off). So what does he do? Try again.

Another good album. Clarke's addiction to the whole glam thing (from Slade to Bowie to Mott to the Stones early 70s stuff) shows though, and I can't complain. I happen to like that stuff a lot, too. It's excessive, sure, and the lyrics suffer terribly, but still awful fun.

I was a big Kill for Thrills fan when the band actually existed. A few tracks here return to that lean rock guitar sound, merging it with the more pop format Clarke has been trotting out lately. It works, actually, as does this disc. Cheesy, sure, but still high smiles.

God, I thought Gilby Clarke had a pretty cool handle on this glam pop thing, and then I hear this. Closer sounds exactly like Marc Bolan leading the Posies. I mean, exactly. Not that it's a bad idea or anything.

The songs swirl about in an atmospheric mix of acoustic and electric guitars, with the choruses providing space for swooping melodic shifts. The excess is everywhere, and I like the way it drips off the page.

Makes me wonder what the band Star Star would sound like today if it was still around. This stuff is much more sophisticated and moody, but the thought lingers. And it's not an unpleasant notion.

The cover is goofy, and the band looks like Goth rejects, but at least the music is cool. Actually, that's all that matters, period.

Big Deal is a power pop label. And Cockeyed Ghost is a power pop band. I simply can't believe how big this sound has gotten this year. History, of course, has been repeated. Most of the very influential bands who created the desire for this sound are without deals, and there's all these unknowns bashing out three chords with abandon.

And Cockeyed Ghost is as reckless as any. The production is thick, but the band's loose playing style keeps this from getting too stale. I do wish the songs were a bit more innovative, but thrashing pop is a lot of fun to hear, anyway.

The threesome also does more subtle moments fairly well (the precision of the singing is quite good), though when the tempo slows, the heavy production gets somewhat in the way.

A good, if rather undistinguished album. A big piece of candy. And only time will tell if I will want another any time soon.

Once known as "Dead Elvis" (the name was changed to arouse less ire from fans of the corpulent one), Death in Vegas consists of a DJ who likes to be called Richard Fearless and another guy named Steve Hellier. The sound is somewhere in the new electronic universe, though more roots-laden than chock full of throbbing beats.

This shares a lot with that Style Scott/Bill Laswell disc I reviewed last month. The grooves are thick in the South (from Memphis to Kingston, and often both at the same time--check out "GBH"). The songs are loose arrangements of tight rhythm structures. The guys give the stuff time to develop. And they don't overload with bombast, which keeps the sound in the land of the real.

They've toured with Lionrock, a band which shares many of these same attitudes. After all, just because you're using technology, you don't have to create an album that sounds like it was shit out of an Amiga, now do you?

No, it's actually possible to make a highly pleasing song using electronic cut-and-paste. String enough of those together and you get a great album. Like we've got here.

Technically advanced lo-fi metal musings. I made a reference to Tool when I reviewed the 7", and that still gives a general idea. Disengage's big accomplishment is crafting some seriously overloaded songs and presenting them in muddy surroundings. Something like a Renoir woodcut (as a concept, not reality)

The songs are royal anthems of screech and majesty, always finding the right spot for a climax. Clever use of anti-climax as well, which is probably even more impressive.

An altogether tasty melange. This is stuff I can really relate to: incisive and complex songwriting tossed out with lots of bombast. Don't bang your head too much, because you might actually need your brain for something.

Fulfilling the promise of the 7" and then some. Disengage serious talent and an awfully good vision of its sound. And there can be no complaints about the execution.

These bands win on gimmick points alone. The sleeve folds out into a game that attempts to replicate the experience of touring across the country. It's completely hilarious, and not at all inaccurate. I've always wondered where bands parked when they played in New York. The game has the answer.

As for the music, Slept plays a poppy form of emo, peppered with creative asides. The songs sometimes get a little lost with all the shifts, but all loose ends are tied up at the end in a rousing finale. Fun, fun.

The Doosies utilize some sludge riffs in crafting their own vision of pop wonderland. Their one song, "Amateur Night", is a long, meandering tune full of great riffage. Pretty amusing, too. Kinda messy, but why complain?

Both songs could easily have benefitted from better production (the songs are rather muffled, though not enough to obliterate the general idea), but the underlying talent cannot be ignored. And, hell, the game is worth the price of admission.

