Completely unsettling, Anderson's lengthy meditations manage to both inspire and repel. The nearly hour-long album is set into four sections, and while each utilizes the same source material, the variations lead in many directions.

The sound is improvisational, though I think most of what happens here is somewhat scripted. There's just this horrible sense of foreboding. It's not just the title, which certainly gets the mind moving in that direction. No, it's the music itself, as it slowly careens into the abyss.

Every note, every beat is deliberately fashioned. In that way, it isn't too hard to figure out where the pieces are going. But like a horror movie, knowing what's going to happen doesn't lessen the impact. You don't want to wander the path, and yet it's laid out for you. You must follow.

The concept is mean enough. The execution is devastating. Anderson sure know how to warp my brain.

A short kiss from one of the great orchestral goth bands. Arcana sets a cold, gloomy mood and then pushes the terror and desire.

This is a real short taste of Arcana's upcoming album, and it doesn't really stand along particularly well. The one track unique to this disc, "Eclipse of the Soul,' is pretty cool, but at less than three minutes, the full effect just can't be reached.

I guess I'm just greedy for the full set. This simply makes me even more parched, awaiting final quenching.

The Brothers Kadane of Bedhead and the Brothers McKay of Macha all grew up together in Wichita Falls, Texas. Some time back, they decided to collaborate on a long-distance record.

So the Bedhead brothers (still in Texas) made a tape of songs-in-progress (containing mostly drums and guitars) and sent it to the bothers in Macha, who by now had relocated.

The result is, well, stunning. Not surprising, considering the pedigree, but most separated studio efforts can sound stilted through no fault of the participants. There's no problem here. Six journeys into the possible, with very little held back. In fact, the distance seems to have inspired even greater flights of fancy than might have been allowed if the collaborators were nearby.

Bedhead, alas, is now gone, but this record is certainly good enough to stand in line with the band's output. Needless to say, this should also please the avid Macha fan. A sum that might be greater than its parts.

Jaunty power pop trio, with much more panache than skill. The songs are full of obvious jokes and fairly stilted chord progressions. The playing and singing is, well, let's just say I recognized this as music.

For all of its drawbacks, however, Bitesize did manage to release four albums, and these are the best of the bunch (so sez the band, anyway). And I can see how these folks earned an audience. For all the flaws, this is an utterly earnest band.

There is an energy that's undeniable. From a technical standpoint, Bitesize is a nightmare. But when it comes to some kicking some ass, I'd like Bitesize in my corner any day.

Quality this ain't. But that's okay. Bitesize has more than enough attitude and fuel to even the score. Just tap in and see what develops.

A set of five pieces of vinyl have been collected for this disc, a total of 18 songs. The production values changed markedly between the releases, but otherwise the quality is similar.

Vaguely tuneful, rather angry punk in the British tradition. Though, of course, the guys are American. Nothing wrong with that. I'm just talking about the style anyway.

These guys are fairly grizzled, which imbues the songs with something of a voice of experience. I mean, the members of Bonecrusher have been around long enough to actually have been slammed by the system. Kinda makes for a more authentic rant, you know?

Aw, the boys aren't taking this sound anywhere, but this sure is a fun ride. Not faceless, not this sound. There's something very singular about the way Bonecrusher rips off its pound of flesh.

Not exactly a sunny day band to begin with, the electronic disturbance pioneers extraordinaire lurch forth with another album that is just screaming to be banned.

You know, I don't think Dr. Laura could take likes like "I wish I was a little girl/I could be dead/raped/mutilated/slaughtered/fucked..." out of context. Well, actually, she could, but that's another story.

High art, stuff that at once attacks basic visceral emotion and the intellect. Why all the hate? Well, there's a million reasons, at least half of which seem to be discussed on this album. Discussed, of course, is something of a euphemism. Very little in the way of clear speech bleeds through the cascading walls of distortion.

