At its base, this disc is firmly grounded in the rhythms and melodies of Brazil. There's a whole lot past that base, however.

Jorge Amorim takes care of the rhythms himself, and he also produced this lush melange of sound. That's what these songs have in common: An unusually full sound for the music that's played. And the music ranges from orchestral soundscape to fusion to folk to a more basic "world" sound.

Amorim doesn't seem to like sticking to any one idea for very long. Like I said, the songs do have a vague Brazilian feel, but generally it isn't particularly pronounced. This is inventive music, pieces that constantly reinvent the idea of what this album truly is.

I'm struck by the breadth of sound that Amorim managed to capture on this disc. Very few missteps, even in the fusion areas (where the urge to cheese out is everpresent). One final note: As a Freedom Zone disc, this puppy costs just $1.75 (the shipping and handling cost). Go to the website (www.freedomzone.com) and see what the folks have to offer. I'm not shilling and I don't see any cash from this. I just think this is an interesting way to jumpstart a record label. We'll see how it works.

Right dead center in the stereotypical "women's music" realm. Andrews writes slowly-developing songs, heavy with acoustic guitar and piano, which eventually build to a strong, but not raucous, finish.

In fact, the craft involved is great. Andrews and Mike Blaxill (who co-wrote many of the songs here) have a good feel for how to write a solid song. Nothing terribly out of the ordinary, but simply well-constructed.

And that lack of idiosyncratic ineptness is good here. This isn't music intended to whack people over the head. Subtlety is the key, and the best way to accomplish that is by presenting a carefully-crafted, complex song. That's what Andrews does.

Is some of it a bit cheesy? Yeah. Hard to avoid, really. Still, Andrews isn't afraid to explore dark territory or take a few lyrical challenges. I do think the songs could use a bit more bite or something to more fully distinguish them from the pack. But this is a solid effort, one that deserves attention.

These guys released a couple of albums in the late 80s and early 90s, back when metal was already fading into the dust. I remember the first album, vaguely (I was hard rock director at my college radio station back then). I never charted it, and I can't find any reference to the band in my notebooks (yes, I kept notes!)

Basically, the style is that mechanical glam thing that characterized post Shout at the Devil Crue. If you've been reading my reviews recently, you know how I feel about that.

I will say, however, that at least on this disc, Babylon A.D. easily outdoes today's Crue. The production sounds a bit, well, cheap at times (keyboards and drum machines are a bit too obvious), but the songs themselves are fairly solid, as far as this kinda thing goes.

It's not my cuppa tea, but I figure this thing has to please the old fans. And since not many folks are trying this these days, a few others may join the fold. If the sound intrigues you, this is more than worth a listen.

Via Nuon (of Drunk) is Bevel, and the songs pretty much feature his voice and guitar, though a trap set sneaks in from time to time. Nuon isn't the world's most accomplished player or singer, but that doesn't stop him from delivering some stunning pieces.

At times, Nuon tries out a banjo or tracks in an organ or some other accompanying instrument. Interestingly, he seems to prefer using each instrument separately, so even though each one would have to be recorded on a different track, as often as not each instrument has the song to itself.

Needless to say, Bevel is a rather unique project. I've heard plenty of guitar-driven singer-songwriters, and Nuon has a corner all to himself. There aren't many on-ramps for the non-believers; you've gotta dig this sorta stuff to gain entrance.

But if "indie hipster dudes" (as a music critic friend of mine prefers to refer to this sound) get you off, I'd say Bevel is a good course to follow. Nuon's eccentricities are pronounced, but not so much as to keep me from enjoying the music. Kinda like Drunk that way. There's plenty depth here. Dive right in.

Alright, so the rap/metal/hardcore sound has been around for a while. And there are plenty of popular players out there. Indeed, even mainstream hip-hop is beginning to trend heavier. But Capitol Eye brings the goods from both the riffage and the rhymin' sides.

The themes are familiar: Gangsta bangin', rollin' for action, life on the streets, and some garden variety misogyny (though not nearly as severe as most). The thing is, this mix of styles has the potential for extreme catchiness. And Capitol Eye has plugged into that, creating irrepressible choruses and flamin' riffola.

