Not the name of a band, but a person. Jai Agnish plays his one-man fare the electronic way, with lots of loops and samples and overdubs. He layers his pieces with techno and analog sounds, but more in a Palace way than Beck.

Am I making any sense? Agnish has a rather idiosyncratic way of expressing himself, and he really likes crafting these complex songs that sound astonishingly simple.

Which is, of course, the goal in the first place. Don't let 'em see you sweat. Agnish obviously has worked extremely hard on this album, but it comes off as a breeze. I really like the way his guitar work is in a constant interplay with the electronic elements. An impressive feat.

As is this whole album. Agnish has both talent and the perseverance to follow through. I really am having problems expressing how wonderful this album truly is. You'll just have to trust me.

Sometimes people find you after, well, almost forever. I was a really big Hammerbox fan (in fact, preferring the major label album over the C/Z release, something that rarely happens with me), and I sorta lost track of Carrie Akre after A&M ditched the band.

So I never heard Goodness (the next band), and I can't compare this to that. What I will say is that Hammerbox fans will recognize the voice. And probably not much more. These songs are much more intimate, and the sound is much more subdued.

Lots of loops and synth work, though those elements don't dominate. It's just that this is a personal project on Akre's own album, and some of these things may have been used due to budget constraints. It's also possible that she really wanted to sound like more-human version of early Eurythmics.

The songs are warm, not chilly, but Akre's voice is astonishingly strong and she sings in about the same range as Annie Lennox. The pieces are spartan in arrangement, allowing for the voice to dominate as much as possible. Basically, it all works. This is light years from Hammerbox, but Carrie Akre still has the fire.

The enclosed note said this was the future of music. It actually sounds a bit more like the past, but the spirit of adventure is alive and well.

Ali Baba's Tahini plays a sort of prog-jazz-etc. fusion, focusing on tight groove structures and extended solos and other explorations. Most of the songs themselves aren't too terribly long, but the ideas are fully fleshed out.

And you shouldn't get the idea that the band sticks to one particular sound. Rather, each song creates its own little universe, existing only within that space. Yeah, the pieces do have similar characteristics, but the band doesn't repeat itself.

Indeed, it's not unusual for a loungey piece to seg into a song dominated by a Satriani-esque guitar riff. Some of the songs have vocals; some don't. All just part of the plan. If there is one. In any case, the safari is boarding now.

A live recording from 1998. More moody than "out there," I think this set probably does capture a good picture of the band.

Moody doesn't mean dull or plodding. Rather, the songs are like little jewels being polished by skilled craftsmen. Astonishingly pretty at times, really. This doesn't sound much like a live album.

Part of it is due to the extraordinary skill of the musicians, and part is also due to the wonderfully expressive way said instruments were handled. The recording itself also deserves kudos for the way it leaves these pieces sounding so warm and inviting.

A great little mix tape. It's nice to hear the band get loose now and again, something that doesn't happen as much on the studio albums. It's the subtle differences that make live music exciting. And this collection is the perfect showcase for that.

A collection of songs from assorted 7"s and compilations. Beef proudly carries the banner of indie rock, with simple riffage, upbeat grooves and the usual lack of singing prowess.

These songs are somewhat understated, with grunge-like song construction and emo-style lead guitar work. All within the usual indie pop sound, of course. There aren't many highs and lows, mostly just mid-range howls.

Makes it a little difficult to get real excited about the stuff. It's solid, and at times the lead/rhythm interplay is impressive. But this is almost too basic, if there is such a thing.

Not stupid basic, but just a sorta middle of the road feel. Within the milieu, of course. Mindlessly enjoyable, but kinda faceless as well. Nice. I usually hope for more.

Sort of a hardcore take on that NWOBHM sound. Raw metal, with ragged but tuneful vocals and riffage that's more energetic than refined.

Indeed, much of the playing is not really up to par. Most of the band members are not the most accomplished musicians. But this lack of skill is mostly made up for by the frenetic way the songs are played. It's hard to slag on guys who are working this hard and obviously enjoying themselves. The sound is infectious.

