What might have been metal a few years back is now given the generic term "industrial" these days. Abuse Ment Park kicks out thick grooves made of swirling riffage, with lots of rants against God and other authority figures.

Pretty cool, as far as all that goes. The songs themselves don't progress much from one to the other, so there is a sensation of having heard it all before by the end of the disc. A mild case, though, nothing too serious.

The thing that really catches my ear here is the sound, particularly guitars. This has that Skid Row/Winger guitar feel (and as much as you may not like those bands, the guitars were done well), and the gravelly vocals (somewhere between James Hetfield and hardcore) fit on top quite nicely.

Entertaining, as long as you don't go too far with it. A fun disc worth a few spins.

Another in the long and winding Oldham saga, this time with Ned at the helm. This EP came out last year (the Bonnie 'Prince' Billy album reviewed below is from this year), and it heralds something of a return to a full band sound, with more traditional songwriting as well.

Traditional being a relative term. Oldham's country blues constructions are a personal trademark, and honestly, they work best when he performs them. The Anomoanon has a definite late-60s Dylan feel to it, with its self-conscious attention to lyrics (and the harmonica doesn't hurt, either). Elliptical, as ever, but a bit easier to access.

Hardly commercial, though still much more palatable to the masses. The summer of the title seems to signify to Oldham a sort of restlessness and rootlessness. The songs are generally about searching. For what, well, he's not sure. Or not telling.

Very few songwriters and performers can cut straight to the soul like Oldham. These seven songs wind a crooked trail, but they end up doing the damage. Heartfelt and haunting, as ever.

The first track sounded a hell of a lot like Dirty Three. Nothing wrong with that. But Bent Leg Fatima isn't one of those bands which plays a one-influence tune. Now, some of the other influences are hard to describe, but it's easiest to say that the band likes to mess around as much as possible with the pop music form.

Lots of asides and tangents. In fact, some songs are simply randomly connected ideas which may or may not actually work together. If played by other folks, that is. BLF has a knack for making sense of its own odd ideas.

So if you'd like to hear what Thingy playing a Beatles song through a Palace filter (the best way I can describe "Dr. Spound & the Art that They Dismissed"), well, come on aboard. Each song sounds nothing like any of the others, and yet, I wouldn't mistake these folks for anyone.

Perhaps the simplest sound description would be June Panic if it didn't sound like June Panic. And there I go, warbling a strangled tune again. There is much wonder to be discovered here. Be sure to pass the gate.

Still a band for Wil Oldham, but more of a reversion to the early Palace stuff: minimalist piano, barely conscious drums and maybe a guitar line. Oldham's mastery of the music between the notes remains unparalleled.

When folks speak of Oldham and his music, it's stuff like this that generally comes to mind. Highly theatrical affairs, though stripped of pretense. There is no insistence from the music, no incessant anything to drive a listener into the songs. Instead, just what is.

So, yeah, you have to listen between the lines. Create sounds in your mind to accompany the sparse notes. Get inside the poetry of the lyrics. Make your own reality.

The best of Oldham's work provides a jumping-off point for listeners. It's not what's here, after all; it's what isn't. This theory of musical negativity has served him well for years, and his Bonnie 'Prince' Billy project proves he's still got the touch. Amazing. Simply.

Kaleidepy was the first post-Guchlrug project to come my way; now, the other side of the band emerges with its own new band. And I'm starting to understand how and why that band sounded so interesting.

Butterfly Messiah is a loopy electronic project, low on structure and high on tangents. When merged with the basic pop tendencies of Ben Glover (now in Kaleidepy), these notions formed something of a symbiosis, a unique structure and sound.

Here, well, once again, absent the yin and yang (or, at least, competing urges), the result is not quite so arresting. I like most of what I hear, but it isn't the same sort of driving astonishment. Merely contented earfeel.

I guess the same postscript goes here. I liked the previous project better, and now I know why. Still, these are some talented folks, and I wouldn't put it past them to astonish me in the future.

Much better produced than the other things I've heard from these guys, I can now get a better handle on what's going on. What I hear is a fairly unique attempt to fuse the current roots rock frenzy with 80s AOR stuff (you know, .38 Special, etc.). With grunge bass lines, just for the hell of it.

And don't forget the singer who wails. A lot. And he does a pretty good job of it, too. I'm not the biggest fan of the constituent pieces of this sound, but these guys do a nice job of putting it together. Their result is much better than what went in. This is the way to move commercial music into a new dimension.

And I just can't get over how much better this sounds than the first two things I heard a couple years ago. Impressive, really. The band's musical philosophy has coalesced into something special, and now they know how to make that work in the studio.

