Straight up New Age calmness. As with most New Agey stuff, the music sways like tree branches blowing in the wind. Like droplets of water trickling gently down the window. Like any simile about butterfly or squirrel. La la la, la la la.

As New Age Music, it works very well. It sets a mood subtly without forcing the listeners to actually listen. There's drums, strings, flutes, and occasional words I don't know the meaning of, but it's good for sitting on the big pillow and winding down the day. Nothing wrong with having a big pillow.

--Aaron Worley

Thick and chunky AOR riffs and straight-up rock hollerin' and gang vocals. Not exactly flavor of the month now, is it?

But that's okay. Bridge does a good job of constructing anthemic rockers that aren't overly pretentious. Plenty of that Michael Anthony-style bass bounce keeps the songs moving along.

The playing itself is good, if not virtuosic, and the production has left a rough edge on a shiny veneer. There are nods to more recent guitar rock trends (grunge, punk, etc.), but Bridge's base is solidly in the late 70s and early 80s.

And the guys do it well enough. This isn't a particularly popular sound for bands just starting out, but hell, Bridge knows all the ropes. Enjoyable.

The most popular selections from the Great Death limited edition sets. First issued in 1990 as a single disc, in 1995 it resurfaced as a double disc set with a third portion which could be acquired with a form included in the set.

Needless to say, with only 500 and 1500 copies, respectively, those earlier releases sold out quickly. For those not in the know, Brighter Death Now traffics in true industrial noise, layers of samples and distortion occasionally broken up by something resembling music. All very gothic, in a traditional sense.

Way loud, way offensive. Painful to the touch. My kinda stuff. This "Greatest Hits" of the Great Death series is rather impressive. The tracks bleed anguish and suffering, with samples from the lowest parts of society.

Another fine set. Music on the edge, but genius never hangs around the mainstream.

Dave Nazworthy and Ed Urlik back once again, with Dave Landry taking on drum chores. It's kinda funny. When pop punk hit the big time, so few people remembered that Chemical People had been knee-deep in the stuff for ages. I hadn't heard much from the band (or the folks at Cruz/SST/whatever) in a long while, so this disc is a welcome catch-me-up.

And I am a bit behind the time. Since I got this disc from a nice person on the web who runs a t-shirt shop (who also happens to have the initials D.N.), obviously the transfer time is a bit excessive. Now that I've spun my story, let's talk tunes.

Well, this is a Chemical People album. Sounds like the band I've known and loved for ages. Not much different. Same style. Same sound. Same everything. And, well, that makes me happy enough.

Punk pop that covers all the bases. While often kicking out some funny stuff (there was that porno Soundtracks project, just fer starters), Naz and Urlik are just as adept at crafting songs with affecting lyrics. Arpeggio Motorcade has a nice range. Like I said. Some things don't change. And I don't really think they should.

Once one of the more aggro Reconstriction bands (but still definitely within that cold wave or digicore sound), The Clay People have moved in their past couple of albums toward more of a basic metal band sound. And, of course, with this album they break into the big leagues.

Not unlike Fear Factory or Sepultura, The Clay People aren't afraid to incorporate industrial rhythms and chord structures in the songs, but still, at the end this is still a new wave metal band.

And a pretty damned good one at that. I loved Stone--Ten Stitches, and while this doesn't knock me out like that one did, I figure it's just because the band is beginning to settle into its sound. A sound which definitely works.

All power and glory. The Clay People don't fuck around with subtlety. This music crashes through all barriers in its path. Awe-inspiring and completely convincing. The Clay People puts the band's best music forward.

Gravity Kills always reminded me of Nine Inch Nails Lite. They have their electronic industrial grinding melodies and frustratingly angry calm versus which climax into belting choruses, but it all seems to be coming out too controlled. I want it all to go about three notches farther than it's flying, but I've known to advice people off the ledge every now and then.

Overall, Perversion has a lot to offer in its own way. The music never gets boring or redundant, and the industrial crowd should latch on to this one with rambunctious nihilistic fervency. Wow, those are three words I never thought I'd put together.

--Aaron Worley

The lineup on this album is Adrian Belew, Robert Fripp, Tony Levin and Bill Bruford. This album is taken from the last King Crimson show (and last Crimson anything) before a decade-long hiatus. The liners explain all of that, and also go into more obsessive detail about the Discipline Global Mobile concept. This concept, apart from being a conduit for scads of Crimson-related endeavors, also insists that all artists, and not the label, own all the copyrights on their works. But I think I've mentioned this before.

As the final performance of the 1981-1984 Crimson group (and really the last time King Crimson performed as an individual group, rather than individuals getting together and calling themselves King Crimson), there is some historic value to this set. And the performances themselves are also revealing.

