I always seem to remember Citizen Fish as just another punk band, but every time I hear a disc, I'm impressed. I'm not sure if that's a good thing, but in all fairness, the music always is.

Citizen Fish does drop some ska from time to time, but its more impressive trait is a willingness to toss in strange little bits from song to song. The title track has a rockabilly lead lick, and other songs have similarly incongruous elements. Well, strange at first listen. The band does a great job of incorporating them into the whole.

Loosely played, loosely produced. A nice, bouncy set. Nothing complicated, nothing excessive. Just solid fare. The sort of thing I really should remember for next time.

Yep, another solid-to-great outing. Highly competent and quite entertaining, really. I should keep these boys in mind when recounting some of the finer punk bands around. Really, I should.

A Runaways for a new generation, though the Donnas can play their instruments and they also write their own songs (except for the cover of "Too Fast for Love"). The music fits right in with that slow and simple Joan Jett burn, and Donna A.'s vocals have a nice husky sound, even though they're obviously overdubbed at times.

The press clippings had notes in the mainstream press referring to "jailbait" and such, capitalizing on the youthful (though not actually underage) nature of the Donnas (they are all named Donna, BTW). Whatever. I'll listen to the music. And like I said, it's simple, but that works. There is the kitsch factor of oversexed girls, and that goes a long way for many.

Not for me so much. I'm amused, but that's about it. On a purely musical standpoint, this stuff is fine. Nice for a summer afternoon with the windows down (or the top, if you've got one of them spiffy mobiles). I like Joan Jett for the same reasons. I know what I'm getting, and it works for me.

Fun. That's the key. The Donnas don't get things complicated, and that works very well. They're not gonna save the world or anything, they just might be the life of a party.

The title of the album might be just This Revolution. I like the other better, and since that's what the cover says, well, I'm going with that. Quite honestly, the music itself is similarly confusing.

Some really long songs, somewhat orchestrated (there's usually a piano around, and sometimes what passes for strings, though that might just be keyboards or something). The songs themselves are generally loosely built around guitar riffage, though they wander so much that after a minute or so it's pretty much impossible to figure out what's going on.

I'm pretty sure these guys get lost while playing their stuff. There is a highly improvisational quality to the songs here, and I'm guessing each performance features a different arrangement. A hallmark of a young and creative band.

Think of this as a work in progress. Hey, I'm all for experimental fare, but Dufus sounds like it wants to be a bit more mainstream than these songs have turned out. Still, it is an interesting snapshot of a moment in time, hearing a band begin to come to terms with its grand notions. I'd suggest more work, but I did enjoy myself immensely.

Extremely clever and calculated. The sound is pretty close to the punk antithesis of what Fat Wreck usual kicks out: the guitars are thin, the singing is, well, singing, and the songs are rather textured. I'm not trying to insult anyone here, I'm just saying I didn't expect this.

Which is always a good thing. Frenzal Rhomb hails from somewhere in Australia (sorry, didn't read the notes), and like I said, these lyrics are frightfully clever. Thoughtful, too. Kinda like a cleaned-up version of MTX. The music is the cleaned-up part, of course.

And the music is really what sets the band apart. Yes, this is punk, but these guys can really play. And they're not at all afraid to use bring some serious expertise to the table.

Altogether impressive, really. The musical and lyrical asides are breathtaking at times, and they lend the sound a fresh perspective. This is a punk sound I've never exactly heard before. And that's the reason this gives me such a rush.

There's good bands, and then there's the best bands on the face of the earth. June of 44 falls into the latter category. Not for any ostensible musical talent (particularly singing), but for the songwriting. Few can bring together such unusual and disparate elements into percolating wholes like these boys can.

The songs pulsate with life. They must be accepted on their own terms, because they do not fit into any recognized categories. And not to give the performance short shrift: the pieces are played most competently, if without virtuoso-style flash.

But that's the thing here. The whole. The overall effect of the music. The reason for listening is what the music does to you. And there's no escaping the power and intensity of June of 44. This stuff will do you in if you let it.

Me? I just surf along, riding the brilliance of the sonic waves. I'm guessing some folks might want a description of the music. Well, imagine a great noise pop outift, one which isn't afraid to chill out from time to time. Double your expectations, and June of 44 will exceed them.

That really should be good enough.

