Harking back to the old days of guitar-driven Gothic rock (rock, mind you, not pop), Bitter Grace infuses its basic Goth feel with heavy riffage. The songs are generally uptempo, and the band does remind me of a heavier Bauhaus.

And I'm guessing that's the intent. The band does slip in a few nice soundscape moments, but those are merely interludes. The meat is the songs, and those songs have a strength that isn't often heard in Gothic fare.

To put it in Bubba-speak, this ain't no candy-ass darkwave band. Bitter Grace puts its boot in your back, and I'm all for that sort of thing. The production suits this feel, presenting a sharp and somewhat graceless sound. This is music of power more than nuance, and the songs just kick out.

A nice fusion of old and, proving that history, indeed, rhymes. A very attractive disc, particularly for folks who didn't know that they liked dark music in the first place.

A group of guys who play slowly-evolving, eventually mind-scraping ramblings of the first order. Riffage of apocalyptic proportions, song construction which mutates from moment to moment. The sort of disc to get completely lost within.

Oh, yeah, it's that good. Okay, so I'm sucker for bands who hail from places where I used to live (a list which just keeps growing; I lived in Lawrence, Kan., from 1976-1979). Actually, despite having a degree from the University of Missouri, I think the U. of Kansas scene in Lawrence is pretty great. The Regrets (ex-Vitreous Humor), Season to Risk (now hailing from K.C.) Boys Life (R.I.P., I understand) and many more. This is a fertile, reasonably diverse scene.

And this disc shows off a wide array of influences and interests. Kinda like wandering from the Doors to the Cure to Black Sabbath to Neil Young. But the sound isn't retroid; it's of the day, right now. Always on the groove, always trying to escape the groove.

I could say something like "oof". "Wowsers" is another little silly phrase I trot out from time to time. Not completely appropriate in this setting. Wildly amazing might be more like it. Most definitely worth anyone's time also works.

I'll just start by saying this really isn't my sound. Call it Dead Again or simply the Blues Traveler syndrome (which overlooks an awful lot of successful bands which also traffic in this stuff), it's not my gig. I don't particularly like it.

Still, that said, I've now heard a couple albums from this band. And this disc is a step ahead of the last one. The songs are somewhat tighter, and in general the sound is light enough to communicate the easy feel of the music.

I must say that the harp work is a bit derivative, but in general the band has done a good job of carving out a decent personal sound. The tunes are more introspective, lying somewhere between Temple of the Dog and the jam band sound. More interesting to me than I figured they would be.

No, I wouldn't search it out. But like I said before, I'd pick Blue Yard Garden before Phish or any of the other more popular practitioners of this subgenre. This is a solid album from a band that just gets better.

Back in the late '60s, Buddy Guy was told he couldn't use more distortion in his recordings because "that's not the blues". Then Hendrix came along and the rules changed. I can guarantee that the same folks who held Guy back wouldn't be too happy with R.L. Burnside. Of course, Burnside has walked the other road a few times before. Witness his collaboration with the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Critics whine. Life goes on.

Tim Rothrock, who has worked with a wide range of folks (including Beck), remixes a number of Burnside tunes, and the remixes (there is also one from Alec Empire of Atari Teenage Riot) sit alongside more traditional, some might say regular, tracks.

The general effect is stunning. Rothrock knows how to keep the groove in place while dissecting much of the rest of the music. Burnside's guitar and howl are everpresent, even if somewhat jumbled into the mix. A completely addictive concoction.

In case you're got any questions, skip to "It's Bad You Know" a harp-driven wailer draped over a delectable groove. That pretty much should prove just how amazing this particular shade of the blues is. Oh me, oh my, indeed.

I always thought Camper Van was a bit over-pretentious. Remember, I'm the idiot who thinks U2 is the most overhyped band on the planet. Anyways, I've found most Cracker to be either excessively pandering or, once again, pretentious. To my ear, the music never quite settled into a cool fall.

