Elizabeth Elkins writes the songs and sings most of the time. She also plays guitar as part of this tight, fuzzy trio. The songs are moody pop (the liners read: "Apologies to Morrissey, the Mutton Birds, the Pixies and Social Distortion"), and the somewhat excessive distortion makes for a nice sound.

Elkins more sings around the melodies than hits any particular notes. She's got a great alto voice, but she just doesn't strike a given pitch much of the time. That's okay. Indeed, the rambling vocal lines make for a nice counterplay with the schooled music.

The songs explore a wide range of emotions, and the music accompanies appropriately. Indeed, while the sound is vaguely loose, I think great care was taken to achieve this fine result. This album hits all the notes that it should.

Consummately professional without sounding calculated or excessively crafted. Just what an edgy pop album should sound like. These folks are all ready to get going.

A couple weeks ago, I got a long, rambling phone message from Sally Timms at Biz 3 promo. I can't exactly really recall what she said about Frank and John Navin (and the rest of the Aluminum Group), but I got the sense this was a disc not to be missed.

What I didn't know was that Timms (who is also known as a member of the Mekons) provides some vocals (there are a multitude of special guests, though producer Jim O'Rourke isn't one, at least according to the credits). So what's here? Seriously eclectic pop ramblings, not unlike the Magnetic Fields or Smog. That sorta thing.

Gorgeous melodies and stringently-controlled performances (merely technically brilliant playing, with all attendant emotion left intact). Intellectually and viscerally stimulating. A tough sort of sound to accomplish, and yet the Aluminum Group seems to do it with ease.

Pretty, not to mention pretty astonishing. Yes, this is most definitely an acquired taste in pop (there are plenty of idiosyncratic moments, the sorts of things which make such albums so endearing), but one that most folks would love to embrace. Turn the lights down, drop in the disc and wait for the magic to start.

Flavor of the month from the U.K. Peppy and fun, just the sort of thing to quest a thirst for some sweet Britpop. Substantial? At times, though a good number of these tunes melt away like cotton candy subjected to excess saliva.

Because once past the complex-sounding exterior, there's nothing underneath. No gems to discover on future visits. Just gotta hope the hooks can hold up.

And they do, most of the time. No, there's nothing profound or intriguing here, simply some light moments and sugar-coated choruses which are swallowed most easily. There's nothing wrong with that, I swear there's not.

But let's not go nuts and declare mass hysteria (I've seen some strange stories the past couple of weeks). Bis is a pop act, more along the lines of the Cardigans (I know, they're Swedes, but give me a break) than Blur. I don't hear any long run possibilities, so we might as well enjoy this now.

Another full-length from this Reseda, Calif., trio. Power pop in all its glory. These pop three-pieces are a staple, but with this disc Cockeyed Ghost proves that it is more than a one-disc wonder.

Because if anything, this one is more solid than the last. I wondered how long I'd groove on that first one, and, well, I lost track of it pretty quickly. This one is more immediately arresting, and I can hear more undercurrents as well.

Improvements all the way around. This is a fine effort, the sort of album which sounds like the summer winding down (what a perfect release time). The songs tell of a glory just beginning to fade, with a wistful nostalgia beginning to creep into the consciousness.

I can't say a whole lot more than that. Cockeyed Ghost and songwriter Adam Marsland have matured, lending a more confident sound and more consistent writing. Pretty damned cool.

Beth Custer plays the clarinet. She also plays flute and a variety of keyboard instruments. Oh, yeah, she also sings. The stuff on this disc includes some of her work with Club Foot Orchestra, Clarinet Thing, soundtracks and other endeavors.

And all I can say is wow. I tried for years to play the clarinet, and I was lucky to sustain a note for eight counts. Custer can morph her sounds from sweet to scintillating to swooning in seconds. And then she'll proceed to get really nasty.

In other words, she takes chances. Lots of them. The wide variety of pieces here really shows off her range. There's everything from fairly traditional jazz and classical bits to utterly experimental fare. The most amazing thing is that almost all of it works to perfection. Custer has an innate sense of the wonderful that is utterly profound.