Killian Khan sings like Ozzy Osbourne. His band's music is something like Iron Maiden meets Black Sabbath (it is fairly upbeat). Reasonably entertaining fare.

Now, Killer Khan does not advance music anywhere. It does, though, kick out some decent riffage and good songs. Generic, perhaps, but definitely serviceable.

I would advise some soul searching and work on the band's sound. It's perfectly fine to be influenced, but these sounds are way too close to the originals, particularly the vocals. There is talent here. A unique sound has to be found.

Plenty of work left to do, but the skills are all here. Killer Khan must simply figure out what it really wants to be, something akin to a cover band (like it is now) or its own powerhouse.

Yeah, I remember the old days, way back when Luscious Jackson was a hip, cool thing to play on college radio. That was a long, long time ago.

Now it's cool teenagers who wait upon the next opus from this trio, and the music isn't quite as interesting. A little bland, even. I can understand the backlash some of my friends are kicking out, but I'm not going to go so far as to join them.

Yeah, this is bouncy pop music, somewhere between electronic, disco and hip-hop. And because the beats and grooves trip between those feels, Luscious Jackson proves it still has a handle on creating creative music. Commercial, the sort of thing the kids will dig, to be sure, but that doesn't mean it sucks. It's just not the most inspired stuff in the world.

Come on, boys, time to let go of that ritualistic sacrifice of the indie favorite gone big time. This is a decent album by a good group. Any more than that? No. But it's still a reasonably fun summer album.

The back of this disc has to be seen to be believed. It kinda shows the thought process of how bands go about the sequencing of a CD. Hard to explain more than that, except to say that there's a load of info there. Pretty cool.

The music is fuzzy and messy. Don't know what I expected from an UP (that's Upper Peninsula, for those not up on their Michigan nomenclature) band, but in any case I didn't expect this. Hyper drumming, languid shouts and heavy fuzz on the guitars.

As if the Chicago noise pop thing went into the backwoods, I suppose. The pop forms are there (deep in the background), the experimentation is basically in the drumming and the guitars and bass simply wail and moan. All with vaguely tuneful choruses. Really. You know, come to think of it, this does remind me a bit of the God Bullies and Thought Industry, a couple of southern Michigan bands. Vaguely. As much for the spirit of adventure as anything.

Energizing and exciting. manRay 19 may not have a huge commercial future, but this disc could become legendary. There is a lot here to appreciate and feed on. Highly recommended.

An EP, an album and now a 7". Marmoset in all formats. I can dig it. Particularly when the band is so singularly set on cranking out streamofconsciousness pop gems.

Are the feelings expressed in these songs edited and crafted? Probably, but they don't sound like it. And the music also sounds similarly loose and improvised. It's not, of course, but it feels that way. Listening to Marmoset is like having a conversation with a good friend.

And so two songs just aren't enough, though they are very nice, indeed. Quite good. A nice way to spend a few moments with a musical pal.

If you don't know, Me First and the Gimme Gimmes is a joke. Well, it contains members of a few Fat Wreck bands (and Fat Mike, of course), and the band's first album was a silly collection of 70s songs. This one is even more inspired, two-minute takes on Broadway showtunes.

Well, sorta. "Rainbow Connection" never hit Broadway, and "Science Fiction Double Feature" hit the White Way about 20 years after the movie became a cult smash (though it WAS a musical first).

There are lots of musical asides (apart from the general goofiness of a punk band riffing through these tunes). "My Favorite Things" is kinda grafted onto the back of Bad Religion's "Generator", which is a connection I wouldn't have thought of myself. Another amusing bit is a Cheap Trick descant at the end of "Tomorrow". Perhaps the coolest moment is a ska rendition of "Stepping Out" from Cabaret. Long-winded and deservedly so

Okay, I wouldn't have thought of any of this. But I'm still laughing my ass off. And singing along, because, well, I own more Broadway albums than NOFX albums (and I have the entire NOFX collection). And there's nothing wrong with that.

I saw the Nighthawks years ago, when I was in school. Down at a local bar, where college kids weren't exactly welcome. The food was fried, and the clientele was easily 20 years older than me. Those folks could dance. And Mark Wenner blew me away with his harp.