There's a level of complexity here that puts the boys above the rest. Instead of taking small pieces of different styles and melding them to a fairly redundant core, Capitol Eye has instead fused the best elements of hip-hop, hardcore rage, latin grooves and more. The songs aren't one dumb trip after another, but instead come across as revelation after revelation.

A blistering shot into the sides of the big boys. Bands like Capitol Eye are the future. These guys may be too good for mainstream acceptance, but those in the know will appreciate the fine work heard here.

Chixdiggit fits right in to the Honest Don's stable. Peppy, uptempo pop punk. You know, like the Replacements on Prozac.

See, I'm trying real hard to avoid Ramones references when I review bands like this. And anyway, Chixdiggit are really much more tuneful. Indeed, the refrains are almost too sweet for my ears.

But that nice, ragged punk riffage saves the day. Rollicking tunes, silly lyrics and candy in the middle. Not bad for four boys from Calgary.

There's also a CD-ROM, but since I have a Mac, it doesn't work on my machine. C'mon dudes, there are ways around these issues. Oh well. That doesn't dim my enjoyment of the music. Cheap and easy, but it goes down so smoothly. Just waiting on the tummyache.

I still think these guys sound like a great Victory band. But with a Fudge Tunnel perspective. I mean, who else would write songs titled "Last Week's Minutes from the Meeting of the Secret Society of Your Friends Who Actually Hate You" and "If God Loves a Winner, He's Going to Want to Fuck Me in a Minute"?

Alright, darkly pithy comments aside, Drowningman excels in creating a maelstromic hardcore sound. Guitars flying in circles, bass and drums pounding away furiously. and awesome display of precision and power.

I've been waiting for a full-length from these boys since I got that EP a while back. This in no way disappoints. Indeed, my sense of wonder increases. I wasn't sure they could keep the pressure on for a full album.

Oh, but they do. It's been a long time since a band took hardcore by the balls and squeezed until bursting. Drowningman just might be the most exciting band going right now. There aren't enough superlatives.

Well, the songs aren't instrumentals. Not most of them, anyway. But they're played like they are. The vocals are generally down in the mix, and the guitars lead. The songs do not "dumb down" when the vocals come in. Everything continues in full complexity.

And so this Pell Mell meets emo sound rambles on. Rambling is a good way to put it, too, because Duster doesn't seem to have much of a destination in mind. The songs rise and fade, kinda like the tide. The beauty is in the details. Like when a dolphin follows the flow to the shore.

There is great care in the construction of the music, which is probably why the vocals are used as much as another instrument as anything else. Sure, some of these songs actually tell stories and add ideas to the music, but really, this disc is about fuzzy lines.

And those lines paint a most amazing picture. Yeah, it helps to take this more in the abstract than the particular, but that's not unusual. Duster's somewhat convoluted thought process only helps to color the music that much more. Perfect for cranial speculation.

I'll start off with Egon, whose track is punctuated by punchy, almost martial rhythms and just off-pitch vocals and harmonies. "Blowing Trumpets" is actually driven by a meandering lead guitar line, which along with the vocals does lend a vague emo feel to the song. But if I had to, I'd lay this more in the general alt. pop category. Solid, but not a starmaker.

The Search for Saturnalia is at once more poppy and more emo. The guitars are strident and assertive; the song is also much more conventionally constructed. The whole package is a bit better conceived and executed. While this, too, isn't a song to make me stand up and shout, I can hear a lot more in it that makes me curious what else the band might do.

Not the most far-reaching music or even the greatest stuff in the world. But both songs are solid and provide an interesting picture as to the evolution of emo.

Earnest glam, stuff that lies somewhere between the original 70s stuff and the 80s metal equivalent. The harmonies are pure Sweet, but the beats are more of the straight up-and-down variety. The songs are surprisingly socially-conscious, even if they're presented in a somewhat confused fashion.

Strangely, the most striking feature of the sound is the keyboards, which are done up to sound like horns or strings or even a guitar at times. This leads to a somewhat tinny sound at times, but it also works every once in a while.

Like most bands of this ilk (man, I've been preaching this for months now, it seems), the songs work best when they pick up the tempo. "Let It Go" is a lean rocker that takes full advantage of the band's strengths.