Man, this stuff sounds great. I love the way the sounds kinda weave in and out, escaping the chaos for a moment before fading back into a generic caterwaul. I just love the fuzzy pulsations. Nothing like it in the world. That's why BDN is so cool.

It sure is a good time to be an eclectic fuzzy pop band. I mean, the Flaming Lips finally broke into the upper regions of the Voice's Jazz/Pop poll and little labels everywhere seem to be signing left and right.

Bionic Milk Plant is not so much a label as it is one of those "fancy self releases," where the band figured it might as well start a label as well as kick out a disc. No worries, though. The music works no matter its packaging.

The guys are really more into mid-60s Beatles than Todd Rundgren; the rhythms are clunky and the disturbances are more straightforward than mind-numbing. In other words, this isn't headphone music. But that's OK. Really.

See, it's just nicely weird pop music. Enough spinning around to make repeat visits pleasant, and tight enough hooks to make the head bob along. Simple, sure, but then, that's the point. Why mess too much with a good thing? Brown25 knows exactly where to draw the line.

A friend of mine had a line about REO Speedwagon's Greatest Hits: "That's a seven-inch, right?" Hell, in terms of mainstream penetration, Cracker's would be simply a single side of a 7". But since David Lowery hasn't ever really embraced the spotlight, that's not so important.

This compilation collects some favorites from the band's four albums and tosses in a soundtrack cut and three news songs. Yes, "Low" is there. Also, if you buy fast enough, you get a bonus disc with some outtakes, b-sides, live cuts and other oddities.

I've never been the biggest Cracker fan, but where I found the band lacking in sincerity back in 1992, I'm now more of the opinion that Lowery and company are playing this stuff as straight as they can. Remember, these lyrics come from the guy who wrote "Take the Skinheads Bowling."

I actually liked the "bonus" disc better than the official release. It kinda cements Cracker in my mind as a band that I've consistently underrated over the years. Always nice to reassess such thoughts every once in a while.

Billy Dechand has this way of writing songs... well, it's pretty easy to see what he wants to do. And his side players do a pretty good job of getting there. But something inevitably goes a little wrong.

For starters, the playing is just a bit too mannered. And I think that does go back to the songwriting, which is perhaps a wee bit too crafted. Just by a hair. Sort of a prog approach to pop music, not unlike XTC. Of course, I've often said the same thing about those guys.

So maybe this perception of things being not quite perfect is just my own damn problem. Not something to worry anyone else with. As I wander through this album, I'm beginning to think that's definitely the case.

Perhaps you might want to imagine XTC with a fiddle player. Dechand has a few more influences at work (Dixie Dregs immediately comes to mind), so don't let my dumb references or observations get in your way of enjoying a fine disc.

Perhaps it's a really good idea for a young band to record a live album. Instead of getting lost behind some producer in the studio, the guys can just sell their songs the way they want them sold.

Also, instead of getting typecast one way or another, the band is able to move around a bit while establishing its sound. See, I was worried at first that the Will Derryberry band was just another groove band. This first song led me that way.

It was a decent groove song, actually, but nothing spectacular. Then the band shifted into a full-on blues gear. Yeah, a crafted, white-guy kinda blues, but Derryberry's voice has some soul and the live arrangements don't get excessive. Indeed, I think the live setting may have saved this set.

As long as Derryberry and company keep this understated sound, they could go far. Just some solid blue hooks sung with intensity and grace. Keep that guitar out front and don't go overboard on the organ. There just might be something here.

What I like most about Ernesto Diaz-Infante is the way he is always heading off in a new direction. His last disc of solo piano work was a set of meditative pieces that consisted mostly of long chords shifting into one another. Like clouds on the highlands of Wyoming.

This album's pieces (still titled "I", "II", etc.) are sort of an avant-garde version of bebop. On a piano, this sounds a little like popcorn, with notes jumping every which way, slowing down only when the kernels have all blown out.

