Heavy metal riffage filtered through a fuzzy hardcore sound system. With the snarls and growls, well, the sound is loud, mean and a big wad of fun.

Don't let that metal reference throw you. This is simply hardcore with somewhat melodic guitar lines. Somewhat. Mostly, it's aggro angst flying right in yer face. And boy, what a breath of fresh air.

How does the song go? Fast, fucked and furious? Something like that. Billy Club isn't subtle, and it doesn't pull punches. What you hear is what you get, and there's plenty to go around.

Ooh, some fine noise. A simple pleasure, but definitely a pleasure. With a real big head (you know, like a beer).

Still reaching for that elusive wretched haunting quality of sound. The Black Water evokes bits and pieces of the Doors, Pink Floyd, Robert Plant's early solo work and stuff like that. Just snatches, though, woven into a coherent, unique whole.

This is a band which knows what it wants, and it gets what it set out to find. This is the second disc I've heard from these guys, and it is in all ways more impressive than the first. The songwriting is tighter, more adventurous and simply a further evolution of the band's experience.

Somewhere in the anti-matter of distortion-laden space music. Yeah, this is certainly trip music, music for letting the mind wander. And done in such a way that even a stuck-up sticky bit like myself can appreciate and like intensely.

I really liked the first disc and quite anticipated listening to this one from the moment it popped into my mailbox. I was surprised, simply by how much the album exceeded my expectations. Musings of the highest order.

These guys are dorks. Probably not a plus in the dating department, but strangely, that's about the only way to do the jokey punk-pop shtick well. And these guys sure do have a handle on fun.

And I've got to smile, because taking this seriously would be a serious mistake. Songs like "Jonestown Judy" and "Got2Fuc2Day" might offend folks if not delivered with such a tongue-in-molar approach. Not to mention some of the bounciest music since the last Hanson Bros. opus.

A very apt comparison, really. Tons of Ramones references, with a healthy side of Devo (mostly for the dorkiness quotient). Silly songs, big smiles. Works for me.

I suppose certain uptight folks might get a little antsy listening to this set (sacred cows make the best eatin', after all), but fuckit. If you can't laugh at the utter absurdity of life now and again, well, don't come near me. I'm cranking up the volume.

Yet another change in pace for Bruford, this time back to jazz. And, strangely, fairly straightforward fare. Not bad, mind you, or bland or overly technical or anything like that. Just about what you might expect of four talented, creative musicians.

And I can't stress this enough: That's pretty damned good. Fans of Bruford will be knocked out, as usual, by his expressive drum work. Patrick Clahar's sax (tenor and alto) work carries most of the melodic side, and Mark Hodgson on bass and Steve Hamilton on piano team up with Bruford to create the intricate rhythmic patterns.

You know, again, I really can't say enough how good this is. And yet, I had a notion that there might be true greatness here. That extra spark of inspired lunacy which often accompanies Bruford's work. I did not get a sense of that. For whatever reason, the spirit isn't in the tapes.

Which puts this disc in the weird position of apologizing for not being one of the great albums of the year. It's merely very, very good. And, really, that should be more than enough for me. Really, it should.

You know, I've heard just about everything Buck-O-Nine has had to offer. And it doesn't work for me. Much in the way the non-plaid version of the Bosstones has failed to raise any interest on my part.

Horns will always improve bland rock (check out the first eight Chicago records if you like), but they don't make it wonderful. I simply can't get in the Buck-O-Nine groove, no matter how hard I try.

Okay, you got me. I'm not trying that hard. This general style isn't exactly what I dig very often (though there are exceptions), but even past that, I'm simply not impressed by anything I hear. The chord progressions are by numbers, and the horns aren't much more than window dressing. Use, 'em, boys!

Whatever. Just another chapter in the "I just don't like these guys" book I seem to be compiling. Life goes on. They've got plenty of fans (my brothers among them), so I'm guessing this one-note song of mine won't sting too much.

Whiskey-soaked punks a-blazin', right in the middle of that awesome Humpers/New Bomb Turks territory. Always one step from being out-of-control, but always, always a wonderful blaze of color. Punk rock is all about letting loose, and the Candy Snatchers haven't seen their restraints in ages.