No, they really don't take this rather dated sound anywhere. No, Bones of Contention isn't a band a virtuosos. Still, there's a lot here to like. I've always liked this style, and the boys seem to have tapped into the most important part--the heart. A lot more fun than it should have been.

Well. This is most certainly rockabilly. In the classic sense. Lean sound, ultra-clean guitar and a walking stand-up bass. The parts are assembled and put forth quite nicely.

This is so much a throwback that it could have been recorded 45 years ago. There's just no difference. Which then begs the question... why?

The songs are good. Not always soul-stirring, but certainly played with verve. I don't hear much in this past pure revivalist intentions, but then, as that goes, the Bourbonaires sure do have the trick down tight.

This is for hardcore rockabilly fans only, but if this simple early strain of rock and roll gets you moving, then the Bourbonaires can't help but make you smile. Nice work.

Sometimes I hear someone sing, and I can immediately recognize that "other world" sound. As in, the guy is in some other world. There's no reason music like this would come out of the usual hack struggling musician.

And the thing is, these "other world" sorts usually aren't great musicians. Dan Bryk is pretty good (I assume he plays piano and guitar, just because their lines rather resemble Bryk's warbling singing style), but he can't sing. Still, the stuff is terribly endearing.

A somewhat crazed imperfection is about the closest thing to inspired that I can imagine. Bryk plays in that classic dBs style; in fact, the title of his album is rather similar to a song title from the Holsapple-Stamey reunion album of almost 10 years back.

Don't think that was intentional. But it sure got me in tune with the style quickly. Bryk does a lot of things wrong, and each little misstep makes this album that much more irresistible.

There's a guy in Belgium named Walter de Paduwa who likes to collect all sorts of boogie recordings. Tapes, vinyl and probably even CDs these days. Folks call him Dr. Boogie. Anyway, the good doctor has a cache of Canned Heat live tapes, radio and TV appearances and studio outtakes from the time when the band was fairly well-known, and this collection culls some of the better performances from those tapes.

Listening to this stuff, I'm just amazed that Canned Heat earned any mainstream acclaim at all. It's not that the playing is horrible. Just the opposite: These white boys sure know how to play the blues. But they arrived at the one time in American pop history that blues proficiency could translate to mass appeal, even if only for a couple of years.

The energy levels and sound quality do jump around as the collection jumps from tape to tape. In that way, consistency is lacking. On the other hand, this is the time when the band had the ability and confidence to really give the blues their due. There are too many amazing moments here to mention.

If you ever wondered how it was that Canned Heat achieved legendary status, these tapes oughta help. Not so much a document as a personal mix tape, this set does Canned Heat right.

I was just talking about Hammerbox with the Carrie Akre review, and now here's Car 44, which continues in the same tradition. The sound is poppier and somewhat less heavy, but boy, does this stuff move.

There's something about this style of uptempo rock fronted by an alto-voiced woman that just screams "rock and roll!" Of course, the assembled parts are just one piece. The songs have to work as well.

These do. I did want a bit of a rougher edge on the sound (sometimes the guitars seem to shy away from the forefront), but Dahna Rowe's vocals are always front and center. Right where they should be.

Okay, there are moments where Car 44 tries to "make a statement," a couple of overwritten songs that try to prove that this great music isn't an accident. Hey guys, this stuff has to remain simple to work. Start layering too much stuff on top and you lose the fire that drives the engine. For the most part, Car 44 is revving high.

I'm gonna mention this here: You can "buy" this album for free. You pay Freedom Zone $1.75 for shipping and handling and you get this album. Yeah, it's one of those dot com startup things, but hey, who sez you can't take advantage?

The question is, do you want it? Well, Chola plays in a jazzy groove rock style, with scat-rap vocals and some scratching. Imagine the Brand New Heavies and Infectious Grooves getting together to play some extended jams.