He still can. Alright, there's only two originals, and Wenner's voice doesn't have the range it once did (though it might be argued "range" was never one of its more impressive qualities). No matter. The harp (well, harps, as he has a huge collection) is still golden. And Pete Kanaras can play an expressive guitar even while maintaining the boogie.

The song selection is impeccable, designed to show off the finer elements of the band. This is a working band. I knew I was back in civilization one afternoon while walking in Baltimore when I saw the Nighthawks on the marquee of a dingy dive. For the night before, I'm sorry to say, but that sight still made me happy.

Blue-collar blues with some of the finest harp playing on earth. Wenner and the Nighthawks are as vital as ever. Yeah, I'd like to hear some more originals, but I'll happily settle for this.

I spent a good portion of my time listening to this trying to pin down what Quinn was trying to do. The main thing I came up with is that his voice sounds like a gruffer Geddy Lee. But generally, he's trying to play guitar pop (with lots of little asides). Drum machine backing some sharp and unusual guitar playing

It is demo quality recording, so a lot of the subtleties are lost in the mix. What I can say is that Quinn can handle a guitar quite well. He's got his own style, and it sounds good. I'm not as enamored of his vocals, which sometimes get a bit slurred. They are somewhat endearing though, after a lengthy listen.

What Quinn doesn't do is rip anyone off. This tape has the sound of a person with singular vision and ambition. He wants to make his music. And he has. That streak of originality really sets these songs apart from the crowd.

I do wish the sound was better, but that's the price I pay for listening to folks at the beginning of their musical journey. Quinn seems to have a good handle on songwriting and playing. Some refinement is certainly in order (these songs would sound better with a full band, certainly), but he's on the right track.

Back in the June of 44 review, I mentioned something about the best bands in the world? Well, Rachel's (I don't get the punctuation, either) isn't so much a band as an orchestra. And this definitely isn't rock music.

Lots of strings, played in unusual ways. A good amount of what the classical people might call retro neo-avant garde. Or something. I never can understand what those critics whine about. The deal is, these are lengthy, contemplative pieces, performed with something resembling a large ensemble or small orchestra (very small, nine folks). Imagine if Dirty Three (I know I reference those guys a lot, but it's 'cause I love them) was prettied up and taken to a more complex setting.

The power of the music here is its delicate subtlety. Now, the music itself can pack a punch, but it's the full array of sound (often quietly expressed) which provides the wallop. Devastation often follows.

Pretty isn't the word. This isn't pretty music. It's not exactly "easy" music. Takes a little time and effort to work into the brain. But once all of the possibilities are in place, the totality of the vision overwhelms. Yes, indeed, one of the world's best bands. And a pretty fine album, too.

The usual large conglomeration of fine folks backing up Mayo Thompson (though Jim O'Rourke is on holiday), producing the usual twisted Red Krayola fare.

On this disc, Mayo reaches back and takes some songs of his from yesteryear and gives them a new spin. The sound is much more electronically dominated. I know, that was always there, but it's like the issuance of those old Moebius-Conny Plank-Mayo tapes inspired the guy to dig into that side of things more.

Who knows? I've given up trying to guess anything when it comes to the Red Krayola. Much better to just sit there and let the looniness wash over like a comfy blanket. There is method to the madness, but madness it is. Music for the discerning lunatic. I'm happy to count myself among those folks.

This sounds like a work in progress. all Red Krayola discs do, though, and I can handle that. Just another missal to the warped masses. I'm already craving another hit.

The fuzzed vocals and strident guitars remind me strongly of the Lee Harvey Oswald Band. As do the little techno touches (fuzzed out organ, etc.). The sound is simply altogether distorted. And the speed is high.

Energy galore. Scared of Chaka hails from Albuquerque, and in fact, the band's contact address is reasonably close to my brothers's pad in the Big Q. I get the feeling I know where these guys are coming from, and I sure like tapping into the source.

And that's the key here. Electric. Scared of Chaka is fast but tight, a live wire act where the mess is in the sound and not the playing. The only way is all the way. Dive in. Experience the rush.

Truly invigorating. One of those cool discs which rises out of nowhere to bit you on the ass. Yep, I'm pretty stoked. And definitely amped. All the way.

Noise pop with an emo bent. That familiar strident strumming of the electric guitar, with plenty of asides to fill out the sound. Generally instrumental (though not exclusively), but the guitars do more than enough speaking for the group.

