A little mo' heavy funk heading your way. More of the Liquid Jesus rather than Chili school. Winding songs built around a single groove, vocals that soar, shriek and inundate.

The songs actually mean something. That seems like an odd thing to say, but think about it: how many times have you listened to an album and gone "they spent forty minutes not saying shit!" It makes you shake you head. This will make you think a little bit.

I know this has been out for a while (I think it just finished its format run at KCOU), but if you somehow missed it the first time around, get on the stick.

Sounds like rushed recording. It makes for an interesting listen. The drumming is amazingly uneven, so that when the band breaks into one of those extended snare-smashing sessions so popular with many death metal bands, the head is never struck the same way twice. At first it sounds unprofessional, especially since the drums are mixed so high, but it grows on you. Kind of endearing, if this sort of band can elicit that response.

And the sound. It really is the drumming that sets this band apart from the pack. It's really cool. I must admit I have never paid that much attention to the percussion ever before. The sounds out of the kit are really interesting. I'd like to know how they did it. It is was intentional, I'm very impressed. If not, well, it worked anyway.

If you play Pigface or the new Godflesh, then there is no reason to wait on this disc. Sure there a few tracks tailor-made for the dance floor, but once you experience the fury of "Auto Grind" and a new live version of (Swallowing) "Scrap Metal," there is no looking back. The fury is real, and it is extremely addictive.

There is no way possible to call this wimpy. Sure, there are drum sequencers and the occasional keyboard. But the guitars thrash as well as any other, and the vocals are much grittier than your typical industrial act.

Try it. You'll like it.

Thick sludge from the hinterlands of upstate New York (where I was spawned 22 years or so ago). This is an amazingly sharp disc. The presentation is great.

But the music. Compares more than favorably to Crowbar or Prong. That kind of stuff, but still with their own feel for the grind. Exceptional sense of rhythm. And the lyrics are rather incisive. A very well-made piece of work.

Listeners will not be able to tell this is a self-financed project. Hell, they won't believe it. I hope many folk get the message and the music. Creeper deserves that and more.

The soundtrack to a book written by someone named Stephen Tunney. Well, this Mr. Tunney also happens to go by the name Dogbowl. So it all makes sense.

And brilliant is not too strong a word here. The songs are so pop... and so damn loopy. Why put steel drums and all of the other strange instruments into the mix? Because it all seems to make sense when the lyrics come together.

At times the melodies can resemble a Raffi song (you know, sorta sing-songy), but this child-like innocence is put off by the rather graphic song material. And it all makes sense.

I have listened to this about ten times in the last few days. I just keep flipping the vinyl over and over and over again. I can't feed enough from it. True genius that will entrap your soul.

Atypical Shimmy-pop, with driving riffs and heavy guitars, verging on the grunge at times. Right now this one riff is just crunching my head straight into the screen. All pop sensibilities lost. For the moment.

I like bands that can shift gears. It's kinda nice to wander in and out of musical styles. Makes the brain very happy. And False Front can whiz from a heavy tune to a slightly jazzy one to a straight pop kinda thing. And it all remains coherent. Rather amazing when you think about it. Rather cool, too.

If you have always passed off Shimmy stuff as too weird for a loud music show, then you are a musical bigot. And if there is such a disc that would fit perfectly into your format, this is it.

Minimal everything. One keyboard line, one guitar line, one percussion line, the occasional backup overdubs. Then, at times, this illusion is shattered in one way or another, always with dramatic effect.

Hypnotic. You find your head bobbing along, willing accept anything she has say. Then you think about it. And it starts to actually make sense. Wow.

Most of these songs are rather long (five of seven over five minutes, and three over seven minutes). You don't mind. It's all part of the experience, and the feeling is good. Just keep bobbing along, and you'll understand.

Remember Phil Spector? You know, the guy who was so stoned at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame dinner where he was inducted that he had to be held up by many of his friends? A skinnier Roy Orbison? Yeah, well he perfected the sixties wall of sound. It worked better in mono, but even his stereo recordings are something amazing. Check out "River Deep, Mountain High" (Ike and Tina) sometime. It will kick your ass.

