There's only one band in the whole world that deserves to present its name in all-caps: ALL. Okay, so the band changes lead singers every five years or so. The core of the band kicks out punk power pop imitated by more than a thousand bands (many of which were produced by ALL's Stephen Edgerton and Bill Stephenson). And ALL is still the best.

Okay, we can forget all about that Interscope album (what the hell was that, anyway?). Mass Nerder, like last year's Descendents album, brings the band back to its roots. And that almost-impossible rap of greatness.

Instead of trying to outdo the past, ALL just does what comes naturally, cranking out thrashy pop gems one after another. Chad Price's voice has morphed even more into the Dave Smalley-Scott Reynolds mold, but then, I think this music simply drives singers to that sound.

Ah, what the hell, it's a new ALL album, and this one is good. The boys have recovered from their major label debacle (as if you hadn't figured that out with the Descendents album). And now there is only the future to consider.

The chilly technomeisters from Sweden are back. Yeah, these songs exist in the electronic void, but Covenant incorporates so many ideas into both the music and the lyrics that it's hard to argue against electron life. Europa bristles with lightning spikes of vitality.

Most impressively, the band simply doesn't repeat itself. Yeah, the general gothic techno feel permeates the skin, but instead of allowing that heavy influence to limit the sound, Covenant breaks free and constantly explores new territory.

There are only a few bands on my short list, and Covenant has been there longer than most. Usually I get tired of a particular sound or the band itself loses steam somehow. Covenant has forestalled that fate by constantly morphing its sound, always staying true its roots while covering new territory. Once again, I lie prostrate to the greatness.

Impressive is an understatement. Astonishment only begins to explain how I feel. If you have even the slightest interest in techno, you must get to know Covenant. No other course of action is acceptable.

You know the DJ, right? That guy who spins records before shows, during rave/house parties, and makes the squiggy noises on rap records. Well, now they've got record contracts, too. And it's about time. A little Canadian label called NinjaTune has been putting out some of the best DJ records in the last couple of years, including Coldcut's Let Us Play and the Herbalizer's Blow Your Headphones. Enter the major labels.

DJ Andy Smith opened Portishead shows, getting the crowd into a frenzy with his record collection, not his rapper friends. The Document is a true mix tape, taking pieces of songs (in some cases, very large pieces) and stringing them together for 45 minutes or so of groove. While it begins with three rap tunes (including one from the Jungle Brothers), Smith does not stay in this realm all day.

70s funk records, Barry White, Marvin Gaye, Tom Jones and Peggy Lee's version of "Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay" are all cut up and pieced into Smith's montage. Sometimes it seems as if the DJ has left the table, leaving only one record playing, and then the song begins to change, morph and jump around in a way the original never did.

And then the song is gone, replaced in Smith's cohesive music consciousness with yet another bouncy tune. A true party record for cross-genre music lovers. Those who can get with guitar rock, rap, funk and whatever else is thrown their way.

--Matt Worley

Bill Laswell and a load of friends kick out some spacey dub, thick in the groove and thicker in the bass. Drop in lots of kicky samples and general madness ensues.

Oh, my, but these songs take their time. A gorgeous, languid feel pervades the songs. No hurry to get anywhere, no worries at all. Just some beautiful, low-down funk.

Yeah, and you gotta love the space invaders concept (from artwork to the sampled subjects). Goofy and entrancing. A real dirty, fried chicken sound from the production. Lots of crackles and pops, a lot of everything. Meandering in a cool stew.

Oh, yeah, this is on the edge of comprehension. But the sound is so deep, there's always something new to discover. Just trip along into the groove and see where your mind ends up.

Not really an album, not really a single. "Unholy Roller" is a new song, and there are plenty of remixes and unreleased tracks as well (bringing the number of tracks on this disc to 10).

And finally, the trends have caught up to EHC. They like to call themselves electronic glam metal. Or something like that. And, guess what? It's finally a coming trend. Too bad this band isn't really that great.

Chock full of cheese, though. There are four remixes of "Prince of Darkness", new takes on "Hellfire", "He Who Holds the Lightning Rod" and "Book of Lies" and two other unreleased tracks, a cover of "Shout at the Devil" and a sample-heavy song called "The Root of All Evil (Bring Me the Head of Bob Larsen)", which digs at a fairly obscure radio preacher.