Like bebop, however, there is a structure and a rhythm behind the apparent madness. The "popping" always resolves, and those resolutions are tied together to give the pieces a thematic backbone. What sounds random and chaotic has purpose, after all.

Diaz-Infante's rampant creativity always manages to surprise and overwhelm me, even though by now I should be prepared. One of these days, I'll learn for sure.

Just like little girls go nuts for pretty boys who (supposedly) sing like angels, old guys seem to really dig rough-hewn roots music that falls somewhere between Bruce Hornsby, Willie Nelson and Lynyrd Skynyrd. Take, say, Hootie and the Blowfish.

I'm not trying to slag on these guys and call them copycats. They're not ripping off riffs or melodies or lyrics or anything. But this sound feels calculated. Certainly the generic band photo (they're all walking with purpose in their eyes) and the "turning leaf" of the cover lend to that impression.

The music itself actually has some Night Ranger echoes (in a couple of the riffs and some of the backing vocal arrangements), and I mean that as a compliment. Yeah, the hooks always return to the organ-backed anthemic warbling, but there are moments.

Perhaps I've spent too long on the outside. Probably have, at least in terms of being able to appreciate this well enough. There is some serious commercial potential. Plenty of folks could sell this, if a single could be found (and I'm not sure there is one here). Man, I hate playing that game.

Gabriel Gordon does most of the playing and singing on this disc. And unlike most people who like to do the one-man band thing, Gordon isn't a techie or into a sound that lends itself to that method of recording. Gordon runs with the roots crowd, kicking out some sly takes on the sound.

So there is a little funk, a little groove and a little soul. Still mostly built around Gordon's guitar (acoustic and electric), and still with an intimate sound. It's that sound that really draws me in.

Plenty of overdubs and splicing of tape, to be sure. But it sounds real. There are a couple of threadbare moments, and when Gordon gets soulful, he does tend to sound like Prince did on his first couple of albums (in a rootsy way), but hey, that doesn't suck.

The kinda album that straddles a number of sounds, threatening to offend fans of each before they warm up to the vision. Not a criticism (I like the sort of blending that Gordon does), but just an observation. This might be a tough sell, but it sure works in my house.

Actually, this is just three songs from an upcoming released called Business, but I don't have any other name for the thing. Shouldn't be worrying about such silliness, though. The music, man!

The enclosed note says Incide's influences include "hardcore, industrial, alternative, hip hop, techno and modern rock." That's a lot to spin into one sound. But the guys have managed to put together a consistent attack.

The production isn't terribly good (treble heavy with a cheesy drum machine), and the songs are somewhat disjointed. I'm thinking Incide is trying to do too much here. There are only two guys in the band, and there's only so much that can be done. The three songs here come off as disjointed and unfocused, though with a palpable enthusiasm.

I can hear the guys trying things out. And that's great. But at some point editing is necessary. These are unfinished songs, unfinished performances. Incide has a great start. It just needs to buckle down find a smidge of coherence here and there.

It would be way too easy to dismiss Kitty in the Tree as just a 70s retread. Easy and wrong. First, the pop references are more 60s, which means this Kitty is reaching back to its influences' influences, if you can follow.

Yes, the surface screams T. Rex and Bowie (in fact, Kitty in the Tree cribs little snippets of riffs and lines for a few laughs), but really, this sound is rather modern. T. Rex never sounded this sharp. Bowie did, once he and Brian Eno hooked up, but that was later.

And anyway, there are far too many 90s modern rock conventions running about to stick this disc in a basic retread box. Kitty in the Tree takes a familiar sound and pumps another full syringe of life into it. Which, of course, is the right thing to do.

So there's no need to find those glam boots and face glitter. Kitty in the Tree can be enjoyed in a normal state of mind. Perhaps a bit too clever for the mainstream (all those references managed to tire me out), but probably not. These songs can be appreciated on their own merits. Straight or as an aside, Kitty satisfies.