No, I mean it. This tasty melange is rather hard to put down. I'm not even a big fan of the two bands I listed above. So maybe they're not quite right. What this does remind me of is a band called Bootsauce. Put out a couple of albums some 10 years ago or so. The first one was great. The second wasn't. That band disappeared.

I hope Chola doesn't. This is great party music. Hard to imagine anyone not getting at least a little happy when this puppy comes on. These guys truly know how to find and keep the groove.

Whipping out a classic rock 'n' soul sound, Mary Connolly wails and her band grooves. A very basic sound, but one that works quite well with her voice and sides.

The songs work best when the band stays in pocket, focusing solely on the groove, letting Connolly take the asides. And she doesn't stray that often, either.

The sound is loose enough to let the soul shine in, but tight enough to keep the package wrapped up nicely. Connolly doesn't really try to head off in any new directions, but rather seems to prefer sticking to the tried and true.

And she sings that exceptionally well. These songs are expertly crafted and lovingly performed. There's always room for heartfelt music played with style.

So it took me four songs just to begin to get a grasp on this puppy. It seems to me that most emo bands have been heading in a pop direction. Elliot, too, has been honing its craft. But instead of heading into tight three and four-chord territory, we have this.

This is highly technical, grand pop music. The beats are as likely to be from drums, something sampled or a machine. The chords echo with purpose and intent. The lyrics are epochal. This is seriously pretentious music.

So it had better work, right? Well, it sure does. These songs shimmer with true brilliance. At times throttling, at times delicate, the songs slice through pretense. Sometimes, dressing music up is the best way to get to the heart of things.

Sure worked for Elliot here. Very few bands even consider making music like this, and fewer succeed. This is easily one of the best albums of the year. There's no question about it.

The song titles are geographic points as designated by latitude and longitude. The music, well, it's some of that really tasty orchestrated noise.

Music that is incredibly easy to get lost in, if you let yourself go. Lotsa loops, lotsa variations on a theme, all played out in longform. Ether is creating sonic descriptions of the points in the song titles.

And so each song, while consisting of similar elements (distorted and clean guitar, drums, bass, manipulated noise of all sorts), has a completely different character. It's still pretty easy to hear an Ether ethos, but the range is quite breathtaking.

Not quite around the world, I suppose, but close enough. These pieces simply latch on to the subconscious and don't let go. Get lost. And then you'll get found.

Got a note from Billy Sides the other day, asking if I was still around and interested in hearing some weird shit. I sent a rather bland note back (I don't like those e-mail "smiles"), but I think he got the idea anyway. So he sent me this.

I suppose this would properly fall in the territory of free jazz. Sax and bass clarinet screeching around Sides' drumming and the occasional synth bit. Like I said, I guess it's free jazz.

It is a racket, and not necessarily the cleanest one. At times, the recording quality is a bit low. What doesn't change is the uncompromising aggressive playing. I mean, these folks will blow until all the houses come down. Ragged? Messy? Sure. Wonderful? Exactly.

Because while there aren't a lot of connections on the surface, these songs hang together in the undergrowth. A mess, but a glorious one. Enervating and exhilarating. Big smiles, indeed.

Pretty much just Finn Swingley, with a few special guests on spot songs. The sound is lush, as it often is with these one-man bands. Gorgeous pop music, the sorta stuff that rings with the scent of truth.

Finn has a delicate touch, and he doesn't take up much of a cudgel. These are gossamer songs, pieces that float around and must be caught. Trust me; you'll want to catch them. No doubt about that.

A sort of melancholy beauty drifts through most of the pieces. Life isn't perfect, disillusionment is constant, and yet the sun is shining. A message most folks can easily appreciate.

References? Well, the lighter side of the Flaming Lips, but without the distortion. There is a 70s cheese vibe that pops in now and again, but it doesn't get rancid. After all, these are songs of a crafted beauty. Easy to appreciate and hard to ignore.

A ton of ragged anthems, and pretty good ones at that. The GC5 doesn't really excel at much more than crafting hazy choruses, but that's a pretty good trick right there.