EHC has plenty of fans. I'm not one of them. How these guys could actually fuck up an amazingly good song like "Shout at the Devil" is beyond my comprehension. I mean, there are three chords, and they're right next to each other. You don't even have to sing well. And still, a horrid mess. Kinda sums up my feelings for the band.

Yet another resuscitated punk band attempting to cash in on the latest punk wave, Fang does have a few good excuses for its absence. Chief among them the six years in the can served by frontman Sam McBride.

And the music is, well, oddly ordinary. For such a vile past, this incarnation of Fang (McBride being the only original member around) sounds positively civilized. The music is straight three-chords, and rather slow at that. The lyrics, for all the claims of streetwise ferocity, are bland, angry shouts.

It's not that this is so bad. In fact, I kinda like a few of the songs. But they're basic, regular punk stuff. Where the old Fang had a few bones to pick with the music of its time, this Fang has been worn down by the sands of time.

I had hoped for more. I got okay. That's the way it goes.

Five songs from an album, but the guys didn't want to send out the real goods. I understand, but I would advise that it is always better to send out release-quality material than the muffled goop that this level of taping generally spawns. I mean, CDs and cassettes don't cost that much as long as you're going to send stuff out anyway.

Off the soapbox and on to the music. Flaw kinda moves around through a variety of hard rock sounds, from some mellow anthemic funk grooves to the more aggro Beastie Boys style (though with less bombast). To be honest, I really can't hear much (the tape sound is for shit), but what I do hear isn't particularly original.

Not bad, really, but nothing innovative. Flaw trips through the new funk metal hardcore style like so many other acts these days. I'm not hearing any real spark.

Alright, so this isn't exactly an FLA release. There are a couple of new FLA tracks (the new Fulber-less FLA, that is) and remixed tracks from side projects like Equinox, Delerium, Pro>Tech and Synaesthesia. I figured the easiest way to classify this disc was to use that moniker. Please don't hurt me.

As fans will know, these projects don't exactly sound alike. Hell, FLA albums don't necessarily have similar sounds either. What is constant is the quality and quantity of sonic exploration. FLA (and its progeny) has never been a haven for all that is dull and insipid in electronic music. Much the opposite.

In fact, the two new FLA tunes incorporate elements of breakbeat and other recent electronic music trends. A bit clubbier, with no guitars to be heard. Inspiring fare nonetheless.

Okay, so it is a bit cheap to drop a bunch of remixes on top of only two new songs. Take it from me: The two new tracks are worth the price. And the remixes are pretty damned good, too. I want more, but then, I'm a selfish bastard when it comes to my FLA.

Live recordings, particularly ones with few studio fixes, can tell a lot about a band. And particularly an industrial/electronic act. If, of course, all (or at least most) of the noise created is made on live instruments.

An arrogant show, certainly. The intro is almost ambient, a monotonous drone. But soon enough, the "hits" begin to roll. My guess is most everything other than the drum machines and obvious samples were performed live, and this left a somewhat sparse sound (as might be expected).

But competently performed. And interesting takes in their own right. There are obvious glitches where piece of technology don't quite match up, but hell, that only proves how live this really is.

Front 242's best work is in the studio, but considering the uneven albums it has released of late, this disc might give younger fans a first taste. Because no matter how bad some of the albums are, Front 242 has earned a place as a truly influential ensemble. That it still wants to move forward with new music is truly admirable. I'm not standing in the way.

Leave it to the Germans to throttle that wimpy electronica sound and come up with something meatier. Engineered for greatness, this heavily distorted fare chews up all sorts of recent electronic trends and spits out some thick and sticky grooves.

Long songs, but definitely not boring. Sure, this stuff should raise the roof at a club (a place where dancing is encouraged, that is), but it's just as impressive when contemplated from a distance.

Too much going on, and the folks still manage to funnel all those ideas into a mildly coherent sound. From the edgily-distorted hip-hop of Tricky to the sample orchestrations of the Chemical Brothers, Genital A-Tech takes everything in and answers all the questions. Okay, so the music is loud and aggressive, bordering on mean. Dancing is a contact sport.

One of the best mutations of the Off Beat sound (such as it is). Genital A-Tech slaps down the grooves and dares anyone to beat them back. Not me, anyway.

His third album with the Organization, Greg Hatza dips even deeper into the soul, r&b and blues bags, at times dropping all pretense at jazz. Thick with horns and Hatza's trademark Hammond B-3, these songs bring Hatza almost all the way back to the old days of the swinging organ.