Another reason why I never give up on a band, no matter what. I heard snippets of potential before, and all that and more has come through on this disc. Solid work, a fine album.

Still meandering around the Pearl Jam style of grunge, C.O. Jones sounds like it is slowly finding its own signature sound. There is a definite evolution from the first disc I heard.

To start with, more consistent songwriting. I suppose the easiest way to explain it is that the songs conform to type a bit better, but that's not all. When other influences are brought in, they compliment what is already here, instead of totally taking parts of songs.

The sound is still really clean, very well done. Hey, like I said before, these boys have all the tools (they are boys, none of them yet 20, I believe) to really go far. If they keep improving like this...

Well, who knows. There is talent galore here, whether it is realized with this project or bands to come. It's always nice to get a fresh glimpse of the future.

Cornwell was the singer of the Stranglers, and I guess by hearing this I can understand just what the hell they were thinking with that concert album I reviewed a while back. All those strings drowning out the punk pop. Didn't make sense. But now, I see the light.

Well, I see what he was going for, anyways. This disc is heavily-produced (but not quite over-produced) pop of the British persuasion. The songs are too long (they average out at more than 4 1/2 minutes per), particularly for the fairly lightweight writing, but at least they're listenable.

Still, this is dreadfully pretentious fare, and I'm not quite rewarded for sitting through it. Cornwell apparently thinks he's making grand philosophical statements here, and he's really not. Kinda catchy songs with the odd good line, really. They just do go on.

Oh, good enough for rock and roll, you know, and I'm sure plenty of Stranglers fans will want to hear what he's doing. It's not bad, it's just not as good as I thought it might be. Ah well, these things happen.

Kinda like a slightly more manic Ramones, Damnation kicks through three "demonic" songs, with clever lyrical and musical references.

Like, say, the riff on "Sympathy for the Devil" which introduces "666 13" on the flip. So light it threatens to fly away, but still worth a smile or two.

I like the way the guys all weapons at their disposal to get some humorous points across. Top marks.

The cover art and title may seem amusing, but Four Letter Word has some important points to make in its two songs. Like the album I dug so much, these guys are able to kick out socially-conscious lyrics with contagiously addictive hardcore pop tuneage.

The first song is basically saying, "Lie around stoned if you like, but you're missing a thing or two". The flip side attacks the 9-to-5, 25-to-life attitude of working your life away so that you can retire and die.

The implication, of course, is that somewhere in-between lies an interesting way to approach life. Couldn't agree more. And with music like this, I don't know who wouldn't dig.

Aaron Stauffer of Seaweed and Van Conner of Screaming Trees (yes, it's another incestuous side project). With lots of friends (including most of the rest of Seaweed) at one point or another. Very Stonsey, a la Their Satanic Majesty's Request. Heavy in the reverb, loosely-held hooks, sloppily-jangled riffs.

And thus, the heavy enjoyment factor. These songs sound like they were tossed off in rapid-fire fashion. But on repeat listens, it's obvious a lot work went into making this "casual" album. Not surprising, given the folks involved.

Perhaps the best part is the messy studio sound, a melange of lo-fi effects and inartfully recorded instruments. Perhaps I should correct that. Intentionally inartfully-recorded instruments. Thus, by definition, artful.

Sounds like a throwaway, but this one's a keeper. Gotta love those contradictions. Keeps the whole fresh. Just what a side project is supposed to be.

Geary may be Irish, but he's been living in New York long enough to appropriate a number of American pop influences. But he still manages to write songs from somewhere far inside, and that make all the difference.

The lyrics and vocals are outstanding, introspective trips through Geary's mind. The music, as written, is pretty good. Basic sound, when the production doesn't get in the way. It does, of course, and all those little studio tricks (some of the American pop things I was talking about earlier) can be annoying.

But not enough to turn me away from Geary's songs. Yeah, I wish the sound was a bit more a sparse and raw (at least without so much ornamentation), but I'll take this as it is.

Hey, for a first album, this is impressive far. Geary does know how to put songs together in such a way as to affect a listener's psyche. That can't be taught. It's a condition of the soul.

Imagine if Squeeze tried to play Archers of Loaf, with organ replacing some of the guitar lines. No, really. And imagine that it sounds really, really cool. Truly.

Hard to think of any way to criticize this disc. Simpy power pop perfection, with pure hooks, thick chords and that organ which trips in and out. Not to mention the muscular yet melodic vocals of Jed Parrish.

Four guys who found a unique sound and figured out a way to foist that on an unsuspecting public. Pop music can be creative, and here's exhibit A. Sure, a lot of it is simply turning rock conventions on their head, but the trick is in making sure the reference is still picked up. The difference between obscure subtlety and whacking folks over the head.

