It's every broken up band's dream to get a record contract even if it's a couple years too late. I'm still hanging on the belief that Lies Magazine will someday be edited into a massive and amazing book form. Maybe that's why this CD grew on me so quickly. Or maybe I just like ska bands. Or maybe I like that the singer is a female. Or maybe it's a combination of all three.

The group switches between slow sweetly sung hazy ska ballads and angry, up tempo, up beat, frustrated ska bops. They even have a couple flute solos every now and then. All the songs are simple and basic, but since when was ska supposed to be complicated?

If you want a little underground New York ska from a few years ago, dig around for this one. Just because a band doesn't make it past the underground scene doesn't mean you should ignore them.

-- Aaron Worley

This is drifty electro music. This was the real therapy during my three days of rest and phlegm. I played this three times (and it's really long, so three times is quite a while) and the phlegm settled down enough so when I talked I didn't get that gargle-ly vibratto to my speech.

There is a picture of a man sleeping on the cover with the phrase "A useful posture to adopt" underneath on the cover. I think this says it all. No way this will in anyway motivate you to do anything other than lie down, stare at the ceiling (or stars if you have holes in the ceiling) and contemplate not moving for say, 80 minutes or so. Divine.

-- Matt Worley

Gently loping pieces, punctuated by lengthy guitar licks and a vaguely middle-eastern lilt. There are elements of prog rock construction, but mostly this is somewhat grainy classic rock riffage. When there are vocals (and that's not too often), the music sits back for a while. And that's too bad.

Cause the best part is the way the mostly electronic percussion mixes with the winding lead guitar. The instrumentals are fairly good, if somewhat derivative (I can hear some serious LedZep cribbing from time to time). Enjoyable, in any case.

Another knock on the vocals is that the production is a bit too thin. That light approach works fine with the instrumentals, where there's not much competition. But when the singing starts, it just completely overwhelms everything else. And honestly, it's not all that great.

There are plenty of cool moments, and as long as the vocals don't come in, I like the shimmery, thin sound. I think the band might want to work a little harder at crafting its own sound, but the playing is just fine.

Keeping the emo banner held high, Deep Elm kicks out another great band. The songs are brooding and bruising, which basically fits the genre. Appleseed Cast's addition to the genre is a devotion to dirty grooves. This is not merely emotive noise. Moving the sound a notch closer to its genesis (Jawbox, Treepeople, this has been explained before), the band turns emo into a definite pop sound.

Oh, some folks had threatened, but in the end the strident guitar lines and tone-deaf singing styles kept the songs from attaining any sort of pop bliss. Appleseed Cast, while refusing to bow to the tyranny of compatible chords, still manages to whack out a number of great pop songs.

If you remember a band called Ff, you might get the idea. Ff wandered around a lot more, but the raucous and excessive noise painted over pop structures made for a glorious sound. Appleseed Cast is driving through the same neighborhood. It's emo, sure, but it's a lot more than that.

Simply some really great stuff. Some bands just know how to make great music, regardless of what idiots like me will call it. This disc is proof.

Those who doubt Chapel Hill's place in the "great scenes in history" would do well to notice that in the 1990s, Superchunk, Polvo and Archers of Loaf all climbed up from the tarheel slime and established themselves as three of the greatest bands of all time.

I'm not kidding, either. The first time I heard the Archers was on a split double 7" with Treepeople. Each band did an original song and then covered one of the other band's songs. Treepeople is one of my favorite bands of all time, but Archers of Loaf's take on "Funnelhead" simply blew me away. I've been a devotee even since.

Simply put, Archers of Loaf continuously redefines what it mans to be a pop band. From song to song, mind you. The most amazing thing is that while few songs sound alike, an Archers of Loaf song is instantly recognizable. The connection is with the subconscious, a recognition of greatness and creative outgassing which is only attainable by the very best. And, well, that's exactly what I'm talking about here.

So, Jon, is the new album any good? I guess I should address that. Yes. The band is as adventurous as ever, and whoever handled the booth did a great job in capturing the loose, somewhat ragged feel I have come to know and love. Alright, so these guys are big enough that even Spin and Rolling Stone feel the need to toss off a review. Did I mention that Archers of Loaf easily qualify as one of the 10 best bands of the decade? If you're not hooked up yet, find a needle fast.

Five peppy pop songs, with a vague ska feel at times. Just a strange skank beat from time to time. Yeah, I don't know, either.

