The, um, Anal Cunt shiny happy folk album. Just soft acoustic guitar and one of the worst falsettos I've ever heard in my life (courtesy of "Sensitive" Seth Putnam). Is it funny? About as funny as anything the guys have done before. I'm not sure that really answers the question, though...

I'm amused, howzat? This is satire with a sledgehammer, and there are a few real howlers, though, in general Anal Cunt fashion, the titles are funnier than the songs themselves. You gotta admit, though, that "I Respect Your Feelings As a Woman and a Human" is pretty fucking funny.

Not really sharp or perceptive, the songs simply disembowel a wide array of targets, from the Christian Right to James Taylor songs to women's studies programs to stupid people in general. Broad humor (no pun intended).

Well, if you had never heard of the band, it's name might give you a hint. Oh, Putnam (and whoever he brings along with him) uses the radio-friendly "A.C." on the album cover, but we know what that means. Humor of the meanest kind.

Understated jangle pop from New York City. Three guys who bash out some nicely emotive songs. Quirky, humorous and ultimately rather affecting. It takes a while for the band's somewhat disjointed songwriting style to grow on you, but once there, well, whoa.

The idiosyncrasies aren't that self-indulgent. In fact, they work to better define the band. It's just a matter of getting used to them. Most of the songs start off with odd little musical bits and pieces, and then by the end those seemingly unrelated ideas have been given proper hanging places on the wall.

This is the sort of album that a heavy-handed producer could easily kill. A delicate touch is required, one that allows the songs themselves to do the talking. And that's what the band has achieved, a loosey-goosey feel which gives all the different ideas time to properly form.

Sure, it's just another rest stop down the highway from Big Star. Astro Chicken does have its own style, though, and the songs are more than strong enough to compete in today's rather crowded pop market. There's a bagful of gems waiting here.

I'd never quite seen that spelling for bubeleh (or bubalah, or bewbaleh or whatever). Not that spelling has a damned thing to do with the album. Just something that stuck in my head right off. Sorry about that.

Yer basic alternapop, I guess, with lots of commercial pretensions. Keyboards and acoustic guitars are layered on top of the basic crunchy chords, to the detriment of the songs, I think. Makes the heartfelt lyrics sound trite, like they don't mean anything anyway.

The arrangements are more AAA-oriented as well. Perhaps that's where the money is. Personally, I kinda like a more raw sound. Here, though, the songs start out in interesting ways, but by the end they're fairly cheesy sing-alongs.

I'm thinking the band has painted itself into a corner. The songs aren't crafted enough to really excite major label attention, but they're a bit too simplistic for the average underground pop fan. Kinda sitting at a crossroads here. Good, but for whom?

Well, kinda fits the name of the label. Imagine Ultraviolence and that ilk taking up the noise banner full tilt. Heavy, fuzzy beats combined with an all-out aural assault. Oh, yeah, pretty fuckin' cool, indeed.

The basic format alternates sample-heavy constructions with the more extreme musical poundings. Does it make sense? Are the ideas coherent? Can you dance to it? Oh, come now. These aren't the right questions, and you know it.

The intent is to bash through the self-made walls of safety and induce a sense of panic and awareness upon the general public. Of course, if the general public had its way, this sort of music would be illegal, but I think you might be getting the point now.

Cultural commentary blended in with hyper-aggro music. Bound to be a clash, and in that struggle, greatness is created. Not for the faint of will, by any means. But certainly essential.

There are very few sorts of music which almost automatically drive me up the wall. The phenomenon known as "happy jazz" is one. And when I first dug into Peter Cor's disc, I thought that was where I was headed.

I mostly got that idea from the drenching keyboards and rather simplistic rhythms. Cor has a nasty habit of cribbing some wonderful ideas from a wide variety of world music traditions and then stripping them of all their verve before dropping them in his songs. Whet really bugs me is his "background music" style.