Off that tangent, Incantation have perfected the death metal wall of sound. No pussyfooting around here: just vicious guitars, drums, bass and vocals IN YOUR FACE. At first listen it seems kinda muffled, but after a couple of minutes you realize what's going on. Talk about kicking ass.

Understand, I liked their first album well enough. I didn't find it as amazing as many of you, but what's in an opinion? So I sit here with an open mind reviewing the advance of their new album (which will have major distribution, by the way).

Crunchy. And much tighter songwriting. Fuzzier. A nod to the Nirvana school (or shall we say, the Melvins school?) Well, this is faster than the Melvins, more like Black Sabbath, but still. Trendy, it is. Good? Yeah, that too.

You folks will eat this puppy up and lick the bowl hoping for more. I don't blame you really; it is alright. Better than their first. I suppose truly original bands are pretty hard to find these days (as always). So we settle for a nice rehash of musical coolness.

I can live with that.

The only cd to be serviced of the four new spoken word cds. Oh well, this beats nothing by a long shot.

As in his music, Rollins devote most of his spoken word sets to thoughts on human relationships. He refers to himself as an asshole often enough (hence the title), but he also manages to wrench an odd type of moral from each story. Henry's Fables, I suppose.

All of you heard The End of Silence and seemed to dig it well enough. If you don't know what to do with superb spoken word stuff (which would mean you don't play Jello's pieces, either; what shitheads), then do as I do: stick cool music underneath it. Wait for people to call up and ask what you're playing. Call it the truth. Rollins is pretty good at that.

Opening with the final strains of Sousa's "Liberty Bell March" (the Monty Python theme) and John Cleese's famous line (hence the album title), is a bit cliche. But I have always appreciated those who steal from Python, especially Creaming Jesus's song "Preacher."

Only six songs here, and it's a real shame. This is some fine, grooving, thrash. Yes, a little funk or something, something that makes it innately danceable. Not just slamming, but real, synchronized motion. A question: why do both GC bands reviewed in this issue have misspelled names? Doesn't matter.

I hope there guys release a full-length one of these days. This truly is fine music. It is the finest moment so far for the Grind Core label (just edging Crowbar).

See, this showed up on my birthday, and I really didn't even think about reviewing it at first. It was such a cool present. But then the guilt got the best of me, and although I know I don't have to, here are a few words on the pictures.

After listening to reports on the Earth Summit in Rio and listening to the band talk about all of the poor and the street kids, the stories about the missing street children seem all the more haunting. The observations Max and Co. have on life in a developing third world (an ancient designation, to be sure) power are very illuminating. Oh yeah, the video is nicely edited as far as the music performance goes. A helluva frenetic show (wish I could see one). But read between the lines. Something's going on here. Stop your headbanging for a moment to get a clue as to life in the real world.

Pure adrenaline rush. Just jump in the stream and be carried away. Forget Calgon. This will remove any sense of your true surroundings.

Following tradition for European bands, Sinister is more experimental in its songwriting than most American death metal bands. I"m not sure if it's all that business about a unified Europe or what. While nowhere near the wackiness of Disharmonic Orchestra, it is nice to hear a truly distinctive riff now and again.

And the speed. You can't miss it, nor would you want to. Goodness gracious, works better than mini-thins (trucker speed, still legal in Missouri).

Listing most of the major glam acts of the seventies (including the Ramones) as influences, things become obvious.

I don't why I am such a sucker for cheap hooks, whining vocals and grinding riffs. I should say those three things should be done well, like early Kiss or T. Rex, not clones such as Poison. Some of you may have heard of Rochester (New York) 's Chesterfield Kings. Their last album sounded much like this, and I love it.

What's wrong with guilty pleasures? Absolutely nothing. I could get sexual on this one, but the music is too obvious a conduit for that. Three cool songs. Score them.

Who helps out? Carmine Appice, Steve Morse, Sammy Hagar, Bob Daisley, Steve Smith and old Ranger Brad Gillis. That's just for starters.

This is much more musically satisfying than any Night Ranger album. Saying that, though, I must say I liked the freshness of the first two NR albums over the almost-pompous arrangements of some of the things here.

On the plus side, Watson keeps the annoying pyrotechnics to a minimum. He still hasn't quite broken out of the commercial sounds of Night Ranger. But he's well on his way.