To be honest, I haven't paid a hell of a lot of attention to the band. I can't tell you how this album compares to any previous ones. What I can say is that somewhere the guys discovered Tom Petty. Of course, that might have something to do with band members Bob Rupe and Kenny Margolis (once of the Silos, a great Florida band) and the presence of Benmont Tench and Mike Campbell (the hear of the Heartbreakers) on this particular album

The songs here (and there's a lot of them) roll along nicely. And while there is the usual biting humor, the jokes rarely get run into the ground (a definite improvement). A low-key set, to be sure, and honestly, easily the best I've heard from the band. They have found a fine groove.

I really didn't think I would like this at all. But the arrogant overtones have been rechanneled, and the result is a really great album. One which is will be recalled often as the river rolls along.

Just as messy as the stuff on last year's Lookout album. The Criminals dig old-style (early 70s) punk music as practiced by Iggy and the New York Dolls. Down and dirty fare, with barely a nod to redeeming social values.

And they don't bother to really do much in the way of production. Oh, it's pretty easy to hear all of the important parts, but this isn't someone's final project for tech school, if you know what I mean. The music is mean, and the mix is as well.

There's a good number of people that might call this "real" punk music. I like more inclusive language, myself, but I think you can understand what I'm talking about here. And yes, it sounds great when turned up to eleven.

Pretty much a one-man project (with some writing help here and there). Where Bitter Grace is a kick-ass Goth band, Lucien Desar is on the ethereal side of the tracks. And he does that just as well.

The lyrics cover the usual creepy death and suffering-obsessed subjects, but what I dig is the underlying music. Desar utilizes a number of unusual percussive sounds for his beats, and while most of the orchestration is keyboarded one way or another, he still manages to create a nicely haunting sound.

There's a lot here to like, in terms of quantity. The notes say that Desar has been working on this for about seven years. Somewhat obsessive attention to detail serves the songs and the sound well. A well-crafted set.

Yeah, it's music for the skinny folks in black who like to dance in some sort of mutilated waltz style. That said, it's great music, period. Don't judge the artist by the fans. Just dig the music.

The cynic would say that improvised solo piano work isn't much worth recording. Anyone can bash about, or something like that. Well, duh.

But Diaz-Infante does more than bash about. While the improvisational nature of the pieces is apparent, he's got a spark of creativity that merges with his knowledge of music to create some fairly impressive pieces.

If you've been to music school (or even taken a music class), you know that improvisation can be a fairly formal process. The title track of this disc is listed as a "structured improvisation", which basically means that Diaz-Infante had a few ideas on paper (or at least solidly in his head) that he played around with (in that case, played around for 22 minutes).

Not wild and crazy by any stretch of the imagination, Diaz-Infante instead taps into a more contemplative and subconscious vibe. Not new age, really, as that would require a lot more attention to commercial detail. This is simply getting inside the head of a guy by listening to what his hands do. And maybe finding something out about yourself in the bargain.

A natural move for the band. Earth Crisis always had a metal sound to the "straight-edge vegan hardcore" it plays, and that sharp edge to the guitars has been increasing over time. Why not move to a label with lots of metalcore bands (more cash and better distribution probably don't hurt either).

And unlike most bands with a doctrinaire message (Christian rock comes to mind first), Earth Crisis pays attention to the music. Yes, the lyrics are extreme, in an unusual way (how many straight-edge vegan hardcore bands have you heard?), but the band keeps everything in a proper balance. Which, by the way, is the message of veganism. At least, that's the theory as the band expresses it.

This album is much more assured and crafted than earlier ones I've reviewed (I haven't heard the last couple). More metal (certainly more anthemic in the lead guitar lines), but with an increased emphasis on the hardcore rhythms. Tight and tasty.

Oh, that was a cheap one. Sorry. Earth Crisis is one of my favorite sinful pleasures. The band just does the shit so well. One sample and you'll know what I'm talking about. Lots of bands try, but they cannot achieve the proper balance. You know, maybe there is something to the whole vegan theory, after all.

There's a quote in the enclosed press that describes Earthlings? as Roky Erickson meets Can. And, you know, I can't argue a whole lot with that. For once (well, it has happened a couple times before), the press is right.