Custer pushes the envelope, and in so doing really opens up a wide range of music to folks who might not have considered it before. Challenging, but in a most pleasant way. I'm still shaking.

If you ever wondered just how it was that folks like Aretha Franklin and Tina Turner could come from a church singing background and then record the ripping stuff they did in the sixties, well, this disc might set you straight.

It's not so terribly amazing that there is a group of guys still calling themselves the Dixie Hummingbirds. After all, the Duke Ellington Orchestra still tours. What is astonishng is that two of the original 1928 members are still in the group. And singing. Singing with all the power and knowledge of a full life.

This is gospel music in all its fury and power. Friends like Isaac Hayes, Wynonna Judd, Stevie Wonder and Paul Simon stop by (Simon contributes a new recording of "Loves Me Like a Rock", which he recorded with the Hummingbirds more than 25 years ago), and instead of a bloated, excessive nostalgia trip, the album is tight and impressive.

Seventy years gone and still singing strong, the Hummingbirds know how to work some of the most impressive harmonies around. Folks with greater knowledge can quote you the state sheets; I'm just gonna say this was a joy to hear.

Not sure why the exit from Epitaph, but hell, I'm always game for a new Down By Law disc. Frontman Dave Smalley replaced his rhythm section for this disc (though drummer Milo Todesco has been touring with the band for more than a year), but the sound is about what it's always been.

Not quite as sharp soundwise as recent efforts, but I'm guessing this feel is what Smalley really wanted. The songs are leaner than the later Epitaph albums, but only in terms of degree. Sam Williams uses his guitar to a greater melodic effect, which compliments the slightly fuzzier feel.

Indeed, most of the songs have more of a traditional pop sound, something which Smalley hasn't really resisted in the past. It's just more pronounced here. and it allows these songs to jump out from the pack a bit more than some of the old stuff.

This is the most distinctive DBL disc I've heard in quite a while, and that's something to shout about. Fans expecting a punk powerhouse will be disappointed, but I'm guessing there will be few folks pissing on this Flag.

Ooh, bouncy, peppy and oh-so-tame. Which is too bad, 'cause these boys can play that power punk-pop thang. Too bad it's way too conformist, straightened out into this kinda dull sheen.

The stuff is tightly written and played, of the sort which is a joy to hear. It's just that all the life has been strangled out of whatever was there in the beginning. I sure don't hear any sparks now.

And I blame almost all of that on the seriously overloaded major-label production job. "We've gotta make these guys sound big", someone seems to be saying. Well, they sounded big before all the excessive nonsense got introduced. It's amazing how a knob job can torch an otherwise cool sound.

Just another reason I sing the major-label blues. Sure, it's fine to sand off a few rough edges. But this is way too extreme. And it makes a potentially interesting band sound boring. That's the real shame.

That nicely-bounding gothic electro-industrial whine which is almost exclusively German in origin. This band, then, is from San Diego. Of course. It only makes sense.

The first five tracks are various versions of the title song. Three other songs (b-sides?) follow. While this might seem like light content, the remixes are barely distinguishable as coming from the same song. There isn't a problem with variety.

Nor with a cool sound. I'm quite impressed. Derek Jones (the main guy behind FBW) does a good job of incorporating a variety of sounds and samples into his work. From the techno grind to fairly intricate soundscapes, he's got a handle on what he's doing. And in only four songs, too.

I am impressed. Sure, I'm a general sucker for this sort of sound, but Jones gives an old sound some new shine here. That's always worth hearing.

A pop duo, two guys who obviously live for the overdub. Not so much in terms of creating a drenching sound, but simply by necessity. Indeed, this sounds a lot like a complete band bashing out tunes in the garage.

That is the feel, folks. Basic basic, with all the attendant joys and tribulations. Oh, the Foxymorons do trip about stylewise, but the jangle never takes leave. And that's just fine with me. There's a certain sense of fun these guys have captured that is impossible to resist.

I really have to mention that the production allows these two guys to sound like three or even four without adding any artificial mess. Like I said, most of these songs could be mistaken for what a group might be playing.