Anyway, the cheesily heart-wrenching lyrics are lots of fun. The sort of stuff that Green Day used to write before the band got all serious. And while this isn't anywhere related to punk, it's a reference I like.

In fact, the rather restrained production and simply songwriting makes the goofy lyrics sound that much more sincere. Hey, these songs are effervescent, but they're fun while they last.

Easy to like, easy to forget. Just bubbles away. Still, some cool jangles.

A member of Cecil McBee's ensemble (among other things), David Berkman's debut shows off his range as a leader as much as his skill on the piano. As the band isn't one which plays together on any sort of regular basis, Berkman had to familiarize the players with his compositions and organize the arrangements in a short period of time. This entire album, in fact, was recorded on one day.

That unfamiliarity may have been a virtue in spots, leading to some vibrant moments where it sounds like the players are working out both competitive and collaborative urges. The skillful balance between the two has to be accomplished by the leader and arranger, and Berkman does a great job.

All this lauding of management skills overlooks the fact that Berkman has a great touch on the piano. He's able to wander around in the background for a while before, almost without warning, striking out to the forefront, demanding and receiving recognition.

A wonderfully conceived and performed disc. Berkman's pieces have a simple sort of elegance. Even as the individuals in the band occasionally wander off, the vision of the whole is never lost. A fitting description of both his playing and his leadership.

Having somehow managed to never hear this band before (I'm thinking it might have something to do with a certain postal service employee who has ripped off about 20 packages from me in the past year), I'm left with the impression that this is one of those "just-strange-enough-to-be-hip" outfits.

Because as we all know, Blonde Redhead is one of them "buzz bands". The sort of band that is a litmus test amongst certain folk. Now, that doesn't mean the band sucks, because it doesn't, but I get the feeling there's something going on behind the scenes and that someone just might be laughing at the whole spectacle.

The sound is highly calculated, with precise rhythms and intricately written guitar parts. Even the seemingly wailed (or spoken or squeaked or whatever) vocals sound like they've been sampled and run through a sequencer. Not in a physical sense, but they're delivered with such deliberation that they sound like an emotive machine.

That's it exactly. Blonde Redhead sounds like an emotive machine. One that may be programmed by exceptionally creative people, but stuff that is mechanically-generated nonetheless. The songs are growing on me, slowly, but I don't think I'm ever going to go full godhead with the band. Personally, I'd rather full flow the dissonance and quit mucking about with semi-melodic fare. But that's just me.

Techno rock and roll dance music to the rescue. A D.J., a sampler, a rapper and a dream. I can't wait until we all walk around with our personal soundtracks booming in our head and all we have to do to get everyone to hear our inner sonic vision is to put both hands on random people's heads and let the booming flow.

But until then we get to do the new jerk to this pelvic thumping rhythmic soup of everything synthetic. It's good. It's like soup. It's like nothing bad, let me tell you that much. Anthems for a new age of anthem-less youth. My question is this: are we supposed to dance or jump or bump or what?

I think I need the steps. I need the diagrams. And I certainly need the speed. Boom, boom, boom, let's go back to my room and we'll run around with the speed of the ceiling fan until we fall down in orgasmic goo.

-- Matt Worley

I'm not sure if this music is meant for five year olds or if it's supposed to sound like music played for five year olds but really meant for twenty-five year olds that want to think they're still five.

And maybe this is the quintessential question. Do we listen to music escape the past or escape to the past. Maybe it's a question of when we listen to it. This reminds me of Disney records on acid -- but not a bad trip. No no no.

This is the trip where the clouds are your friends and a 7-11 is like entering a multi-colored syrupy wonderland. Yes, take me back. Oh yeah, it sounds like it was made on one of those cheap Casios with Japanese vocals in English. Hence the slushy feeling.

-- Matt Worley

The interplay between Stuart Hamm (bass) and Steve Smith (drums) is impressive. Frank Gambale has an adventurous sense to his guitar playing, but there are times when he doesn't quite compliment his rhythm section properly.

And that's really the story here. Hamm and Smith have an uncanny knack for creating some wild rhythm combinations, and Gambale often tries to counter that with unusual sounds. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. What Gambale doesn't have is the soulful connection to the beat work, and his playing often sounds like it was just laid on top.

There are times, though, when it all comes together. Usually a small snippet of a whole song, a point where the playing is fast and detailed. Gambale is able to infuse his speed runs with some feeling, and that's just enough to tie it all together. For a few seconds.