The verses are often rushed, the riffage rarely more than bare bones, and yet when the songs get to that key moment, they shine. And, y'know, if the chorus works, a lot of problems can be forgiven.

And that's easily the case here. The GC5 is mostly faceless, except when the catchy bits kick in. Somewhere between oi and Clash-style ravers, I guess, though the band draws from a number of stock influences.

I wouldn't have given this a second thought, but the hooks keep ringing in my heads. Tuneful? Only in the vaguest terms. Irresistible? Precisely.

Another of those free Freedom Zone discs, so if you're even slightly interested, why not take a $1.75 flier for postage and handling? I'm not shilling, by the way. I get no cash out of this. I just think the concept is interesting.

As for the music, Troy Horne plays a soulful, slightly funky type of roots rock. The soul shines through in the vocals, while the bass takes care of the funk and the acoustic guitars jangle nicely.

The best part of these songs is the vocal work, both Horne's expressive lead and the backing harmonies. Generally understated, but still full and resounding. I can tell you how nice it is to hear powerful vocals, as opposed to voices pumped up through an engineer's hand. Horne comes on hard from the heart.

This really hearkens back to late 60s and early 60s soul music, the more folky moments of Otis Redding, Marvin Gaye and Al Greene. Big names that Horne isn't competing with--yet. But he's got a good handle on what he wants to do. Truly impressive.

I'm not sure where this disc is aimed. Lady J sings rock and pop songs, backed mostly by a synthesizer or electric piano. Even when other instruments come in, the sound is kinda tinny.

The style is a more rootsy version of the early 80s cheese pop epitomized by Irene Cara. Lady J is something of a belter, and so maybe you'd do well imagining Pat Benatar singing "Flashdance" (with Neil Gerardo on guitar, produced by Michael Sembello).

This just doesn't make sense to me. I'm not getting any connection. The songs themselves are rather pedestrian. Heartfelt, but rather cliche-ridden without much to say.

I hate dissing stuff that's so damned earnest, but just don't hear anything. Is this totally without merit? No, but I'm definitely not the right person for Lady J.

I've always held that the best way to utilize modern recording technology is to record "real" instruments and then splice them together in whatever way you see fit. Laika seems to have hit upon this idea as well.

Incorporating a basic band format (with a man on Minimoog) and then dropping samples here and there, Laika creates a lustrous, textured sound that leaves my senses reeling. Margaret Murphy Fiedler drops half-sung, half-spoken on top of this gorgeous, pulsating cloud, releasing all of the pent-up energy.

Each small piece can easily be explained. But what Laika does in slotting these ideas together is nothing short of revolutionary. It's like multiplying the Bomb Squad circa 1990 and the Chemical Brothers, and then adding the Minimoog. Yeah, I know, those first two references are rather interlinked (sound-wise), but I think you might get my point. This album really moves.

Entrancing doesn't begin to describe the power of Laika. Some might put this in the trip-hop category, but this album is impossibly complex compared with most other acts in that sound. Few albums truly move a sound forward as this one does. I'm just blown away.

Two guys, Brandon Erdos and Drew Bancroft, who manage to craft a fairly full sound. The vocals are of a desperate quavering quality, and that plays off the somewhat idiosyncratic guitar lines reasonably well.

Part of the time, anyway. When the vocals really start to trip out on that Joe Cocker on heroin sound, well, I kinda tuned out. There's just gotta be a better way to sound sincere.

The songs themselves are fairly loosely constructed, generally following the lead guitar. When all of the pieces keep their focus, the tunes work fairly well. I don't mind tangents (my entire life has been a tangent), but throwing too many apparently unrelated ideas at listeners makes it difficult for folks to walk in the front door.

I would guess that these guys don't play live much. The craftsmanship is impressive, but some live dates would really help to work these songs out a bit better without losing the unique perspective.

Alright, so this isn't the original lineup. Tommy Lee is history, replaced by Randy Castillo (who shares a passing resemblance with his predecessor). Produced by Mike Clink, who I thought might bring back a leaner, meaner Crue sound. I mean, they even cover the Tubes' "White Punks on Dope."

