Raucous rockabilly (is there any other kind worth contemplating, really?) that has plenty of attitude, carrying the band even as it navigates some uneven material.

Is it just raw and untamed, or is it a mess? Both, though that sort of goofy discord works reasonably well. And the band simply flies, no matter what it's trying to play. The spirit is willing and able, even when the notes fail.

A top-notch production job, working in plenty of reverb and empty space, lending a powerful, sparse sound to the songs. That is another reason this stuff works as well as it does.

I've heard better, and certainly more consistent, rockabilly. But The Amazing Royal Crowns know how to wrench a frenzied rush out of the most mundane song. On the whole, much fun.

Tortured stuff, something like a gothic version of World Party (you know, like way back in the "Ship of Fools" days). Oh, yeah, there's some real nice pop songs here, but a lot of the tunes are long, agonized wails. Another strange description might be Nick Cave on heroin and no money for recording.

Is that ironic or something? I can hear people laughing at me, and I don't know why. Maybe it's just the paranoia induced by this wonderfully creepy album. Now I know, most of you see "Headhunter" and you're expecting some kind of punk something or other. At the very least, some manic pop music. That ain't happening.

When the Procession gets coherent (on tracks 3, 5 & 8, as the disc so nicely points out), I also get a Three Mile Pilot vibe, though much weirder, to be sure. Perhaps now you understand my distress.

I've never heard music quite like this before. That, by the way, is the highest compliment I can bestow. The Black Heart Procession is truly original, and also truly amazing. An album that must be heard to be believed.

Thick and juicy power rock that avoids hooks and concentrates on killer riffs. Holy cow, that guitar sound is so fucking great! It immediately crushes all resistance and takes over consciousness. Rolling thunder in my mind.

There are plenty of emo moments, particularly in the astonishingly atonal melodies, but this is basic song structure. Kinda like if Soul Asylum had evolved into a grunge band instead of a crap band.

Fuck and me. Brandtson is simply far too powerful to even contemplate anything else. The amazing thing is how nimble and graceful the lines are, considering the bone-crushing sound. These guys know how to kick these songs out to achieve maximum impact.

Anthems for the dark days ahead. Arena rock played out through grunge and emo filters. And it's great, which is all the more amazing. Put this on and watch loads accumulate in the jeans at your next party.

The last time I saw these boys, they were one show away from getting off a Gwar tour. And they looked like guys who had just played 20 shows and gotten no audience response. Hey, I cheered for them, and so did one other guy. Out of a thousand or so.

Buzzov*en records are pretty ugly. Live, it can get weirder. This disc continues the fascination with low-rent horror videos (samples galore) and the thick and nasty southern sludge equivalent of grindcore. Oh, the vocals are reasonably coherent (if you can hear them over the music), but the subject matter, well, remember I mentioned them videos?

Slouching toward Babylon, indeed. Buzzov*en hacks through riffs as if they were jungle, rearranging the scenery and creating something even more horrible. That's just the band's job, folks. Take it or leave it.

Me? I'm cranking up the noise and following this festering path. What horrors await can only be imagined. All I know is that music like this comes along only so often, and I'm not missing it. Tag along, if you dare.

Dark, mechanical fare. Growling vocals rasping over edgy guitars and gothic rhythm tracks. A gloaming, pulsating mass of goo from the netherworlds.

Perhaps I'm overstating, but I think not. The music is very simple, and it works very well. The creepy effect comes from the sparse arrangements as well as the doomy lyrics. Many folks get too excited and wrap music like this up into an overorchestrated mess, but Canister is right on track.

Less is often more, as in evidence here. The lean songs are strengthened by a rather organic production sound. While this is drum machine industrial fare, Canister manages to sound very much like a live act. This music is a living beast.

An excellent production, particularly for a self-released disc. These folks know what they're doing.

Finally, a new album. It's been a while for Klay Scott, the guy behind the Dust. He hasn't released an album of new material since 1994, and I've been waiting. On Disengage, Scott somewhat fuses his influences into a more cohesive sound. Sure, it's parts assembled solely, but these sound more like songs than cool collections of samples.

The lyric writing is as strong as ever, which certainly marks Circle of Dust as unusual in the electronic music world. Scott likes to explore a plethora of ideas, both musical and verbal.

And so this is the most experimental and also the tightest Circle of Dust album. Heavy, ephemeral, sterile, highly organic and everywhere in between. This is easily Scott's finest album, and he's been very good in the past.