Somewhat understated, but a load of fun to hear. Once it got started, I found it hard to turn off. There's just this goofy smile which keeps creeping over my face. Can't argue with stuff like that. Fook and Shite.

A disc just loaded with great rock and roll. You know, some blooze 'n' boogie, some down-home rollers and plenty more. Grub Dog is equally adept at slow, intricate pieces and balls-out rockers. And it all sounds so sincere, too.

Hey, I wasn't being sarcastic there. These are great songs delivered just they way they should be, with all due earnestness. There's joy and pain, but no cynicism here. Just some generally good-time music.

Grub Dog sounds a bit like Chris Cacavas (and thus, more vaguely like Chris Stamey), and he and the band play in much the same stripped-down basic style. The songs are written for ease of delivery. It sounds like they're just tripping off one by one.

A true revelation. I can't find anything wrong here. This is a band all ready. And the guys might as well get going. Songs like these don't wait forever. Grub Dog easily has one of the top self-released discs this year.

A band from just outside of Orlando; an intricately-folded package with a nice gift inside. The boys play something a bit more complicated than yer average pop (say, somewhere between Jawbox and basic emo). Guitar lines which are as likely to wander off for a while as wind around the hooks.

The hooks aren't really hooks, anyway. The songs make their marks in totality, not sing-along bit. There's a lot going on, and Gwendolyn doesn't shy away from taking on tough assignments.

Good stuff, but it's missing that something that will kick it over the edge. Everything is solid and better, but not quite inspired. The band plays exceptionally well and its sense of experimentation is quite good..

Just that little something. Keep looking, guys. I have a feeling you're gonna find it one of these days.

A little side work from some of the Pleasure Elite folks. Down 'n' dirty slide guitar rawkin blues, with plenty of goofiness to spare. Humor is the intention for the most part, and generally, Hicky draws blood to the surface of the skin.

Silly, sure, but interesting enough to get through with a smile. The joke does get a bit old after a while, as you might expect, but the laughs do keep coming whether you really want them or not.

What does save this from getting too annoying is the production, which left a fairly spare sound. So this is lean, not overblown and ponderous. The stuff keeps on moving, and that's probably a good ideer.

Don't ask for more than Hicky can deliver, and I think you'll do just fine. The best jokes are the subtle ones, and this one stays just on the tasteful side of that line.

It's often said that the blues has many colors. And Johnson prefers the full-produced version. His uptempo pieces are almost disco, and his slow numbers move along with all the subtlety of a heavy metal power ballad (though the guitar work is better). I just don't like this excess, myself.

The way I hear it, this surfeit of sound draws too much away from the songs themselves. Or, to put it another way, anyone could have recorded this album. There's no room for the great playing and soulful singing to really shine.

Which is to say that Johnson has a classic high blues voice, with the requisite power and growls. His guitar playing, too, is rather reminiscent of B.B. King. And maybe that's what's really bugging me. B.B.'s been overproduced for more than 30 years, and I'm afraid he's brought a few folks with him on that train.

Alright as a generic blues album, but there could have been so much more. Somewhere in all the mess is Jimmy Johnson and his songs. Just wish I could have heard them more clearly.

The bio enclosed seemed to intimate that the band lay somewhere between the Replacements (the good years) and Tom Petty (same qualification). I couldn't agree more. When Noah's Red Tattoo is clicking (about three-quarters of the time), the songs explode with a raucous effervescence.

Now, there are weak spots. Particularly when Noah's Red Tattoo slacks off the tempo a bit. Garage bands (and that's how this one describes itself) often have problems with such things, and NRT is no different.

But there's plenty here to recommend the band (including one good slow song, just to show the guys aren't completely inept there). Certainly, there is room for growth, particularly in defining a band sound. NRT ranges a bit and sometimes doesn't come home at the end.

Most of the difficulties, however, are growing pains. These songs have a real nice sparkle, jumping out off the disc with abandon. Keep on keepin' on, and NRT has a real future.

