When I heard the Cellophane "self-released" EP earlier this year, I wasn't terribly knocked out. The stuff sounded far too calculated and didn't take many risks.

This album is able to convey more depth and feeling, and sounds a lot better. Yes, it is still BIG rock, in that whole early nineties "post-metal" sound. Touches of glam interspersed with drawn-out lines and just enough easy dissonance to take the sheen off. I liked this sorta thing when it was at its most popular (when Queensryche was still recording good albums), and Cellophane does satisfy a particular craving.

The songwriting is still the best part of the package. The playing is good enough, though hiding behind Howard Benson's excessive production. While the hand behind this disc has a better ear for quality, there's still too much. Cellophane could stand to lose a layer or two.

On the whole, though, a good album. The sort of disc that just might inspire an army of fans. The potential is so ripe I can smell it from a mile away.

Remixes and a host of covers. Collide is one of those bands that tries very hard, either succeeding spectacularly or failing in the worst possible way. The remixes here aren't uniformly as adventurous or ambitious as the band itself, but many do well.

I challenge you to recognize "Son of a Preacher Man" (coming soon to one of the stranger tributes I've encountered, remakes of songs from the Pulp Fiction soundtrack). "Whip It" is much easier to identify, and many of you probably heard it on the Newer Wave compilation. The cover of "Obsession" (Siouxsie, not Animotion) lies somewhere in-between.

Compelling listening, if nothing else. Hit-and-miss, as all remix projects are, but with enough nuggets to satisfy fans.

Look for a new album next year. That's when Collide really has to come through.

Elcka uses all the latest technology to create some really inventive songs. Loads of sampling and dubbing, and some songs do seem rather overloaded. Elcka hasn't quite figured out how to incorporate all its ideas in a seamless fashion, but this disc is much better executed than the recent single I reviewed.

Yes, Brit pop in all its fury and glory. Elcka doesn't take the easy road to the hook, though. Most of the songs have tortured melodies, at least until the chorus kicks in. Wild disparity in sound elements is a particular vice (strings floating over dissonance, for example), and that works much better than I might have imagined.

The sort of album that most Yanks find maddening. I mean, a band like Oasis is content to rehash the Beatles and grab the U.S. cash. Elcka utilizes the same studio tricks, but instead whips out a set of unusual songs. No, we're not talking Captain Beefheart or anything, but still.

As much as anything, Elcka sounds like a better-formed version of the early 80s synth-pop bands that we all love so much. The improvement in technology has led to a much fuller sound, but the roots are the same. Tears for Fears, eat your heart out.

Crunchy chords that slip and lock into place, punctuated by Laura Galpin's breathy and breathless vocal delivery.

Crashing, hollering, bashing the hell out of the music. Fluffer isn't terribly friendly, but the sound is irresistible. Wonderfully conceived and executed hardcore pop. Fast, mean and incisive.

A thrill ride that ends way too soon. Yeah, for all the aggro, this is still inescapably mainstream, but it's so clever (the "Panama" reference on "Slick" is delicious) that I won't complain.

Beastly and wondrous. Three songs are not enough.

Yer basic pop trio. playing basic three-part pop music. Luckily, Fondly doesn't like standing still much, and so the music bounces off all the walls this sorta music can create.

Somewhat off-key hooks laid over well-written guitar lines and punchy beats. Everything you want, with some nice additional touches. Some of these are studio tricks (generally lo-fi sound effects), and some are a result of rather inventive songwriting.

And the boys aren't afraid to play it loud. Joyous, angry, bitter and unrestrained, the 16 songs here paint a picture of the examined life, with great backing music.

Pretty damned fine. This album is hard to rip out of the discer. Extremely fine work.

Well-played and produced, Full Moon Bay traffics in rather uninspired AAA stuff. The songs are the sorta thing Air Supply might have recorded, although this band keeps most of the excessive cheese out of the mix.