And as Cor has done a lot of work in commercials and cheesy films, that makes sense. But if you can strip out the lesser elements (a task, but possible), then you might appreciate the good piano and guitar work. Not particularly original, I guess, but solid and intriguing anyway.

The lead instrument work here is quite good. It's just that all the stuff which lies behind is so treacly. You know, a bossa nova beat run through a keyboard just isn't quite the same thing. Cor needs to upgrade his backing section, and then his talents might start to shine.

Wonderful psycho surf tuneage with them growly, howly vocals. Yep, it's another turn for Deadbolt. And I'm always happy for the visit.

Actually, after fifty spins or so, Tijuana Hit Squad lost some of its sheen, something that still hasn't happened to Tiki Man. I'm getting more of a classic vibe from this disc, though I have to admit I'm not going to able to perform the requisite repetitions to properly adjudge such matters.

This disc is definitely less jokey and more spooky, and Deadbolt's key attribute has always been the creepy factor. Sure, this stuff is a howl, but the band has to play it straight. And Deadbolt is stiff as a rod on this disc.

More fine Halloween music. I've got enough Deadbolt to get through the first part of a serious party. Of course, I'll be spinning this puppy quite a few times before pumpkin time.

Mostly covers on this set, and once again, I want to hear Derringer actually get the blues. Just a little. It sounds like he's simply running through the chords.

Too bad, really, since his voice is ideally suited to the sort of rockin' blues that he's been playing of late. His guitar work is solid, if unimpressive. It's just that there's a definite lack of soul here. Pain? Nowhere to be heard.

Must say that the songs which feature piano (as opposed to more organ-style keyboards) do provide a more authentic feel. Honestly, organ is a great blues instrument, but piano colors the sound better. And since Derringer can't quite seem to convince me he's blue, well, something has to take up the slack.

Technically sound, but emotionally lacking. There's no primal scream (or even a small yelp) that I can latch onto. And even uptempo blues has feeling.

ENIAC, of course, is one of the first computers. And Derek Taylor (along with Scott Stine and some other friends) has decided to take his multi-instrumental talents and attack the notion of Euro space rock.

Sort of a merging of the Hawkwind and Gamma Ray styles (and since we're not talking about light years of difference here...). Maybe it's just because I'm a sucker for this sound, but I think Taylor has finally wrapped his considerable talent around an idea which properly shows off his skills.

Certainly, Taylor keeps the tangents to a minimum, preferring to kick out long spacey jams and trading licks with Stine. Sure, the pyrotechnics are extreme, but both Stine and Taylor are capable of imbuing speed runs with soulful style. That they do so here is just another reason to dig this stuff.

Again, I'm pretty sure my personal prejudices are working in favor of this disc, but I'm knocked out. Some great work lies within this disc.

Fear Factory is the most imitated, most influential metal band of the past 10 years. When metal fell off its tenuous pedestal at the end of the 1980s, many trends emerged to carry the mantle forward. Grindcore, death metal, the new hardcore (both Biohazard and Fudge Tunnel styles), grunge, industrial and gothic. These are extremely generic labels, and the list is incomplete in any case. What is indisputable is that when Fear Factory's debut, Soul of a New Machine arrived in 1992, any person with ears knew some serious talent had arrived.

I don't kiss ass like this very often, but let's face it, as revolutionary as that first album was, the works that followed are even more impressive. Two electronic remix EPs and a second effort in the past, Fear Factory now emerges with its most audacious and coherent effort yet. A seamless merging of all its influences into a powerhouse sound of incomprehensible proportions.

Once again teaming up with Rhys Fulber (FLA, etc.), the band delves into the electronic bag even more, effortlessly adding a techno/industrial sheen to its strident riffage. Oh, yeah, this stuff is highly engineered, but in such a way that samples meet riffs in a very organic setting. The songs are more ambitious, the production that much more arrogant. Fear Factory is now ready to take over the world.