None of it works. The cover is laughably dreadful, and the original songs aren't particularly good. But the Crüe has never been about intellectual fulfillment. The problem is the bloated production. Damn. I know I've been saying the same thing since Girls Girls Girls, but jeez, haven't the boys figured out that the only way to spew out these puerile rhymes is with venom and not endless overdubs?

I would also question using a ballad as the title track , but that's more of a philosophical argument. There are a number of tracks here that would have at least been a guilty pleasure if the tempos had been pumped up 20 bpm and the sound stripped down to just a singer, a guitarist, a bassist and drums. I know, the Crüe has never been that clean, but wouldn't it be a fun experiment?

Ah well. I wasn't expecting this to be particularly good, despite the refreshing sound of Nikki Sixx's 58 project. Unfortunately, New Tattoo fell below my meager expectations. I could have said, "Makes you look back on those Vince Neil solo albums wistfully," but this disc isn't that bad. Not quite, anyway.

Take that thick, tuneful hardcore sound of Bad Religion's early days, add a more traditional punk singer and gang vocals and voila! Man, this stuff sure does smoke.

Sure, it's about what you might expect from Epitaph, but then, that rarely sucks. And in fact, 98 Mute has crafted some really tight songs and then muscled up and delivered some top-notch performances. This is a great adrenaline rush.

And the lyrics are thoughtful and intelligent. There's a passion in the music and the vocals. Sure, that's the point behind punk music. Feeling, savage intent, that sorta thing. But most bands can't quite muster up the real thing. 98 Mute is overflowing with intensity.

Some awesome potential here, and this is just the band's second album (the first was on Theologian). There's room for growth, but this thing is just blistering. Keep it coming, boys.

I always got a certain feeling while listening to Yngwie Malmsteen records. It was like he was toning down his playing to accommodate a singer, but in any case the vocals just made the music worse. And in any case, who cares if you're a great guitar player if your skill is almost all technical, without any touch?

Pell wields his axe like the metal god he wants to be, but his songs generally aren't that inspired. This is second-tier Eurometal. Oh, it's loads better than that Ballads collection I reviewed in the last issue. But it's also in the same as the Saxon album. Decent, accomplished, but not that interesting.

Part of that is the almost slavish devotion to tales of swords and sorcery, and not particularly inspiring ones at that. The music is solid, but thin. There's nothing past the surface. The best Eurometal bands know how to build depth. Pell doesn't appear to be able to do that.

Acceptable, but not exciting. I suppose if I was really, really in need of a Eurometal fix (and didn't have a nice backlog of stuff lying around), I might give this a few spins. But that's about it.

Explorations of the loose groove, with some hot horns in the mix for proper flavor. Phat Sidy Smokehouse burns a modern feel onto that classic Sly funk 'n' soul sound of the early 70s.

I'll admit, I'm a bit more of a tight groove aficionado. I don't mind hanging out while the center collects critical mass, but I kinda want to experience the burn. These boys don't always get there.

But that's the modern feel for you. Phat Sidy Smokehouse does tighten up now and again, though the general emphasis is on the cool side. And the sound is so good, I'm generally willing to put aside my groove prejudices.

Vision conceived and executed. All very well done. The writing is top notch, and the band sure does know how to throw down. I may have some other ideas, but this disc generally proves me wrong. Good stuff.

Bass-driven songs, sorta in that melancholy rock realm. Not strident enough by half to approach emo, but the feel is quite similar.

Every piece of the band seems to wander off in its own direction and then come crashing back together at the chorus. This includes the guitar and vocals, which kinda explains the reason it sounds like the bass is in charge here.

Still, there are times where the guitar lines really wander off in intricate directions, reminding me of Mineral or the Gloria Record. The climaxes aren't so similar, but there's still this sense I have.

A somewhat unclassifiable band, which is a good thing, of course. Philia's songs are complex and creative, with plenty of strange pathways to explore. This is not your everyday band. Probably doesn't bode well for a commercial future, but what the hell. Just keep exploring the realms of innovative music.