Jim Lampos puts a moody, somewhat mystical spin on the roots sound. He does this without getting silly or cheesy or stupid. Perceptive and intelligent lyrics sure do help.

Now, don't take that moody comment to mean that Lampos can't kick it up just a bit. He does, but even as the tempos rise Lampos stays cool. And instead of sounding stagey or contrived, it works.

Which is really the most appropriate thing to say about this stuff. It works. Nothing complicated, though most certainly thoughtful. Restraint can be a most useful tool sometimes.

Still fully intense, of course. These songs burn brightly. Lampos sure knows how to write, and he seems to sell his songs to the listener effortlessly. Sure, it's hard work, but all the better when it sounds so seamless.

Power pop coming down. Kinda like the Posies without the bounce. The harmonies are pretty, but the twisted guitar lines are gorgeous. Beautiful like a dying swan. Sure, the end is gonna be a downer, but there's still the objective lusciousness of the scene.

And Longwave doesn't skimp on the window dressing. Plenty of distorted and effects-laden guitar which serves as a comfy pillow. Insulation from the coming devastation.

Keeping the counterpunch working, the brightest song on the album is called "Crushed Down and Faded." These guys work irony the way Bobby Knight works his players. The process isn't pretty, but damn if it ain't a winner.

One of those albums that's even better the fifth time around. And it won't take long to get to that point, trust me. Endsongs just screams for the repeat button.

Some Swedish guys get together and decide to play some jazzy stoner (Sab) rock. Jazz in the riff construction, not in the playing, which is kinda sloppy.

I'm not knocked out, but I must say that this is a nice spin on the whole genre. I think the playing and singing are kinda generic, but in a comfy sorta way.

What I'm trying to get at is that this just isn't that exciting. It can get tiring. But even at its worst, you know, it's okay.

This disc has just stumped me. I can't go anywhere with it. It's not the most inspiring thing in the world, but I oughta be able to say more about it than this. Sometimes an album is opaque to my ears. This is one of those.

These boys are definitely into the more active side of Black Sabbath. Now, Ben Ward sounds nothing like Ozzy (or any subsequent Sab singer), but the music does have that Iommi/Butler groove going on.

It's such a joyful take on that old feel that I'm inclined to forgive some of the excessive use of "influences." Sure, the guys could have worked a little harder to define their own sound. I won't argue that. But still, all this stuff does is make me smile.

Perhaps it's the full, bounding feel of the music. Orange Goblin never lets the songs get turgid. Overblown? Sure. But never dull. I'm one for excess anyway.

With all the caveats already on that table, I've got to say that this just rips the hinges off my doors. There's nothing new here, but nonetheless Orange Goblin delivers boatloads of smashing riffage and fun. Get lost in the decadence.

Three guys who make rather haunting, introspective music that often sounds like it's on the verge of collapse. Often long songs that aren't nearly as interminable as their length might indicate.

Yeah, San Agustin does remind me of Dirty Three (without the violin). These guys are bit more experimental and out on the edge, but there is some resemblance. Probably why I kinda dig the disc so much.

It's so easy to get lost in the songs and start seeing them from the inside out. This does lend somewhat of a new perspective, but in my opinion, that's what music like this is all about. There's no need to apologize for its complexity or its seeming rejection of reality. Just get inside and follow your mind.

These songs tell stories. Some are happy, some are sad and some just are. Actually, they're all three at once. San Agustin does a hell of a job in putting complete musical thoughts together. Most folks just skim across the surface. Albums like this plumb the depths.

What happens when gothic industrial experimentalists tour America and decide to record a live album at CBGBs? Well, this happens.

Sanctum hasn't stuck with one sound during its career, and the songs here reflect that. There are the lush, abstract "soundscapes," the crunchy industrial rockers and a few spacy things in between.

The more abstract pieces are the ones that the notes say could be part of the new Sanctum studio effort. The one true "space" effort is part one of the 50-minute composition "Parca Pace." Serious Floyd overtones, even while sticking to a spartan gothic ideal.