I spent the first few years of A&A attempting to convince a number of people that metal (in totality) is just as artistically relevant as any other sound. I always used Fear Factory as an example, and this album proves my point without any further explanation. Fear Factory has transcended whatever genre it might inhabit. Obsolete moves the band onto the world stage as one of the finest musical acts, period. I don't think I need to say another word.

--Jon Worley

I've said it before, but I might as well say it again. If the bulk of heavy metal and hard-core bands had gone the way that Fear Factory takes the music, I might still have my dangling long hair and wear my black rocker T-shirts. Their dark pulsating rhythms and wailing lyrics combine together to make me want to flex, scream, pick up heavy objects, and put them in a totally new place. Yeah, some good angry primal shit.

Demanufacture was the first album I heard from Fear Factory, and it will probably be my favorite just for that reason. Obsolete doesn't back track though, and in many respects, it is a much more mature album. These guys have continually brought in electrical sounds and programming to take the intense music straight to the mind.

But does it kick ass? Will it go over with the heavy boozing, slam dancing, still long haired crooners that hide in the woodwork until the metal shows come around town? Are we allowed to listen to the darkness pounding upon darkness until our skin spits from its pores because we finally realize that man is obsolete? The answer to all these questions is "Yes motherfucker. Quit being such a sissy and listen to it."

--Aaron Worley

Just in case I might be tempted to refer to the almost mind-numbing repetition as sequenced or looped, there's a note in the disc stating that nothing of the kind is used. The mechanical precision achieved is human in nature. That's pretty cool.

And that means that these cool gothic soundscapes are created by real-time instruments (okay, so there were some samples, but someone had to push the button at the right time) as well. I'm impressed. There's a lot of weird noise on this disc, but it all forms around an extremely industrial base.

Sometimes a song (with vocals, anyway) breaks out, sometimes the spooky atmosphere perpetuates itself. And sometimes there's amusement, as in a song titled "The Last 7:38 of Your Life". I know, I know, there probably was serious intent behind that, but it's a delicious bit of ironic commentary as well.

A highly individualistic disc, music created by folks who demand something different. I'm a big fan of soundscapes in general, and these are better than most. Very cool.

Goddamnit, I could sworn grunge was dead. No more of that dreadfully lazy guitar style or turgid bass flogging. No more over-pretentious, whiny songs which really don't say anything anyway.

Um, I was wrong.

Which isn't to say that Grinspoon plays basic grunge. After a dreadfully ordinary first track, the band breaks into more of a metalcore sound, somewhat uptempo and with some of that faux funk wank. Like if Rage Against the Machine, Biohazard and Candlebox were edited into a single story and then photocopied a few thousand times. Grinspoon would be the 100th generation copy. You don't quite recognize the original, but you know it's there somewhere.

Naw, I didn't really dig this. You guessed, right?

The subtitle is "solo contrabass", and so this is. Guberman produces a rich set of tones, deep and sometimes scratchy, and he assembles these sounds in a set of eight compositions.

Which is to say there are eight pieces here, and they all feature some very unusual string music. Guberman prefers strange music to beautiful music, and his compositions are frenetically spooky, filled with lots of odd noises. These aren't songs so much as collections of ideas presented by one person on one instrument.

I'm not sure where they boy's head is at (actually, I'm a bit concerned on that score), but I like the adventurous spirit on display here. Guberman is exploring the far reaches of the contrabass, delving into areas many teachers might find distressing.

In total, an album that cannot be dismissed as a random assortment of cool noises. Guberman does a good job of linking his wide variety of ideas together, and while not conventional, he makes good music.

Simple, heartfelt songs. Built around acoustic guitar, sung with a worldweary voice. Sometimes the songs rely a bit too much on standard construction, but Harbuck has the basics down.

There's an odd sound to the production, a weird whine which can be heard in some of the keyboards and guitar lines. A bit annoying, but it doesn't interfere too much with the songs themselves.