Alright, even that song doesn't approach greatness, but it's alright. No real excitement here, I'm afraid.

What this is, is nice 'n' twisted pop music. Mike G dresses up his one-man band sound (I'm just guessing on that one-man thing; this has that feel) with some cool orchestration (mostly with keyboard, but the guitar helps out there, too).

Mike G kinda mops up within that pop sound, however. He'll rip off a raucous and tasty rocker and then kinda space out. Then he'll get a little intimate, only to blow that away with some truly weird stuff.

All of which makes this disc rather difficult to pull out of the discer. It's not that the stuff is always amazing. But even the occasional clunkers kinda complete the coloring of the disc.

And it all spins by so quickly. Sixteen songs in 31 minutes. Little nuggets of joy or pain or whatever. An utterly infectious disc.

A woman and her guitar. Pedal dobro guitars, to be more accurate. Peggy Green's style is contemplative, which fits the ringing tone of her instruments. Picking is all well and good, but when you can get a sound like she gets, well, let it sing.

Just because her fingers aren't flying doesn't mean that these compositions lack complexity or creative fire. Just the opposite. Green takes pieces of jazz, western steel guitar and snippets of Japanese theory and mixes them into her sound.

The Japanese influence Green took as inspiration time she spent in Naka Peida, Japan. There is an elegiac quality to many of the songs, a wistful elegance that isn't quite sadness. A sound that makes me want. What? I don't know.

Truly beautiful. The songs are spun from steel threads and then kicked out into the world by Green's fingertips. This album casts a spell that is hard to shake. Not that I really want to get away any time soon.

Taking a good piece of the Jesus Lizard's groove 'n' grind and then texturing that with strident punk chords and almost prog guitar licks, Haymarket Riot throttles its way through five songs that rather defy categorization.

Certainly Jawbox comes to mind, though. Haymarket Riot is at once more precise and more raucous than the erstwhile D.C. stalwarts, but there's more than a thread connecting them.

Five songs full of power and grace. There is, most definitely, something going on here.

Certainly Hellcat's most soulful ska act, Hepcat uses skankin' beats to explore the cool side. Using multiple singers and broad instrumentation, the band has as fully-fleshed a sound as I've heard.

But you already knew this (I'm assuming). What's heard here is a further expedition into the heart of the groove. Hepcat has never been superficial, but this album really gets down to the base of the matter.

A nice piece of that is the thick, mono-style sound that is highly reminiscent of the classic Studio One style. But instead of simply using that sound as an emotional kicker, Hepcat goes deeper into it, finding a depth that older recordings never had.

Perfectly great. Easily my favorite ska album so far this year. And this is real ska, without any of that punk or rock influence. Sometimes, the real thing is the only thing that will satisfy.

The "respect" notes in the liners go out to Out in Worship, June of 44, The Letter E and others. I think you know where this is going. Or at least, you think you know.

You'd be half right. There is an astonishing amount of music experimentation and creative fire bursting out of every song. But this takes that jazz noise rock sound to another level. And Jon Theodore has everything to do with that.

According to the liners, he's been spending a lot of time learning voodoo drumming. And his rhythms here are otherworldly. His patterns imbibe the songs with an unstoppable vibe and vibrancy. Theodore has a great repore with Fred Erskine, the bassist. Together they provide this bubbling undercurrent that is more addictive than cold beer on a hot day.

Most of the songs were recorded in one take, with somewhat blocked out improvisations. I can only imagine what a live show might entail. These pieces are so hot, so blazingly pure that anything else I say can only damage them. Do not miss.

I reviewed a Glenn Hughes live album some time back, and I wasn't nice. He was singing out of his range and sticking to the oldies. I'm not a big fan of all that.

Here, he's sticking to that organ-drenched Deep Purple sound, though mixing in a little boogie and a little rockin' soul. And his voice sounds good. Some of that is help from the engineers, but some of it is simply sticking to what you can do.

And he's not exactly limited, you know? Well, in any case, this isn't revolutionary material or anything close. Rather, it's simply a refinement of all the tricks Hughes has learned over the years.

That's not bad. Alright, so you gotta slip back in pocket a bit to really appreciate this. Life goes on. Maybe I'm just a sucker for well-used organ, but I had fun with this. Wouldn't subsist on it by any means, but it's a nice treat.