You know, if these guys actually sound like this live (the notes don't mention whether any "fixing up" was done in post-production), I'm very impressed. The sheer breadth of sound is breathtaking, and the quality of execution is impressive. Even if there was some "touching up" done, this is a high quality effort.

Some glorious buzzsaw power punk. Seven Storey Mountain is just living in a Husker Du world without dipping too deeply into the well. Just enough to craft some utterly incandescent tunes.

The real trick to this is to write lyrics that matter, stuff that sounds great when shouted very quickly. I think those are some of the most arresting hooks, and these boys seem to agree. Each song is a coiled spring, just waiting to be set loose.

Add to that a sense of foreboding, suspense that rather brings out the power of the songs. Some of that is in the writing, to be sure, but the dark sound accomplished in the studio should also be recognized.

Young bands often imitate their heroes unconsciously. Seven Storey Mountain has deconstructed the Husker Du monolith and incorporated a few pieces into its own machinery. That's the real way to pay tribute: Remind without ripping off.

Apparently the Music Cartel is trying to corner the market in Black Sabbath-influenced bands. An interesting and legitimate niche.

Sheavy, like Orange Goblin, takes a few bits of the Sab retinue without utterly wallowing in retread city. The singer (unidentified in the liners) does have an Ozzy affectation to his voice, but the music is move straight 70s, with as many nods to Mountain or Deep Purple as to Black Sabbath. You may call that quibbling, but there are some of us that can tell the difference.

Another thing that Sheavy shares with Orange Goblin is a love of (relatively) uptempo songs. This album just keeps moving along. There's no letdown, no slack moment that would encourage someone to jump off the tracks. Merely pure driving satisfaction.

Alright, so the opening riff to "Solarsphere" is a strange amalgamation of "Sweet Leaf" and "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath." I never said these guys were breaking new ground. They're just tending the plot extremely well. This week, I'm in the mood to approve of such things.

Most singer-songwriters prefer sparse arrangements, all the better to show off their writing ability. Jill Sobule goes the other way, cluttering her songs with just about every studio trick imaginable. And yet, the sound remains intimate.

Probably has something to do with the confessional nature of the songs themselves. Even on a song like "Heroes," where Sobule laments the imperfect nature of all people (even great ones), what comes through is her personal disappointment, her sincere anguish at the flawed lives we all lead. Even when she gets philosophical, her delivery draws the listener into a dialogue.

This sort of intensity, particularly when mixed with the breezy pop arrangements of the songs, can be off-putting. Let me restate: Plenty of folks get confused. Is this just happy pop music, or is it some sort of manifesto?

It's really neither, which is why Sobule's voice connects with so many other folks. Listening to an album of hers is something like sitting down for a long chat with a friend. A smart friend with lots of ideas, but a friend nonetheless. Allow yourself to be challenged.

Yet another Deep Elm band that has pretty much left emo behind in search of a purer pop sound. There is very little stridency here. Nope, instead Starmarket has discovered kitchy 70s pop, which it has merged with its punk sensibility.

So there are 70s-style keyboard effects draped over alternately complex and starkly plain lines. Then all of a sudden an Alex Chilton lead drops in out of nowhere. What a revelatory moment.

And even while running in all these disparate directions, these four Swedes have managed to capture a snapshot of American pop music that might have been difficult for a home-grown band to achieve. I mean, we know why all these sounds aren't supposed to appear on the same record. You know, Big Star didn't open up for the Carpenters or anything.

And don't take that as a description of the sound, please Remember, Starmarket is a recovering emo band, and so there are some nicely crunchy moments as well. It's just that these guys blend all of the sounds so damned well. I've never heard anything quite like this. It's done so well.

The reason Britpop doesn't translate has something to do with the sonic collage style. You know, like mixing acoustic guitar wailing with disco and then blending in some Manchester beat. That's just part of the first song on the disc. The album takes off from there.