And the songs are basic basic. Like I said earlier, I wish Harbuck would change up his song structure from time to time. After three or four songs, I need a breather. But for a guy who deals in highly emotional songs, Harbuck does a pretty good job of avoiding lyrical cliches. His conclusions may be a little simplistic, but he expresses himself well.

If it weren't for that odd sound shimmy in the midrange, I might really recommend this. Oh well. I've got the new album up next.

This is Harbuck's latest. In the liners he expresses a desire to get as close to the guitar and voice format he uses at his live shows. So the recording process was streamlined.

The songs are more assured, more confident. Harbuck approaches his singing and playing with more abandon, less afraid of making mistakes. And the emphasis on simple sounds helps as well. The focus here is more on his writing, a strong point.

Somewhere in the roots rock-folk vein, Harbuck continues to write sentimental songs that don't get bogged down in excessive goo. He's not exactly poetic, but the songs have an original feel.

A step forward, for sure. If Harbuck continues to work at his writing and playing, I can only imagine what the next disc will sound like.

Swing is the thing. At least for now. If you're one of those people who shags, and pulls, and whips, and throws down a good Lindy hop, give this one a listen. The sextet is full of boogie-woogie piano grooves and tenor sax laced melodies straight out of the 1940s. Not too many full-blown jump-jiving tracks. Mostly mid-tempo smoothies and ballads which are free chances to pull that partner a little closer to your body.

While much of the new swing incorporates electric keyboards and drum machine, Indigo Swing makes sure to have an all-acoustic line up with a stand up bass, hollowed out guitars, and a stand up acoustic piano. The result is a mellow, smooth collection of boogie-woogie tracks.

The San Francisco based band has been touring the West Coast swing scene for the past few years, so if you're going to get into a fad, you might as well get a little old school. Nothing wrong with swinging slow as long as you aren't swinging alone.

--Aaron Worley

The second homebrew release from Jacek Usnarski. He traffics heavily in the electronic, putting something of a contemporary spin on the sterile techno musings of Kraftwerk and Tangerine Dream (acknowledged influences)

He does so by splicing soaring keyboard lines (not washes, but single note leads) with ambient trance and techno grooves. By wandering through a wide variety of melodic and rhythmic ideas, Usnarski packs more than a mouthful into each song.

But never to overload status. His sparse, sterile sound helps to keep from overwhelming the listener. In your face and pretty as a rose, his songs continue morphing until the final blast.

I was damned impressed by his first disc, and this set of songs is stronger still. The complexity within these pieces is astonishing. There's so much here to hear.

Quite a step away from the last thing I heard from this band. While there are some prog elements left, Jester's Crown has opted for a more roots-oriented approach. The songs are still heavy-duty anthems, but the guitars are out front.

Oh, yeah, some of the lines are definitely in a prog vein, but the overall sound is much more basic rock and roll. Simply a grand version. And this somewhat looser style really works for these guys.

It's a cool sound, like if Bruce Springsteen listened to a lot of Yes. And now that the keyboards are in the back (where they belong, at least in this band), the rest of the band is able to properly balance things.

I didn't really like the first thing I heard from these guys. But this album really knocks me out. I can hear the result of a lot of hard work and artistic soul searching. Jester's Crown has sweated its way to a better place. I hope the band is properly rewarded.

The Artension keyboardist is at it again, shredding the (plastic) ivories and trading licks with George Bellas (guitar, of course). Some really loud, fast and excessively long songs follow.

To be honest, I do like this set better than his first, partly because he incorporates a few different keyboard sounds, which helps to color his playing. But the actual playing is so technical and flat (I know it's hard to be expressive with a purely electronic instrument, but it can be done) that I'm left swallowed by bombast.

What I do like is that many of the songs have more of a European 80s metal feel, so at least I'm being overwhelmed by sounds appreciated by my soft spot. Nonetheless, I'm stuck looking for the art in the middle. Some soul. Something that says "I'm alive here, damnit!"