Simple, bar-ready tunes, distortion on max, vocals set to full howl and tempo kicked through the roof. Oof. An utterly addictive adrenaline rush, with hooks. Impossible to resist.

Recorded with a great live sound. Very few overdubs, I'm guessing. If they're there, I'm even more impressed. This disc sounds thrown-together, in the best sense. Loosey-goosey tunes ripped off like chunks of meat, swallowed whole.

Naw, I didn't absolutely love this or anything. I mean, fookin' hell (way too many Irish novels recently). Does it make sense? Does it have to? All you've got to do is turn this up to get the proper dosage. And I promise it will do you well.

Just in case you miss Fates Warning (say, the 1991 vintage or so), here's Dali's Dilemma. Could a band with such a name play anything other than prog? I doubt it.

For the most part, these guys manage to hold a groove constant in each song, even while going through all the prog machinations (stop-start drum licks, etc.). This is where keys and a good singer come in handy. And Dali's Dilemma is blessed in those areas.

Tight harmonies (tight everything, of course) and some strangely inspired riffage. Dali's Dilemma doesn't break out of the genre, but it does the sound about as well as it's gonna get done. Most impressive for a first album.

Most impressive, period. Most prog albums require a bit of work to get into. Dali's Dilemma allows many access points, making it that much easier to get within the sound and enjoy the technical brilliance which, of course, must be displayed. Well put.

Soulful bubble gum, with nods to the Beach Boys, the Carpenters, 1910 Fruitgum Co. and plenty of other somewhat disparate acts. All of which lends a bit more weight to the otherwise light material.

Sharif Dumani's vocals also raise the bar. For whatever reason, he really believes in the sound, and that sincerity and soul makes all the difference. Because past the emotive veneer is, well, not a whole lot.

But the sound is so lovingly created. The production faithfully replicates light pop of the late 60s and early 70s, and it's so effervescent that there's no way to pop all the bubbles.

Alright, alright, there is a serious lack of substance. But forget about that for a second and simply give in to temptation. Bob yer head and lost your worries for a while. And maybe even let one of the melodies utterly take over your brain. Worse things could happen.

Well, not quite so spirited as the other Go-Kart stuff I've reviewed. The sound is certainly a bit muted (though still bright by any regular punk-pop standards. More and tighter hooks, though, with some of the sharpest lyrics around. I mean, try on "Einstein Married His Cousin (The Easy Way Out)" just for size.

Big, monster howls of laughter. The guys sing about the joys and pain of not getting along well with the girls. And some other bits of amusement, though the failures of love certainly carry the day.

Ever so tuneful, though I do wish the sound had just a bit more bite. This could be a reaction to the Candy Snatchers (which I reviewed right before this), though, and I might reconsider this notion a few listens down the road. And you can count on this puppy in my discer.

Solid and mostly inspiring stuff. The kinda thing that just might convince a few wags out there that punk isn't full of boring, generic bands after all. Hey, this is some fine shit.

Actually, Weston leads off this double shot of live sets, but in the interests of alphabetical order I stuck Doc Weston first. Hope this doesn't confuse anyone.

And really, this is two live albums for the price of one, clocking out at more than 70 minutes. Each band goes through a full set (16 and 13 songs, respectively) , rambling through most of the familiar territory.

Right. Weston's songs are fairly crafted, but the playing here is rather sloppy. In the live context, this works quite nicely. Plenty of energy, and the sound is excellent. Works about as well as a studio album, really. In fine form, truly.

And the Doc Hopper is much the same way. Looser and more aggressive than studio stuff, but not overly so. The clever lyrics are still on full display, and quite honestly, I like this sound better than what I heard on Zigs.... Well done all the way around.

High-speed punk rawk. No frills, no extras. Just revved-up riffage and songs which, upon any reflection, have no redeeming social value.

Well, that's not right. They're amusing. Kinda. I'm not knocked out here, but I did have a laugh or two. I just got a whiff of something cheap and rancid. Is that character? Dunno.

The sound is mastered a bit low, and everything isn't as clear as it could be. Yer basic low-rent recording, I guess. Which just might what they guys were going for. You never know.