The mostly acoustic instrumentation helps there. And it is impossible to fault the playing or the work in the studio. This disc sounds fabulous. The songs are the letdown.

Trite lyrics and rather well-worn melodic ideas are way too prevalent. Now, plenty of folks like this sorta thing. Fact is, I don't. I can appreciate the effort and work, but in the end, it doesn't work for me.

On the other hand, if you haven't had enough Bread lately, this might help feed your jones.

Lean music that follows pop construction but is more noise than anything. The guitars are reduced to mere instruments of rhythm, and even the vocals are basically atonal.

A lighter version of Kepone or Glazed Baby. Headcleaner isn't much for excess, and it certainly doesn't have much of an appreciation for hooks. Still, the fuzz and throb do come together for some great grooves.

An odd sound for a band which leads its album off with a track titled "Plimsoul". Of course, it's not a reference to the band. At least, I don't think it is.

In the end, there just wasn't enough to get me overly excited. Headcleaner deals in a very limited sort of sound, and even that isn't explored much at all. The songs, unfortunately, tend to end up in the same area. The thing that bugs me most is that a couple of my favorite bands have this same basic sound, but they make it sing. Headcleaner stays pedestrian.

Yes, that Information Society. The only remaining member is Kurt Harland (he used to go by the last name "Valaquen"; I don't know the reason for the change). The music is still completely computer-generated. I mean, if it worked almost 10 years ago, why change now?

I never thought much about the band's major label incarnation, and this disc doesn't really help me much, either. The blending of various samples is amusing, but they generally do not cohere, spinning the songs off into a cacophonic morass. Now, I generally like that, but musical anarchy for its own sake (particularly when it seems like there is supposed to be some sort of point) can often sound like, well, random junk.

There is also a data CD, but since it only works on PCs I have no idea what it looks or sounds like. This seems to be a most egregious error, as most of the serious music fans I know who have computers have Macs. The folks who are most likely to search out unusual music also seem to be Mac fans.

Whatever. For all the time, Information Society hasn't changed appreciably. Better as a concept.

Any band with two accordion players is definitely work checking out. And when you consider that the only other instruments regularly played are drums and sax, well, something kooky must be going on. If Firewater is the world's worst Bar Mitzvah band, then the Kabalas at least give that Tod A and friends some company.

Actually, though, the Kabalas make little pretense toward playing rock or being serious about anything. With songs like the "Traci Lords Polka", and "The Crossing Guard's Coffee Break", you might get the hint. There are quite a few unconventional run-throughs of traditional numbers (though this version of "Hava Nagila" is fairly straight until the vocals come in) to keep the oldsters happy.

Irreverent and amusing, and certainly weird enough to scare off most any poseur who happens to be sharing your space at the moment. A big wad of fun. No pretensions of grandeur, just a good time. I can handle that just fine.

A hybrid sort of release, with remixes alongside 7 new tracks. The remixes don't seem to change a hell of a lot, but that's okay, since the songs were quite good to begin with.

The hallmark of D.A. Sebasstian's work as KsK has always been a willingness to use electronic recording techniques to find new types of sound and sonic experience. That desire for innovation flows through this set of songs, crashing through barriers many folks could never even envision.

All that wrapped up in a core of engaging beats and accessible melodies. How music this good could be so appealing has always somewhat surprised me, though by now I should know better. Never underestimate.

Even if it isn't a completely new group of songs, this disc is still quite impressive. KsK is simply one of the finest electronic acts around.

Something like the Spanish version of the Ramones (if you want to call Die Toten Hosen the German version of the Ramones). Basic punk rawk stuff that doesn't vary from the basic sound much at all.

This disc is a compilation of various singles and tracks from a couple albums. The band actually claims the Stooges as one of its main influences, and to be honest, that's probably better than my choice. The music is thickly produced, the chords extremely simple and the lyrics even more basic. Raw power, indeed.