There's not a better way to describe this than "power progressive metal." Take two parts standard melodic Eurometal and add the technical loops and whorls of prog and you're right in Ivory Tower's territory.

The emphasis is power and melody. The structural elements that get the most attention are the ones that move the song along, not those that fit into some elliptical scale pattern. What I'm saying is that Ivory Tower doesn't sacrifice the song on the god of proficiency.

But, of course, these guys can play. They just don't make a big deal out of it. The solos are majestic and evocative, not some kind of prickly whipsaw punctuated by lots of sixteenth and thirty-second notes.

The easiest American reference would be early Queensryche, say right around Rage for Order. Ivory Tower has a fuller sound than that, but the songs are right in that territory. This is quality stuff, the sort of thing that doesn't wander down the pike every day. Quite a listen.

More of that Honest Don's power punk pop. J Church is a bit more into the power than the pop at times, but that doesn't remove any of the charm.

In fact, some of the meanderings really help to set the band apart. J Church isn't afraid to change up tempos or tackle seemingly obscure subjects. And with 26 songs, well, more than a few lesser-known topics get hit.

The sonic sheen is pocked with dirty lesions, which works out well for these generally tight songs. There's no need to produce this in a bulletproof fashion. Merely powerful will do.

One of them sit in the car and crank it up albums. The great choruses just keep on coming, and there's enough variety here that I didn't get bored. There's a veritable mine of fine material on this disc.

So imagine if that acid jazz thing was updated for the new millennium. Instead of jack swing, you'd get a little electronica mixed in with your smooth jams and sampled jazzy riffs. That what Jibe does, and it works.

Now, you've got to like each of these elements. Which isn't too terribly difficult, as the electronic elements here are more Faithless than Chemical Brothers. In other words, the complimentary ideas simply complement each other.

I'm not the world's biggest fan of this kinda thing, but I know good stuff when I hear it. Jibe doesn't traffic in middling material. These songs are first rate, and the production is shiny, but lets the soul shine through. Just like it should.

Quite a set of creative minds and talent. This is a great party album and more. Jibe puts this sound together in a unique and appealing way.

Nkossi Konda thanks Disney for allowing him to be the first African artist to perform at Harambee Village. This is fitting. Konda may be African, but he sounds like an American version of African music.

That's not entirely bad. He brings to mind Paul Simon or David Byrne or any of a number of American artists who have earnestly borrowed from African traditions. Konda, in his way, is simply bringing pieces of African music and placing them in a more world-friendly shell.

So this isn't edgy. It is, for better and worse, something of a Disneyification. Your grandma might like this. Which is a good sight better than those bizarro "native music" cassette tapes that my grandma would bring back from cruises or travel. THAT stuff was just bad. This is good, well-executed music. It's just not "pure" African fare.

And I don't think that's bad. Me? Well, I'm a roots kinda guy. And unless someone is trying to create a new form of music by splintering an old one (and Konda is not doing that), I'm not a big fan of this sorta thing. Still, has managed to Americanize his music without sounding forced or cheesy. That is an accomplishment.

There comes a point where you carve out such a distinctive place for yourself that you are, by default, the best at it. Lana Lane is the self-proclaimed queen of symphonic rock, and I have no reason to doubt her. No other woman is doing anything quite like this.

Think of yer standard melodic Eurometal, add a pile of classical influences played with prog precision and excess and then produce the stew to be as over-the-top as possible.

Not an unattractive sound, mind you. The copious notes that came with this said that this album is heavier than previous Lane outings. I have no means of comparison, but I think I know what they mean. The guitars have a good bite, and the sound is extremely full.

As for the lyrics, well, they're generally meditations on the stars, astrology and the concept of moving through space. Kinda silly sometimes, but not too annoying. Anyway, this sounds too good to really nitpick about the subject matter. Not everyone's favorite sound, I know, but I like it.

Like Wow really wants to be freaky weird. The band wants to make some sort of artistic statement. There is a lot wanting. Just not the stuff the band probably, well, wanted.

Thomas Truax sounds something like of a more excitable Nick Cave. That's probably the most interesting thing here. Much of the music is serviceable, if a little clunky, but it just doesn't break new ground.