And I can't find it. As impressive as Kuprij and Bellas are, there's just nothing here but cold speed runs. And that's no way to impress people.

Interesting lyrics, but music that is far too conventional. The band seems to think it sounds like the Wallflowers and other such groove-jam bands. I'd go back another 20 years, more akin to the heavily crafted AOR stuff that wandered along in the wake of Boston and the later Led Zep albums.

But Mojosmoke keeps the sound understated, which is one of the few good things I heard. It's just that the songwriters tried far too hard. The music sounds strained, as if it the tunes didn't quite work out right. To be honest, they didn't.

Which is too bad, because I think the lyrics are among the more perceptive I've heard lately. They don't work well with the music as presented, and perhaps the stress of matching up words and tunes caused some of the problems. Hard to say. Mojosmoke simply needs to find a groove, something to hold its songs together.

A strangely disconcerting album. For all the potential and obvious talent (the playing is first-rate), the songs simply don't work for me. They stop and start way too much to keep a coherent music train of thought moving. Any kind of sustained rhythmic ideas would be welcome.

A former member of Zap Mama (her old mates help out here), Sally Nyolo is at home singing in English, French and Eton (one of the languages of Cameroon, Nyolo's home), and she is equally adept at incorporating a wide variety of musical influences into her music.

Her songs follow a variety of structures. Some sound suspiciously like American pop (though extremely Africanized), while others are almost otherworldly in their form. Nyolo's confidence in her ability to communicate no matter the sound or language eases the transition, making it easy for me to understand what she means, no matter what I'm hearing at the moment.

Particularly striking is the emphasis on a variety of African, European and Latin rhythms. Most of the songs are extremely rhythm conscious, and even as Nyolo's voice runs fluidly along her own path the grooves take on a life of their own. I've been charmed.

While not necessarily authentic (whatever that means), Nyolo's music thoroughly expresses what she feels herself to be, a mixture of many cultures and ancestors. Cultural "purity" wasn't the goal, and we should all be thankful for that.

If you've read any of the other reviews of Suffering Clown releases, you might have an idea of what's coming here. Of Unknown Origin trucks in soundscapes, but these explorations are much more ritual-oriented than found on the other discs.

More formal sounding, I suppose. Almost militaristic at times, and certainly oppressive. I think the idea here is to erase all logical hope. A couple hours of this and I just might, too.

Doomy without getting very loud. Depressing fare which demands attention by its persistence, not from any excess of noise. Like a piledriver, the songs just keep pressing my spine into the ground. Again and again, with no end in sight.

Oof. Quite the experience. I'm not sure I'd like to meet the folks who created this land of shattered hopes, but the sounds here are very effective at wringing out their task. All hope dies in the end, and here it dies even quicker than that.

Some pretty goofy stuff. When stuck in a basic folk rock stage, Paloma is pretty ordinary. But on songs like the title track, the band really breaks into some unusual sounds

I've always liked the combination of acoustic guitar and drum machine, and the guys do some nice collage work. On other songs, an organ (or somesuch) accompanies the simple songs. Whenever the instrumentation gets unusual (a tambourine as the sole percussion piece, the organ, a glockenspiel and other odds and ends), the simplicity of the songs is undone. A greater depth can be seen.

But about half the time Paloma is satisfied playing basic stuff. It's not horrible, simply ordinary. Oh, I probably should mention that the songs are generally sung in English, even though the band is French. But I'm pretty sure that doesn't have much to do with anything else.

There are moments of transcendent inspiration here, and a few more monotonous interludes. If you like quietly intense music, this might turn the trick. Paloma is deceptively cool.

Or, if you like, Doug Pinnick of King's X. The band has moved to Metal Blade (new album coming along one of these days), and the first fruits of that relationship is this solo outing from Pinnick.