The sort of raucous, yet contemplative stuff that I'm quite enamored of these days. Seki is more than willing to crank up the amperage, but not at the expense of the ideas behind the music.

And when there are vocals, the music continues on as before. Treating the voice as just another instrument. I like that theory. Don't let singing dumb down the tunes.

Understated, yet majestic all the same. Seki sure knows how to do this sound quite well. Like I said, I'm quite a fan of this sort of noodling, but the disc impresses all the same.

Roadrunner seems to be clocking into the Boston scene a bit. First, there was that re-issue of a couple Chevy Heston albums (and probably some other things I haven't seen), and here's another pop outfit hailing from the area.

Languid, even when kicking out the jams. The Sheila Divine has cultivated a sort of quiet intensity, even while tossing off the songs like they were just secondhand goods. I kinda like that.

Basically, this thing was recorded real well. Sure, the songs are good and the trio knows exactly how it wants to sound, but it all came together on tape. What might have been another nice little pop album became somewhat more impressive.

Really, I'm not trying to belittle the band, because no knob job can turn prunes into chablis. The Sheila Divine plies its post-Big Star pop in fine fashion, a gritter version of the rather popular Semisonic style. The songs do speak for themselves. Even if they sound really, really good.

So I see Andy Wallace is the producer, and I'm expecting some seriously thick sounds. And I get that, but the overall feel is a sparse one. What instruments that do appear are heavy, but there isn't an overwhelming amount of overdubs.

Let's see if I can make sense. Skunk Anansie is a metal band that incorporates hip hop, electronic and Indian (as in the subcontinent) influences. But not in a Rage style, but just the opposite. The sound is extraordinarily tight, each instrument appearing only when needed. Often enough, the songs consist of one guitar line, some drums and singing. Oh, the choruses can get a bit cluttered, but the verses are very clean.

Reminds me of the first Warrior Soul album (you know, the really damned good one) in the way it takes the genre and forces it to change for the better. Constraining Skunk Anansie to one genre isn't really fair, but there it is.

This would fit in quite well with the Drown album I reviewed earlier this year. Twisting around notions of what metal is going to sound like in the next century. And making some really fine music along the way.

Classy blues, if you will. Tinged with organ and horns and steeped in the rock and roll. A nice commingling of styles, really. Alright, this isn't "pure" blues. But it's pretty cool music.

All of the songs here were written by someone in the band, and most by Trout himself. If you still can't get a handle on the style, imagine Robert Cray's lush sound with all the smoothness roughed up considerably. Trout does not have a velvet voice, and his guitar style is more jarring than fluid.

But it still works. These are songs of pain and redemption, the classic style, and Trout sings and plays with more than enough emotion. His heart is in the right place, right in the middle of the notes. Even with some of the cheesier material ("Sweet Butterfly" comes to mind), though, Trout manages to wring out an honest performance without getting too treacly.

Most of the time, though, the blues here are mixed nicely with the boogie and just a little rock and roll. Trout serves up a nice dish, indeed.

Moving from one of my favorite Chicago labels to another (though still in the T&G distribution network, mind you, so it's all in the family--sort of), U.S. Maple lurches on. Produced by Michael Gira, engineered by Martin Bisi, these boys have all the big names on their side.

And the same fucked-up sounds. Rock and roll stripped down to its bare nuts, boiled and regurgitated. If you know anything about this band, you know what to expect, and yet, the insanity which is issued forth from the disc is still so stirring that it's impossible to hit the stop button.

Music in its basest form (in all the ways that you can imagine). U.S. Maple is the only band which dares to make this music, and while there are those who might rejoice at that fact, I'm just happy to hear these albums whenever they arrive.

Continuation of the legend. Nothing particularly new or innovative from the boys, simply more great stuff (to paraphrase Chuck Barris). I'm gonna go get lost for a while. Thank you.

Part of the "This Ain't No Tribute" series (I'm not exactly sure what that means, but I'll go with it), this set features 12 blues artists doing E.C.'s stuff. Well, except for Bo Diddley, who simply has rerecorded a song of his which Clapton made a bit more famous ("Before You Accuse Me").

Like a lot of Clapton's "blues" stuff, a lot of the tracks sound a bit overproduced and excessive to me. Clapton came of age as the "more is more" production style first reared its ugly head, and he's always seemed to succumb to its influence.