A good prog-fusion trio set, but one that really didn't quite come together all the way. A lot of nice playing, but I wanted more.

A lot of bloody racket, this is. The songs often start out nice and sweet, but fuck that, man, they degenerate into a pit of swirling guitars and rude hollering. Unless, of course, they don't. Fascinatingly, Gift to the Greedy has a number of things in common with Archers of Loaf. Both bands try real hard to warp the whole pop genre. Both succeed, though Archers of Loaf succeeds a lot better.

An unfair comparison to be sure. But Gift to the Greedy is an ambitious band. The songs are complicated morasses where riffage and sanity simply cease to be for moments at a time. Oh, sure, that's exactly the sort of thing I dig.

And I do like what I hear. The band needs to work its songs a bit more. Find a proper groove without losing that trailblazer spirit. Less of the jumping around and a spot more cohesiveness would work wonders. This isn't selling out, it's simply taking credit for your own personal thought. Right now, these songs often sound like random assortments of chord sets.

I know, I'm always telling young bands to work. As a young writer, I hear that advice myself. I believe it, too. Gift to the Greedy has the ability of the second sight. It just needs to harness that prescience into a more reasonable sound.

There's this song on the radio. I don't know what it's called, I don't know who it's by, but there's a line that goes, "I'm not sick, but I'm not well." And I can't get the fucking song out of my head.

I keep telling myself to put in a tape or change the station or something, but something has it's hooks in me and I can't move. I can't do anything except listen to this fucking song. And then I'm at work and the fucking song will not leave my head. I beg my co-workers to rasp nostalgiac about those stupid 70s bands they love so much --just so I can get this fucking song out of my head.

But to no avail. No mention of America can get this goddamn piece of radio candy out of my addled brain. And then I get the fucking CD in the mail. Christ.

-- Matt Worley

Also included with your CD is a 10-minute movie and other fun computer weirdness. The music itself is kinda non-descript, a bland version of Alice Donut (okay, so maybe it does have some character). There's a one-minute regular version of the song, a six-minute remix and two versions of the soundtrack to the 10-minute movie.

Of course, my refusal to upgrade my system means I can't see the included movie. From what the enclosed press clipping say, that's the interesting part of the package. And I can't see it.

Whatever. The tunage is fair to middling, and I can't really judge the visual part except by the soundtrack. Sounds amusing, an Atlanta version of Slacker or something. Something I can't see. Maybe I should put out for System 8 or something.

This band fits nicely into the alternative genre. Basic chord progressions, slightly slap funky, one line choruses, and being silly about all of it. I will say these guys do a lot with a little. The lyrics are poignant especially to the youth. Ah, the youth! Because the licks are simple, they have to be catchy and my head bounces back and forth occasionally with under appreciated teenage girl flair.

It's basically like a lot of major label releases. If you listen to it enough times, they will ingrain themselves in your head, and you will be able to amaze your friends with the ability to predict what groove and line is coming up next.

If you want some basic doo-dah alternative music, you could do a lot worse than this. Good for radio listeners when they're tired of listening to the radio. That's all I have to say. Is that enough?

-- Aaron Worley

The kind folks at Alias refer to Knapsack as an emo band, and I guess it's just my own perception that's all askew. I mean, Appleseed Cast sounds positively strident compared to Knapsack. This is pop music, pure and simple. sure, I can hear some of the emo-style guitar lines, but that's about it.

I really shouldn't get all tied up in terminology. What we have here is a fine pop album, one that stands next to the Archers of Loaf album fairly well. Knapsack has a nice, anthemic way of kicking out the hooks, all the while keeping the tempo up and moving.

And clever, clever lyrics, with the best lines properly placed for maximum impact. Hey, there may be some basic structural ideas here, but Knapsack makes them work. And that's pretty much the key.

An album which simply keeps moving until it's done. Great hooks, great riffage. Emo? Probably not, though I'll admit the genre is so rapidly evolving that perhaps the Kiss album will fall into the genre. Okay, maybe not.

P.W. Long is back, purveying his singularly distinctive brand of disjointed boogie tunes. Riffs that can't possibly groove, and yet, through some kind of herky-jerky blues voodoo, they do. and, of course, Long's voice is one of those instruments which sounds cool, if not particularly good.

