I listed the bands alphabetically, but the actual order is Planes Mistaken for Stars (one song), Race Car Riot (three songs) and Appleseed Cast (two songs).So I'll go in that order here.

"Staggerswallowswell" is the PMS song (an unfortunate abbreviation, I agree), and it pretty much follows the title. A rip-roaring emo piece, quite possibly the best of the set. Certainly one of the best songs I've heard this year.

Race Car Riot uses two instrumentals to bracket "Raincheck", and to be honest I prefer the instrumentals. Generally more pedestrian fare, though with a nice subtle touch in the guitar licks. Maybe this band is a bit under the radar for me. In any case, these songs don't sound entirely finished, though not bad the way they are.

Appleseed Cast is a fine band, meandering all about in the two songs here. These two songs sound just like the stuff on the full-length, proving that these guys have a flair for somewhat unconnected logic, both musically and lyrically. The disc as a whole is quite solid, two great bands and a good one coming together nicely.

Brandtson continues to expand the emo universe, sounding more and more like a pop band that has momentarily lost its melody chit. Not just any pop band, either, but a damned good one.

Ranging from delicate to downright aggressive, Brandtson rips through large pieces of pop while retaining some tethers to the emo realms. However, a few more steps and I'm gonna have to simply use pop to describe these boys.

And that three-letter word isn't any sort of pejorative term, but a bland descriptor for some of the finest music around. And Brandtson's willingness to try on different hats (while wearing the same coat) makes for most enjoyable listening.

I don't hear so much evolution as the passage of time. Brandtson already knew how to make good music. This disc simply continues the trend. Personally, that's more than alright with me.

More from the Criminals, a band which kinda glories in not advancing. You know what yer gonna get (aggro pop-punk with buzzsaw riffage and throaty vocals) and you know what isn't going to be around (much difference between the songs).

Good in spurts. I liked last year's EP mostly because it was a short dosage. Thirteen Criminals songs in a row can get kinda tiring. Though one or two (or five) at a time can be a refreshing change.

While undoubtedly doing the style quite well, the Criminals do not extend the territory first delineated by Iggy and the Stooges years ago. Not so much wallowing in the past as simply standing in place.

This band is almost maddening to me. I start out liking the discs, and then I get tired of the sound by the end. Good mix tape material, though. There's nothing wrong with that, either.

Five British guys doing what comes naturally. That is, crafting catchy pop song utilizing the latest trends. Thus, each song has a kicky electronic backbeat, some gang vocal choruses (a la Chumbawamba) and the usual keyboard orchestrations.

Unfortunately, this sounds a bit more calculated than most Britpop fare. And it's much more grating. I like the hooks, I can't resist them, but there's too much goop in between. Bleah, bleah, bleah.

What I do not hear is anything particularly new or interesting. Delirious? simply recycles, and not in any sort of unique way. A real bummer that way.

Gorgeous sounding, of course, but ultimately hollow. Kinda like a doughnut. After the hooks fade, the stomach ache begins.

After the first song, which was a pretty cool minimalist goth thing, Dream City Film Club morphs quickly and easily into a more typical Britpop outift. The guitars have that ragged American feel, but the eclecticism and generally sneering attitude is pure U.K.

The band does shift gears often, with results that are reminiscent of the "quality" Love and Rockets days. Rockers interspersed with songs which seem almost still by comparison. Dream City Film Club ups the ante with plenty of sounds in between as well.

But even filling out the spectrum the way it is here, I really don't think this all quite comes together. Close, but a little too close to the edge to retain a consistent center. I don't hear a coherent band sound.

Which isn't a scathing indictment. Dream City Film Club does a good job aping a variety of sounds. These songs are, at worst, merely average. There are some gems. I'm just not sure about the album as a whole.

Got a nice note and this slab of vinyl in the mail from the band. I liked the full-length I reviewed not too long ago quite well, and this release seems too be following in a similar way, pop songs created out of usual and unusual sources.