Middling to bad. Just doesn't excite me in the slightest, and honestly, there aren't any technical merits to applaud. This is an all-or-nothing sorta disc. For me, it's nothing. Happens every once in a while.

I hadn't even thought about Marillion for something like 10 years, and then I got the band's latest album. Didn't even know Fish left all those years ago. Ah well. And now, I get the new Fish. It's like some sort of retro conspiracy.

And it's like I never stopped listening to Marillion. Fish is still cranking out the straight-ahead prog stuff that I remember. In fact, much of this album is pretty interchangeable with the "olden days".

Which has its advantages and drawbacks. Old fans will be able to trip back in, feeling like they haven't missed a beat. I really don't think this music is going to attract a large number of new fans, however. The sound isn't particularly in vogue these days, and quite honestly, the stuff is a little weird for the average American.

But I don't like to make commercial prognostications. I'm very bad at that sort of thing. What I can say is that this should interest old Marillion fans, and I myself had a good time. A little nostalgia never hurt, though there's no need to overdose.

A very clean live recording. As the note said, this is something of a greatest hits package, with the best of a couple albums present. Hagfish doesn't really specialize in any sort of sound, but simply cranks out fairly amusing little punk ditties.

Like I said, this recording is sharp. Every moment of greatness and every fuckup is caught in living splendor. There are plenty of examples of both (Hagfish is fairly sloppy live, though that does lend a certain charm to the proceedings) to be found here.

The songs themselves are tightly written and, at least here, executed with little regard for technique. Plenty of sing-alongs, plenty of bouncy guitar lines. Plenty of dropped lyrics and chords.

A fun set, one that is probably best suited to the fans. This isn't the sort of disc which will inspire the uninformed, but it does provide a nice picture of the band.

David Hillyard plays sax with more than one Hellcat outfit (the Slackers, Hepcat and others). Here, he gets to create his own ska-soul-jazz explosion with some of his many friends. And, well, the results are simply stunning.

Hillyard kept the recording simple (live, no overdubs) and just kicked around all the musical ideas in his head. Much like the Slackers, the sound is as much r&b as ska (r&b in an "original rock and roll" sorta way). Music my dad would like.

Appreciation for such things can carry down through generations, as Hillyard proves himself. Loose, bouncy, brilliant. So many ideas and riffs are tossed into the mix. The band examines them, often two or three at a time, tossing out the detritus and maybe settling on a couple for the rest of the song. This may sound chaotic, but in reality, the songs have the feel of whole cloth. Something complete.

Masterful, really. What happens when one talented person gets a load of friends together, jams a while, and then really gets down to work. The sort of album which shows the power and influence of ska. The sort of album which constantly amazes and astonishes.

Long EP or short album? Ten songs, so I'll go with short album. High energy melodic punk pop which has more than a few glam tendencies. Particularly in the vocals.

Just keeps crankin' along, a new song every two-and-a-half minutes or so. Covers of Buzzcocks and Wall of Voodoo songs, tunes you know by heart. All in a similar spirit. Very tight, without getting terribly slick.

The production left the sound fairly tinny (which may be where I'm picking up a lot of the glam vibes, as my record player tends to emphasize the treble, and all my Sweet and Slade is slab-bound), but I like it. If you want more bass, change it yourself.

Very simplistic, plenty of fun. No, we're not talking about grand statements about the future of humanity or anything. Just some punk tunes, stuff that flows in one ear and out the other. Perhaps leaving the barest traces of a smile.

Once more with feeling. Surf instrumentals (with a couple vocal ringers) on a space-age theme. Man or Astro-man? has been kicking out these things for, well, almost forever it seems. Do the albums get better? Well, the production values are improved. Does the music change? Not really.

Though, if I may hazard an opinion, I'd say these songs are a bit more frantic and messy than the last couple of albums I've heard from these folks. A bit. There's also something of an industrial influence at times. That whole technology/outer space/computer gig.

I've said this before, and it's still true: Man or Astro-man? is one of those things which genuinely intelligent people can violently disagree about. Is it all a silly put-on, or is the music really, really cool?