It is not too difficult to hear the band members banging against the group confines, even as the band itself managed to hold together, if only barely. In particular, Belew's singing and playing is much more expressive and free than what is found on the corresponding studio albums. Levin and Bruford keep time in wonderfully idiosyncratic ways, and Fripp wanders off into a few corners.

In other words, nothing surprising. DGM has been releasing tons of King Crimson albums (and plenty of side projects as well), and this set does clear the standard. By a wide margin. I like this set more than any of the other recent releases. This may have been an end, but the guys kept the energy up to the final notes.

No angst here. This is mellow music for the after hours set.

Maybe you've been a little bit aggressive and mad all day and want to get on the down low tip. This is definitely down low. Pretty singing and polite strumming that blends a half dozen genres into homogonized blah for good times.

It's not offensive or even bad, but it's not anything relevant or great either. Not that I should want something more from anyone wading in this sea of appropriation and wetness, but it's hard not to compare the voice to The Voice. The original had something to say over his bands sometimes simple and benign songs. The next generation seems to be content to wallow in "my girlfriend sure is cool" and space age theories of bygone eras.

I kept trying to find something with substance and at the end realized there was nothing in my hands but empty air.

--Matt Worley

Jangly power pop, generally disjointed in an amiable way. The vocals are just out of tune, and often enough the guitar and bass are just that much off.

But it's not calculated or anything. My guess is that's just what works for the band. The songs themselves probably wouldn't sound very good if given a letter-perfect treatment, but they sound good enough as played by the band.

Which still doesn't mean this is anything great. The lackadaisical sound is cool, and every once in a while true bliss flits through my mind. Inconsistency haunts the album, particularly the writing. The material just isn't that strong.

Put into a garage context it works, if barely at times. The New Grand has an amusing way of hacking through the songs, but it needs to come up with more inspiring fare if it wants to really impress.

Plenty of folks have plenty of theories as to why overtly Christian music is so popular these days. Some chalk it up to the religious right, others to a general return to religious values by the country. Mostly overlooked is the notion that the music might actually be better than it used to be.

I attended high school in a city that had one church for every hundred people. I did all the requisite Christian things, including buying the Satan Seller book (now known as a notorious fraud) and Stryper and Petra records. Ah, sweet insipid youth.

The Newsboys actually care about the music (almost as much as the message). And while the stuff is still a bit commercial for my tastes (think of Live, heavy on the cheese factor), it's much better than the stuff I had to suffer through years ago.

About the same groove as the band's last release. Average rock music, sometimes even above average. Which means Jesus rock has come a long way.

Kinda dull industrial background music with poems about a wide variety of erotic pastimes (from soft kisses to the most extreme elements of BDS&M and beyond).

Vaguely interesting, though I think I might have been able to read the lyrics (there is no singing to speak of) as well as the band members. I dunno. I think this stuff is supposed to get me off, but I just feel cold.

There are some cool musical elements. Sparse, spooky soundscapes which softly throb behind the spoken words. But that's not enough to keep me going.

Talking about sex isn't enough to get me hot. There's got to be some passion; I don't require Teri Weigel-style excessive moaning, but something other than dry words. Then again, I don't really like to get fitted in a hood and pissed on. Maybe that's the problem.

As you can see from the album cover, you're not gonna find this disc in many stores. The band has managed a decent living touring incessantly, and this is just something to hawk along the way. The show is the thing, though the last two times the band has been through town (yes, through York, Penn., twice since I've moved here) I have been out of the area. Annoying, but still.

Basic guitar-driven industrial fare, with a stage show that is much more entertaining. These folks should get together with Genitorturers and Spo-Its for a nationwide bondage tour. Lotsa fun and horsewhips.

This album is probably the band's best, though the sound could use a little punching up in spots. Very thick sound, but not muddled; nicely driving songs. Forward, ever forward, with some great riffage and sample stuff. Kinda like Lee Harvey Oswald Band, only more industrial and raw all at the same time.

I still have to recommend the show before the albums, but this album narrows the gap somewhat. A nice chunk of fun.

Don't you love it when everything mixes well together. Pressure Drop has a way of blending DJ mixes without making it sound cluttered. In fact, there's a lot of white noise and spatial gaps giving the album a long, smooth, slow journey from beginning to end.

The grooves come on gradually and disappear in the same manner. These are some sit down grooves as opposed to the dance hall variety DJ tracks most might be familiar with. This one doesn't want you to go anywhere, and I must say it makes a damn fine case to stay exactly where you are for a long period of time.

--Aaron Worley

More goth meets glam. Band leader Pat Briggs still hasn't figured out how goofy these songs are (even when the band riffs through "MacArthur Park"), and the presentation is still kinda excessive.

Honestly, excessive is an understatement. Briggs has completely given in to his Bowie compulsion, and unfortunately, it's not a particularly fertile period. Amusing once more, unintended.