Electronic, industrial, techno, riffola, whatever. Circle of Dust always cranks out music for the body, mind and soul. This one just happens to be a little better than what has come before.

One of the leaders of Best Kissers in World, Collier recorded a solo album for C/Z a couple years back and now establishes his "big money" position with another solid set of brooding pop tunes.

Talk about establishing a mood. The first three tracks are, in order, "Dark Days", "Whored Out Again" and "Forgiveness from Revenge/God Never Lived in My Neighborhood". Either this guy is some sort of mordant pop genius or his pretensions will kill him.

Those familiar with Collier's previous work know the former is true. And on this album he uses a decent recording budget to craft a thick, grimy sound that announces, with conviction, that tomorrow will never come again.

And as if there aren't enough downers, there's even a cover of an early Floyd tune, "Fearless". Collier pulls out all the stops and connects with an emotionally-charged soul-starving album. Death, destruction, pain and suffering. Just don't go looking for a bottle; as long as this album is playing, you'll keep serving up the doubles.

The latest in a line of pop culture-frenzied pop music. Nerf Herder, Size 14, you know the names. Darlington (previously known as Mess, not to be confused with The Mess). The first tune is "Jodie Foster", and there are also homages to Judy Jetson, espresso and Baltimore (well, the song doesn't actually mention the city, but whatever). Mostly there's songs about longing and loving and eating and crashing about with no particular destination in mind.

The songs are breathless, crunchy trips through power pop land, with easy hooks and very basic songwriting. Sometimes the simplest things work the best.

Oh yeah, and Darlington is not complicated at all. Strip away the odd esoteric reference and this is three chord heaven. Basic, but too solid to dismiss.

Summer, summer, summer all year long. Stuff that will inspire folks to take a chainsaw to the roof of the Cavalier and spend a blissful topless summer. The sort of harmless anarchy that makes this world so much fun.

Some SoCal boys who wish they were the Pistols. Slicker and much less anarchic, but still the feeling is the same. Would that the songs were better.

But they're not. This is by-the-books punk stuff, and it's just not very interesting. They guys can play, and there's a thick guitar sound pumping out, but it just doesn't work. In the end, the Dingees do not break out of the generic camp.

And when the boys abandon their faux cockney sneers for some dreadfully straight ska, well, it's all over. Kinda like Connie Francis singing "Respect". Ouch.

The worst sin a punk band can commit: boring music. The Dingees are stuck in a morass of mediocrity.

Tim Gagan was in Bichos, and now he's got this band with his brother Joe. Plenty of friends (and a couple family members, to boot) help out. The sound is somewhere along the blues, funk, and jam continuums. Sometimes this works, but much of the time the stuff sounds forced.

The best tracks are the straightforward blues rockers, crafted with soulful lyrics and great musical lines. When the band tries to get a little fancy and whips out a bit too much of that half-assed syncopation groove that's so popular these days, I'm not so nearly impressed. I know, hippie funk is all the rage, but I still think it sounds cheap.

Obviously, these guys have a lot of fun playing the music, and that carries over into the music. Even when the stuff doesn't work, I can hear the joy emanating from the band. Something that big money music rarely provides.

Uneven, but always entertaining. I'd suggest the band stick more to the basic sound, but that's mostly a personal bias. This disc has a great earthy feel, and it is a blast to hear. Wish everyone enjoyed themselves this much when they played.

Not your usual Recon act. Sure, there are plenty of gothic overtones laid over an electronic musicscape, but what electronics. Hexedene is just as likely to kick out an amped-up disco groove as skull-pounding cybercore lines. Techno with an extremely cool edge.

Wowsers, indeed. Jonathan Sharp is the main guy behind the band, assembling the pieces. Katie Helsby contributes the darkly entrancing vocals and Ian Palmer adds some guitar work. Helsby and Palmer are in Streem, which has an album on Roadrunner. Sharp has his finger in so many pots I'm not even going into that here.

The main point is that this music succeeds where many folks have failed. Gothic electronic music can often sound sterile and contrived, the keyboards thin and cheesy. This music is well-conceived and produced, running through a full spectrum of sounds.

And there's definite synergy to the parts. Every single piece contributes to the whole. And that whole is something wonderful to behold. I've been increasingly bored with electronic music, but Hexedene brings me back into the fold.

Four guys, five songs and a quick trip through NOFX land. I've been astonished at how many direct rip-offs I've heard in the past six months. I mean, every piece, from the songwriting to the snotty vocals to the vague ska influence to the nicely textured oozin' ahs (which NOFX borrowed from Bad Religion, and producer Mr. Brett more specifically).