And sometimes the major-label thing works out. A couple of the Other Star People are Jennifer Finch (once of L7) and Todd Phillips (once of Bullet Lavolta and also skinman to Juliana Hatfield). This is, indeed, the same sort of chunky punk-pop stuff that Face to Face plays (reviewed earlier in this issue), but instead of cheesing out, the production strips the sounds bare.

In other words, the songwriting and playing takes center stage. There are no tricks. Nothing up the sleeve. Just songs which beg to be jammed. Yeah, it's a bit cheesy at times, but that's comfortable cheese, my friends.

No one would dare to call this "alternative" or anything silly like that. This puppy is calculated for mega sales, and I've gotta say I wouldn't be too pissed off if OSP made it a long ways. This is fun and silly, with enough cool sounds to keep the brain occupied.

Probably better as an early summer release, but better late than never. Alright, these folks are the ultimate insiders with indie creds, but why whine? Just have a good time, okay?

Oxford has made a name playing organ for some well-known blues players, but here she steps out and howls some songs on her own. Mostly originals, too, even if they do borrow significantly.

That's just the ol' blues tradition. What Oxford's pieces may lack in originality is made up by the playing of the band, most notably Arthur Neilson on guitar. His licks really bring out the best in Oxford's playing, which isn't too bad.

But even with all that said, Oxford doesn't really craft anything spectacular here. Workmanlike with flashes of wonder, sure, but nothing sustained. The stuff just doesn't soar, damnit. Now it's not wallowing, there's no way I could say that, but this just isn't a classic.

She'll just have to settle for pretty good. I think that if Oxford gets out on her own more and gets some more work in, then she'll learn to put a bit more nuance into her compositions. Enjoyable, even if not overwhelming.

Obviously, not the Canadian power rockers. This Saga is a Frenchman (singing in French), sending out cool-sounding songs. Yeah, this is sorta cheesy pop (in the sense of "popular") stuff, but it just sounds better in French. Sue me.

It doesn't hurt that the music is relatively complex and involved. Everything still trends toward the middle, but at least it's fun. As long as guys semi-whispering French don't get your hackles up.

Really, Saga does a lot with his sound. He keeps the same basic notions going throughout, but he's not afraid to add a little here and there. Just enough to spice up the mix.

One of the more mainstream things I've reviewed in a while, but I gotta say I had some fun. Must be that expatriate fantasy I've been cultivating for years. Or something.

A female singer named Cinder Block? Anthemic punk tunes which have a certain mass appeal? Yep. Replete with overdubbed vocals, wailing guitars and all the sorts of things which more punkers eschew, Tilt revels in the excess even while living the punk rawk life.

Buddy, you know there ain't nothing better. Fuck all that self-righteous suffering nonsense. You know any punk band worth its salt wants to pull a Clash, cheesing out so completely by the end that it's sold a few million records.

Ah, well, I'm getting ahead of myself. All that needs to be said here is that Tilt cranks out utterly tasty gems, with guitars of caramel and hooks of nougat. Ms. Block adds the peanuts, I suppose. Whatever. Unlike like a real Snickers bar, however, these folks truly satisfy a craving.

The sort of album which breaks all of the punk rules and still raises the flag proudly. Fat Mike and Ryan Greene did a great giving Tilt an amazing sound, and the band did the rest. More than first rate; these folks are completely irresistible.

A bit more on the goth side than Fatal Blast Whip, the other Blacklight band I reviewed earlier in the issue. And when I say goth, I mean the kinda techno-spooky side of things. There aren't a whole lot of guitars meandering about.

Much like the FBW disc, the remixes are all over the map, most often reflecting the personal vision of whoever is messing with the tracks. There are a total of seven remixes here, by such folks as 16 Volt, Culture Whore and the aforementioned Fatal Blast Whip.

The b-sides (all two of them) are a bit rougher than the title track. It's nice to hear some variety from the band as well as all the special guest producers. In fact, it may turn out that Torn Skin is a bit more aggro than I guessed at the start. Hard to say from three songs.