The last Down By Law show I saw in St. Pete, I got the feeling that Dave Smalley is really tired of touring. He does it and all, but not terribly willingly. And so there's always the hope that the new album will be good.

And this one is just fine, living up to a relatively high standard. I don't head Dave getting too animated or anything, but the lyrics are good and the band pumps out all that pop-core that DBL is famous for propagating.

Great? Well, probably not, but this is a more than solid set of punk tunes. Perhaps a bit machine-like at times, this disc is still head and shoulders above most of the (relative) kids out there.

It's a Down By Law album. Fans will (and should) flock. If you're shopping for solid pop tunes with some bite and gristle, check it out.

Linear, yet unsettling, noise rawk. Like if fluf decided to crank up the distortion levels another buttload. The songs unfold like a well-worn highway, but it's still great to take the ride.

Best enjoyed at loud volumes, of course, though the songs are good enough to be appreciated at relatively low levels as well. The sound borders on horrific at times, but even while the vocals are getting lost in a wall of haze, the rhythm section keeps bouncing out and moving the proceedings along nicely.

All attitude and very little skill. Not that I'm complaining, of course. It takes something special to create the controlled chaos in as these songs, and there sure is something to be said for this wild ride.

A wonderful rush, really. F.H. Hill Co. pounds out a glorious racket, and deserves to rake in the consequences.

The 7" was altogether incoherent, even for what I term "hardcore emo". I'm not asking for a big buttload of structure; just something to point the way. And 4 has come through on this disc.

I don't know; maybe I was in a weird mood when I checked out the single. Now that I've heard more, I think I understand a little better. And I certainly like what I hear.

There are quite a few moments of weirdness where the songs sorta lose track of themselves (tempo changes three minutes in, the dissolution of rhythmic ideas for no particular reason), but these tunes have been worked around pretty well.

I like the idea behind this, and I like this execution much better than what I heard a month or so ago. There's still room for improvement, of course, but 4 is definitely on the right track.

Britpop anthems. A weird, very poppy take on emo (lots of production extras like strings and such). I guess the distance across the ocean explains a little.

For a form that seems to thrive on minimalism, Glitterbox's slendor of excess is certainly arresting. I'm not sure I like it, but it's one hell of an idea. This is definitely not going to get all the kiddies over here going (too many Britishisms, for starters), but it's worth listen.

Potential, though these songs aren't the greatest. Still, something to watch.

Twenty songs, averaging two and a half minutes per. Pop stuff that races through all the possibilities (morose, giddy and all that stuff in-between) and the goes around the track again.

Okay, so the four songs from the demo I reviewed a few months back are here, but that leaves 16 more songs to enjoy. The thing I liked about the tape was the way Humbert was able to range over all sorts of pop forms with equal skill. An opus like this only impresses me further.

The playing and knob work on this disc are great, leaving a fairly spare and open sound for the songs to play around in. It takes a lot of work to make great music sound this easy, and all the proper steps were taken here.

I expected something great, and this was even better. A wonderment, really. There is far too much on this disc to properly describe in a thesis, much less what a short review can mine. Suffice it to say this is a truly fine disc.

The first disc is a set of pieces from the last 10 years of Kent's output. some previously released, some not. The second disc is the Deep Space suite, comprising three pieces.

Kent plays the didgeridoo, which is the one instrument everyone associates with Australia. Kent takes the didgeridoo to a few spots that the Aboriginal people probably never imagined, but I don't think they'd complain. Perhaps the epitome of "world" music, Kent's pieces incorporate musical ideas from around the globe in creating his wide range of songs.

The first disc shows the versatility of the didgeridoo. The second disc illustrates the true artistry involved in playing the instrument. Put another way, the first is an introduction, and the second is the main course.

Thoroughly amazing. "Deep Space" is a challenging and unique set of pieces, and the "reminiscence" of the first disc simply proves how far this instrument can go. Brilliant.

Rather politicized cyber-industrial stuff. A bit more accessible than most Reconstriction stuff, really. No less impressive, however.

Indeed, Killing Floor's seamless sound is good, as before, and the songs are able to merge the lyric and musical ideas much better than on the debut. The complete package is coming together.

Add in judiciously added spoken-word samples, and you get the audio equivalent of the Romeo + Juliet flick from last year. Snatches of glory, presented in an overdose of sensual information.

And crunchy, crunchy, crunchy. Almost punk in attitude and abandon, Killing Floor uses everything to its advantage: riffage, throbbing rhythms, shouted vocals and a wonderful touch in the studio. Utterly addictive.