I'll tell you this: I don't know. I like listening to the stuff from time to time, and I'm sure I'll be kicking this thing in and out of the discer a few times in the near future. Manna? Mother's milk? Nope. Maybe oyster crackers. The bacon-flavored ones. Something like that.

Yeah, and that "put-on" stuff I said about MOA? goes double here. The McRackins is something of a poppier Ramones, except that the guys dress up as a chicken and eggs while performing. You know, as in "crackin" eggs or something.

Now, the musical merits are easy to judge. These are silly songs, whipped up into a sugary punk pop confection. Same as ever, really. Light as air, but still it's hard to go a while without scarfing some down.

I'm not even going into the silliness part. This is the band's first album in a while (almost two years), though the recent Doormats album (also on Cold Front) is a side project for Bil McRackin (the Ramones ties run deep). Ever and ever, the songs remain the same. Similar, anyway.

Which isn't a bad thing, when the stuff is so much sticky, gooey fun. Too much will give you a stomach ache, but you need some just to make life worthwhile.

Leave it to Mekons to kick out an "oddities" album which is more immediately accessible than any recent opus. Concert favorites like "Now We Have the Bomb" and "I Have Been to Heaven and Back", shimmering self-revelatory pieces like "The Ballad of Sally", a football anthem and a Rod Stewart song.

Alright, so perhaps this is just another eclectic Mekons album, simply one that took almost two decades to complete. For the first time (in ages, anyway) the actual names of the band members are printed. Another item in the manifesto throw away, I suppose.

What this is, of course, is a celebration of everything that Mekons represents. Not the representation itself; that's too much for any one album. But a bit of a good time and some nice songs, to boot.

It's almost too much to contemplate, but a second set of these curiosities is due in the fall. Okay, so I'm not the most objective observer in the world (I get a little tickle in my thigh whenever Sally Timms calls me up on some Biz 3 promo business), but nonetheless, it's easy to hear the greatness in this set. The sort of thing a neophyte could take in small doses before beginning to take on the entire Mekons universe.

When the accordion hit, I wondered if I was remembering the same person. I looked it up. I was. So anyways. This time out, Morris sets a number of scenes, often jazzy and contemplative, using many players. Piano, sax and accordion are the preferred instruments.

And so, instead of using a synthesizer to crank out her compositions, Morris leads real folks. The result is more satisfying than TransFormations, if only for the earthy feel, something which may have been present on the other album, but which couldn't have been or wasn't quite expressed.

I still can't get over the difference. I liked her earlier album an awful lot, but this is just so much more appealing to my ear. Just more playful, more endearing. Maybe I'm just a sucker.

Maybe. But what can't be missed is what I'm hearing. Top-notch compositions and playing. Effervescent bits of joy and goofiness. A candlelit dinner in Paris. And who knows what else. Another album to explore and enjoy.

A new singer, and that bit almost immediately cleans up a few of the problems I had with the band in the first place. This is still vaguely southern chunky pop music, but now it lies somewhere within the realm of "regular" music.

Some of the weird charm of the first disc was lost, but it's easy to hear that the band is working much harder on craft, trying to get better in all ways. The songs are much tighter, the playing is under control. And the singing is, well, singing.

Add to that a professional production job, and it's pretty easy to hear Neglected Sheep's ascendance to the realm of "bands with a chance". Yes, they did sacrifice some quirks, but these songs are better, and they're much easier to sell.

It's kinda nice to hear a band make a progression. A couple more steps and Neglected Sheep could really be doing something great.

Big monster fans of such bands as 6L6 and Kepone (personal favorites of mine, so I fully understand), Our Flesh Party burns out some intensely searing rock. Heavy in the rhythm section, with guitars that slice and drums which simply express the disorder in the universe.

Yeah, it's that cool. Not quite up to the level of their influences perhaps, but them's big shoes. Nonetheless, OFP has learned the most important lesson in making music such as this: Stir things up. Don't play the same song over and over. You might even think about chilling out for a tune or two.

The sound is a bit muddled. That both works for and against the band. It helps to simply add a bit of mystery to what the band is doing (sometimes the guitar and bass can't be differentiated very well), but it also doesn't show off the band's range very well. Just a bit cleaner would do the trick for me.