There are a few cheesy moments. The one cover is of "Change the World", a song which is a bit too light to sustain over six minutes of interpretation. This is a mood album, and that mood is easygoing. Current lounge trendoids would probably groove well to this, but don't let that scare you. This is good stuff.

When the Hammond B-3 is used well, it flavors and colors the music. Hatza brings all of his players together and occasionally steps out on his own. He has the consummate bandleader's touch and has arranged these songs very well.

Quality work, as ever. The organ is enchanting, and the rest is pretty damned good, too. Light jazz that isn't lite jazz.

Robert Johnson and Todd Rittman are two guys. They are also this band. The play together as two one-man bands attacking each other. Rittman is a member of U.S. Maple and The Mercury Players. Johnson (not related to THE Robert Johnson, if you get my drift) plays with Hundred Pieces and Slowworm. Is any of this making sense now?

Basically, Rittman bangs out a semi-coherent beat and plays bass and guitar while Johnson plays bass and guitar and assorted percussion elements. The music is at least as weird as the stuff these guys play with their regular acts (and if you recognize any of the names, you know how fun that stuff can get), and probably much more out there.

Introspective, really, as Rittman and Johnson don't really try to shred or anything. This is all about cool noises and odd musical notions. A guy named Jim O'Rourke had a hand in this somewhere. Are you getting the picture now?

If not, go home. Stay away and don't even bother with this. While not the posterchild for esoteric musical greatness, Robert Johnson and the Browns (such as it is) cranks out some nifty tuneage. Strange, but definitely nifty.

"Dark musick... it's not just for Goths anymore!" Hey, a slogan I can groove on any day. Loretta's Doll utilizes extensive sets of samples, creating a fairly sparse soundscape over which the songs flit.

Underproduced or intentionally restrained? I vote for the latter. Understated may be a better description. The vocals barely rise above the music, but that causes a nicely spooky effect. You've gotta strain to hear them, and your ears might play a trick or two on you.

I really like the way Loretta's Doll creates its own world. This is unearthly fare, a bit trippier than yer average goth stuff. The songs are leisurely, taking their time to fully bring the ideas to fruition.

Creeping, every creeping. Loretta's Doll just keeps creeping up, and just when it seems safe, the attack comes. A subtle stab in the back, a sonic stiletto. Shifty. Impressive.

At first I thought, hmmm, someone is trying to make Beck's Mellow Gold redux, except with a moog keyboard instead of an acoustic guitar.

And then I found out Money Mark is the keyboard player for the Beastie Boys. So there is a connection. But there is a dichotomy on this disc. When Money goes on his strange little keyboard interludes between the "proper" songs with words, he's got an energy and style that makes me want to shout, "Check this out!."

And then the proper songs come on. Sounding like a tuneless Matthew Sweet with dumber lyrics, one has to wonder what the hell Money was thinking. Forgettable pop songs more annoying than everything this side of Everclear, those damn things could--no should--have been left off. With the exception of "I Don't Play Piano," which is pretty good.

Money Mark's creative side (and ability) is definitely in cooking up cool instrumentals. He should keep his mouth shut and let the music talk.

--Matt Worley

"Silently Bad Minded" is the first single from Pressure Drop's upcoming album Elusive. And all the varying remixes of the song reflect the band's eclectic approach to music.

Sample heavy, with deep roots in soul, rap and reggae. DJs Dave Langlands and Dave Henley spun American hip hop in underground London clubs for a long time before scoring their own deal.

Cut-and-paste, hack-and-slash. That's the time-honored DJ formula, and Pressure Drop performs as well as any. Better, perhaps, because the grooves intersect almost seamlessly, creating a new sort of soul music.

A cool way to kick off a new album. I can't wait to hear the full-length.

Scott Radinsky always refers to his job pitching for the Dodgers as his second job. First and foremost, he wants to be known as singer for Pulley. Considering how he's pitched at times this year, he may or may not have that job for much longer.

But unlike other jock musician wannabes like Jack McDowell or Jim Courier, Radinsky can sing. And the other members of Pulley are rather talented, too. A heavier, messier version of the ALL power popcore sound (at times sounding a lot like Down By Law). Good shit.

Fast, furious anthemic fare. The songs are tightly written and performed. They actually say something. And the production leaves enough holes to allow each instrument to be fully heard and understood.

Just a solid package all the way around. Pulley has quickly moved to the front of the Epitaph class. Yeah, there's plenty of company. But a couple more albums like the first two, and Pulley just might begin to pull away.