Which is to say there's no good reason why the guy's output (in Mule, Wig or with Reelfoot) has been so damned fine. The styles are similar (you could easily compare this album to the Mule works), and yet each time out Long has mutated just enough. Enough of some new inspiration to keep his music fresh and vital.

I'm not too sure the vitality will ever drain out of Long. He's got such an unusual feel for music, I doubt his stuff will ever get dull. Weirder? Aw, sure, but never insipid. And as long as the slide guitar wails and his voice howls, I'll be listening.

Like an apocalyptic preacher, Long kicks out some inspirational fare. And with Mac McNeilly, Dan Maister and Mark Boyce comprising Reelfoot this time out, you know the bases are covered. A thoroughly inspired trip through freedom rock's back roads.

Go electronic everyone! Lots of drum loops and samples all over the tracks, but a solid job of arrangement and energy. It's a good record to sink into yourself. Like the title suggests, many references to going so far that you can never come back.

Good for setting trippy mood music or lying flat on your back staring straight up wondering what exactly is between the ceiling and the roof, what's between the skull and the brain, what's between the ego and superego, and what's between life and death.

Pretty good ebb and flow throughout. It's a good record to put on if you don't want to focus on the music. It's just a tool for the journey. A journey to where? I guess that's up to you.

-- Aaron Worley

Three folks, each of whom writes songs and sings (and plays guitar) on those songs. I'm not sure how that works out live (all that bass and guitar switching would be difficult, and that's not even getting into the problems of jumping around the rum kit). Still, the sort of thing I don't need to worry about.

What's stranger is that each member writes completely different sorts of songs. Tamra Spivey pens balls-out hardcore screechers, which suits her untrained (and not particularly tuneful) voice very well. Ronnie Hogart is the most contemplative, with occasional languid spots. Drummer Erin McCarley is probably the most pop-centric of the writers, but she's only got three songs and maybe I'm not getting the whole picture.

Lucid Nation is a garage band with plenty of ambition but not quite enough skill to pull off its ideas. The playing can be really bad, even though the songs themselves are fairly well-written. In particular, the lyrics are affecting, even if the music accompanying them doesn't quite match up.

Just a start. This is a young band with lots of good ideas. If the members don't lose their solid instincts as they learn how to play better, Lucid Nation has a real future.

I'm sure in the future there will be an entire nation of jaded kids who used to jump up and down, dress in suits and pork pie hats and have tattoos that sport the phrase "Skanking Bastard." This nation will be dubbed "Old Skanker Land."

And it will probably be somewhere in the flat grasslands of the midwest. No one will be jumping around anymore. No one will be wearing their suits or pork pie hats anymore. And that tattoo? What are you kidding? That's why we developed laser technology, right?

Anyway, apropos to everything I've said so far, the Mad Caddies have got some nice tight ska here. It's not terribly distinctive from anything else on the market (but they've got a really cool cover -- WWII themed), but it doesn't suck. And they're financed by Fat Mike, so what else do you want? Yeah, I don't know either. I guess I'll just keep jumping up and down for now until something else cool comes along.

-- Matt Worley

Two young women with guitars and sweet voices. Insidiously poppy, but hard to resist. I had to listen to this one twice before I could go on to the next disk. Which was okay, because it's kind of short.

But here's 11 tracks of pure candy sweetness. You think Natalie Imbruglia is poppy -- wait till you hear this. And these two must have some kind of agenda or something because they're produced (well, half the songs) by k.d. lang. So I'm sure there is some irony or something going on here.

But I've always dug this kind of thing. Streetwise chicks singing sweet songs of depression and redemption (or whatever the hell they're talking about) to me in their oh so nice voices. Like canaries in a candy bowl.

Do I play this for my girlfriend in an act of empathy, or is this just one of those things I should hide under my mattress? So hard to tell these days. But then again, I've always been attracted to lesbians.

-- Matt Worley

A New Zealand band which moved to Australia to broaden its horizons. But before you start getting all Chilly in your expectations, you might like to know that Nadir is a post-grunge outfit. Meaning that the songs have a definite grunge feel, but since grunge is dead it has to have some kind of new name.

And the guys do it well enough. There are innovative uses of instrumentation, which may or may not have something to do with primitive studio conditions. In any case, the sound isn't overblown, and there are plenty of cool bits sprinkled on top.