This was the first release on Mute records 20 years. And so the folks have decided to celebrate by releasing it on disc in the U.S. for the first time.

Inspired by J.G. Ballard's book Crash, these songs sound very much influenced by bands like Kraftwerk and Tangerine Dream. The electro-pop of The Normal is upbeat and almost tuneful, despite the atonal vocal delivery. In short, a few years ahead of its time.

But great to hear now. Much more than a historical curiosity, these two songs made a splash in England when they came out, and it's so easy to hear how this sound evolved into what my friends like to call "retro" music, the synth-pop of the early 80s.

Worth searching out, if you like to hear how music evolves, or if you like good music, period.

A set of alternate versions, b-sides, a live track and one song from an album. Makes me wish I heard that album, to be sure. Purple Ivy Shadows makes music that resembles folky soundscapes. I'm not sure if that makes sense, but let me try to explain.

The songs are generally centered around a guitar line (often electric, but not always), with plenty of effects and sampled noises added on to make the experience complete. Sometimes there is singing.

There are two fairly straightforward songs (specially mixed for this EP), but the rest (including the live song) are meticulously constructed pieces that attempt to carve out a few new areas in the gap between electronic and "analog" music. Intricate ideas, some expressed very quietly, others with reckless abandon, diverge and come together again repeatedly. Mesmerizing, when at the top of the form.

A little erratic, all told, but this EP is more a hodgepodge than a real example of what the band can do. A fine first taste for me, though.

I'm fairly familiar with Juan Carlos Quintero's work, and for me, it has always tightly walked the line between cheesy smooth jazz and stuff that I consider interesting. It is true that he doesn't take many chances. His arrangements are safe, but he tosses in enough technical mastery of the guitar and emotional feeling to make these songs rise above where they might have ended up.

The little notation on the case says "File under: Jazz/Latin/World". And that's what Quintero does. He takes a little bit from here, and some more from there, in the end arriving at a pleasant, but not unpalatable, destination.

The thing I like best is his touch. An acoustic guitar isn't the easiest instrument to use when you want to express a wide range of feeling. Quintero uses many different styles of picking and strumming (and hammering and...) in each song, and in the end, that's what satisfies me.

He walks the line, and arrives unscathed. Sure, I wish he took more chances. But I'll be satisfied with this.

Very much his own recording. While the enclosed press doesn't make any mention, it sounds like Seconds recorded this puppy on his own, overdubbing the drums and backup vocals (though I think I do hear a female voice back there sometimes). The tunes are that basic: acoustic and electric guitar, snare drum and vocals. Alright, so some cymbals and bass occasionally creep in, but not often.

And guess what? Seconds proves once again that he can write incomparably wonderful pop songs. Stripped of all potential musical bombast, his lyric musings bound into the forefront. Great, as usual.

Indeed, while I have been occasionally disappointed with one of Seconds' many projects, he usually bounces back with a few great albums in a row. This one cuts against form to an extent, although his talent has always been in crafting pop phrasings that lie just outside of convention.

So we get this set of pop gems. I'm not about to complain. More fine work from one of the best.

At once reaching back and moving forward, Stellamara takes timeworn lyrics and melodies, merging them with the latest in sound technology. The results are more than impressive.

References to Dead Can Dance aren't too far off the path, though Stellamara works in different languages and musical traditions. The sound is often ethereal and haunting, and there the connection lies.

Other than the use of modern instruments (along with plenty of ancient ones), however, I think Stellamara is rather faithful to its original influences. And while I can't understand a word of Galician or any of the other languages used, the music is a fine interpreter. Both voice and music are complimentary without overshadowing each other.

Often achingly beautiful, and nearly as often unspeakably sad. A strict understanding of the lyrics is not necessary to find inspiration and solace in this disc.

A pretty serious departure. Switchblade Symphony never quite fit the description of "regular" goth band, but this disc is much more an exploration of where technology can facilitate the fulfillment of a fertile imagination.

There are some goth moments, particularly in Tina Root's singing style, but the drenching keyboards are gone and the underlying rhythms are as likely to be some strange sample as a drum machine (and often both). The effect is a haunting form of electronic music. The result is easily Switchblade Symphony's best album to date.