Lots of unusual electronic trippages through the basic pop form, with some seriously spooky lyrics. Let's face it. There's a ton of pop albums wandering about today. It is the sound of the year. Not that there's a huge big monster hit to prove it, but the three-chord garage band is all the rage. Earthlings? is plying the same ground, but from a whole different perspective.

From the sky, or even outer space. A grand vision of what pop music can be. The incorporation of wonderful ideas and lots of 'em. Songs which challenge and infuriate and inspire. Music that challenges the concept of the norm.

The sort of thing one might call revolutionary. Superficially, this sounds like any number of pop bands. And then something slowly creeps in from the back. That little something overwhelms your mind in no time flat. And you realize you were looking at the whole thing from the wrong side. You're the one who's inside looking out, not the other way around.

It'll fuck you, it will.

The record label describes the band's sound very well. The band (Equator, get it?) runs heavily distorted beats and bass lines, draping truly whiny (and equally distorted) female vocals over the top. Today's music of angst and alienation.

The beats are actually a bit more accessible than most adherents to this style. In fact, I can detect some serious club potential here. Oh, it's not particularly seductive, but there is a nice subversive undercurrent.

Thoroughly enjoyable, particularly when you consider the potential of hardcore electronic music to fall into generic noise. Ec8or moves nicely between merchant of pain and purveyor of pleasure. A cool set of agro tunes.

Okay, so I don't read the little notes that come with the albums. Until, of course, I've actually heard the music. So I look at the cover and figured the Fibs were a happy pop punk band or something. Um, not quite.

I also didn't look at the band picture on the back of the disc. The Fibs are an easy-going, rootsy rock band. Enough country and blues to color the proceedings properly, tied together in a nice 4/4 package.

Smooth as 30-year-old whiskey. The songs are subtly humorous (perhaps not so subtle, how about "Pythagoras & the Beanfield" or "Bullets 'N' Beer"?), and they simply roll off one after the other. Oh, man, sometimes a band simply clicks in with my brain and turns on all the right receptors. All my pleasure centers are reeling.

Just some great kick back and smile music. Nothing too serious, nothing overblown. A big fat happy disc.

A collection of works from 1993 and 1994, some studio and some live. I've been through this little charade with the Luttenbachers a couple times before, and once again I'll say that once you've heard the band, you love it or you hate it. There is no middle ground. This is not music which inspires tedium.

No, it's alive. As alive as anything I've encountered in all my years of reviewing. Perhaps a bit more manic than other Luttenbachers fare I've heard, but then, that's definitely a subjective analysis. What this is, simply, is more stuff from one of the most inventive bands in the world. With more reed work than I've heard on other discs.

There's a rant in the liners about "effete jazz" and how the Luttenbachers aren't jazz or death metal (I can't imagine who would have described them that way, though I can think of some free jazz that bears some similarity to what can be heard here). It's, um, music, and there's not a lot more to say, other than maybe it's great music.

Tres cool. That about sums this up, I'm thinking.

Just in case you missed out on a couple of limited run EPs and didn't manage to score all the compilations the Luttenbachers ever appeared on. And in the case of the final track, a different mastering level than what appeared on the compilation. Lots of cool shit, all of it in that distinctively Flying Luttenbachers style.

Which, if you didn't read the previous review (and why the hell not?), is somewhat difficult to describe. There's an equation in the liners. Free jazz=death metal=no wave. No wave, of course, is a term familiar to fans of Skin Graft Records and the collection of craziness which surrounds that venture (the Flying Luttenbachers have played a nice part in that phenomenon).

The recording quality of some of these tracks isn't the greatest, though to be honest, I don't think that matters much at all. I mean, part of the joy of this music is the missed notes, notes which might, in another sort of review, be called blue notes. And so what if there are a few dropouts, some unintended distortional chaos? It's all part of the whole.

And what this collection represents, really, is the whole of the band from 1991 to 1995. A run of epochal proportions. Music which defies any label except "really, really, you know, really great".

In many ways, a typical self-released set of tunes. Edgy, emotionally-wrenching tunes. Chance-taking all over the place, from song construction to production style. All the things that make listening to personally-produced music so worthwhile.