Basic hip-hop, lyric driven. The beats are pedestrian, so the vocals had better shine. And they don't shy away from relentless criticism of the hardcore life.

Technique? Average. Due to the low production value, Playa D creates many of his "echo" vocals while he's also singing the lead line. It sounds somewhat silly, but since there are some overdubs and edits, maybe he's doing for effect.

The lyrics, while generally positive, can be somewhat confused. In general, what Playa D is missing is focus. In the beats, in the lyrics, in the production. He's got some great ideas, but they aren't all getting across.

Very raw and inexperienced, which does have its charms. But Playa D needs to clean up the sound and rhymes just a bit. Not in terms of subject material, but just delivery. The art of poetry is much more about re-writing than simply putting words to paper.

You know, that thick fuzzy guitar sound that lotsa bands use as a sort of Sabbath homage is actually much more than Tony Iommi ever imagined 30 years ago. Puny Human takes that viscous riffage and adds hoarse, almost hardcore style vocals to craft a real attacking sound.

And, oh boy, does it work. There are the requisite Geezer-style bass runs as well, but Puny Human is all about sonic pain. No subtlety, nothing hidden up the sleeve. Everything is right on the table. It sure does feel good.

When this style is done well, particularly when the influence doesn't extend to rip-off, the stuff can be irresistible. It sure is here. Great driving music. The songs throb and pound away, blasting holes in space.

A simple pleasure, the sort of thing that just can't be explained rationally. Once the riffage enters the bloodstream, it's all over. Just gotta sit back and let the music take the wheel.

Paul Gilbert gets the guys back together for another trip. All original members, and well, the boys are back to their old tricks.

The main reason Racer X never quite achieved mainstream success is that the technical prowess often overshadowed the songwriting efforts. Brilliant guitar runs and stylish interplay are great, but if they don't connect to the song there's just not as much excitement.

So while professional musicians and other folks who really dig skills have always been in Racer X's corner, the stuff often seemed just a little out of reach of the regular fan. But now that the guys have reformed after gigs in Mr. Big, Judas Priest and Badlands (not to mention countless session jobs), they seem to have picked up a some hints in the commercial sound arena.

Not to say this is a sellout. The astonishing prowess is as pronounced as ever. But there's more expression, more emotion and certainly tighter songwriting than I've ever heard from the boys. This disc is more accessible, but it's still quite solid and shouldn't overly disappoint old fans. All told, this might well be the best Racer X record yet.

A nice little license job from the Netherlands. Right Direction kicks out highly aggro hardcore in the Victory style, though being European the boys also throw a few other ideas into the pot.

Like a solo trumpet in "He's My Friend" or a cover of Thin Lizzy's "Out in the Fields." The different perspective helps to flavor the sound in somewhat unusual ways. Most enjoyable.

The production is somewhat limited and simple. It sounds a little thin at times, though that might just be another example of the unusual influences. Hard to say. In general, the spartan approach helps to show off Right Direction's lyric and musical talents.

Something different. Something good. Sometimes when you hear something like this you've just gotta release it yourself. Glad Tony did. Keep digging, man.

Nice throaty punk rawk with horns. Ska? Not really. But the horns add a great flavor to this rollicking sound. River City Rebels write songs that end up in ultra catchy (if ragged) choruses, and some brass never hurt that.

The album title kinda gives you an idea as to the subject matter. Standard punk fare, as you might guess. The band is against all of the things in that title. And the arguments are invigorating, if not entirely cogent.

Don't get me wrong. I'm with the Rebels on their ideas. Gotta be honest, though. This stuff is preaching to the choir. I don't think anyone's mind will be changed.

But why am I so worried about that? This is a fun disc, and if it happens to have some pleasing politics, well, cool. I can handle that.

Right. This one is a lot more standard Victory than the River City Rebels. Punchy, haggard hardcore. Strident riffage, raspy vocals and an unrelenting attack. The production is fairly stark, so Run Devil Run has to create its own excitement.