Home Grown does this sound pretty damned well, really, but shit, NOFX is still a creatively functioning band. A great band, but there's no need to be so blatant in the theft. I can't identify one "home grown" characteristic here.

And that's where "influence" becomes "theft". Home Grown is very good at replicating NOFX, but that's no reason to get a record released. I mean, how many Elvis impersonator albums have you heard (please don't answer that, okay)? Home Grown is obviously talented enough to imitate another band; perhaps it has the skills needed to find its own sound. And despite claims to the contrary, there's always room for innovation in punk.

The little sticker on the front has a review that claims if not for Jono Manson, such wonderful acts as Joan Osbourne, Blues Traveler and Spin Doctors would never have come to the forefront of the national consciousness. Am I missing something, or is that a seriously backhanded compliment?

Luckily for Manson, he doesn't truck in cheap syncopation and dreadful lyrics. Instead, he has a nice habit of infusing some actual soul and country grit into white-boy blues licks. Yeah, this stuff can get kinda sugary, but generally not to an annoying level.

Nor does he reach any great heights. This is middle-of-the-road, in an "alternative" context. Manson doesn't take many chances, but he's a good enough craftsman to sell what's he's got. Can't argue too much with that.

Nothing astounding, but better than I figured after reading that note on the front. Manson kicks out his tunes with little fanfare, but he's got his heart in the right place, just behind his voice.

Rap music that goes way back, back to basic backing tracks and a focus on slick rhymin' and serious subjects. I would never have such a connection in 1988, but the Marksman kicks out in the style of Run-DMC and Paris.

Not as political as the latter, of course, but well-considered and introspective. Rap that focuses on, well, rapping.

The music is not much more than basic beats with some simple ornamentation. This isn't dance music. It's rap music. Like the olden days. A weird sorta nostalgia thing.

Who knew that the Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy album would spell the end of rap music as we knew it? Judging from the primitive production sound, I'm guessing the Marksman is doing this more out of love than with any cash motives. Nice to hear some real rapping.

The Sleeze Beez arrived in the U.S. just as the whole glam metal ship slipped beneath the surface. Not to be deterred, SB vocalist Andrew Elt is now fronting another Dutch outfit, the Moon. A little less emphasis on cheap riffs and a little more on craft.

The Moon wanders all over the rock landscape, taking superficial swipes at a number of styles. The guys can play, and Elt is a fine singer, but these songs sound more like crib exercises than actual original songs. No soul, in other words. Just all the outer trappings.

And just when I thought things couldn't get worse, there came "What Is It", a dreadful trip down Beatles lane. Do these guys really understand what they're playing, or are they simply running through the notes and figuring that's good enough?

Don't know. The lack of a center in this music reminds me all too much of the Sleeze Beez. If these guys are earnest about their music, they ought to let it show a bit more. This stuff is rock-by-numbers to the max.

Disjointed, snarling fare. Moths don't really stick to any one style much, except to completely destroy any resemblance to a regular sound. Oh, there's bits and pieces here and there that come through coherently, but this is one noisy set of stuff.

The excessive mess adds complexity to what would otherwise be drearily ordinary songs. And that veneer of scrap metal makes all the difference, as these songs sing and soar with a vibrant intensity.

Moths aren't in any hurry to get anywhere. Many songs have fairly extensive intros, which then lead into that whole deconstructive pop ideal the band so epitomizes. Um, in the course of all this you should read that I really like these songs.

Yeah, it takes a few minutes to get accustomed to the sound, but once bored in, the soul takes over. The sound may be kinda crusty on top, but the whole is, in reality, gorgeous. Far too wondrous to properly describe.

Featuring members of the ex-bands Big'N, Pencil and Lustre King. so you might have an idea of what this would sound like.

Indeed, noisy, rambling, mostly instrumental songs. The whole "June of 44 thing" (a misnomer, I know, but I'm sticking to it), if you will. Not quite the range of that band, but still a nice set of tunes, nonetheless.

Sometimes winding, sometimes soaring fare. Always with a tight bass-drum rhythm connection. Very satisfying. Thoughtful music, if you will.

A full-length is due soon on Reptilian. Should be something to scope out, certainly.

Another band in the metal-rap-hardcore bin. With a lot of technological help in the booth. And, not surprisingly, the music is generally insipid and dull, with similarly hackneyed lyrics.