Ah, but there's the music. Sweet, aggro strains of pain. Yeah, I love shit like this, but even so, these guys turn the trick very nicely. I already can't wait for another dose.

An old "lost" album and a few odds and ends. "We just wanted to do just one great punk rock album that we'd release ourselves and play with Screeching Weasel at least once." That's from the liners, and I've got to say, I've heard worse ambitions in life.

The guys did, of course. There's also a few demos and a version of "I Can't Get Over You" with Joe on vocals instead of Lisa Marr. Much rougher than Don't Back Down, of course, but the same pop resplendence is there.

More than a mere cultural artifact, this is, indeed, a great punk rock record. Loose, silly, snotty and oh-so tuneful. And I'm pretty sure the Queers got to play with Screeching Weasel more than once.

It's a Queers record, man! A bit long in the tooth, perhaps, but you've got to recognize that this is one of the great pop bands of our time. And even as ragged as this gets, it's ever so easy to hear that. I'm simply bounding about in joy.

This album has been co-released with a label (Cosmic Debris). I've never heard of such an arrangement, but it sounds interesting. There must be something going on with these guys.

And indeed there is. The guys call themselves "gritty post punk pop" and cite influences such as Joy Division, the Jam and the Pixies. I'll bite. Though I have to say the Shiv is a bit more refined than any of those bands.

Such refinement doesn't detract from the raw energy of the band. Indeed, these three guys have taken those early influences and melded them somewhat with the more introspective rock flowing down the interstate from Chicago (The Shiv being located in Joliet and all).

All the idiosyncrasies add up to an intriguing sound. The Shiv has created its own feel, and it's a pretty good one. It does take a few minutes to get used to the proceedings, but once that's taken care of, it's smooth sailing. Well, maybe not, but at least the music's good.

What might happen if Ann Manguson played and sang Ani DiFranco songs. Self-conscious lyrics, replete with cultural references, laid over spruced up folk-funk rock.

I'm not so excited about the music (gets a bit deep into the wanks, if you know what I mean), but Slade's voice is pretty damned cool. She's able to wrap it around whatever tune is presented to her quite well.

And it's so lustrous and multi-faceted. A lush experience to behold. And often enough, the music works, too. Not as much as I'd like, but I'd listen to about anything in the background to get a snatch of this voice.

A weird sort of excitement for me. I like what she sings and certainly how she sings it. I just wish the music did more for me. Still, that first bit is so strong, I'm not gonna bitch too much. Just get lost in the voice.

Imagine if the Jesus Lizard got recorded up at AmRep (shut up, I know), got a new lead singer with a really snide and whiny voice and started playing pop songs (while still doing what it does). I remember a single from these guys. I remember not liking it so much. I think the entirety of the album helps out. 'Cause I dig this. Mostly.

Mostly for the absurdity, sure, but that's still a good reason. The songs move quickly along, often with a nice, driving guitar lick, and every two or three minutes there's a whole mess to contemplate. That's good.

And mess is the right term. Supermodel uses pop constructions, mostly, but this is still noise of the Chicago fashion. With lead guitar pyrotechnics that are yet another new wrinkle. The sound is muddled, though some of that comes from the general messiness of the songwriting. Doesn't hurt at all.

You know, I think I'm coming around to this pretty well. As each song washes over my ears, I gain a new appreciation. Pretty cool, after all. Forget whatever it was I said about the single. This is good.

Living in L.A., it's easy to hit a time warp. The Tearaways have updated their sound somewhat, but the basic roots are still in basic 80s AOR (the first Bon Jovi album, with a healthy dose of Tom Petty). Not a bad thing, really.

Still, the first song is "Angelyne", which may be one of the better-known L.A. inside jokes, but it's still tres. For some reason, the band never really kicks into top gear here. Almost all of the songs are midtempo or slower. Gotta rave up now and again.

Now, the guys do real well with what they're doing. The sound is great, and the songs are tightly written, though played with some abandon. Yeah, a kick in the seat of pants now and again would help. But this is still quite enjoyable.