French writes songs in a vaguely emo style. More like post-grunge riff work (if there are riffs, and that's not a given), somewhat anthemic choruses. The songs often come to a climax in a crash of sonic disturbance, and in that way I can really hear the emo influence.

Good stuff, and I like the way the songs are put together. Always keeping me off balance. French pulls back when I expect him to thrust, and parries when I expect him to feint. His unpredictability isn't predictable (so he's not crafting some sort of anti-style), just idiosyncratic. Again, exactly why self-released stuff is so cool.

There's real songwriting talent here. And given the primitive production facilities, the sound is great as well. French has blazed the path from his subconscious to tape, and it's a harrowing and freaky ride. I'm rather impressed.

One of the founders of Gastr del Sol (along with Jim O'Rourke) and a regular contributor to plenty of other acts, David Grubbs is rightly hailed as a musical innovator.

He's got a distinctive ear and an unusual musical mind, one which hears the connections between sounds which have seconds or even minutes separating them. Kind of like the way a chess master approaches that game. Grubbs lays out a set of sounds and musical themes, and then references either the sound or the melodic riff later on, sometimes in the same song and sometimes many songs later.

This sort of delicate craftsmanship sounds out of place when placed in the context of "regular" pop and rock music. But then, Grubbs isn't a regular guy. And this album is anything but ordinary.

One of the few albums I've heard recently that makes its greatest impact only when heard all the way through, sequentially intact. This is not an disc for the musical dilettante. It requires attention, thought and consideration. This is music for the complete person. It is music of the soul.

One of those obsessively written and performed albums that has to be called personal pop. Steve Hogarth writes spare, lilting poetry and fuses that with whatever sort of music he thinks will express it best. Lots of friends helped out with the playing, but there's no doubt whose brain was behind this.

The music has a surprising range, from minimalist pop to flat out rockers. Reminds me alternately of such folks as Mitchell Rasor or Peter Gabriel. Well, and lots of other folks along the creative edges of pop music.

A completely personal statement. Hogarth knew what he wanted to say, and he said it. Extremely well. The many moods evoked and ideas considered are a testament to the breadth of his vision. An achingly wonderful disc.

Hogarth takes chances. A lot of them. And they pay off almost every time. Sometimes utter devotion to a goal pays off. Ice Cream Genius is immeasurably great.

Grungy hardcore, you know, with those leering lead guitar riffs and crunchy rhythms. Lots of hair dance moments. But even more spots where inspiration strikes.

When Kamikaze Butterfly reverts to simple, generic fare, it's pretty forgettable. But when it kicks the tempo up just a bit and rips out a spot more of the hardcore attitude, well, the stuff clicks. Now, that's not most of album, but there are some nice moments.

In general the playing is good, and sometimes it's quite impressive. The production is solid and presents the band's sound in just they way anyone would expect. And I'm not so sure that's a good thing.

The trap of influences. Kamikaze Butterfly can't really craft its own feel and sound. Too many average riffs. Oh, this stuff is fine. Just that. Fine. Not particularly inspiring. I can't find the spark.

I found this band's first disc to be, well, mundane. Average. Predictable. The sort of thing a pop band just can't be if it wants to get somewhere. I'm happy to say I like this one a little better. Though it's still not quite to the bliss category.

In general, I think the songs need to pick up the speed just a bit more. Like 10 bpm or so. Often enough, the tunes seem to drag just a bit. Pop does not play well as a dirge. And while these songs are at least mid-tempo, some could use just a bit more oomph. That might get rid of the deliberate feel. It's not that I think the guys are working hard to play the three chords, but it sounds like that. Pop shouldn't sound like a struggle.

On the plus side, the songs do come together pretty well in most other ways. The harmonies are nice, but not sugary. The riffs don't slip into genericide, and the hooks are nice and tight. I can hear lots of improvement.

I'd kinda like to hear the band live. I have a feeling these songs come off much better on stage. which says something about the production, I guess. If it were up to me, I'd light a slow fire under the drummer's butt, just to get him a bit more active. Still, it's always good to hear a band's progression. And the Krinkles are definitely on the right road.