The Gravel Pit has found the perfect balance in so many ways. Like the Wrens (perhaps the finest pop band of the decade), the Gravel Pit reinvents pop without getting lost in wierdness. Do not skip this album. Period.

Rollicking roots rock. Rock with roots in 60s pop and early 70s country rock, that is. You know, the glossy side of the garage sound. The sorta sound which I can rarely resist.

And this is no different. The songs are tightly written with just enough wiggle room. At times the music, particularly, sounds a bit rote. But that passes quickly enough.

My only real problem is with the production, which leaves the sound a bit flat. I'm not asking for shiny, but certainly more character in the guitar sound than what is here. Sometimes the songs sound two-dimensional, if that makes sense.

But the songs themselves are pretty cool, just laid back enough for some comfy listening. Obviously, these guys are still working out a few kinks, but I'm more than happy to hear the progress.

A couple slashes from one of my fave nicely-gritty pop-punk outfits. Tuneful enough to get the foot tappin', enough insight in the lyrics to make a point.

And like, say, Zeke, JCCC knows how to add the requisite bite into the pop sound. The guitars grab, the riffs hack and bruise. No lightweights, these boys. Power all the way.

I just get more and more impressed with everything I hear from these guys. Just two more reasons to rush out and buy everything of theirs I can find.

Kali knows his reggae, but he gives it a whole new spin, adding in the rhythms of north and south Africa, South America and Europe. Plus, he plays the banjo. That's right, a reggae banjo.

He hails from Martinique, which is why these songs are in French. Just another cultural curiosity to add to his stew. Kali isn't afraid to try anything. This leads to some good and bad ends.

Almost exclusively good. At times the production is a bit treacly, overdone to a small extent. But always, always, his spirit comes through fully. That spirit of collusion and adventure which sometimes creates vibrant new sounds in music.

Which Kali does at times. He spends this album morphing around styles and sounds, not really worrying too much about defining himself. Sometimes his identity gets lost within the ever-changing music, but always, his adventurous hand can be felt. Intriguing and fun.

McCann plays jazz guitar, but rather than sticking to the singular, "soft" sound that you might expect, he feels free to experiment with different levels of reverb and distortion. In fact, he even plays acoustic guitar, which I've never heard before heard featured on a jazz record (though my knowledge is extremely limited).

McCann also lets his side players get their licks in, particularly Peter Epstein on alto and soprano sax and Matt Wilson on drums. But when the piece requires something special, McCann takes over. He has an uncanny knack of knowing just how to attack a certain segment of a song, which sound to use, which style to appropriate.

But this isn't just some sort of rock/jazz fusion guitar work. McCann borrows from classical styles as well, and he's at his best when utilizing all three. There are some definite Frank Zappa-esque moments, and that's high praise coming from me.

A most unusual album. Any guitar fanatic will go nuts, but McCann's range and skill should impress just about anyone. This guy knows how to play.

Yet another Mark Brodie project. A lot like Man or Astroman?, except without that vital kick. I'm beginning to appreciate Brodie's lack of aggression, I think, because his laid-back style (oh, he still plays fast, the sound is just somewhat underwhelming) actually works pretty well here.

Again, I'm not sure if it's just that I'm getting used to what he does, or this is actually superior to his other projects. Hard to say. But for once, his surf musings actually work.

The production is marginally better than most of his other stuff as well (the thin sound of some of those discs is beefed up here), which certainly aids in my appreciation. Just happy beach music. With that 50s outer space theme, of course.

I still think that's a bit to close to MOA? for comfort, but you know, this is easily the best Brodie disc I've heard. I don't know if that says more about me or the disc.

Amazingly bass-heavy pop. Mrs. Grundy is two guys (without a full-time bass player, it seems) who simply pound out the songs. Replete with wit and hooks, no less.

Sugar, that's what this sounds like. A bit more uptempo, with a bit more power and less precision, but the bass. That's where I've heard it before. It works, certainly.

For a two-man home-recording project, this sounds great. And the writing is top notch. Funny, but not in a jokey way. Slab of grooves on wry. A wonderful recipe.

Heavy on the bash, but plenty of pop to go around. This duo knows how to work the music properly. No doubt about it.

Thick, tuneful punk stuff, with a touch of the anthemitis. Works alright for the guys, though. Certainly got something of a radio song in "Fuel", I'd say.

The a-side is pretty damned good, too. Basic, but with enough on the bottom end (almost a Vancouver-style bass attack, though with the descant style of Generator-era Bad Religion). Very short (Two songs are less than a minute, I think, and "Fuel" is not two-minutes long), but again, it works for these guys. Why try and change a good thing?