There's just no way to take this stuff seriously. Psychotica cranks out warped gothic disco grooves with big riffage. All the cheese that's fit to eat, and then some more just to make sure everyone chokes on the meal. Fun? Yeah. Funny? Definitely.

I still have no idea what the point is. And I know a couple serious fanatics. They an't tell me either, but whatever it is that Briggs is doing, it works for them. Not much more than a good laugh for me.

Regular A&A readers will know that I'm rarely less than effusive when talking about Touch and Go albums. And if you parse the archives carefully, you'll find a tepid review of an early Silkworm release. That review pissed off someone at C/Z records (who had Silkworm under contract at the time), and I got very little from the label after that. I noted the band's subsequent rise to fame on Matador, though honestly I didn't think that much about it.

So when this arrived, I wondered. Had the band really changed? Well, I last heard it five years ago. And anyway, I often change my mind about bands. So I plunked the puppy in and listened.

Still sounds more like a midwestern rock band than a Seattle outfit. There's a definite Archers of Loaf kinda groove overlaying the Replacements base, and that's pretty cool. Oddly, the worst songs seem to be at the beginning of the album. Certainly, the weakest track leads off. Doesn't give a good picture of what follows and it just doesn't quite come together. But what does follow...

Not exceptional or anything, but good. Good enough for me to listen to a couple more times and try and figure out what's up. Not a worldbeater, but better than I expected. There's some meat here.

Some people like the old Social Distortion songs. Some people like the new Social Distortion songs. It doesn't really matter because these guys have been putting out bouncy, antisocial songs for nearly two decades.

Live at the Roxy is a seventeen song live compilation of the finest they've had to offer over the years. If you've been afraid to pick up any SD stuff because you didn't know which ones were good, this is the one for you. It has the songs you know and maybe a few you didn't. Plus a little bit of punk story telling between songs. Warms the belly just thinking about it.

--Aaron Worley

There is something interesting about middle aged art rockers still jumping into the sea of pop music--even if it's still in an out of the way murky grotto filled with decomposing leaves and piss pockets. That place no one else these days wants to go because of a couple of things: radio won't play this and no one cares about caring anymore.

Sonic Youth cares--more than they've cared (in musical form) in their lives. I don't know if it's the onset of children (which, to be honest, has been happening for a while) or taking an honest look at the future or what, but there is a feeling of care throughout this album. And if you've been listening to Sonic Youth over the last few albums, this won't be so new to you. There are jarring vocal presentations to go along with a bunch of racket strewn together between the four heads of this collective. Like they've always done.

But it's the long songs. The ones that go from bits of pop jump to caterwalling guitars that interest me. "Diamond Sea" (from Washing Machine) is the opus, but there are a couple on this disc that manage to be large without being pompous. The best of which is "Wildflower Soul," a song that seems to be about children. The freedom of being young and without inhibitions. Which is what pop music is supposed to be about, right?

--Matt Worley

Tamara (Feinman, just to be formal and all) sings basic folk songs, strumming a guitar and singing with a voice that reminds me of Nanci Griffith (high-pitched, but strong).

The songs tell stories, just like they should, and the stories are wonderfully subtle in the telling and wise in the philosophy. The sort of stuff that could be easily washed away by a big recording budget and lots of studio tricks.

But luckily, Tamara either didn't have the cash or (I hope) has the wisdom to know how to present her songs. Doesn't matter which; the results are great.

I do wish the songs had a bit more bite. Occasionally, Tamara seems to hold back a bit, and that extra notch of intensity might really kick the songs up another notch. Still, these are nice pieces. A well-done set.

Basic garage rock, played with loads of energy (if not skill). Raucous and jarring, these songs are a simple joy to hear. Proof that emotion beats formulas every time.

And there's very little that the band does particularly well. Katharine McElroy rarely sings on pitch (which provides for some jarring overdubs), and the guys in the band aren't always on the same page, either.

But it doesn't matter. These are basic rock songs, played with far more verve than anything I've heard in ages. Three Finger Cowboy believes in its music, and that sells the stuff.

Great? Nah. But a big ol' wad of unrefined rock candy nonetheless. Satisfies the need for uncomplicated and rowdy music that always seems to rise up about this time of year. Wish I could take the top off of the T-Bird and jam this real damned loud.

A DC-area band that likes its Freedom Rock. Oh, that's not such a bad thing. I liked the Georgia Satellites as much as anyone. But still, there is something to updating the sound.

Or something. These guys don't steal from anyone. The basic white boy blues rock riff concept has been around for ages. Tramps Like Us would like to be one of those classic bar bands. But the songs just don't have that important snippet of life.