Actually, both of the songs here sound a bit more "normal" than much of the stuff I heard on the album, though the part I liked best, the scratchy electronic undercurrent, remains. Not really an evolution, but just an extension of a couple ideas from that set.

Nothing here to turn me away from the group, and indeed, plenty to cause my praises to be sung even louder. Emperor Penguin has the tools to really make a statement in the long haul.

Not Lame is yet another label from that strangely burgeoning Ft. Collins scene. Flamingo is a pop band once from Buffalo, now from somewhere in Florida. Most of the post-production on this album was done right here in Duham, but I never saw them play if they were actually in town. Of course, I work nights, so I don't see as many shows as I like.

And I would like to see what these guys might do live. There are moments on this disc that sound a bit too sterile, though in general the feel is ragged enough to lend some energy to the songs. Not that they really needed a lot of help that way.

Yes, big debt to Big Star (in everything from songwriting style to out-of-tune falsetto), but enough originality to claim its own sound. For the most part, anyway (The verse in "Dutch Master" was a bit too close for comfort). The songs are rather crafted, and that's where the occasional heavy hand in the studio can strip some life out of the stuff.

In general, this is a fine exercise in one of the more vibrant forms of pop around. Flamingo needs to work on increasing both craft and reckless abandon to really knock this sound stiff, but this is a fine start.

At least, I think the band is still called Fold Zandura. All references in the disc package are to Foldzan, but the press notes use the old name. In any case, it is the same sound as the album I heard a couple years back.

Seven songs in 25 minutes. Is that an album or an EP? Dunno. I'll call it an album. For those who don't recall, Fold Zandura creates a lush pop-rock sound using a variety of instruments and sampled sounds. A variety of beats and bass lines pepper the songs. Indeed many of these songs are almost ambient in construction.

Though never quite all the way there. The guys never give up on crafting catchy ways to perpetuate their music, and so the hooks always creep in. Yeah, this is definitely a commercial sound, but in the best way. Complex, teeming with life. A full sound which still captivates the average listener.

A sound that could sell (though I guess it didn't, because this disc isn't on the band's previous label) that still manages to interest me. That's hard to do, and all praise is due. Fold Zandura continues to impress.

High Rise was a Japanese three-piece back in the 80s. The band specialized in over-the-top fuzzwork, a more manic version of Cream, if you will.

A lot more manic, really. This doesn't sound much at all like Cream, except that it's three musicians works real hard to kick some major ass. The press has high praise for Munehiro Narita's guitar work, and it's all that and then a lot more.

It's hard to judge the recording quality of this set, since the band so liked trafficking in fuzz noise. Narita's work astonishes throughout, though. He's not just fast, but rather expressive as he navigates the wall of distortion he himself is putting up. The seven tracks clock in at more than 47 minutes, so there's plenty of room for exploration. Discordant, ragged and profane (in a musical sense, that is), but brilliant nonetheless.

I should note that this and the Disallow album are re-issues. I don't do reissues often, but when I've never heard of the band and the stuff is this good, well, something has to give.

Alright. It's a bit easier to hear High Rise on this studio recording. And, indeed, with some of the extraneous live matter removed, the band does sound a little like Cream. Or, to be honest, more like Black Sabbath. Munehiro Narita's guitar slinging, however, is even more impressive in this context. He's not just crazed, but brilliantly so.

A couple songs here are also on the live album. The arrangements are different. Similarities can be heard, but live I'd say High Rise is a completely different band.

And better, to my ear. This album is good, and connoisseurs of fine guitar work will prefer the quality of this sound to the live stuff, but I liked the overall lunacy of the live sound more. That's all.

Still, I'm knocked out. There's plenty of reasons I didn't know High Rise before. Now, there's no way I can forget.

Yer general rootsy guitar rock, with some nice modern touches. Holder has something of a manic folk storyteller style to his singing, which fits nicely with his electronic additions to the sound.