Just got an e-mail that said a couple members of Soul Asylum ("longtime Love Huskies fans") jammed with the Love Huskies at a recent show. Well, that sounds like some press exaggeration, but I wouldn't be too surprised. The Love Huskies have cultivated a sound that would have been big in Minneapolis in about 1987. Elements of the big three, Husker Du, Replacements and Soul Asylum, wandering through the ragged rock pieces.

You know, there are few sounds I like more. Gravelly vocals, scratchy guitars, melodies which don't quite snap together, harmonies that are hardly tight and punchy drums. A lot of bands have tried this sound, and I generally like them better than I should.

So in some attempt at objectivity, I will note that the Love Huskies repeat themselves musically with some regularity, and the lyrics tackle a wide variety of pop culture subjects with some strange results ("Then make an indie film of your life"?).

Ah, hell, who am I trying to kid. I simply ate this album up and came back for more. I'm kinda helpless in the throes of this style. It happens to everyone. I have friends who adore Alanis Morrisette. I think my addictions are much more healthy. Really, now.

Occasionally, an album released by a small label gets so much attention that the band is besieged by mega-bucks offers and promised years and years of superstardom by the men in the suits. Mineral has been living that life since the release of The Power of Falling almost three years ago.

While not stupid enough to reject the brass ring, Mineral is releasing one more album on Crank before hitting the big big time with Interscope. Personally, I wish the guys big fat wads of luck. The band is one of the premier emo act, and the extremely sparse sound is increasingly unusual in the genre. I'm not complaining one whit. No, I'm very happy to hear this puppy.

Indeed, if not for the greatness of bands like Mineral, emo would have died a quick death. Thousands of kids wouldn't have been inspired to take up guitar and sling introspective lyrics and hardcore pop song construction together in such amazing ways. And life as we know it would consist of lots of Silverchair clones. Eeew.

Oh, yeah, this album is really great. I've got to start addressing the business at hand quicker. The songs are more haunting and more accomplished than ever. The artistic, if not financial, future of Mineral sounds sound to me. Definitely one of the most important albums of the year.

Drag City is a firm believer in the audio auteur, a person who is involved in all levels of recording. Take Palace (whatever), Smog, Scott Walker, etc., and you might begin to see what I'm talking about. Liam Hayes (who is Plush) sings and plays piano or organ.

I'm guessing the songs here were recorded with few overdubs. Hayes uses his voice as an instrument (countering the piano) so well, I can't see how it could have been done otherwise. Of course, brilliance helps.

And these strange, observational songs (Hayes is much less emotive than I figured he'd be) wind into the brain slowly. The phrasing can be clunky and even messy, but Hayes knows how to get an effect. He's got that down cold.

Low-key, but hardly unassuming, Plush is just another one of the great auteur acts thrust forth by Drag City. Very personal music for aural voyeurs. Hayes sure knows how to get to people. These songs are bullets, headed right for the heart.

Live to tape in the studio. Rosetta Stone utilizes something of an analog-level goth industrial electronic sound, if that makes any sense. The "live" element gives the performances a nice cohesion, and the overall effect is to hark back somewhat to the new wave of the 1980s.

Though I wouldn't take that allusion too far. Rosetta Stone is a modern band, and this sound is certainly most impressive. The band has long been one of the better gothic songwriting groups, and that rep doesn't fall off here. Tight writing and well-practiced playing lead to a dynamic sound.

Simply horribly impressive. From the first track to the last, each song is solid and driving, and while I know I keep referring to the sound, it really is most impressive. This album just leaps from the speakers.

Um, what else can I say. I'm more than knocked out. Blown away is simply another cliche. I've already cycled through enough superlatives this issue, so simply understand that if you've got any affection for gothic rock, this is an album to seek out immediately.

It does take a while for Seam to put out a new album, so that when it finally arrives, the band has somewhat reinvented itself. The stuff is never quite what was expected.

And from the first crashing chord of "Little Chang, Big City", I knew change was afoot. These songs are raucous and loud, meant to be played at high volume. Not that the craftsmanship has declined; the riffs are meticulously played, even though the level of abandon has increased tenfold.

There are some of the more expected quiet moments, but even those have a somewhat different feel than previous Seam statements. The band hasn't grown up or regressed or anything like that. I mean, Seam has already proven its mettle. But the guys have moved on to new territory.