The stuff doesn't hold up particularly well, though it does have a kind of ragged charm. Enjoyable enough, though probably not as much so after a few run-throughs.

Certainly steeped in the punk spirit. Past that, well, I'd rather not say.

Basic old-style rock and roll stuff (no piano, but with plenty of country influences). The first song features Lisa Germano (the whole thing is built around her fiddle playing), but the rest of the songs are regular guitar-oriented pieces.

Pretty good, particularly the production, which is full but not overwhelming. The songs themselves occasionally trend to the generic, but usually a nice guitar lick or drum break manages to stave off boredom.

While plying the same trade as the Jayhawks or post-Tupelo, the Mysteries of Life doesn't quite measure up there. The sound is a bit too calculated, the songs not consistent enough. More chances need to be taken.

Still, on "I Need To Know Where I Stand" the band shows its willingness to expand past basic music. A few more shots like that, and The Mysteries of Life might even begin to live up to its name.

As the album title suggests, this is mutation of old school industrial, finding its joy in varied beats and gothic sensibilities. Sure, there are a few nods to the club set, but New Mind worries most about sonic sculpture, not simplistic dance music.

Great care is taken to ensure that all of the creative excesses are funneled into crafting intriguing music. New Mind doesn't stick to any one sound, wandering all over the German electronic landscape, from Kraftwerk to Einsturzende Neubauten to KMFDM, often using elements of each in any one song.

Very cold and sterile, as intended. This music is not nice, pretty or simple, but it is engaging. An appreciation of the unusual is needed, but don¹t fear: New mind is simply out to craft its own sound, not be weird for strangeness sake.

At times, the different elements clash more than mesh, leading to a couple confused-sounding songs. On the whole, however, New Mind has done a good job of updating the German Engineering standard, even if its members are Brits.

Heavily-fuzzed extreme hardcore. Or sludge squared. I'm not particular with my labels. Non Compos Mentis surges through nine pain-seething songs without relent, imposing it's notion of music upon anyone within a ten-mile radius of my speakers. Cool.

And these guys (or someone they know) have passed through St. Petersburg. The insert picture is a close-up of a Florida Highway 666 sign. That two-mile long road is one of the non-toll connectors between the mainland and the beach. I drove it reasonably often in my time there.

Enough of the tangent. There's plenty of fuzz on the sound, but in general the songs pop out quite clearly. A nice trick, one that I appreciate. Turning up the music only makes things clearer.

Alright, so the songs themselves are sonic wastelands of crashing chords and thick grooves. Fans of Eyehategod, Buzzov*en and Earth Crisis should approve. A cool trip through musiopathic minds.

Papi Oviedo plays the tres, also known as the criollo guitar. The three pairs of strings are tuned in unison, with two sets in one octave and one set tuned an octave lower. The musical style is son, and those who play it are called "soneros". Thus this is an album that features Oviedo and a multitude of other players.

Oviedo and his compadres play in the old style, with acoustic instruments. This emphasis on the music (as opposed to the orchestration) allows the songs to comes alive. Unlike plenty of Latin pop albums, this disc has an authentic feel.

And these are the songs of Cuba, most of them standards which have been played in cantinas for years. So when these musicians came together to record, they blended their various takes on the pieces, often passing thoughts from player to player as the song progresses. This give-and-take is one of the more exciting parts of the disc, particularly since it is so hard to find these days.

A wonderful taste of real Cuban music, undiluted and pure.

There's a sick sense of humor afoot here. Once-raucous rock and roll reduced to far-beyond-lounge arrangements. If you recall the infamous Grunge Lite, well, the same instinct conceived this project.

All at once a scathing indictment of the current lounge-core movement and a wildly loopy display of how stupid even good songs can sound in the hands of, ahem, the unwashed.

So you can hear stuff like "(Don't Fear) the Reaper", complete with a cheap bossa nova rhythm track. Even "London Calling" and "Love Will Tear Us Apart" find themselves in schlock territory.