Interesting, enough so that I'd like to hear a full length from these folks on their own. Remixes are great, but the artist is always the real deal.

Yet another drummer (the band didn't even bother to picture him in the liners). And yet another instance of the Total Chaos decline. The songs are heavier, slower and generally stodgier. Musically, I mean. The lyrics are the same-old same-old.

And I'm just kinda tired of it all. There are so few interesting moments here that a relatively banal track like "Immaculate" (which features TV preacher samples and a gothic industrial sound backing) sounds like an inspiration.

There's a reason this one isn't on Epitaph. And it isn't because Epitaph has turned its back on "true" punk. It's because Total Chaos is one album past being particularly relevant.

This disc is worse than bad. It's boring. The worst sin of a punk band.

Vaguely tuneful, almost always upper-midtempo punk rawkers. Plenty of friends chip in (Civ, Dave Smalley--who also produced, Joe Naylor and more), which is almost enough to kick this puppy into the upper echelon.

Not quite, though. The songs are tightly penned, but they aren't always played with the requisite verve. This is merely pretty damned good. Much like a good amount of the Social D catalog, the songs are great for singalongs, even if they're ultimately forgettable.

Fun, though, and I can't get around that. The tunes are addictive, and that's always a good thing. The smoothed out sound (kind of dull roar) compliments the playing, though again, I wish there was just a touch more fire on the strings.

Nonetheless, a pleasant jaunt down the road. Indeed, mindless joy cannot be underestimated as a cause of general happiness. What, me worry? Under the Gun sure isn't.

Another "what's on tap" sampler from the O&O compound in Ft. Collins. Three tracks each from Wretch Like Me (which features ex-members of My Name), Someday I..., New Rob Robbies, Tanger and Bill the Welder. Every single song recorded at the Blasting Room, thus paving the way for an ALL/Descendents world domination plan to take effect.

There's a reason the Wretch Like Me tracks are at the top. They are amazing. The My Name connection can't be missed, and the writing is as complex and sharp as ever. I can't wait to hear the album.

The rest isn't quite so amazing, but impressive nonetheless. Someday I... is a nice emo outfit that knows when to kick out the jams. New Rob Robbies have a great off-beat pop feel that wouldn't have been out of place on C/Z back in the early 90s. Tanger turned to Steve Albini to record their album (these tracks are merely demos or something), and he's a perfect fit for their strident hardcore grooves. Bill the Welder is the almost-legendary ALL/Descendents roadie band. Nuff sed there.

Um, a pretty impressive lineup. I mean, there re very few things connected with the A/D boys that suck, and these bands are up to my expectations. I do hope the buying public agrees. Fine music always deserves an audience.

Punk bands playing Clash songs. I know, I know, there's a great straight line that follows such a pronouncement, but hell, why go there?

What I will say is that Chord did get a nice, diverse set of bands. And when you kick off with Dave Smalley's minimalist version of "Death or Glory", well, it is apparent that this won't suck. On the other hand, is it necessary to do a tribute to the Clash? I mean, I don't think there's a person under 40 who doesn't know who the Clash are. Really, now.

If you crave hearing Clash tunes cranked out by generally less-talented punk bands, be my guest. It just doesn't make any sense to me. Now, if a bunch of Tejano bands got together for such a set, I might be interested. A little. Maybe. If I had a couple beers in me...

This, of course, isn't a tribute. It's a Chord Records sampler. And I gotta say, them folks have a fairly diverse roster. Everything from hardcore to death metal (or stuff that sounds an awful lot like what was once known as death metal) to rap and more. Yeah, I know, all that stuff is vaguely related, but it's good to hear that some folks care about trying new things now and again.

I was most impressed by Wolfpac, a band which whips out hardcore lyrics to rap grooves. Just a lot of fun, if nothing else. Same goes for Inconegro, which sorta fits the same profile. Pitboss 2000 has a nice hardcore sound, and Candira does the metalcore thang quite well.

On the heavy side (it's been a while since I heard so much in this area), and I have to say I left fairly refreshed. This puppy is worth searching out. There's some cool sounds here.