One of the few things I liked about grunge was the resurgence of Black Sabbath as a major influence on music. At times, Nadir likes to throw powerful riffs and tight rhythms together, just to see what happens. And so after a couple minutes of stuff I'm not so hot on, there's usually a cool bridge. Something redeeming, in any case.

I'm not a big fan of the sound, but Nadir is doing it as well as anyone these days. Good enough to make the big time? Probably not in the states. But that shouldn't stop the guys. Artistic satisfaction can be cool, too.

As anyone who listens to the vast array of "electronica" knows, there ain't one sound that defines the entire genre. Actually, there are genres inside genres inside genres, which seems to be the whole point.

Natural Calamity is one of the drifty, but poppy, creations inside this electro soundscape. They've got nice, light vocals going over drifty guitars and pops and bubbles and bounces. This was one of those albums that helped me get over a terrible sickness (okay, the flu) last week. So, for that I'm eternally grateful.

With a remix by the Dust Brothers (they own the damn label), and guest vocals by Kool Keith (Dr. Octagon, etc.) on another track, this one's got the treats. And a few tricks as well. Maybe a little bit on the mellow side sometimes, but haven't you ever been mellow? Ahh, Olivia.

-- Matt Worley

Another band wallowing in the metal-rap-funk-hardcore pit. But in a fresh and surprising gesture, Psycore pays a lot more attention to what is being said than on simply blasting out eardrums with dreadful sing-song choruses. In fact, the sharp spoken delivery (kinda rap-talking, sort of an Urban Dance Squad thing) works well with the rapidly mutating sounds the band employs to craft its total sound. Well, there's plenty of hollering, too. Diversity is big with the band.

Sometimes the music is in the forefront, and sometimes it's mixed so low it almost sounds like an afterthought. Sometimes the guitars rule, sometimes the bass. The percussion is never far from the core of the sound. That focus on rhythm is what sells this album for me.

There's always something cool rounding the corner. Perhaps a bit too complex for mass acceptance, but I doubt it. There's enough aggro here to assuage the blood of the young, and enough contemplation to satisfy the philosophically needy. Something for everyone without pandering. A pretty cool accomplishment.

The 'tina girls' debut was a swirling mass of strings and spooky vocals. This time they crank it up a notch -- a la rock and roll style. Still three cellos and three voices, but with the added production and percussion of Chris Vrenna (ex-Nine Inch Nails & alleged current G N' R skin pounder), it's like these girls have come to take over (old school) Godzilla style.

It sounds like it could be rock. They've certainly got the effects hooked up to their strings. Maybe it is rock, but with a twist -- the twist being the rising and falling voices of sisters in strings three. With funny, wacky lyrics about -- damn I don't know what they hell they're talking about, but it sounds cool. And the way their vibrato wa wa wa's at the end of phrases -- ooh. Just give me a little more girls, I'm almost there.

-- Matt Worley

The title kinda sez it all. Three songs, all following a similar line. Kind of a mid-seventies Stones groove, with lots more distortion. Rambling and crashing, but with that inevitable sort of greatness present. Hard to describe, but easy to hear.

Particularly impressive is the seven-minute plus "The United States vs One 1974 Cadillac El Dorado Sedan". The thing just keeps moving on and on and on, finally crashing into the remnants of its own excess. Garishly gorgeous, undeniably brilliant.

In a way, more impressive than the recent album. I like the mood in these three songs, and the general Trux sloppiness is perfectly executed here. I mean, this is the music that killed rock and roll. Where else to go from here but punk and disco?

A nice three-piece with an astonishingly tinny drum sound. The stuff sounds artificial, except that sometimes the beat doesn't hold. Not many folks would take the time to program inconsistencies, y'know? So I'm guess it has something to do with weird microphones.

As for the songs, this is basic back-beat college rock, the sort of thing I heard when I was in college 10 years ago. Eleventh Dream Day, that type of outfit. Silent Radio doesn't quite have its songwriting chops worked out right (picking the most obvious instrumental break is a telltale sign), and the recording in general leaves the sound very thin.

Still, there's a great deal of enthusiasm. These songs have to sound better live. Silent Radio has to sound better live. I can hear bits and pieces of something good.

This is an EP. The first 20 minutes are regular rock stuff, and the second 20 are a general mess of goofiness and stuff that just might come back to haunt the band. Like the Cretins always say, too much Budweiser.

Like the Truxters, three songs. And in another bit of resemblance, Six by Seven relies on some severe self-indulgence to craft its somewhat derivative sound.