They just lie there. Perfectly nice and unobtrusive, but not exciting. Piling on one after another. Good, but in a generic way. Competently executed. Not thrilling.

And that's the real story. Tramps Like Us are the perfect counterpoint to Three Finger Cowboy (reviewed above). These guys play very well and do a good job of sticking to concepts like solid construction on-pitch singing. But this album doesn't work. It's missing the breath of life.

Completely over-the-top high energy rock and roll. Throbbing songs that skewer just about everything there is to jump. Very loud and chock full of distortion, this disc makes my skin dance.

That is, by the way, a good thing. The songs simply keep flying out, one after the other, the intensity and riffage piling on like frat boys on a dying keg. Frenzied and frenetic, with no end in sight.

Well, one comes, of course, and I was damned sad to hear it. Hell, I know this stuff isn't particularly serious or anything, but that's why I dig it so much. Off the cuff songsmithing can be quite seductive.

Do I need to mention that these folks are Canadian? Probably not. Doesn't matter. But I thought you'd like to know. Some great stuff, gets the ticker kicking, fer shur.

Yeah, one of those samplers without much in the way of previously unreleased stuff. Well, the Appleseed Cast and Flanders albums haven't come out yet (or I haven't gotten them yet, anyway), but this is a really nice picture of one of the top small indies.

With such amazing bands as the recently departed (sigh) Walt Mink and up-and-comers Muckafurguson and Camber (all placed at the end, so as to create the highest sonic impact), there is plenty of good music. Deep Elm has a lot of good music to share with the world, and anyone who hasn't figured that out would do well to dig into this disc.

Not much for collectors (or old fans, for that matter), but as a primer on the latest punk and pop waves, this is hard to match.

Even more into the metal hardcore sound than the band's previous album. I hear loads of Sepultura-style riffage, and that growl is menacing, indeed. Tight, impressive work.

While Vision of Disorder still is a bit too heavy into its influences, it has managed to break free of the Biohazard metalfunk style and move into more straight ahead stomp tunes. Sounds like a Victory band, totally.

And that's a nice progression. This is an album of power, purposefully omitting any grace. Moving the hardcore bandwagon in the right direction, I'd say.

I was impressed with the debut. This disc moves VoD forward. Solid all the way through, with more than enough heart to go all the way.

The latest from one of the early members of the hardcore ska movement. Voodoo Glow Skulls have been doing this for so long, an entire generation has made it through the American education system. Well, maybe not, but almost. And the album's title pays tribute to all those kids who played the horns in high school. They're cool now if they blow for a ska band, but back then, well, some of us are rather aware of the ridicule. Too bad clarinet still hasn't become a hip rock and roll instrument (a personal sigh).

I found the last VGS album to be a bit rote. Don't know why, it was just a feeling. This one is a bit more energetic and fun. Again, I really can't delineate the reasons (I know that's my job! Get off my back!). Just how I feel. This album is hitting me in all the right places. Scattershot horns of power and completely howled vocals.

Yeah, this album is truer to the VGS live experience. I've seen the band in Florida and right here in York (believe it or not), and these guys put out every single night. That hard work and devotion comes through on all channels here.

And it's a big sack of fun, to boot. Goofy, with the most active horn section in rock and roll today. These guys wail. This is what every other punk ska band wishes it could do. No wonder these guys are legends.

Ten years past his supposed "comeback" solo album, Brian Wilson has finally exorcised many of the demons that have plagued his life for more than 30 years. Hey, everyone wants this to be a great album and a big hit. And with such Wilson-philes as the High Llamas and pop in general ruling the "alternative" scene, the kids may finally be ready to embrace a true rock and roll pioneer.

So, if all the stars are in alignment, is the album any good? Well, it is gorgeously appointed. Wilson's voice sounds great (he quit smoking a while back, so this album doesn't have any of the rasp of its ten-year-old predecessor), even if he's not singing about anything profound. In fact, the lyrics are downright inane at times.

But the music is so wonderful, complicated and pristine. Supposedly some of these songs have 96 different vocal tracks (okay, Wilson is still a little obsessive), and he also layers the instruments as well. A producer's dream project, a masterwork.

And so I'm more than willing to forgive silly lyric content. Imagination is the sound of a genius stretching his legs a bit. I hope he keeps working out, because from the sound of this Wilson has plenty of waves left to catch.

Messy, angry funk. Messy, angry funk? When did that become a music style? I don't know, but I'm betting Rage Against the Machine and 311 had something to do with it.

Heavy on bass rhythms, wailing guitar chords with occasional licking, and yelling choruses. It's the less grooving type of funk, and more jumping around and pushing off other people variety. Every now and then, the head bounces with pleasure as they play, but there's a lot of waiting around for the good grooves. And how willing you are to wait for the good grooves?

--Aaron Worley