He has something to say, and he says it with style. That's a tough trick, and he's got the chops. This is a joy to hear and a wonderment to ponder. Holder doesn't let up.

I was looking at my initial description, and I got worried that some of you folks might be thinking there's a Beck thing going on here. Not at all. Holder flavors his sound, but he doesn't mutate it. Perhaps he's a first step toward that sound, but this is still rather traditional fare. With the nice touches, of course.

The more I hear, the more I like. Damn fine stuff. Should be going somewhere real soon.

Um, yeah, those are D.A. Sebasstian's kids on the cover. He's doing his own thing now, and this disc does showcase a departure of sorts from his usual sound.

The creativity levels are still high, but there are many more instruments and much less electronic sounds here. The way it's done, though, is a bit more seamless than you might think. Like I said, the complexity levels are still high, and the songs are still assembled. But the feel is more... organic, to coin a term (ahem).

I've long been advocating the mix of "analog" and "digital" worlds. I know I'm using those terms inappropriately, but I think they make the point best. Well, really, this album also makes the point quite well. Sebasstian has crafted some addictive and intriguing songs, stuff that will stand up to repeated scrutiny.

That which could also be said about previous KS...K outings. And so, while in some ways a departure, Organica also continues a legacy. One that I hope continues for some time to come.

Full-on fuzz pop with dreamy hooks that float like clouds on a hazy sunset. Indeed, if this isn't the music of California, I don't know what is.

The hooks are almost descant in style, anti-climactic falsetto lines that provide a bit of musical irony. The music itself moves along at a relatively slow clip, allowing plenty of time for the glory to accumulate.

I have a feeling I'd be bored to death at a live show, but kicking back with something cold and contemplating my navel, this stuff really does the job. I'm in a trance in five seconds flat. Most impressive that way, and there's plenty to appreciate what lies behind the pendulum.

Wow. I've heard a lot of pop bands in the last couple of years, and the Lassie Foundation is one of the most original around. Yes, there are the High Llamas wandering about in somewhat the same territory, but the LF has a distinctly Californian tinge to the sound. And anyway, this isn't an orchestra of effects, but just a band. Make that a pretty cool band.

I was looking over my review of Macha's first album, and it's apparent I really didn't understand what's going on. I still don't, actually, but I've got a better handle. Maybe the band does, too. Could be. Don't want to commit myself or anything.

The vaguely Indian and Middle Eastern influences are a bit more strongly in evidence, but so are the Western pop underpinnings. And while this sounds like Britpop, in fact, the band resides in Athens. Georgia, that is.

All of the collected influences (and I think I hear some stuff that might even be Far Eastern) are run through the Macha wringer, and nothing comes out unscathed. Original intentions count for nothing. This is music cut from wholly original cloth, tailored by four guys with a real sense of purpose.

Not that I can really divine that purpose yet. But I like trying. And one of these days, I just might crack the nut. Or would that ruin the effect? Can't say.

In case you were wondering, metal isn't dead. The bands at the top of the Roadrunner rostrum (Fear Factory, Sepultura, Soulfly and Machine Head) do all feed from the same trough, but each has branched out in unique directions.

This sound does go back to Sepultura and Fear Factory, of course, but Machine Head incorporates a rapid-fire, almost rap approach to the vocals, stripping the rhymes over tribal-style rhythms and buzzsaw guitars. In that way, Machine Head has become something more conventional. But even so, I've never heard anyone do this quite the same way.

Change is one way to remain vital, and so Machine Head has infused its already powerful sound with some new repertoire material. But the new sounds simply spice up what was already there. Perhaps it's change for change's sake, but it works.

By the way, that listing of bands at the top of the review is also a list of some of the most vital bands in metal. I don't know how anyone who claims to love a loud sound would pass up anything by these folks. This is simply another quality album from a band that might well have passed from good to great. Bite into this adrenaline line and ride.