And I like the direction. Yeah, it's something of a lurch in the direction of the current pop wave, but in Seam fashion. All the distortion that used to quietly crackle now bursts forth in full fury. and I'm not gonna complain. I will, however, hit repeat a few times.

Cool, understated pop songs. The tunes just roll along, helped by a strange mix and some unusual sounds. Like a very round guitar sound (thick with little distortion) and almost Casio-style keyboards.

If that's a guitar and not a bass. I can't tell. I just know I like the way to music moves. It's easy. Nothing complicated or tricky, just basic tuneage. Shanks has a few interesting things to say, but he doesn't labor over points.

I don't think there's much commercial potential here. Just a little too mundane. In a good way, though. Shanks doesn't start screaming or anything like that. He speaks his mind and lets the music follow. Sounds good to me.

The band that used to be called Gomorra. And as Solar Spine, it is no closer to really determining a personal identity than before. Indeed, there are even more influences to parse.

Imagine a prog goth doom metal outfit, with lots of basic Eurometal tendencies. Like if Rush, Iron Maiden and My Dying Bride would get together and make an album.

And this set of songs sounds that way, with lots of divergent moves, many that don't lead anywhere. I'm utterly knocked out by the band's sense of adventure. But it's got to stick to one or two grooves per song. All this kitchen sink nonsense is way too tiring.

But still, I applaud the guys once again. They're trying really hard. And the more they try, the better the chance they'll really pull something off someday.

I thought I had heard something from this band in the recent past. But a check of my files turned up nothing. Doesn't matter. This music speaks very well for itself.

Well-turned emo, produced so as to leave a live-wire sound. Not sharp, but exceedingly tight and dull. Hope that makes sense. The guitar sound isn't overpowering, but the lines of attack are most impressive. Like most emo acts, Somerset works its way into the songs somewhat slowly, working up to a cascade of incoherence.

Good that I like that sort of thing. And actually, Somerset does a nice job of varying the song structure. Sometimes it never does make it over the top, keeping its impulses under restraint. After all, this is punk music where the lyrics are important. Though, as ever, I'm more impressed by the music.

Somerset has a deft touch with this fare. Perhaps not as accomplished as Mineral (and who is), but certainly very adept at the subtlety and nuance needed to craft fine emo. A band to keep an eye on.

Heavy-duty pop. Lots and lots of sugary verses punctuated by choruses which are fairly well hollered. All balanced out with a serious wall-of-sound production job.

Yes, yes, songs of love and disappointment, some genuinely affecting ("Tired of Being Alone" has a heartbreaking lyric), some simply treacly. I the guys haven't quite figured out the meaning of "too much". A hint: 12-string guitar is generally a bad idea, and the only good pop band who ever successfully pulled off power ballads is Cheap Trick.

Even with all the excess, though, there are plenty of great hooks and cheesy bounce-along songs. Alright, so the stuff can wallow in shallow sentiment from time to time. I'm willing to forgive that. 'Cause songs like "Becka" really work for me. Even if they are dreadfully saccharine.

Whatever, you know? I dig cheese pop as long as it is genuinely felt. And I have no doubt about the intentions of the Spies. Edgy? Hardly. These are three guys with the emotional ages of about 16. So you can see why I identify with them, right?

Punchy power pop, with plenty of throbbing choruses. Like the first Magnapop album, or maybe Sugar. That heavy, bouncy style.

Just never a chance to let any contrary opinions to form. The songs keep flying out with no let up. Powerfully tuneful, muscular hooks. And, oh, those tight pop chords.

Perfect for blasting on the radio or simply for rectifying a bad mood. After five minutes, only the clinically depressed could resist. And this isn't to say the lyrics are all shiny happy. No, I'm simply talking about the restorative powers of the music.

I guess the name of the band says it all. It's sugary pop, but supercharged. Hard to find any points of weakness. Just blazingly cool tunes.

Jerry Garcia-influenced lead guitar, combined with a wide variety of influences in the backing band. Like from the Doors to XTC. And lots of stuff in between. All arriving somewhere in the quirky pop universe.