There are clunkers, sure, but just moments within songs. Each piece has some redeeming value, and most are fairly solid, if not coherent, throughout.

The coherency issue, I think, is what might keep Supergrass from really kicking things off over here. That and there really isn't a massive single, at least not one I can hear. The lead single, "Pumping on Your Stereo," is a cool Stonesy piece, but not mindless.

So I guess I'll just have to say the boys have released a superior album and leave it at that. This is the sound of a talented, confident band reaching out and trying to create something great. I think Supergrass almost did. That's pretty damned good.

I reviewed an album from these guys four years ago. I said they should rely on their songwriting and not studio tricks. And the sound should not be so heavy.

So, well, four years later the band is putting its songs forward and varying the sound quite nicely. I don't think they took my advice, mind you. I just think they found a better way to do things.

What had been a crunchy version of the Big Star style has been transfomed into a eclectic take on a wide range of pop styles. There are more studio tricks on this disc than the first one, but the band hasn't allowed the songs to be overwhelmed. The extras are more subtle, adding to the pleasure rather than obscuring the view.

A lot of times my concept of what bands should do is so far out of whack from reality I ought be shot. This time, I was right. And I couldn't be happier. This is one of the more sophisticated and creative self-released discs I've heard in quite a while.

Thirty whole songs from 30 bands, most of which are unreleased. Punk, of course, bands like Anti-Flag, Dropkick Murphys and Bonecrusher (the latter reviewed in this issue). A whole lot of bands I've never heard before.

For the most part, though, I'd like to hear more. As can be expected with a compilation like this, the production quality isn't always the best. And some of the songs trend toward the generic.

But surprisingly few, really. Quite a taste of the real punk underground.

Changing with the times, this third edition of Songs for the Jetset heads much more into the vagaries of Bacharachian pop. No more loungecore moping. Nope, now there's a lot of organ riffs based on "Take Five" and background singers "di di da da doo"-ing all over the place.

The strange thing is that these are the same bands that appeared on the first two discs. I understand following trends and all, but this sort of constant morphing is a little weird.

Still and all, these songs are an interesting recreation of early 70s sophisto-pop. There is something strangely beguiling about this stuff. And obviously, there are plenty of people who dig it, as most compilations don't get to a volume three. Strange but true.

Real live death metal. I can honestly say I don't get enough of this stuff. I don't even know what the current trends are. So strange to be out of the loop. But anyway, I've got to say something here.

Vehement is a trio, and there weren't many overdubs (if any), which does leave the sound a bit thin. Also, as the guitarist takes a technical, almost prog approach to his riffage, there's very little distortion spread out to prove cloud cover.

This stripped down sound, though, works. The songs are well-written, and the guys can most certainly play. There are times when I wanted a bit more power, but that's not a big issue.

Like I said, I can't comment on trends, but Vehement plays a clean game. It's a new sound for my ears, but I like it. Perhaps more stuff like this will convince more folks that this music doesn't suck. I'm not holding my breath, though.

There aren't many good bands from South Carolina. The greater part of Hootie and the Blowfish came from the Palmetto state. 'Nuff sed. And yet, I'm confronted with the Verna Canon.

A weird name for a fairly conventional band. Crafted, moody pop tunes with the requisite flourishes of violin. This would not work without the dusky vocals of Molly Ledford, but see, she's singing and so it does.

The music merely sets up the vocals. And Ledford easily carries the day, delivering ironic bon mots one after another with pleasant panache. This is the sort of stuff that shallow people like to call deep, just because you can't dance to it. The Verna Canon does have its moments, of course, but Sartre shouldn't be sweating.

Nope, this is just a simple, well-made pop album. With some killer vocals. Hey, the world has stopped for much less. I'm not trying to slag on the Verna Canon's parade. I liked the disc. It's pretty cool. Just not godhead, you know?