Just sort of rambling art rock, really. Without much in the way of, well, art. All of the little thoughts tossed into the pot just don't work together. I don't believe that this was supposed to be quite the mess it is. Sometimes stuff just works out that way.

There is another possibility: I blew this one. It's really rare that I come across an album that simply says nothing to me the way this one did. It might be that this is the greatest and most innovative album to escape from the sewer in many a day. I just don't hear anything of the sort.

Here's a way to record an album: Walk on stage for a sound check (or at some other time when there are no patrons present) and play all of your songs straight through. One after another, if you will. That's what A Night of Serious Drinking did. Though it hardly sounds that way.

And this is three guys, three people who manage to create an intimate yet lush sound. On a stage. Guitar, bass, drums (with the occasional special guest). Introspective pop music that does evoke thoughts of Nick Drake (I hate aping press notes, but they're right this time) or large chunks of Sister Lovers.

So now I've also said this is really great stuff. Well, it is. No doubt about that. The novelty of the recording process is impressive enough, but the music is what really makes an impression. Piercing and haunting all at once.

Tell you what: If the method works this well, then A Night of Serious Drinking ought to seriously consider using it for every album. Must've been one hell of a sound check.

Um, well, just what the band name promises. Old School hardcore, just tuneful enough to bring a smile to the face. Boy, these guys sure know the formula.

And they execute. The sound is lo-fi and slightly thick, which suits the songs just fine. The lyrics are acerbic and insightful, providing some thought along with the muddy riffage.

Okay, so these guys are throwbacks. I'm not gonna argue with that. In fact, I'm really don't have a whole lot more that I can say, period. This is solid hardcore, classic style. Sometimes that's enough all by itself.

Not unlike a more manic Brainiac (with lots of sharp organ). The energy bursting off this disc (even in its less excitable moments) is almost off the charts. This puppy crackles.

It's kinda hard to explain how Oneida puts its songs together. There's the organ, of course, which generally is used as a rhythm instrument. The guitars brood or howl depending on the need, and everything else just follows suit.

And does so in astonishing fashion. You know, now that I think of it, I can make a little more sense of this. Know how the Stooges kinda ripped apart 60s pop and then pumped it up? Well, imagine if someone were to come along, take the Stooges and then Stooge-ize that. With organ. That about does it, I think. Pretty fucking breathtaking.

Songs that never quite get going. I get the feeling they will, but after two albums, I have to admit that's pretty unlikely. The stark, clunky music has a dreamlike quality to it, like it's trying to break out into the world of the real.

Certainly no one else can or necessarily wants to make music like this. I don't say that in a bad way. Just the opposite. Whatever is inspiring Orso, it must be something truly unique to serve as muse for these sounds.

The halting style sometimes takes on the feel of a toy winding down, or a bad movie as it lurches to the finish. There's something delicately beautiful about such moments, and Orso captures that perfectly.

Such unusual genius is hard to find. No other band sounds much like Orso, and few can match its power and vision. A most remarkable disc.

The latest effort from this guitar monster. This one packs a much harder punch and heads more into the gothic side of Eurometal. Moving more from Malmsteen toward late-era Edge of Sanity.

Johnny Gioelli's raspy vocals are vaguely reminiscent of Klaus Meine, and to further the comparison, the songs are constructed much more simply than before. That's a good thing.

The problem is that the songs are still really, really long. A song like "Voodoo Nights" (which really does sound like 1982-era Scorps) should have clocked in at four minutes, max. It's five and a half. Pell needed the time for another solo and another run at the chorus.

As far as I'm concerned, this is another improvement. Pell could use an editor, but he seems to have found some fire on this disc. Maybe he's finally figured out how to connect.

Heavy-duty drum 'n' bass, utilizing a lot of breakbeats. One of the reasons this pure version of the sound has faded over the last year or so is that there's only so far you can take drums (machines, anyway) and bass.

pH10 doesn't really take the sound anywhere. Sure, the beatwork is nice, and the bass lines are complimentary, but damn, there's a thousand of these discs out there trying to do the same thing. Gotta do something, right?

Well, that didn't happen here. I could go on, but there's not much point. pH10 executes the sound to the utmost, but that's not the most difficult thing in the world. What is hard is connecting that sound to an audience. That didn't happen.