Obviously, the lyrics are the key to this endeavor. The music is generally mixed well behind the lyrics. And more of the time, the lyrics say something important, though not as well as I might hope. Take the song "Old", which ridicules the generic teenage impulse to fit in with the crowd. I agree with that, but to say that no good acts have arrived in the latest punk resurgence is going way, way too far. There's a Kiss t-shirt I've got that has a proper retort for these sentiments...

In general, Three James Morgan tries too hard. Most of the songs are at least a little reminiscent of some band of yesteryear (the aforementioned Dead, Styx, Steely Dan and more). And while I don't mind borrowing from influences, there is no need to sound quite so similar.

Particularly with the clumsy lyrics. I can generally make out the point of the songs, but that just means that the stuff needs a bit more work. These guys can play, and they've got some good ideas, but it just doesn't come together for me.

Clunky, jokey pop with lots of roots in the blues. The jokes are kind of broad, and they don't work all the time for me. They certainly aren't as profound as the band seems to think they are.

The music itself sounds a bit generic, like it was written in a rock-by-numbers format. It's not that bad, but the progressions are very easy to predict. As for the humor, well, it grates as the album moves along.

I gotta say, this one just didn't do anything for me. There are some decent tunes (I liked "Susan" best, but mostly because the band actually found a groove and stuck with it for once), but I simply can't get excited about the whole.

Sometimes it happens. Uncle Otto isn't terrible, but I don't like the music. Simple as that.

I hate to quibble, but most of the tracks here aren't exactly industrial. Gothic, sure. Electronic, okay. Industrial? Well, that's a tired term. But with acts like Die Krupps (a remix from the band's own Metallica tribute), Razed in Black, Birmingham 6 and Spew, well, maybe industrial isn't such a bad term after all.

Not nearly as cool as I figured it would be. Back in college, I tried to craft a Metallica house mix, splicing samples and beats on tape. Didn't work real well. I'm not so good with my hands. But I figured these folks would do better.

But I don't hear any real nuances to the music. And there are a couple repeated tracks. Metallica has recorded a ton of songs. There's no need to repeat on a 13-track tribute album. I understand the process, but still.

Didn't blow me away. Kinda dull. Which is really too bad.

Um, industrial and electronic artists doing a tribute to Skinny Puppy? I mean, I'd rather hear Garth Brooks do "Assimilate". I'm not joking, either.

The danger in having bands directly influenced by an act doing that tribute album is that the renditions will not really find new ways of looking at the songs. And even with such great acts as FLA, Spahn Ranch, Dead Voices on Air, Kill Switch... Klick and Leaether Strip, most don't break through the barrier.

A band like Skinny Puppy is particularly difficult to "tributize", if you'll allow my tortured English. A band so revolutionary that it played a large part in inventing a new form of rock music is best celebrated on the merits of its own accomplishments, not through the generally lesser thoughts of others.

A bad idea. And even with some solid contributions, a tribute that just doesn't quite work.

Two unreleased tracks (from Pennywise and NOFX, the latter contributing a quaint track called "We Threw Gasoline on the Fire and Now We Have Stumps for Arms and No Eyebrows"). Plus 23 other songs, mostly from recent and upcoming releases.

Basically, this is an Epitaph family portrait for 1998. As the company has grown more successful, the brood has grown and swelled. And this large collection doesn't even really touch on the Hellcat stuff.

If you want a tastefully done Epitaph mix tape, this disc is primed for the purpose. I prefer the albums, myself, but then, I'm funny that way. Jut another reason to celebrate one of the cooler labels around.

Varnaline is about to go on tour with Bob Mould, and I can understand why. Sure, the guys are much mellower than the usual Mould recording, but the tortured brand of pop still shines through.

Earlier this year, Semisonic made a splash (with a video, but still). Varnaline doesn't sound like Semisonic, really, but the styles are in the same orbit. Varnaline tends to use the sour notes, despite the title of the album.

And I like that impulse, myself. Reminds me a bit of the third Big Star album, full of pathos and angst. Strangely, this also reminds me at times of the first Uncle Tupelo album. Lots of these little references here and there, all stuff I like.