Well, yeah, it's dark. Goth. Whatever. An astonishingly sparse and simple approach to the sound, often with just vocals and a fairly minimal keyboard accompaniment. These do sound like fully-fleshed out songs, but certainly not typical ones.

Haunting, to be sure, and I know that's one effect the duo was going for here. Yeah, there are some basic gothic pop songs here (complete with percussion, guitar and bass lines, etc.), but even those are relatively clean sounding, without all the bombast that often accompanies this sound.

The real test of a band is whether or not it can try on different ideas and sounds and still retain its own identity. The Machine in the Garden has a firm grasp on what it wants to do, and so even as it flits from this side to that, there is no mistaking the sound. In a genre where bands can trend to generic awfully quickly, this duo is impressive in its presence.

Yes, Roger Frace and Summer Bowman are that good. This is a confident and accomplished album from a band that has a secure handle on its identity. Haunting, beautiful, stirring--it's all that. And, as the cliche goes, more.

Not exactly what I was expecting from Kool Arrow, but these Australian boys and their brand of electronic punk do have a cool sound.

But is it really particularly electronic? Is it really punk? I mean, the drums are of the skin variety, but there seems to be a haze of sorts draped over the songs. Samples and the such. Though more noise than anything recognizable. It's all kinda, well, disconcerting.

So you've got the Australian version of an amped-up noise-pop band (or maybe emo-pop, but probably somewhere in between) with an engineer who's listened to a lot of Man or Astroman? Am I making any sense here yet? I'm afraid not.

The simple, objective truth here is that Not from There isn't a conventional band. There are plenty of descriptors which can be applied, but really, this has to be heard to be believed. It's really good. And so, when I think about it, that's exactly what I was expecting from Kool Arrow.

How long have these guys been doing their three-piece old-time rock and roll thing? I don't, but I thought they'd been around forever when I saw them in Kansas City back in '92, so add a few years to that, anyway.

I knew the Paladins from their days on Alligator, and now they're on another blues label, even though they really don't play the blues. They shift easily from rockabilly to a zydeco shuffle to tight harmony and then on from there. And they sound as good as I remember.

About half the songs here are originals, and those are just as varied as the chestnuts they cover. No band back in the 50s would have played all these styles, but all of these sounds existed back then. And maybe it's that old-timey affection which keeps bringing the Paladins to blues labels. You got me.

As fun as this album is, the live show I saw was truly impressive. This disc doesn't quite catch the energy and abandon of a show, but it's easily the sharpest production job I've heard done on the boys. Takes me back and makes me happy for the future, all at once.

Digging deeper into the classic ska and soul sounds, the Pietasters return. As the album title indicates, the idea was to craft a multitude of sounds and ideas that circle around what the band does best.

That, by the way, isn't come up with album covers. I'm not so much put off by the tastelessness (I'm a big fan of such things) as much as the incoherent images. I don't mention album covers much; this one kinda bugged me. Anyway, what the Pietasters do best is spin out 60's era ska with plenty of r&b backing it up.

In all ways superior to anything I've heard from the band before. The production is full and sharp (Brett Gurewitz still knows how to make a great-sounding record) and the songs have been trimmed of all bombast and excess. What's left are lean and supple songs full of power and grace.

This mix tape is gonna be in my car for quite a while. I've often remarked as to the quality of Hellcat recordings. The Pietasters keep that run solidly in the black.

Rose Polenzani sings in non-sequitur. Her songs are poems filled with distinct and seemingly-incoherent passages. Pulling back, however, it becomes easier to hear the relations between the separate threads.

Though it is also easy to get drawn fully into the music as well. Polenzani's simple style (acoustic guitar, the occasional backing instrument or two) are almost irresistible, and her delivery is as smooth as her imagery is jarring.

Reminds a little of the first Patty Griffin album, though without the agony. Pain, yes. But not so extreme. Polenzani is more subtle in her style. I think some of her songs are even more disturbing, but like good writing, the words have to settle in before they unsettle the nerves.