He plays everything other than drums (Jerry Gaskill helps out on some of the tunes, and Ty Tabor did the mastering, so it's not like Pinnick is standing far from the stable). The songs sound like King's X songs, though even more heavy in the bass and thicker in the grooves. The lyrics are as mystical and mystifying as ever.

Really, a return to the earlier, simpler King's X sound. Not a whole lot of overdubbed harmonies, not a whole lot of effects-laden guitar. While I didn't catch the last Atlantic album, I would put the sound of this album back in the band's more classic period (somewhere among the first three albums). The songwriting is more solid and groove oriented, and Pinnick sounds like he's found a new creative spark.

Maybe not a total revelation, but certainly an encouraging peek into the new King's X record. Pinnick's Poundhound doesn't stray from the old formulas, but then, I kinda like it just the way it is.

Eclectic or woefully overinspired, take your pick. Prolapse falls directly down the line of discordant Britpop bands, like the Fall, Mekons, PIL, etc. The songs on this album are generally a bit too long, crammed so full of ideas that they might cause sensory overload.

I thought their first Jetset album, Backsaturday was pretty cool, even if it ranged a bit too far over the landscape. In general, the songs on The Italian Flag utilize the same basic structure, a raft of spoken and sung vocals plopped on top basic strident guitar pop rhythms. And they go on and on, saying many things, even if the message isn't quite so impressive.

I'm all for artistic freedom, but it's obvious that Prolapse needs a good editor. Not necessarily to shorten the songs, but just to bring some semblance of order to the proceedings. A lot of the pieces here a bits of this and that, changing course three or four times per track. That's a bit much.

And yet, the talent is undeniable. Some unquestionable gems here, and plenty more cool slices here and there. Prolapse hasn't even scratched the surface of its potential, but even so, what it has done is impressive.

Goofy blues-pop tunes, with a recording sound so primitive you might think this was recorded 40 years ago.

Not so, but that dull feel helps to make up for the somewhat hackneyed tuneage. Mozart Rottweiler (and Sinister Undertones) crank out riff after recycled riff, hoping to catch a laugh with the odd strange reference. And sometimes it works.

And it is hard not to be amused by songs with titles like "Eat Vegetarians" and "Got My Lights and My Heart on for You". The lyrics generally don't live up to the titles, but there are moments.

Not enough to rev me up, though. If you like your jokes extremely broad (and your music uninspired), Rottweiler might have your number. But he doesn't have mine.

Heavily distorted (not to mention strangely orchestrated) blues stuff. Kinda like if the Chickasaw Mudd Puppies got really weird on you. You know, like completely wacked out.

The name of the band is taken from a rather famous pitcher who hurled during the first decade of this century. As the band's bio of the man says, he was a man of many passions. The same could be said for the band. While the music is basically blues-oriented, there's no way anyone would mistake this album for, say something by Lonnie Brooks.

No, what we have here is an elaborate reworking of the call and response, complete with an impressive array of instruments (mostly acoustic, but not necessarily). Wacky songs which on the odd occasion don't even bother with formal lyrics, just hoots and hollers.

A nice companion for Japonize Elephants. Put those two bands together and you might get some sort of mutant hoedown. And I'd be front and center.

"Hey guys, let's be really cool and start our new album off with three minutes of manipulated white noise." If I were in a band, this is a thought that just might occur to me. The folks in Sianspheric said, "Okey-dokey."

And went from there. The noise never quite kicks out, or maybe it's just that the distortion is lowered just enough to understand what's being played. In any case, there are plenty of references to the pop psychedelia movement which passed by a few years back.

And this appreciation for pure noise (I think it's laid on top; my instrument distortion theory doesn't seem to hold water) is quite cool and forward thinking. Pop in a noise context just might be a coming trend.

But I don't think Sianspheric is playing the trend game. This album shows an evolution from earlier work, but it's in the same continuum. Just keep moving, and someday someone will figure out that you're cool.