Basically, Varnaline knows the past, and uses bits and pieces to crib together a unique sound. I could identify this band easily among any of the pop bands crashing about today. That distinctive, and that good. Quite the fine fare.

Emo, sure, it's a Crank record. The Vehicle Birth is a bit more experimental with the form, sounding a lot like Engine Kid at times. The guitar lines are extremely strident, and the lyrics are a lot more existential than with most emo bands.

The songs have very little solid structure. They move around, shifting keys and chord progressions according to some internal gyroscope. There's just no telling where the music will go next. Surprise is always a good thing.

Muted, often enough. The Vehicle Birth stays in pocket most of the time, letting its intricate guitar lines weave their own minimalist statement. No need to bash a point home; the ideas are strong enough to stand by themselves.

A surprisingly assured album. The band knew what it wanted, went into the studio and came out satisfied. Completely impressive, and softly devastating. Proof that quiet rage is the most compelling.

Getting everything out of the vaults. Vitreous Humor is now (three out of four, anyway) the Regrets, but no matter. This Lawrence, Kan., band supposedly changed its name "because they didn't want to become another Weezer". That's a line from a press note I'll never forget.

And quite honestly, this stuff is really good and quite accessible (unlike the Regrets album, which is much more idiosyncratic fare). About half of the tracks here were recorded live, either for the Lawrence commercial alternative station or for the KU radio station. Some are basic studio tracks, and the first track is from a single on Mute records (I've got that one!)

For a band which never released an album (until now), Vitreous Humor had one hell of a rep. These songs prove why. Power pop overwashed with the dull, emo sound. Recorded at a time when Lawrence was getting over its period as a "little Seattle". This band is one of the reasons I started listening to Lawrence bands again.

The recording quality varies, but the songwriting doesn't. For a band with so little recorded output, Vitreous Humor still stands tall. This set can only increase the legend.

I got a call from band member Noel Hanson thanking me for reviewing a recent 7" (you can find it a few issues ago). I thanked him for sending it to me. It was a nice chat. The upshot of the conversation was that there is a lot of Voodoo Love Mint yet to be heard. Which is fine by me. I like this band. Lots and lots. A self-possessed punk pop band with very little pretension to the music or lyrics. Everything I hear is impressive.

This album is a bit thin in the sound, more like demo quality (though not muffled or anything). But the songs are so sharply written and played, I can easily overlook any production issues. So funny, so funny. With just enough of a subtle seriousness to be resonant.

And unlike many bands of this ilk, I never get bored. Voodoo Love Mint is always trying out new ideas, even while keeping its own sound perfectly safe. Not an easy task, but I have a feeling these guys just have a knack for the shit.

Once again, I'm happy. More than happy. I want to hear more. And that seems to be something that is assured.

Weckl is a drummer, and he leads his band through the fusion paces. Lots of r&b and rock influences, with basic jazz underpinnings.

There are some cool moments, like the beginning of "Mud Sauce". But a lot of this sounds like a late night orchestra, you know, like Paul Shaffer or what have you. Easy music with just enough style to attract the masses.

And the more I try and find complexity and nuance in between the notes, the less I hear. Just not there, really. While not quite to the unfortunate level of "happy jazz", it's too close for my comfort.

I wish Weckl felt the need to take a few more chances, really reach a bit. It sounds like he and his band are simply standing still, not really going anywhere. And I think the capacity is much higher.

Sparkling power pop, with hooks that sometimes shimmer, sometimes clink. Zero Parade does score a few points for introducing some unusual (for the sound, anyway) elements. I just wish the writing was more consistent.

I mean, this is basic garage-style roughage. Good for cleaning out the system, with no aftertaste. The production is sharp, emphasizing the thick rhythm guitar. Everything as it should be, with the aforementioned added brighteners.

Just that sometimes when the chorus kicks in, it coughs and sputters. Clumsy progressions, harmonies which don't match the music. Or just the wrong mood. This doesn't happen all the time, but enough to be disconcerting.

The unevenness keeps me interested, but it also makes for a less than satisfying album. Lots of good here, but not quite enough to make this a good album.