A real scream. My brothers have always wanted to do an album titled "Metallica Night at the Holiday Inn", and while Bruce Lash and co-conspirator Maura Corey don't see fit to give "Battery" the treatment, they do a number on ten other well-known (and well-worn) classics. Throw this and the Neil Hamburger disc on the stereo and see how quickly your guests flee.

An Irish band which is happy to meld traditional-sounding melodies with punk and country music, The Saw Doctors are pretty damned huge in their homeland. Most Americans, of course, still identify U2 (or, if they're actually somewhat enlightened, the Pogues or the Waterboys) as the epitome of an Irish band. The Saw Doctors fit the bill much better.

There's an eerie resemblance to Uncle Tupelo, particularly on such upbeat bashers as "Macnas Parade". Mainly, the ability to merge a number of seemingly incompatible musical ideas into a seamless and unique sound. But, as Black 47 has shown, traditional jigs are pretty malleable, indeed.

This disc is a compilation of the first three Saw Doctors albums released in Ireland, and it includes its two biggest hits, "N17" and "I Useta Lover" (the second isn't related to the phonetically identical Gunners tune). Personally, I'm for releasing all of the albums over here, and perhaps if this album does well enough, that might happen.

Rock with its roots in a completely different century. The Saw Doctors is more than a good Irish band; it's a good band, period. The perceptive songwriting skills and sure grasp on the musical wheel keeps the boat steaming straight ahead. A real find.

Take a traditional Boston sludge attack and add a serious case of uptempo grooves. Make sure each song is as addictive as frozen blueberries on a summer day and turn it loose on an unsuspecting public. Come on, folks, this is 6L6's third album, and I'm getting the idea you're not listening to me.

This disc combines the raw appeal of the band's first offering with the surer songwriting shown on the second disc. Yes, comparisons may be made to Kepone, as those Virginians also hit their stride on their third album. And musically, they're speaking dialects of the same language.

Somewhere where the hardcore pop, noise and sludge universes collide. 6L6 just keeps the great songs coming, and the trick is the amazing rhythm work. This kinda music sounds better when played at a fast (but not too fast) tempo. The grooves become that much tighter and the natural anthemic tendencies of the songs dissipate just enough.

Think an album full of fuzz chords and general discordance can't have monster hooks? Try "Nothing Special" on for size, and you'll be convinced. Hell, any song here will do. And there's plenty of stuff to enjoy, 14 regular songs and three demos, just in case you're not satiated. Even that wasn't enough for me, but I'll have to accept it.

In case you missed the message, this is one of the great bands of our time, so quit fucking off and buy this disc! Now, motherfucker!

Usually, when I get a press release that refers to "Dutch hardcore", I assume it means that hyperbouncy dance pop as epitomized by Aqua. I don't expect a funky version of Stone Temple Pilots. But then, I kinda like being surprised.

The songs throb with energy and purpose. And while the metal wailing on the choruses gets a bit annoying, I rather like the way these boys find a groove. It's nice to hear a band that knows how to incorporate keyboards into a sound without getting saccharine.

There's a spacey rendition of "Fly Like an Eagle", and it fits right in with the songs that precede it. After that, though, the songs start falling off. In fact, on the second half of the album, the only real standout is "Higher Ground" (not the Stevie Wonder song), which manages to impress despite lasting for longer than nine minutes. The rest of the disc starts sounding like an uninspired Whitesnake playing Hendrix and the Doors. Now, as drummer Jos Zoomer played with Vandenberg, I suppose that makes sense. Still, it doesn't do the trick for me.

Boy, after such a strong start, it's too bad the rest of the disc peters out. There is some serious potential here, though.

Some well-known German industrial types crank out five spacescapes. Included are Dieter Moebius of Cluster, Jurgen Engler of Die Krupps, Mani Neumeier of Guru Guru, Chris Karrer of Amon Duul and Zappi Diermaier and Jean Herve Peron of Faust (alright, so they're not all Germans).