And mostly, it does. The songs don't much escape that basic hardcore stew song construction. You know, a little of this and a little of that all played to bouncy beats. The one distinguishing mark of the band is the lack of produced power. And like I said, I think that's good.

There's no need to over do effects on guitars and drown out the vocals. And there's no need to throw the vocals so high in the mix that everything else gets reduced to mush. Foose, the singer, isn't all that outstanding anyway. He's got a great delivery, but his vox is not all that.

Again, that's okay. Run Devil Run never lets up. That's the key to the adrenaline rush this puppy provides. Somewhat faceless, but on the good side of that coin.

The advantage of recording your own CD (without heavy input from a label, anyway) is that you can do whatever you want. Small Axe has done that.

The songs are all over the map, though generally characterized by a distortion-heavy guitar or bass line (often both). The songs come off as jokey, and some of those jokes are funny. Some sound a little worn.

There are a hell of a lot of ideas wandering around here. I mean, anyone who can reference T. Rex, Black Sabbath and the Mothers in one song is doing something right. And when the very next song sounds like something out of a Pavement PCP nightmare, well, maybe you begin to get the idea.

Not brilliant. There are too many dead moments here. But the sheer number of ideas attempted is impressive. I give this advice a lot, and I still think it's good. Try a few live shows. Edit -- if just a bit. Find a little consistency. There's a lot of good here; it just needs to be supported better.

So like, these Japanese folks got together and spliced three-chord pop, industrial metal and other electronic thoughts together into a frantic soda. Not on the weirdness order of a Space Streakings, but almost as manic.

Joyous, bounding and impossibly hooky. There's a streak of silliness that abounds, like when the folks drop a surf riff into the mix. No reason, really. Just for kicks.

That's all this disc is. One big electric kick. There's not a lot beneath the surface really, but I don't want anything deep here. Sometimes ear candy can be enjoyed just for the sheer fun of it.

Loony, wacky, zany, whatever. It's the other side, the side that's just a bit out of control. Spoozys (I mean, just look at the name!) deliver a blistering shot of distilled decadence. Suck it down. As fast as you can.

Well-executed hard-edged soft rock. Boy, if that's not pulling a punch or two... See, this is just a bit more amped up than mid-80s MOR, mid-tempo rock with a hook.

Thomas' voice is pretty good, and his band sounds great. The sound is sharp and songs flow nicely. The problem, for me anyway, is the lack of bite anywhere. While presented as best as possible, the music lacks bite. The lyrics are fairly deep into cliches (titles like "Never Been Good at Goodbye," "Girl in the Mirror," etc. don't help) and there doesn't seem to be much depth to them.

You know, commercial rock is a superficial enterprise. I think Thomas is trying to do something a bit more unique. He's just not there yet.

Seven songs, 11 minutes. Talk about crammin' as much punk as possible into a small space. The Thumbs have that tuneful snotnose sound down, with a somewhat reckless delivery.

And that's okay. In fact, it's desired. These Annapolis boys don't have many refinements on their side. The playing is ragged and the writing is fairly basic. So give it your all and see what happens.

Here? Well, the disc is more than listenable. There's a great electric vibe. A lot of energy. I don't know how this would sustain over a whole album. The writing would have to get more consistent. But as a snack? Boy, this sure satisfies.

Walter Trout plays his blues by the book. One note of his guitar, one word from his lips and you know this is the blues. He's not trying to fool anyone, he's just wailin' to his heart's content.

He doesn't try to dress up the blues, either. There are a few rock cliches, but they don't sully the sound. Even with the sometimes pyrotechnic guitar solos, this is about as good as the rockin' blooze gets. Live, Trout leans on his solos a bit more, but the band sounds great and so does he.

Probably most impressive is that Trout plays his own material. There are only a couple of covers here, and they fit nicely into his style. The show, recorded at the Tampa Blues Festival, was a good one. The crowd and band were obviously playing off each other. There's something going on.