It's really amazing what self-control can do. Instead of glorying in excess, Switchblade Symphony has tightened up all the holes and finally gotten down and crafted some seriously amazing songs. Sure, these pieces are almost indescribable, at least in terms of genre, but that only serves to prove how good they are.

I'm shocked, really. After the last disc (of various oddities), I was hoping for something good, but there was no way to expect this. An album of agonized curiosity. I really can't say enough.

Nicely crunchy hardcore with lots of extraneous noise. The only thing that holds all this together is a totally grooving rhythm unit. The vocals and what passes for lead guitar are pretty damned near incomprehensible. Awfully compelling nonetheless.

There are plenty of pop culture references and general comments on society. Now, reading of the lyrics is certainly required to figure that out, because the presentation isn't terribly recognizable. But like I said, hoarse wailing laid over a nice throb.

The production has left stuff a bit muddy, which fits with what the band is trying to do (if I'm guessing correctly, that is). Sounds kinda like Ff, except much more sloppy. Still entertaining and all.

If you like to hook onto an adrenal line and bite down, then this disc should satisfy completely. Yeah, the total result is messy, but the underlying drive is awesome to behold.

The nice folks in the Bellrays sent me this disc (because it had one of their songs on it), but I figure I'll give a little notice on the entire proceedings.

Mostly Valley bands (as in San Bernadino), though one band has an address in the city. The stuff is fairly varied, though generally tame. A lot of these bands sound like they're trying to catch up on the trends, and most don't make it.

The Bellrays song is also the first one on the single, and it's easily the best of the bunch here. Honestly, the only other bands that sorta impressed me were High Horse and Los Infernos. Both straight up punk rawk (and what I said about the Infernos last year still stands).

A noble idea, but the bands just aren't solid enough.

Two full discs (36 track in all) of your favorite cold wave (digicore, whatever) artists deconstructing and just plain destroying your favorite TV show theme songs. Most of the 30-second to one minute tunes are expanded way past their normal limits. Then the songs themselves are generally rendered helpless to the sway of the band doing the performance.

This works better with instrumentals, which usually had a better stylistic hook that can be sampled. Or themes like "The Addams Family", which has a very familiar four-note intro. Lots of these themes are simply rendered incomrehensible. First on this list (and first in the collection) is Collide's very ethereal trip through "Felix the Cat".

On the other hand, some bands are able to rip through songs and still arrive at a tasty product. Kevorkian Death Cycle's remake of the "One Day at a Time" theme (which actually had another name, if I recall correctly) is quite cool). Also kudos to Alien Sex Fiend ("Batman"--this one is really great!), Cut.Rate.Box ("Movin' On Up"--the Jeffersons' theme), Kill Switch... Klick ("Welcome Back Kotter") and Ikon, whose goth send-up of the Gilligan's Island Theme is completely amazing.

Honestly, there are more good shots than bad ones. This is one of those pseudo-tribute albums that actually works, mostly because the artists involved didn't feel constrained by convention. Join the adventure.

Jordan Oakes has been cranking out the Yellow Pills mag ('zine, whatever) for a long while, and now that his area of expertise (pop music, as set forth by folks like Big Star) is coming around again, he's got a deal to release his fourth compilation. Hey, it's always been a dream of mine to release any mix tape of mine as a compilation, so I'm duly impressed.

Moreover, Oakes knows his pop, and his taste is impeccable. There are a few well-known names here, but every song on this disc is worthy of praise. Twenty-one songs gushing pure pop. I mean, do you really need me to write anything else?

Easily the best compilation I've ever heard. Oakes has put together a disc that any pop fan should immediately acquire, by any means necessary. Most of the tracks here are hard-to-find (if you can find them at all), and all of them shimmer. Brilliant.

Obviously not the famous poet, but a band that figured it would be cool to use his name. Fine by me.

The stuff itself is rather undefinable. Kinda like a free jazz approach to rock music. Most of the songs are instrumental, mostly because there would be no way to introduce vocals without completely civilizing the chaos within. And I have a feeling no one wants that.

Rarely is there construction of any sort. The band members seem to have an unwritten understanding of how to react to each other, though I'm not sure I would be able to tell if that wasn't the case. It's just that in this swirling world of joyous, seemingly-random collisions, I think I can almost hear some cohesive element. Or maybe that's my brain trying to impose order where none is needed.

Who knows? Certainly, William Carlos Williams is intended for those who like their music free and unfettered, without any preconceived notions of what is and isn't music. People like me.