My Bloody Valentine, dead up. Ultra-processed sound, lots of echo and reverb and long songs which seem to wander off into nowhere. Well, except for the third one, which is more conventional in every way.

Pretty cool, though. We haven't had a nice psychedelic revival in at least five years, so the trend is something that's overdue. There's not enough here for me to make a real judgement about the band, but I like what I hear. I'd like to hear some more. That's enough for now.

Spool is Jhno and John Ridenhour, with some friends popping by now and again. What this means is long explorations of time, space and the mind.

Ambient in all the important ways. Trips through rhythms, found sound samples and a slowly pulsating universe. A consciousness that is very much alive and inviting. A nice warm place for contemplation and rejuvenation.

Spool never repeats itself, but simply slowly evolves into a variety of soundscapes. Nothing too harsh, nothing at all that is dull. Just an evenly maintained ride, with lots of side shows.

Exciting? Well, not in a blood rushing to the head sorta way. But in an intellectually stimulation fashion, sure. This is music which encourages the listener to find a new way of thinking. Nothing forced, just an easy path to the subconscious mind.

Okay, so they aren't forging any new ground here, but who the hell is these days? And it isn't that rock band masquerading as a swing band, which seems to be the new "underground" sound coming out of everyone's garages. Nope, they play straight forward dance jazz. The kind of stuff illegal drunks sloshed to in the twenties.

Unabashedly clean and meticulous, these guys have an ease about them--as if this huge ensemble work ain't that hard. Well, this is a really nice album. Lots of fun. Nothing as funny as "Hell," their breakthrough (and probably only) single, but in the same vein. Nice, clean, and suitable to play for your girlfriend's mama. Not to mention your own.

-- Matt Worley

Two more songs from this band, whose album impressed me so much last year. Disjointed, punchy pop songs, full of complex guitar lines and more depth than the average rock band.

Depth in the lyric position, that is. But for all the agonized riffage (the chords sound like they'll split apart at any moment), this is some seriously accessible music. Not in an overly commercial way, but just good stuff that goes down easy after biting the back of the throat.

Always in motion. That's what I like about this band. Even in languid moments, Sunday Puncher is whirling about. I can't wait for the next album.

Polka Punk? Maybe it's just that they use an accordion on a few tracks. Still, I like what these guys have to offer. The lead singer, Johnny Bonnel, does a good Social Distortion impression, although it's more laid back. The guitar sings its little solos, and the rhythm section definitely has that polka feel. Now I'm back to the question at the beginning of the paragraph.

I won't lie to you. It took me a few listens to catch their wave length, but at least I kept thinking their was a reason to go back to it. It's pretty laid back as far as punk goes which is what probably threw me into a state of confusion. Relaxing punk? Soothing punk? I know. It's sounds kind of strange and mutated.

They use a lot of beats and rhythms you've heard before, but they play them in a nifty way. The lyrics are catchy, and the head starts bouncing soon after figuring them out. If you're looking for kick back punk, give them a shot. Maybe a double if you have the tolerance.

-- Aaron Worley

Electronic pieces that play with sounds from the edge of melodic comprehension. Lots of distorted bass grooves and heavily manipulated beat noises. Slow grooves, not much in the way of booty shaking material.

Impressive all the more so because of that, really. This is highly conceptual fare, music deeply steeped in undercurrent and heavy thought. The use of stark melodies (and naked vocals, when there are vocals) adds the finishing touches to the bleak atmosphere.

One of the few notations in the liners is the question "What is a Christian sex loop?" Other than a nicely facetious title, I have no idea myself. Doesn't really matter. The music more than explains itself on its own terms.

Despite the aggressively excessive sounds used to create much of the music, this is a very accessible album. Thine Eyes has used the tools of the edge to craft a forward-looking disc which still has one foot in the present. One of the most creative electronic albums I've heard this year.

This is ska. Just wanted to warn you. This is not the second album from 22 Jacks. This is kinda like those U2 albums between the real albums (y'know, Zooropa, Rattle & Hum).

It's got some live tracks, some covers, some other stuff. "Message In A Bottle" by the Police. "3 A.M." which they claim as "stolen" by Clowns For Progress. "I'll Be With You Tonight" by Cheap Trick. "Tracks Of My Tears" by Smoky Robinson. And some of their own stuff. Like I said, this is ska.