A full success. This set documents Trout's writing and performing abilities about as well as can be done. A joy to hear, positively inspiring.

A return to one of the "classic" lineups: Michael Schenker, Phil Mogg and Pete Way (with the well-traveled Aynsley Dunbar on drums). These guys know how to make melodic hard rock, and that's what they do here.

It is a sound that's somewhat dated these days. This album sounds like it could have been recorded in the late 70s, which is both great and problematic. Is it as good as the band's best stuff? Not quite, though it sure is solid. The problem is, this stuff sounded a lot better 20 years ago.

Much of the fare is workmanlike, and while that works when a style is in vogue, years down the line it just sounds weird. I thought the recent Mogg Way album had more fire than this. Maybe it is Schenker. The guy can play, but he's sorta gotten stuck in these steady rockin' tempos. A little more attitude, a little more ... something is needed.

Old line fans who just love this sound should enjoy the disc. But there are ways to update a classic sound without completely losing the feel. UFO instead traveled the nostalgia path. Hey, it's 1977 all over again! Except, of course, it's not.

Just another side of the Richmond scene. Used Carlotta plays that new fangled-old fashioned country music. Kinda like Neko Case and her Boyfriends or Lyle Lovett or Johnny Cash in the 60s. A little boom-chicka-boom, a little fiddle (for some reason here, that's credited as "violin") and songs about Jesus and redemption.

The lyrics are wry and knowing, but not smarmy. Used Carlotta likes this music, see, and is merely pushing a few of the themes to the extreme. The music itself rides that rock/country divide, but the fiddle and steel guitar keep it on the country side.

Screw labels. This is just good music. Dark, but with a nice sense of fun (who knew klezmer could be played with a cowboy hat?). Each song here is a revelation.

The writing and playing are fearless, and the result is an utterly unique and impressive album. The end of the album simply means you have to start all over again.

Yes, another low-priced mix disc from the folks at Epitaph. The only curiosities are the previously unreleased title tracks to the recent NOFX and ALL albums.

That is a little weird, to say the least. And both songs are good, which makes me wonder if the wasn't some sort of marketing decision involved in withholding the tracks until now.

Ahhh, I doubt it. I hope not, anyway. The rest of the disc, well, a track from most of the Epitaph lineup. Twenty-eight songs in all from the usual suspects.

Is it worth buying for the title tracks? Depends on how badly you want to be a completist. The previously released stuff is, as usual, completely solid. A great big wad of fine punkage.

Really, if you're gonna do a tribute to one of the most excessive bands around, you might as well be excessive in your own right. A two-disc tribute? Oh, fuck yeah!

Showing some taste, the tribute focuses on Aerosmith's classic 70s output. There are a couple of songs from the stillborn Rock in a Hard Place album, and a nice run-through of "Let the Music Do the Talking," which has already done double duty as a Joe Perry Project and Aerosmith song.

The names aren't particularly well-known, with the exception of Raging Slab. Many of the bands come from Man's Ruin, Tee Pee and Small Stone lineups, with plenty of unsigned bands around as well.

The only problem is that many of these renditions are merely badly-produced straight covers. There's a lot of rocking hard, but not much attention paid to reimagining the songs. Is this better than a mix tape of these songs? Nope, and the performances sound way too much like the originals to be much else.

Here's an interesting concept: Take live recordings of bands on this year's Warped Tour and put them out as a companion. It's possible that a few of the tracks here did come from previous Warped outings, though most certainly didn't.

So what you get is liveage from the Bosstones, Lunachicks, No Use for a Name, Bad Religion, NOFX, Less than Jake, Pennywise, MxPx, Blink 182, Supersuckers and more. The quality is generally good, the performances suitably electric.

There are odd moments. NOFX's track was apparently recorded during a 1994 European tour with Therapy?. The irony is that they dedicated "Please Play This Song on the Radio" to the Irishmen. Alright, I found it funny.

There's no coherence or any real reason these songs are together. Still, live tracks always lead to interesting moments, like the NOFX one I mentioned. There's a lot of asides here. Amusing.