A mature sound that is hard to fathom. Polenzani sounds like someone who has been crafting this style for years, and I don't think she's old enough for that. Just a natural, I guess. I'm enraptured.

The strident guitars of emo, the song structures of noise pop and the harmonies of plain old regular pop. Thus Pope Factory reminds me of a lot of bands, but really sounds like none of them.

It is the guitar work which really intrigues me. The rhythm section sets it up so nicely, and then the guitars get to work. The vocals are quite nice, but I keep coming back to those cool guitars. Something about the way they weave.

The texture of the sound is impeccable. There are discernible layers (often, this effect is enhanced by the slow introduction of instruments in a song) and so part of the fun is tracing the lines through the pieces. I like to do that, anyway.

Familiar, and yet unique. A real formula for success (at least on the limited scale of making-no-money indie land). The artistry cannot be denied.

Prog-inflected Euro-style metal. They style hasn't changed since I last reviewed these guys. What has improved is the production. And to some extent, the songwriting.

Where that first disc was treble-heavy, this one is a bit bass heavy. Not so bad as to really tick me off. But just a bit too rumbly. Certainly, though, an improvement. And the songs are a bit more coherent and less slapdash than before.

The writing at times is a bit generic (predictable chord changes without requisite hooks), but the band at least is really playing together this time. Enjoyable, if not enthralling.

Even more than the last disc, I hear potential here. But Seasons of the Wolf needs to take a few more chances with the writing. Really try to break beyond what it has done before. That's where the major growth can come.

The second album in this batch with a seriously mismatched cover. I mean, this is about what you'd expect from former members of the Monorchid and the Delta 72. Abrasive rock without much in the way of social graces. Razor blades and gorilla heads? Not really.

Aw, whatever. My main complain here is that the songs are so deconstructed, at times almost utterly disjointed, that the music kinda falls apart. Knowing the pedigree, I'd say that's kinda the point. So, it worked. But not always for me.

There is an interesting British sneer to some of the tunes (I'm using that to describe "sneer", not the members of the band). That, more than the music, really lends a punk feel to parts of this disc. The utterly unique guitar work (which sometimes disconnects from everything else) is interesting. I'm not converted, mind you, but I'm listening.

The album, with all of its contrarian impulses, did grow on me. I was reasonably happy with it when it finished. Still, this isn't smooth drinking. There's sparks as it goes down.

Heavy and hooky punk. The guitars have a bit of a metal edge to them, but I guess that's the style these days. I prefer the duller sound. Other than that, prepare for my rave.

One caveat: This is pop punk. Gotta accept that. Once you do, well, this crashes in such tasty waves that you're not gonna worry about it. and the more I think about it, the sharper guitar sound meshes nicely with the tight harmonies of the choruses.

Just try to keep up. The tempos are peppy to downright fast, the hooks are sweet and clever and the riffage is just the sort of thing to crack the back. I find this stuff utterly irresistible. Punk is passe? Tell that to these boys.

This is one of those instant likes for me. I'm kinda vulnerable to this sort of sound. Especially when it is done so wonderfully. There are plenty of commercial elements, particularly in the production, but they didn't worry me excessively. I just enjoyed myself. Period.

Ahh, yes. Back to the late 80s, some groove-laden glam metal (remember Bang Tango? Cross that with Queensryche). The complexities are in the relation of the vocals to the tunes (the music itself is relatively normal). The songs themselves are, well, addictive.

Simple enough to attract immediate attention and intricate enough to handle some scrutiny. Spider Rockets have a cool sound. I don't know how it will fly these days, but that's merely a commercial comment, not an artistic one.

'Cause I'm having blast listening to these four songs. This sort of sound can go wrong in so many ways, and instead, it's done so right here. Quite well, indeed. This is the level so many bands failed to reach.

I hope times are turning right for Spider Rockets. Because stuff this good deserves to be heard. I'm not just riding a nostalgia wave here. This sound is quite grand even years past the trend.