I don't know what else to say. This is spacey industrial stuff, bordering on the ambient at times, but never quite crossing over. I like it, even the excessively long Krakatau, but I'm not overwhelmed.

Space Explosion is entertaining, though kinda lightweight. I think that might even be the intent, as there are plenty of playful passages. Amusing, not life-changing.

Oh well, who has to change the world, anyway? Enjoyment is good enough.

Thashing pop with just enough roots influence to provide a twangy blur to the edges. Appealing without slaving to the trends.

The songs crash out one after the other, without much variation in mood or feeling. When the band does let up, the holes in the songwriting become apparent. Whenever in doubt, Subduing Mara tends to rely on musical cliches. How much of this is the actions of the producer, I can't say.

Subduing Mara works best full steam ahead. Whether that's electrified or acoustically executed, as on "Mettlesome (In Fine Feather)", the uptempo and more intense songs are the best. Those are pretty damned good, actually.

The only let down is when the band pulls up, often lame. I wouldn't shoot this horse; just go to the whip a bit more. And keep working on the slower stuff.

Lost in the 80s. At least the Tearaways improve on the model. This is rootsy pop-rock that meanders somewhere between the Hooters, Tom Petty and Night Ranger. Now, that said, the songwriting here is a lot more solid (well, at least it's much closer to Tom Petty quality-wise than the other two), and the songs don't get into heavy cheese.

Still, it's hard-rockin' fare with some of the edges dulled by keyboards and earnest vocals. And it is right out of high school for me. I've heard a few bands the past couple of years that have tried to do exactly this sound, and they to a one failed miserably. Usually there was an overemphasis on the keyboards and a tendency toward insipid choruses. But even on a ballad like "I'm Lost", the Tearaways manage to keep things from getting too, um, icky.

Another big advantage is the reliance on the songs and not on punchy production. The sound is fairly sparse, and when the keys come in, they are used as an instrument and not as some drenching effect. Nothing is overstated, proving that at least one 90s trend is helpful in resurrecting an older sound.

I still play Midnight Madness from time to time (the only decent Night Ranger album, of course), and the Tearaways fit in that tradition very nicely. Yeah, it helps to have been inculcated in that sound, but hell, why not revel in reminiscence from time to time?

Another piece of my youth coming back to haunt me. Bobby Torres trucks in various forms of prog metal, in general the sort of thing Europeans have always liked better than us Yanks.

Bruce Dickinson is an obvious influence, though Torres (like almost everyone else on the planet) doesn't have the range. Indeed, the second song here has a defininite "Flight of Icarus" feel.

The playing is good, better than competent, though still a bit stilted. The sound is demo-quality, but at least I can hear what's going on. Torres needs to work a bit on his songwriting, perhaps relying on his influences a little less and his own instincts a bit more.

Still, I like the style and his willingness to be a bit adventurous. Lots of work left. In particular, the band really needs time to work together and get a bit more cohesive. But there's good stuff here.

The only real problem here is that three of the nine tracks are radio edits, which basically shorten good songs into mindless (and less interesting) snippets. Siebold (Hate Dept.) remixes "Loaded" and Devin Townsend (Strapping Young Lad) does the nasty to a track.

And the rest of the stuff is remixed by Unit:187 itself, with varying results. The outside contributions are rather good, while the radio-friendly edits are not. The real shame is that Loaded was such a great album, and this set of remixes doesn't really do enough to show off that fact.

The Townsend track in particular is great, but this set is too inconsistent to get a real endorsement from me. Go back to the original, one of the best albums of the year.

Fourteen more tracks, constituting a follow-up to one of the better compilations of the past few years. Hate Dept. and 16 Volt take a second bow, but the rest of the bands are new (or at least have new names). "Coldwave", if you're still not familiar with the term, is a sorta catchall category of vaguely gothic industrial music. This can take the form of regular band, like 16 Volt, or seriously modulated electronica, like Acumen Nation. The main point of reference is a tendency toward aggression.