Have I ever mentioned that I find this music trend to be appallingly lacking in musical growth? I know, it was damned popular a couple years ago, but even thirteen-year-olds have figured out that big guitars and pseudo-anti-establishment lyrics aren't all that interesting when done in the most generic way possible.

And to think this is what Faith No More wrought. And while that band (smartly) went another way years ago, the rest of us are left to pick up the wreckage. I'm still astonished at Rage's popularity, and even second- and third-tier bands such as this one can raise cash from labels.

You know, I try not to characterize a particular style of music as inherently regressive. But if I get many more of these discs, I may make an exception. I simply cannot express how incessantly dull I find One Minute Silence. Put me to sleep.

There's a line in the second track,"Ricochet", about an undulating worm. That's a pretty good description of the music. Kinda that tribal gothic groove (very lo-fi) and rather affected vocals (a la Switchblade Symphony, though not quite so extreme). The songs roll out slowly, sometimes with climactic centers, sometimes not.

The writing can be clunky at times, and the production is extremely shoddy. Most of the instruments are lost somewhere in the primordial swamp behind the vocals and drums, though I think this might have been intended, at least to a point.

Basically, the stuff either repels or draws a listener in. Me, I fell into the web, though not exactly willingly. Whenever I was ready to give up and haul off, a snippet of a song perked up my ear. Eventually, I fell into the hypnotic groove.

There's a lot of things Orifice could fix. The songs need to be somewhat more cohesive, and the production sound is dreadful (even if that is what the band wanted). Still, I'm all for understated dark music. Gothic fare is always best presented as sparsely as possible.

The first of a series of King Crimson side projects. Projekct One (don't ask me about the spelling; I don't know) will be the second "fractal" to have music released. Best not to really ask much more, okay?

Anyway, Projekct One is Robert Fripp, Trey Gunn and Adrian Belew. Fripp and Gunn attacked various sorts of guitars and guitar synths, while Belew dealt with the percussion issues. By the way, this is sort of the King Crimson take on space music. Which is to say it's much more "out there" than your usual space fare.

And two whole discs of it, to boot. Oh, some of this isn't the greatest stuff, but it's all rather intriguing. These are three talented musicians improvising their way through some very unusual musical terrain. The sound is very sterile, but oddly human nonetheless. Some strangely passionate playing for such a clean environment. Paradoxes abound.

And that, in the end, is why this set exists. Not every bit makes sense, and that's not the intention, anyway. This is music on an existential scale, and as such just doesn't have to make sense in a regular manner. Limited in appeal, but infinite in scope.

Hardcore which wallows in politics and the general unfairness of life. Ricanstruction takes a relatively west-coast approach to the riff works (actually, more South American, as the band sounds more like Sepultura than anything else), but the politics are universal.

And from time to time, the songs get lost in the message. The music is merely a means to an end, and that doesn't always make for good stuff. Still, the percussion is often inventive, bringing Latin rhythms into the mix and providing a true funk feel.

The real thing, I suppose. I wish the music came first, but for such a message-oriented act, Ricanstruction still manages to kick out some fine eclectic hardcore stuff. You know, another obvious influence is Mind Over Four, and that's just not bad at all.

The more I listen, the more I'm impressed. The grooves are not terribly accessible; it takes a while to work in. Once there, though, the power is obvious.

Similar in construction and intent to the Orifice album reviewed earlier, Sabot features much stronger songwriting and a brilliantly realized studio sound. The songs rely much less on the percussion and instead utilize a wide array of wind and string instruments as the main accompaniment.

There's also a nice emphasis on sound experimentation. Check out the intro to "Live", for starters. The soundscape behind the lilting vocals is often stunning. In fact, the musical construction of Sabot songs is the best thing on this fine disc.

No weak points that I can hear. Alright, if you're not a fan of the whole post-Dead Can Dance movement, you might not like this, but this is some brilliantly realized dark music. Spooky and inviting, exactly as it should be.

Top-notch in all ways. Sabot has crafted a gorgeous and immensely satisfying album. Beauty comes in many packages, and this is one of them.

Even more into the sludge blooze 'n' boogie than before, Scissorfight thrashes out another set of impossibly heavy tunes. And see, they've still got these wonderful grooves. Hard to explain, even harder to believe.

Oh yeah, this is an acquired taste. And as many purveyors of this sound have fallen off in the past couple of years, it remains somewhat surprising that Scissorfight is able to soldier forth and keep kicking through the goo.