A vaguely (and I mean really vague) version of the Boston sludge sound. The guitars are thick and bruising, and the bass simply rumbles underfoot. There are elements of grunge, but I really hear is Tool trying to play Seka. Youknowutimean?

Ah, hell, that may not have fired the right synapses. Anyway, there's the sludge, and then there's this keyboard and sequencing stuff almost coexisting with it. Sounds very cool, really. Adds a nice, introspective feel to the carnage.

Which is probably helpful, because the songs themselves are fairly crudely written. Well, the basic songs. The backing stuff is rather more crafted (that's where the vague prog sound comes in), but it's generally in the background. Just enough for flavor.

What a cool sound. Take away any piece, and Spitkiss would sound rather ordinary. But these guys have gone the extra mile, and the results are impressive. Turn it up, but don't forget to listen.

Um, just a reminder. These guys are not a ska band. Nope. Hardcore in that finest NYC fashion, influenced by Sepultura and Biohazard as well as Murphy's Law. Not quite metalcore, though. The guitars still have that dull punk edge. For the most part.

The lyrics come fast and furious. Not quite a rap, but close enough for rock and roll. The choruses vary from hoarse shouts to soaring gang vocal harmonies. The variation is most invigorating.

Much like the EP I heard a couple years back, this one had to grow on me. Took a whole couple minutes. Then I was hooked into the flow. Once in the trance, man, there's no getting out. And unlike certain terribly popular popularizers of this sound, the Step Kings never resort to repetition for simplicity's sake. Nope. They stand true. And the songs are a testament to the talent.

Did I mention it took me a minute to dig this? Well, infatuation kept growing fast and furiously after that. And it hasn't even begun to think about quitting. Not yet, anyway.

Another one of those "This Ain't No Tribute" CDs. Though, of course, it really kinda is. Lots of well-known artists (mostly blues, but Mavis Staples, Isaac Hayes and other ringers show up), including the Band, which of course had something of a history with Dylan. Ahem.

Anyway, what is good about these remakes is that the artists generally interpret the songs in their own style, not necessarily the way Dylan did it. Though these visions can merge. Hayes's version of "Lay Lady Lay" is reasonably close to Dylan's version, but it sounds like pure Isaac.

And the same goes for most of the other tunes. Any Dylan fan knows all these songs, but the novice has probably only heard about half of them before. The renditions here just might inspire someone to check out the originals. That the part of this that, of course, is a tribute.

Satisfying, probably in part because I already like these songs loads. But the care and devotion given to them is impressive, more than adequate to the occasion. An enjoyable, if not entirely necessary, disc. Well, no matter. I'll listen again.

Peter Wyngarde played Peter King for a British TV show back in the late 60s. The character was apparently some kind of oversexed crime-writer/crime solver. Kinda like a randy Murder She Wrote. Perhaps.

This album, a continuation of that theme (I think Wyngarde is performing here in character; at least, I hope he is), delves into all of the interesting parts of sex (and more importantly, the cultural reactions to sex) that most folks generally prefer to avoid. In fact, the first full-blown song is "Rape," a description of rape in some 10 to 20 countries, complete with appropriate accents and musical accompaniment (though the underlying go-go backbeat is almost omnipresent).

The reason I'm reviewing this album is that this is the first re-issue since RCA yanked the puppy shortly after its release in 1970. I can understand why. Wyngarde's rather up-front style must have been disconcerting, but more importantly, the way he mixed spoken word bits with more regular songs, all sewn up into two seamless sides of an album is rather forward-looking. Sure, the Beatles did it, but not this way. This album sounds kind of like an avant-garde philosophical play. A one-man show, if you will.

Actually, it does remind me of Sandra Bernhard's Without You, I'm Nothing, though without the personal excess. Like I said, this seems to generally have been done in character. And it works. At least, it unnerves. A most worthy (and weird) find.