Short package, good package. If these guys can crank out groves like this, a 20-track album ought to be pretty cool, indeed. One can only hope.

A singing album, which means something of a more "normal" outing for O'Rourke. There is, of course, a reason for those quotation marks. There is still plenty of the trademark O'Rourke picked guitar sound, and the songs don't quite follow expected keys and chord changes.

Still... I'm struck by how close this sounds to something more conventional artists would make. If you want to call Stereolab conventional, I guess. O'Rourke uses the vocals almost as a second instrument, as riffs to be placed strategically. Makes sense, of course, given the way the rest of each song is realized.

Contemplative, more than I figured. O'Rourke always takes his time with songs (they average more than five minutes per), but each piece is crafted with consummate care. Which, of course, only makes sense.

The usual suspects on the sides, another off-kilter outing from this truly inspiring songwriter-performer-producer-whatever. I only expect greatness from O'Rourke, and this fulfills my every desire.

Hyper clean, ultra-tight ska pop. These guys played for the pope (there are a few songs with overtly Christian lyrics, tastefully done, of course), and they've obviously come a long way in a short time.

The music is much improved since the last album I heard. Closer to two-tone than Bosstone sound, and I think it works better for them. Someone obviously encouraged the band to find its own sound (at least, as much as that is possible with the plethora of ska outfits currently laying waste to the nation), and here it is.

Rather professional all the way, and that's my one real gripe. This stuff is too clean (I'm talking about the sound, not the lyrics, which are also kinda vanilla). A bit too automatonic. Decent, but not exactly inspiring.

A whale load better than I expected. Yeah, the guys still play things a bit too safe, but come on, only so much can be expected. I always like to be pleasantly surprised.

Dancehall reggae is one of those sorts of music which rarely translates well live. It's not quite like watching New Order "perform", but close. A lot of mechanical-sounding keyboards and drum machines, with the only outlets for human expression the vocals and bass line.

Also the reason the stuff can sound so damned good on a studio recording. Frankie Paul has been at the game for ages, and one of his trademarks is a fairly soulful delivery. When the material is good, he can sound great, even live.

But too many of the songs here are truncated medley versions or otherwise strangely arranged. His band is dreadfully stiff, and Paul seems to be struggling to find his groove.

He's got a great voice (always has), but this disc really doesn't do him (or it) justice.

The sound is defined by some soaring bass work and a good amount of electronic disturbance. Kind of odd, considering PH Balance basically plays meditative, moody fare. The PH stands for singer and guitarist Pam Howe, but while her initials adorn the group's name, this is definitely a band thing.

And the groove often strays. I don't always like that, but here the free-form song style fits the general hippie groove. The tangents are anything but folk-rock, ranging from hip-hop to electronic noise to...plenty more, anyways.

Bubbles along nicely, without complaining or getting out of hand. Just a pleasant, creative respite from a storm of angst-ridden albums. These folks are wonderfully self-assured, and it's really good to hear.

Not generally a style I dig, but there's too much talent and inspiration here to deny. PH Balance defines itself very well, and this disc showcases the band's vision in brilliant fashion.

Yeppers, another punk 7" in this issue. And this one doesn't quite measure up. Oh, there's a nice energy level, and the songs have some nice hooks, but honestly, I'm just not excited.

I'm trying to hear the indescribable, the piece of greatness which makes an average song great, and Pinhead Circus simply writes average songs. At least on this slab.

Not bad, but not enough to make me rave. Give me the next piece of 45 glory, please.

There's a reason that, as a general rule, I do not read the little bios and press clippings that generally arrive with a disc. It's so I don't have to read assembled quotes like "I think Portable follows the ancestry of the Who and the Clash" and "I think it's been really scary since Kurt Cobain died". Please.

See, that sort of thing automatically prejudices me against an album, not a good thing when we all know that stupid people are just as capable of making good music as smart folks. The reason I read the clippings is because Portable reminded me of the first Overwhelming Colorfast album, and I wanted to see if there was a connection. The answer is no.

The sound is heavy anthemic pop. Reasonably catchy tunes, though the production is a bit too glitzy for my taste. This has the sound of "the next big thing", and there are so few of those. This isn't one of those, though it could do well with a decent video.

On the plus side, these guys do a rendition of "Cars" which manages to sound slow even though it is faster than the original (yes, I checked). Is that a plus? It's definitely weird. But I like the fact that these guys take a few chances. I just wish the producer had been in the same spirit. And I promise not to read press clippings again for another month.