A shot of love from the Queers. Four songs in the sing-song cum Beach Boys style represented so clearly on the Queers' last lp, Don't Back Down.

The title song lambastes the "purist" young punks who feel the Queers are no longer punk. And maybe they aren't. How long can you live the wake and bake, drink and drool, stumble and fall lifestyle before everything falls apart and nothing matters anymore?

A noble question (NOFX deals with the same issues on their latest.), and the Queers have an answer: Everything's O.K. With only four songs, they're all gems. Hard to go wrong with such a small number. "Queerbait" tells all the underground gay men to get the hell out of the closet. "Get A Life and Live It Loser" is the same message, broader audience. And it's all rounded out with a cover of the Banana Splits "I Enjoy Being A Boy."

Tasty.

--Matt Worley

Ten remixes and six new tracks from one of the better experimental electronic bands around. The songs have a haunting quality, something that is aided by the spectacular use of silence.

And the remixes don't diminish the greatness at all. I don't think they add a hell of a lot, but as the level was pretty high to begin with, I don't have many complaints.

The new stuff travels in the same vein as before, subtle brain scraping songs which have as much impact on reflection as they do when first heard. Basic explorations of sound, the sort of intense quest that few are willing to undertake.

Top notch, as usual. Scar Tissue is a band at the top of its game. And this game is itself one of the most challenging around.

Every once in a while comes a band which can do no wrong. After the astonishing success of Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, a double album, no less, the Smashing Pumpkins (a.k.a. Billy Corgan and some other folks) can pretty much put out anything and sell a few million records.

So it's no surprise that the album opens with a dirge, "To Sheila", before progressing to the wide-ranging pop songs upon which the band's success has been based. Terribly pretentious stuff, superficial and somewhat dull. But then, that's the sort of thing that has always sold. The kids want to believe they're deep, but they also want to understand what's being said. A serious conundrum.

Ah, hell, I don't need to be this cynical. Everyone who reads this will expect me to rip the album to shreds. And I don't like it much. I do like grand scope, but I simply wish there was substance on the stage. What I get is opera without anything to say. That's all.

I don't think this album quite measures up to the other Virgin albums, but then, I didn't like them, either. So I'm not the best judge. Personally, I liked James Iha's album a lot better. At least that one sounded honest.

A collection of bands from the English Nightbreed label. Peppy Goth music, for the most part, more Sisters of Mercy than Dead Can Dance.

But good, really. Corpus Delicti, Suspira, Midnight Configuration, Faithful Dawn and Every New Dead ghost lead the line-up (each has a number of songs on the set), with many other bands kicking in as well.

Yeah, I wish the beats could vary just a little bit, but hell, small labels often engender a common sound and musical theory. Even with the homogenous content, the stuff measures up.

A decent picture. There's treasure to be found in here.

Kk has been distributed in the U.S. by Cargo, Restless and other labels. Now Tinder is stepping up to the plate and giving a platform from which a number of European technomeisters will crash onto our shores.

Kk has generally been ahead of the waves when it comes to the techno side of electronic music, and the mixes on this disc are no different. At once more insistent, organic and loopy than most of the techno I'm hearing right now. In a year or two, folks just might have caught up to the sounds here.

Or you can sample now and get an idea of what is about to arrive. Kk is a good label; there's lots to approve of here.

The second sampler set from the newly formed Kk America division of Tinder. A much more clubby group of songs, heavier in the bass and somewhat less intellectual than the other sampler.

But plenty of cool sounds nonetheless. There's a wide variety of percussive sounds here, something that is unusual in the world of techno. Yeah, these tunes were made for dancing, but there's plenty going on behind the grooves.

This is not another mindless techno compilation. Dig in and you'll find some serious shit.

Sixteen covers of 50s rock tunes by today's punk bands. Remember The Shangri-Las, Elvis, Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry and Sam Cooke? Well, probably not when they first hit the scene, but you're familiar with these songs.

Your parents probably had all of these 7-inchers, back when they were called 45s. Lots of cool bands and good renditions. Although my random player kept going back to "Be My Baby" (covered by Lounge), this is good for a quick shot of energy mixed with nostalgia. Bracket's version of "My Boyfriend's Back" is particularly heavenly. As is "Mrs. Brown You've Got A Lovely Daughter," covered by Cooter.

That shit goes straight to the radio, man.

--Matt Worley