You know, I grew up on stuff like this, and so I'm not the most objective guy in the world. The commercial viability of the sound isn't high, and even I wish a few things had been done differently. No matter; I had fun anyway. That's always worth something.

Something of a personal track from the guy also known as the Marksman. He's trying to do something of a kicky urban ballad (you know, a bit uptempo).

Now, I'm not real big on gooey love songs, and Mark Baranowski doesn't have the world's greatest singing voice. It's kind of ordinary, and that's the one thing I like about this. He's not trying to bowl people over with excessive production or shrill howls. He's just kinda singing. That's cool.

What he does best is kick out the backing instrumental tracks. Those sound real good. Very much rooted in classic hip-hop. Quite nice. Most folks probably won't dig the singing, but hell, that's the way it goes.

Yet another punk pop band from Lawrence (Kan.). You know, when I was in school, some wag at Rolling Stone (or was it Spin) called Lawrence "Little Seattle" because of all the grunge bands that sprung up in the east Kansas hills. Perhaps it should now be called the "east west coast" or something.

That's getting stupid. Anyway, I've liked most of the emo, pop, hardcore, whatever sorta punk bands I've heard from the town where I myself lived from 1976-1979 (the John Douglas-Darnell Valentine years, if anyone knows what I'm saying). Ultimate Fakebook is very, very power pop, with just a hint of punk rawness.

Three chords, wry lyrics, loose-swinging harmonies, just about everything you need, really. Yes, there are a ton of bands doing this sort of thing these days, but Ultimate Fakebook has a little something extra, soul perhaps, something which makes it stand out.

Most highly recommended from these here parts. One of my favorite pop albums of the year, and there's been more than a few of those. If you want a little crunch with yer hooks, come down this way.

Another sampler of Japanese music, this one pretty much focused on punk and punk-pop. Lots of rawkin' goin' on. Young bands, I guess, because it's so easy to hear the influences (the 'Mats and Epitaph apparently do well across the Pacific).

One thing these bands have in spades is wonderful abandon. They simply rip through the songs, not worrying a bit about silly things like tuning or if a song even works. That energy sells the stuff, more than the songs themselves. That's punk rock, man.

Really, a very nice set of stuff from some good young bands. Now, some of these folks might need to work a bit more before trying to conquer the U.S. on their own, but in this set, everything works fine.

Once the singer of Crowsdell, a buzz band which never quite got past the buzz, Shannon Wright kinda quit music for a while, and then just as obsessively shuttered herself in a studio and made this disc.

Hyper-intense, as such projects tend to be. Most of the songs are Wright singing and playing guitar, with the odd strings, organ or drums dropping in to add a bit of color. The immediate attraction is the sparse and yet pregnant phrasing Wright uses in her lyrics. Then comes the guitar work, which is something a bit more than the usual strumming and such.

And, well, everything is so well put together. The songs come at me from all sides, crashing upon my consciousness with the full force of an incessant tide. Irresistible, in an overwhelming way.

More the sort of thing Drag City might release, but I'm not one to stereotype labels or anything. This is a fine album, one of those things which people whisper about. "Didja hear?..." That sorta thing. And when the proper code words are exchanged ("Oh, my God, yes...", etc.), an emotional bond is immediately formed. That's some serious cachet for a album.

Well, a bit different than the stuff I heard on the Avail split about a year ago. There's a definite country twang (sorta like what Uncle Tupelo sounded like in 1989, with more attitude) to go along with the noise mess and general punk abandon.

Highly political, even for a punk band. Some of the songs sound like manifestos. Well, some of the lyrics do. The music is fairly consistent, and I like that. Always pay attention to the music, no matter how important you think your lyrics are. If the music works, people will remember the lyrics.

The almost scratchy sound obscures the vocals (which are generally hoarsely shouted anyway), but a quick read of the lyrics will clue you into the political leanings of the band. And once you've read the lyrics, well, you can hear them easily. Isn't that always the way?

I'm pointing out the obvious, and I feel like I'm missing something. (Young) Pioneers are definitely going for something, and for the most part, I think the guys make it there. Idiosyncratic as hell, but then, most good stuff is.