Highly crafted roots pop. Sorta like if you took the Posies and grafted a jangle sheen on to the works. The rhythm section is pure power pop, but the lead guitar and vocals kinda waft a bit.

Which is a cool enough way to go. I haven't heard this particular combination before, at least done this way. It's just different enough to prick my ear and make me muse.

Sometimes the extra bits (flute, acoustic guitars) can be a bit oppressive, but when Silkenseed keeps to a fairly basic sound the songs come across very well. No need to get lost in the dressing, these songs are solidly written.

A cool take on a fairly well-tread path. These folks know how to craft some fine music.

The band has found a full-time bass player, so it's a trio now. The offbeat approach to pop music remains.

Generally, the guitar lines don't have much to do with the other proceedings, though Statuesque is quite happy to get truly convention for a moment or two, just to throw folks off.

Rambling pop tunes which the band occasionally allows to soar. But most of the time the exuberant melodies are somewhat obscured, hidden behind competing thoughts and sounds. I like that. The eternal struggle against mendacious happiness, played out on disc.

In the end, pretty much indescribably good. I know, I've done a horrible job here, but Statuesque is so insistent on trying new ideas that the sound simply cannot be pinned down. What they do works amazingly well, but you've got to hear it to even begin to understand. I made a comparison to Duotang when I reviewed a 7" a while back, and that stands. Bouncy pop with a serious undertow. Alright, then.

A couple special guests (John Morton of Electric Eels plays guitar on the first track and Simeon from Silver Apples is on the second) decorate this EP. Instead of the usual noisy chaos, these songs focus on cool vocals, sliced and assembled in a nicely emotive fashion.

Proving that random carnage can be applied to voice as well as instrument. Does this stuff make sense? Well, not exactly. I'm still trying to puzzle out the Kansas City references from "The Snake Whose Head Would Not Be Crushed", and even though I have a lyric sheet I'm still not on top of the situation.

Aw, but hell. I've found that To Live and Shave in L.A. is best appreciated in a holistic fashion. Let all the assembled noises waft through the various membranes of your head and settle in your brain. And then, maybe, try to make sense of it.

But I shan't. Not today. I'll just enjoy and leave contemplation for some other time. Nothing wrong with that, you know.

Squalling guitars and a nice, driving punk-pop beat. Enough dissonance to keep the hounds at bay, but attractive enough to turn my ears on. Well, perhaps it's the way the guitar lines howl at each other that gives me the chills, but I likes it, man.

Kinda like a noisier Naked Raygun. Don't know why that just popped into my head, but there it is. Touch Is Automatic manages both the uptempo and the midspeed songs with ease. Actually, the flip, "Icky Vibes" has a bit of an Arcwelder feel to it, but then, that doesn't contradict my earlier statement.

Stridence can be a good thing. Touch Is Automatic may have a chilly sound, but that stabbing pain the back of your neck is a good thing. I swear.

The score is by John Cale, and his stuff is interspersed with tracks from such disparate artists as Ani Difranco, Yoko Ono, The Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black and Sandra Bernhard (who also stars in the film). There's a track from Cardinal Woolsey ("I Get a Rush", which can also be found on the band's excellent disc Paralyzed with Happiness, one ofmy all-time favorite albums). A big load of stuff to swallow.

Cale's score rambles about, a string piece here, a piano dirge there. What stuff of his that is here (about 10 minutes worth) is rather interesting. Wish there was more. As most of the other tracks, like the one Cardnial Woolsey, are previously released and can be found elsewhere, there's not a whole lot here to groove on. Though I likethe sequencing, and the songs picked are pretty good.

Soundtracks can be truly maddening. Usually the score parts are dull, but Cale's work here is rather good. I'd like to hear a lot more. The songs are good, even if I've heard some before. A weird mishmash, but a decent one.