Ever moving and amusing, this disc is the best Scissorfight yet. The songs blare forth with fury and surprising deftness. The guitars are agile, though awfully thick. And talk about getting down. Hard to believe a boogie can be so heavy. But there it is.

Perhaps it takes a couple massive head traumas to really dig this stuff, but fuckit. I'll wade into the morass any day of the week. Scissorfight has gotten heavier, and yet found even more addictive riffola. Like the glory days of Agony Column. With better production.

Keyboard-oriented prog, and in a good way. These are sharp, electric piano tones, not the excessive overwashes that are far too common. Oh, there's plenty of the extended jamming you'd expect, but these songs focus a lot more on coherent song styles.

Strangely anthemic, too. And that works real well, since all prog is awfully pretentious by nature. The generally sparse sound is also a welcome relief, and it gives Senses its own distinctive feel.

Yeah, some editing could have been done. Easily. But I'll forgive long songs when they sound like this. Understated prog rock is a rarity, but it shouldn't be. Not when something like this can result.

A completely uncommercial sound, of course. Which is probably why I like it. Of course, I like to think that I like all good music. And Senses certainly qualifies.

Some relatively old-timey jazz, long improvisations on standard-style songs. Sayles is on the piano, and the rest of the band swings into action and fleshes out the basic ideas quite well.

There's nothing terribly exceptional about the song themselves. But the playing is sharp and the solos bring out nuance after nuance. While the original version of each of these tunes probably clocked in at less than three minutes, the band extends a number of the pieces upwards of ten minutes.

Pleasant, but not cloying. No one goes out on a limb or even approaches one, which certainly keeps this in the "safe" category. But restrained and skillful playing can be just as passionate as any wild screeching, and there's plenty of enthusiasm here.

Yeah, it's the sort of jazz that makes the old folks happy. But it's done well. Better than that. It's fun to hear.

Spacey jazz-fusion stuff, completely improvised on the fly. And still, the songs are surprisingly coherent. I'm figuring some editing went on, but the spirit of experimentation comes through loud and clear.

Like the milder moments of Naked City, I suppose. Which, of course, is still way out there. The playing is quite good, which is not generally the case with jam albums. These folks certainly can play, and they got a ton of good ideas, too.

A joyous rush. Driving music which rarely lets up for more than a moment or two. The songs are linked together, so as to sound like one long piece, though that's definitely an editing gimmick. I'm not complaining, though. This stuff sounds good in any order and with any linkage.

Intense and invigorating. Music for the strong-of-heart, folks who are not afraid of what lies beyond the veil. Lesser souls couldn't even begin to approach this. I'm just happy to make the climb.

The most basic gothic sound possible: keys and vocals. Sometimes the keyboard simply kicks out simple lines, sometimes it gets busy. Always, Jeanne Fahey presents her voice in a surprisingly unaffected style.

Stark and immediate, Spindle Shanks isn't looking for mass acceptance. This stuff is much too dark for weekend vampires; no, it would take a hardcore fanatic to truly dig this. I know a few, and this is precisely the sort of thing they swear by. Even the most extreme find simplicity to be a tonic now and again.

The songs themselves are haunting and unhurried. Still I'm surprised by how straight both the keyboard and the vocal lines are. There isn't much angst or wailing involved. Simply cool melodies weaving together.

Out there, surely, but fine work nonetheless. With the excess that sloughs off so many dark wave acts these days, Spindle Shanks stands out as a breath of fresh air. Just as effective, perhaps more so.

More of a cold wave kinda sound, that vaguely gothic industrial techno stuff that 21st Circuitry features so prominently (and well). The sound is great (as you might expect with a techie recording), but Stormdrain's biggest plus is the breadth of its sound

Each song is markedly different from the others, even while maintaining the basic sound. Much of this comes from an inventive use of samples (many different sounds serve as percussive instigators), but the songs themselves aren't constructed in a normal format.

This somewhat haphazard approach to song construction would be maddening, except that it works here so well. The hardest thing in the world is to build a cohesive band feel even while experimenting. This is what separates most self-recorded acts from bands with label deals. Stormdrain is good enough to go now.

Very impressive, from all angles. The sound is terrific, the writing superb. All phases are full-on great. That an act can be this appealing and still experiment as much as Stormdrain does is amazing. Wonderful work.

Roaring out of Philly, Thorazine is just as impressive as ever. The lyrics are alternately amusing and contemplative, though I'm not sure how introspective I can get listening to this basic buzzsaw attack.