As before, most of the tracks here are unreleased, at least in the U.S. There is a decent showing from the Fifth Colvmn and Reconstriction labels, with plenty of overseas help as well. Once again, this set has been put together with maximum care and quality control.

Most sequels suck. This one carries forth the same attitude from the first, and works to find new and innovative electronic-oriented bands. Good stuff abounds.

A collection of electronic acts from the French label F Communication. Unlike most electronic sets wandering around, this set is definitely on the mellow tip. Not ambient or anything like that; just slower and more contemplative.

Many of the bands employ an r&b groove, finding more soul than most contemporary U.S. "smooth groove" artists. Using the same sampling and song construction techniques as more uptempo acts, these artists merely apply a musical sophistication to a slower form.

And what a wide array of sounds. Some acts use a number of real-time instruments (not sampling, but actual playing),while others are completely sequenced. There are experimental trips, mood progressions and even a couple ballads. Everything you need to explore the mellower side of the electronic universe.

This collection brings together salsa bands from the Caribbean, Scandinavia, Africa, Japan and Western Europe. While there are a few differences (having more to do with personal taste than regional traditions), the more interesting fact is that all these bands are obviously playing out of the same canon, no matter what language is used.

That uniformity of approach is something of a detriment, really. I would have preferred to hear bands that are a bit more disparate. Sure, I can hear minute differences, but what this collection is more a testament to the pervasive international music industry than the triumph of salsa.

Still, the bands here are talented, and the songs don't condescend to the listener. This isn't silly, cheesy stuff, but music that any aficionado would appreciate. It's not everything I would have wanted, but this set is pretty good.

Some of the more creative minds in space and industrial music take on the highly regimented and technical legacy of King Crimson. Now, here's a tribute that actually makes sense.

Pressurehed, Chrome (the new Helios Creed-only version), Controlled Bleeding, David Cross and others leave their marks on this often incomprehensible set of musics. Now, if anyone could make sense out of the random atrocities committed by King Crimson, it's these sorts of folks.

My biggest problem with the Crimson was that the music seemed to be executed without a great deal of emotion. And while that carries over somewhat to the performances here, most of these acts do a pretty good job of actually finding a spark of life in the vagaries of King Crimson.

Certainly, at least, these bands aren't replicating. They're re-creating. And that's the only reason for a tribute. I've been highly critical of many Cleopatra tributes, but this one makes the grade. For once, the concept is good.

This compilation features a wide range of spacey electronic acts, many of whom are affiliated with Swim or World Domination. The good folks putting this together were careful to include a fine selection of bands from other labels as well, which does help keep this disc up to standards.

A variety of electronic sounds abound. Tending toward the mellow, but with plenty of dub, ambient and general far out influences in evidence. Basically, this is a collection of eclectic artists who use technology to further their sonic visions. It fits together in more of a mood way than by any particular type.

And in this way it fits right in with the Coldwave Breaks and Chipie collections review above. The impetus isn't to sell loads of records from one label's roster, but to expose people to new ideas and bands they might not have come across before. The good reason for putting together a compilation. A good compilation, period.

A much edgier sound than the first album. This puppy is more than three years past that first effort, though it is only a year behind Quarter Inch Thick. The change in sophistication and general adventurousness is impressive.

While I liked that first disc well enough, this one is a real winner. Waiting For God employs a huge number of samples to create a wide variety of sounds and moods, and Daemon Cadman sings with much more authority and attitude. The gothic waif-like vocals still flit past, but there's much more meat here.

In general, that's the story of this disc. This is simply a much more mature album. And when a band begins to feel more assured, wonderful things can happen. Waiting for God even tickles the milled blades of its sterile sound with bits of cotton, adding some humanity to the proceedings. Just enough of a hint to be enticing.

Altogether glorious. Potential realized. No more talking about what might be; Waiting for God has arrived.