It's weird, but I've heard a lot of good country-rock bands from New York. Red Radio Flyer is one of them, though it hews more to rock than country. It is always a trip to hear a wistful description of Manhattan delivered with a twang.

Tightly written and loosely performed, the songs here are replete with style and flair. The easy-going delivery simply helps to drive the great songs into my brain.

Also dead-on is the production, which adds a bit of sheen to a fairly sparse sound. None of the instruments are obscured, and plenty of emotion can be heard in the playing. Just the way you want it to be.

There's not a note here that rings false. Every song is solid, and all shine brightly. Like I said, I don't know what it is about New York, but I'm not gonna complain about the music. That would be a sin.

For the uninitiated gringo listener, Latin pop sounds like something fresh and original. Horns are more liberally used, and there are nods to samba, bossa nova and other relatively exotic rhythms. But after a while, it comes to you: This stuff is just like today's country music, simply pop music spoken in a different language.

Ernesto Rico has a good singing voice, and this album is well-produced, showing off a wide variety of moods and sounds. Still, there isn't anything here that lifts Rico above the rather crowded pop pack.

One of the problems with competing in this circle is that an artist has to be all things to all people. So the ballads take on a more "American" feel, and even the Latin rhythms are created by machines.

So is it live, or is it disco? Doesn't really matter. Perhaps Rico can get himself marketed into the next big thing. There isn't anything on this disc which separates him from all the other contenders.

Smooth fusion, if you will. Secard sings in a jazzy style, but the music generally hails from today's sparse r&b sounds.

Secard has a nice mid-range voice with particularly impressive enunciation. Which makes her choice of material surprising. She could do more.

Anyone who can sing in such an expressive way should have better material. "In Another Lifetime," which she sings over a solo piano, probably best shows off her talent. But moments like that are rare. Most of the stuff here is very middle-of-the-road. Too bad. She deserves better.

The Roadrunner hardcore exodus to Victory continues. In addition to the label change, Shelter has changed its sound, if only slightly. There's a definite 7 Seconds vibe, that whole hardcore with melodic vocals thing.

Once again, rather than ape a vast variety of influences, Shelter has tried to refine its sound and focus on creating something of a consistent feel. This disc does stick together quite well, even if I might say that Kevin Seconds ought to be rather flattered.

Yeah, well, Shelter is one of those bands that I can simply never get along with. I always hear something interesting, but that always seems to be sitting in the context of derivative or simply uninspired material.

This is probably the guys' best outing yet, though once again I feel like I have to mark that statement with an asterisk. Sometimes, that's just how it goes.

I was listening to a compilation of 80s guitar rock (of the indie sort) a couple days ago, and it finally struck me where Silkworm fits, and why so many people are fans. This also explains why I've never been knocked out.

There is very little attention paid to melody. Often, the vocals or guitars or anything purposely miss the note they should hit. But see, that's true to the garage tradition, even though Silkworm is so far past that the conceit is getting a little silly.

On the other hand, even moderately contrived energy has its pleasures. My epiphany has allowed me to like this disc a bit better than I might have otherwise. There are a lot of fun tunes here, the ragged rocker types. Probably serves as a nice bit of nostalgia for a good number of folks.

Because people don't play like this any more. I tried to turn some younger folks on to the Replacements a while back, and their response was "Those dudes suck. They sound horrible." All I could say was, "That's sorta the point." The kids, of course, decided then and there that I must be some sort of musical moron.

Wait a minute, that puts me on the other foot entirely. Whatever. This sounds a lot like the other Silkworm albums I've heard. There's some nice noodling and plenty of strange side trips that fans should dig. And then, of course, there is that whole garage thing I brought up earlier. Did I dig it? Yeah, I guess.

Apparently Spider Rockets realized that Euro glam metal wasn't the wave of the future. This disc is much heavier than the EP I heard last year, and that kinda bums me out.

Because this is a much more generic sound. The only real unusual feature is that it's a woman (Helena Cos) doing the growling.

There are still a few glam references, and Spider Rockets don't quite lurch into the Pantallica or metal-core areas. On a song like "Fortune," this heavier attitude works pretty well.