Four whole new songs from one of my favorite bands. The basic Voodoo Love Mint song structure is to find a good groove and stick with it. Kinda like industrial songs (you know, all chorus and no verse) done in a punk milieu. Well, sometimes there's a verse, but there doesn't have to be one. And if there is one, it generally gets repeated.

I'm making this sound bad or simplistic, and that's not what I'm saying. These folks have the good sense to find what works and keep kicking until the song is done. A concept I wholeheartedly endorse. Cut all the fat and keep the meat.

And there's a lot of meat. The lyrics are generally humorous, sometimes thoughtful, sometimes goofy (I'm backhanding again, I know), and the songs simply work together indescribably well. Sometimes the simple ideas do work best, after all. Really.

I was jumping around all over the room the first time I heard this, skipping the record a couple times (I have a cheap turntable). That's how much I liked it. Just so you don't get the idea I hated it.

Once again, West (who also sings for Artension) has surrounded himself with some of the top Shrapnel session sorts (including Scott Stine on guitar) and cranked out a load of power metal tunes which bring back memories of Deep Purple and Uriah Heep.

Without the keyboards, I guess. This is a guitar and vocal album, and I have to say that the music arrangements compliment West much more than on his last album. There's still a few strange asides (this stuff works best when presented balls out, without the arty touches), but West sure knows how to belt these songs out.

And it's not like they're particularly good. Not bad, actually, but not the sort of fare to inspire legions of fans. The musical ability is much higher, perhaps, but the human factor in the songs does seem somewhat diminished.

Which is not to say I didn't enjoy myself. Of course I did. This music falls nicely into my comfortable cheese range. Stuff I like, regardless of the merit. And there's plenty of merit here. Not as much as you might hope for, but enough to put a smile on my face.

Making money as a band is a bitch. If you want steady money, the easiest thing to do is play covers and drop in a few of your own pieces, selling discs on the side. Maybe not a path to fame, but at least a (reasonably) steady paycheck.

The Dave Williams Project is one of these bands. I got a repertoire, and it's heavy on the 70s AOR sound and power ballads. All of the songs on this disc fit into the "hair band trying to sound sensitive" vein, first in a "regular mode" and then in "light acoustic mixes" (which, honestly, aren't far removed from the other versions).

The sort of songs which used to be some of my favorites. But I'm going into my adolescent Bon Jovi fixation here. What I can say is that Williams has a hell of a voice, and his songs are pretty good. At least as good as the stuff that put such bands as Warrant and Firehouse on the map.

For what the band is playing, this is good stuff. That said, there isn't much commercial call these days for the hair band ballad. I'm fairly sure there are plenty of good reasons for that. I just don't know where these songs might go.

Rather underproduced punk stuff, though there are some odd acoustic moments. When the tempo picks up, the producer obviously tried to replicate the monster L7 sound (the singer and most of the band members are female), but everything sounds so thin there's no chance.

The songs themselves are fairly derivative and not particularly interesting. If there was some spark of life, even a more passionate and sloppy approach (a la the Smears or something), that might get me going. But this is so obviously a retread operation, I'm just stumped.

Find a new sound, and maybe sing and play like you mean it. That's the only advice I can give. I'm just kinda stumped.

From the label that brought you the Cretins. Three (young) guys from the mean streets of Omaha (a city which has a much better music scene than it deserves). Influences include the Ramones, the Beach Boys, MTX and a lot of stuff in between. Tuneful punk pop, with full belt on the vocals.

Sharply produced, a great sound. Reminds me in spots of the Queers album Don't Back Down, which still stands as a real milestone. The Young Hasselhoffs know how to mix earnest adolescent yearnings with just the right amount of perspective.

So, yes, the songs are not only crunchy, but nicely written as well. Happy happy joy joy, with the odd broken heart thrown in to keep a fair balance. Quite impressive, to be sure.

I'm just knocked out. This album has all the hallmarks of a winner. Great songs, cool sound and simple, down-to-earth back beats. Very much the happenin' summer disc.