As the press so deftly notes, one part Uncle Joe's Big O'l Driver (singer-guitarist Andrew McKeag) and two part Posies (Rick Roberts and Mike Musberger, who a while back occupied the "other guys" slots in that band). As this is McKeag's project, it's hardly surprising that the result is U.J.B.O.D., mark II (or III or IV, whatever).

This means a more muscular rendition of the Soul Asylum sound of, say, 1986 (the press says 1987, but I'll stake my reputation on the difference), with lots of silly 70s references just to keep the proceedings light.

Joyous and rollicking, over-the-top and still strangely affecting. The sound is wonderful, a full and ebullient glow applied to these virile songs. Yes, cock rock in the biggest way, a pulsating, shimmering phallus to worship.

Um, perhaps I am getting a bit silly here. But this is one hell of a disc. The CD5 only touched the surface. Scratch this and prepare to be invigorated.

Pop music for pop heds. Power guitars and semi-atonal vocals with lots of pop culture references. And while the album starts a bit slowly, the songs keep getting better as the album rolls on. Or perhaps I'm just getting used to the scheme.

Enough jangle to jingle the pleasure centers, and enough cleverness to stimulate the brain. Not quite straightforward (there always seems to be a hint of, well, something odd), but that simply increases the charm factor.

Plenty of bounce, and the hooks sink in. The sound is great, just understated enough to really let the tuneage shine through. There's really no need to overly clean up power pop. It's better when it's a bit dingy.

A well-made set of tunes. Forgotten tomorrow? Probably not. I had too much fun on the ride.

The new Black Heart Procession album is due out soon on Touch and Go, and perhaps that also heralds a move for the "regular" band, Three Mile Pilot. Maybe not, but if so, this set is one hell of a send-off. Two discs of 7 inches and unreleased songs, with all the attendant excess such projects usually imply.

And it's not like TMP was ever at a loss for going overboard. Indeed, that's one of the joys of listening to the band. No matter how far out it went, it always came back.

But not here, man. Pure left-brain action, with little in the way of mitigating structure. For that and a few other reasons (mostly having to do with the sheer amount of material present), this is a fans-only set.

Of course, TMP fans tend to be kinda, um, fanatic. For good reason. The music may be out there, but it only opens the door to a new world of alternate consciousness. Really. Set these discs on and take a trip. Or few.

What this collection does is just merge all of the different varieties of "swing" that folks play these day. From the jump blues (which is most of what folks play) to a couple honest-to-god swing big bands.

Interestingly, the press letter is much more subdued and accurate than the liners. A case of proper marketing strategy, I guess. But anyway, there are some cool songs here. Stuff that is a bit more creative than most swing collections I've heard lately.

This is cashing in on a trend, sure, but I think its heart is in the right place. All of the bands are relatively unknown, and all of them are at least pretty good (a couple are outstanding). Trendy, but good.

Right up front, one complaint before I spooge: Almost all of these songs are taken from albums. Not much in the way of new material here. Okay, prepare for me to get way overexcited.

Talk about your quality mix tape. Pegboy, SuperSuckers, Zeke, Dillinger Four, Voodoo Glow Skulls and plenty more. A wide-ranging array of punk styles, ska to hardcore to emo to whatever it is you call Zeke. Yeah, so I wish some of this was new (only Pezz's "Pucker Factor" is new), the songs are great.

I don't need to see the movie. This little batch of punk classics is more than enough of a meal for me.

Jive was the home to some of the most innovative rap acts around. Kool Moe Dee, Boogie Down Productions, Whodini, Tribe Called Quest. And, yeah, Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince. This set has some of the DJs and electronic artists on Jive's Elektro imprint do some remixing and recreating.

And it works. The transitions are seamless, the pieces themselves obviously a labor of love. Today's artists "borrow" shamelessly from some of the old sounds, and here, they can do so with everyone's approval.

Who, you ask? Norman Cook, Grooverider, Aphrodite, Rabbit in the Moon, Bad Boy Bill, the Freestylers and more. Names you may or may not know, but they've got the goods.

A fun set, one which celebrates the ways in which music creativity is pollinated.

I like the sleeve, I like the clever spindle sticker, I like the concepts behind the songs. But the music itself lets me down.

Just not enough punch. Part of that is definitely a production problem, as the sound is a bit excessively muted. But part of it is the way the singer kinda mumbles his way through the vocals (though that could be the engineering; I'm not sure).

I dig the incisive lyrics, and I like the style of the music, what I can make out. not a world-beater, but pretty decent. Still, I simply cannot make out exactly what the band wanted here. I know this judgment is kinda severe, but so be it.