And this is of the rock ska variety. Some people think this stuff is played out. And maybe it is. But I kept buying glam rock records long after the bands knew what reality was, so why they hell can't you buy another ska record? What are you? Some kind of hipster swing guy now?

-- Matt Worley

So I'm sitting here listening to these thick guitar rock tunes and wondering "How the hell do these songs last for five to ten minutes?" That's what I get for sneaking a look at the track times, I guess.

The main answer would seem to be that these folks follow the Neil Young approach to writing songs. Because the solos don't sound overly long, and there's always a chorus, verse or bridge right around the corner. It's just that sometimes the corner is further away than I thought.

And apart from structure, the Users don't sound much like Neil Young. More like the Doors playing Deep Purple. Of course, that would also explain the length of the songs. In any case, there's very much that seventies excess trying to get back to the sixties vibe going on. And I can't say I don't like it.

Because I do. For no particular good reason, really, but when I throw the songs against the wall, they stick. It's as good a test as any, you know.

A couple of the fine folks from Pineal Ventana put this compilation together. Seventeen of the 26 bands hail from Atlanta or Athens (Ga.), with the rest coming from places east of the Mississippi.

If you know Pineal Ventana, then you might know what to expect here. Plenty of rather unusual (most would use the phrase "fucking weird") music (again, some might disagree with the term "music"). Heinous Bienfang (reviewed earlier in the issue) is here, as is Pineal Ventana, Go Is My Co-Pilot (see?), William Carlos Williams (also reviewed in this issue), Tweezer and one of my favorites, Morsel (from Michigan).

Pretty much indescribable as a whole, but if you're a Skin Graft fan, or otherwise someone who digs the whole noise pop movement (emphasis on noise, probably), well, there's a trove of treasure on this disc.

It may be fucking weird, but others might use the word "brilliant".

Easy-moving jangle rock, mastered a bit low (I had to really crank the sound). Still, that's not a big problem. I could hear the songs just fine.

I've always wondered how to take sarcastic lyrics tossed off over shiny happy pop music. You know, an anthem that undercuts itself. Though I can't tell if that's an intended effect or not.

The music is straight out of the book, decent if uninspired hooks and plenty of backbeat kickers. While I think the lyrics are pretty cool, they don't fit very well with the music. Or maybe the combination doesn't work well for me.

Well, I know that's true. It's a weird dichotomy. If a cliche is used in the lyrics, it is obviously intended to be ironic. But the music is riddled with cliches, with no irony present. Perhaps it's a case of different stages of development. I dunno.

The inside liner notes say this about their drummer -- "He plays drums very loudly. Whether he knows it or not, he triggers the overall volume of the band to play loud in order to obtain a balanced audio dynamic." Which is funny because this was my only problem with this group.

I thought the songs were fantastic, a very cool psychedelic pop, but with the drummers aggressiveness destroyed that mood completely. It's like trying to fit Andy Warhol with Picasso, it just doesn't work. Overall, the playing between the players just didn't fit their own glove.

--Brian Chavez

Punk anthems throughout this CD. Sick of jobs, nothing to believe in, nothing left to say. A lot of people compare these guys to Face to Face which seems about right. The guitar grooves also give a nod to Pennywise. All in all, a pretty solid punk band. Does it stand out? Not quite, but if you're looking for someone else to support your punk theories and attitude, Welt will do just fine.

The new album was produced by Bill Stevenson and Stephen Egerton (Descendants and All), so it's pretty clean and clear for everyone to hear. Angry pop punk. That's definitely better than happy thrasher punk. Feel free to add this one to your punk collection. It'll fit quite nicely between Voodoo Glow Skulls and X. Or is it not punky to alphabetize?

-- Aaron Worley

Not the poet, but a band which likes the poet. And makes music that is certainly poetic. A kind of free jazz-noise rock fusion. Like if Charles Gayle got together with K.K. Null, just to see what happened.

Since this is the second disc I've heard from this band, I can tell you that the effect is intentional, and it's stunning. Music that not only avoids convention, it shreds any notion of stability.

There are, of course, limitations to "unlimited" music, but William Carlos Williams manages to swim its way past most of the obstacles. While certain squeals and squelches are probably spur-of-the-moment, most of these songs could be replicated in a reasonable fashion.

And so while carving out new realms of sonic chaos, the band can also play live shows without simply improvising all the way home. Oh, this is wild stuff, alright, but certainly it qualifies as "real" music. Very good music.