As Clapton himself so aptly proved on Unplugged, there's just no good reason to rerecord "Layla". Eric Gales and Derek Trucks do a decent version, but it lacks the fire and pain of the original. It is nice to hear Koko Taylor, Otis Rush and Pinetop Perkins, among others, but I've heard them better in other places.

Tribute or no, this disc still suffers from being precisely what it claims not to be. The comparisons are inevitable, and here, no one has really improved on the original. Which is too bad, because I think some stripped down versions of these songs might sound good.

An impressively appointed set, two discs filled with House of Blues artists, other blues greats and a few classic tracks. It's precisely a set like this which shows that Dan Akroyd's heart is in the right place, even if the actual Houses of Blues are garish tombs which more often than not feature rock bands.

Ah, but I'm not here to be mean. I don't know what this retails for, but the breadth of sound and quality of the songs rivals those great Alligator anniversary sets. Anyone who wants to get closer acquainted with some of the finer blues artists around today (and hear some of their influences) would do well to check this out.

All colors of the blues are represented here, branching out to folks as eclectic as Taj Majal and Dr. John. Enjoyable listing, as the very least.

A good starting point, and in any case a fine blue mix. Like I said, it's stuff like this which makes me feel good about the House of Blues, no matter how excessive parts of that enterprise can get.

Last year's lineup was a bit more coherent, and so the songs on these two discs (sold separately, which is an unfortunate attempt at scamming extra cash, I'm afraid) fit together better. There are fewer tracks from lesser-known acts, but there are also no absolutely dreadful moments (such as suffering through another live Cardigans track).

Alright, there is a Holly McNarland track, and I'm not a big fan of Shawn Colvin or Natalie Merchant, but there's more than enough from the likes of Emmylou Harris, Liz Phair and Luscious Jackson to make up for that.

Okay, the discs are simply promo tools for this summer's festival. They can also serve as something of an audio tour book for last summer's set. However you want to look at it.

The recordings are quite good, and while I wish there were more tracks from lesser-known folks, well, money has to be made somewhere. For what this is, it does the trick nicely.

The first track, a toss-off from Pennywise's recent recording sessions, is the only new thing here. Otherwise, this is an Epitaph class photo. Which is pretty good.

This is only the fourth such disc. You really should know what to expect here. Twenty-five songs from 25 bands, all previously released except for the aforementioned Pennywise track. A good song, but not worth the price of admission if you've got the other stuff here.

If not, though, you might want to check out what Epitaph's been doing the past year or so. That what this is all about, anyway. I really don't think much more needs to be said.

A benefit for the Shanti Project of San Francisco, which has a number of programs for those living with HIV and AIDS. Five bands: Red House Painters, Low, Idaho, Hayden and Misc. The sounds don't match up exactly, and about half the tracks have appeared on various albums and such.

It is a good cause, and that's what the disc is here to promote. The songs chosen are good, and if you're up for some meditative music (not dull, just introspective), that's the mood here. Think. Or something.

Good songs and a good cause. A fine reason for a benefit disc. Fans of the bands involved (and others) would do well to scope this out.

Not a benefit disc, per se. Just a sampler for Sub City. Includes some of the stuff I've reviewed recently (Scared of Chaka, Fifteen, and more) ad a good load of other bands. All told, 15 tracks from 13 bands.

And if you're not up with Sub City, this disc should set you straight. Yes, it's another punk label with a good lineup and some great music. Alright, all this stuff has been released before (that's why it's a sampler). Dig in if you like.

Quality stuff from a quality outfit. For your sampling pleasure.

Despite the liners, Aston Barrett wasn't an original Wailer. Though he was there almost from the beginning. And he is the only person here with a connection to the band's 70s glory days with Bob Marley, Peter Tosh and Bunny Wailer.

The recording is good, and you know the songs. Even if you don't know reggae, you know most of these songs. The performances are fine, though not particularly exceptional. A lot like sleeping through a latter-day Dead live set.

I understand touring with a name in order to make money. That's fine, I guess. But there's just not much of a reason for this disc. The original Wailers made plenty of live recordings of most of these songs, and those recordings are better. Just because this is more recent doesn't mean it is somehow more vital.

I hate to slag on this, but I just can't groove on something so mediocre. Particularly when at one time the Wailers were truly amazing.