Punk in the most base sense, and Thorazine draws blood as it bashes out the chords. Plenty of attitude, plenty of hard-drivin' riffwork. Glorious noise, and even the lyrics are worth digging.

The sort of album that reminds me precisely why punk music is still viable. Certain ideas and subjects need to be howled out at top volume in full sneer. That Thorazine manages to tackle some more serious topics and still retain credibility is even more impressive.

Nothin' fancy, nothin' crazy. Just hard-driving punk music with a better edge than most. A band I keep going back to again and again.

The title track (also the first track) is a collage of samples. Didn't know what would lie behind that cipher. And when it arrived, I was a bit underwhelmed.

Really heavy grunge-like hardcore, with hoarsely-shouted anthems brightened by crashing guitars. The collage intros pop up now and again, but they really don't do anything for the music.

Stuff that isn't too bad, but it's just not that interesting. Imagine a raw band which trucks in the extreme (Eyehategod would work), and then lighten up every part just a touch and add a large dose of Skin Yard. With the odd electronic interlude.

Too bad it ends up sounding so, well, generic. Even when the guys try and whip up a bit of the NYC metalcore mosh on, say, "Pretty Picture of Lies", the result is a dumbing down and not a creative exploration. There's nothing past the fairly dull surface.

A huge collection (26 bands) of garage rock bands, stuff that falls into all sorts of sub-rock genres. Punk? Some of it. Pop? Yeah, that's here too. and plenty more.

The main emphasis is on cool guitar licks and hooky choruses, though often one or the other. Some folks you might know (Dragline, the Piersons, Latimer), some bands from Greece, Denmark and Australia and a number of acts from the extended Baltimore-DC area (where RPM honcho Greg Colburn--and me, for that matter--happens to reside).

A really solid set. The music flies all over the map, though all of it is nicely raw in the finest garage tradition. This is the only place to find any stuff by many of these bands, and Colburn is cool enough to include contact info for folks interested in making a personal connection.

The best compilations are created because of a passion for music. Certainly true here.

The second in a continuing series, this set finds emo branching out in a number of ways, probably to such an extent that the genre (as it were) is becoming increasingly blurred. Which is just fine with the folks at Deep Elm, and me, too.

Unreleased tracks or stuff that has been available only on singles. Bands you've probably never heard of (though Brandtson, reviewed above, is here). Some of the bands have Deep Elm deals, but most don't. Like I said, the idea is to present as complete a snapshot of the music as possible.

And what is becoming increasingly obvious is a trend toward Big Star-style pop, while retaining the meticulous lead guitar work and rather atonal melodic style. Back to Jawbox, if you will.

The songs are uniformly wonderful, but with a wide range of approaches and sounds. This musical movement is mutating rapidly, and it's a lot of fun to hear. This series helps provide a road map.

The "1/2" is in reference to Skratch Trax 1, which was available only as sound files on the internet. All but one of the acts on the disc is from Colorado, and compilation co-producer Dave Beegle (Morris Beegle also produced) played guitar on most of the songs.

So I'm not sure how many of these acts are still around or if albums are forthcoming from very many of these bands. Beegle's main project, Fourth Estate, has two tracks, so I'm guessing there might be an album there at some point.

Much of the music fits into some sort of hippie rock groove (particularly if you blend in folk, acoustic blues and the like), though there are exceptions, particularly Fourth Estate, which is a fairly traditional-sounding power rock act.

The wide range of sounds is impressive, even if some of the songs really aren't very good. An interesting sketch of the music scene north of Denver (with some "foreign" ringers, of course).

An earlier compilation along the same lines as Fuzzy Logic. Many of the same bands appear here, though in general there is a somewhat greater reliance on area bands. The quality, though, is the same.

What I said before goes here as well. There's 25 bands here, and all of them have a slightly different take on the garage concept. RPM dude Greg Colburn did a great job of putting this together, filling the disc chock full of great tunes.

Personal enthusiasm is always a plus. This and the other RPM compilation is the result of some hard work. That much is terribly easy to hear.

Hopelessly messy and upbeat punk stuff. Three women whose irreverent attitude can be discerned by the cover painting of a pregnant succubus. Humor that works on far too many levels to mention.

The tempos are so fast it doesn't really matter whether or not the playing can keep up. And you know, that sorta thing just doesn't make a difference here. This is fun music, stuff that can't be analyzed. It just works.

High in the amusement factor, and a real kick in the ass, to boot. Complex? Complicated? Naw. Just high-speed thrills and the occasional garish crash.

A big wad of fun. Nothing more, but then, not much more is needed.