Still, even on that song, there just isn't much in the way of an original band sound. It's not so much that the band is ripping anyone off; it's just that this sound is a little tired. Maybe the folks just need a little more time to figure out where they're going. This disc just doesn't get me all that excited.

These folks have some famous friends. Buddy Cage plays his steel guitar all the way through, and folks such as Dr. John, Vassar Clements and Bernie Worrell sit in every once in a while.

Perhaps you've picked up that what we have here is an eclectic vision of the blues. Extremely eclectic, ranging from groove tunes and even a little funk to doleful ballads and soaring anthems.

Stir Fried itself is a rather cumbersome undertaking, packing the stage with a fairly sizable number of members. The pictures looks kinda like some sort of festival jam, and indeed, that's also the feel of this disc. Serendipity is always just around the corner.

An utterly unclassifiable set of songs. Well, the heart's in the blues, I guess, but there's so much more here as well. The name of the band is appropriate. Too many cooks made a great bouillabaisse.

I really liked the first disc I heard from Sunday Munich, though I recall having troubles quite explaining what it was that I was hearing. I look back at my description of "Droning, whirling, ethereal gothic pop," and I wonder if there's not more I would have said.

There is a gothic feel, but the beats throb far too much to really fit in that category. But this isn't merely arena electronica; Sarah Hubbard's vocals have an intimacy that is immediately arresting. No, there's a lot more to it than that.

Constructed so as to build to a sonic and emotional climax, rather than around a verse and chorus, the songs have something of a tribal feel. Again, the heavy beats help out there, but what's more important is the way the songs move. Slowly, but insistently, until release.

And that's really the gothic part of this. There is a vague Switchblade Symphony feel, but Sunday Munich has a much more sophisticated way of presenting its ideas. The music here is glorious, and the vocals transport my to another place. Just gorgeous.

You might think that the daughter of Carly Simon and James Taylor might have an aptitude for music. That she'd have a nice voice. That she'd tend toward a mainstream sound.

You'd figure correctly, though that last assumption isn't quite right. The music is grounded in anthemic roots rock (a strange, but viable combination), and Taylor's voice is brassy and supple, not unlike her mother's. While not exactly what you might expect, the result is still within what might be anticipated.

The production created a strong, aggressive sound, exactly what Taylor's voice requires. Anything less would have been utterly overwhelmed. But the vocals are also treated correctly, overdubbing some harmonies to thicken the sound even more.

Not a throwback or a marked departure from the music of her parents, Taylor instead created a confident and smart album that plays directly to her strengths, inherited and otherwise.

If college rock was still a valid description of anything, it might fit Today. Songs with a premium on lyrics, to the point of planning the music around the most theatrical presentation of the vocals.

Very theatrical all the way around, really, in a lo-fi sorta way. Ambling music, with very deliberate guitar lines and rhythms. The drums are almost martial in the way they keep time. Every bar is one step ahead of the next.

I hadn't heard anything like this in quite a while. It does sound like folks who are desperate to make a statement. And Today does pretty well. Maybe not as emphatic as hoped, but still stirring, nonetheless.

A short (40 minutes) primer on the history and line-up of one of the more eclectic labels around.

Daemon, of course, was founded by Amy Ray of the Indigo Girls as a label devoted to the Atlanta scene. As the video shows, the focus has widened quite a bit, though remaining true to the vision of spotlighting young and unheralded talent.

Forty minutes really isn't quite enough time to tell a complete story, and most of the time is spent reminiscing about the various artists who have been involved with Daemon. A lot of little thoughts, if you will.

The bits are tied together by interviews with Ray and the Daemon staff. The observations are thoughtful, but not stilted. After all, running a record label should be fun. The focus should be on the music. And if you know anything about Daemon, you know that's the case.

Well, a lot of bands get together and play harpsichords. Or at least the electronic equivalent. We're not talking about slouches here; Momus is just one of the stellar acts who contributes.

The pieces are generally vaguely baroque, sounding much like something off a Magnetic Fields album. Musically, anyway. Stephen Merritt is just about unmatched lyrically.

Trippy, as the cover indicates. There is a decadent 60s feel to much of these pieces. Formal constructions presented loosely. Exciting in an almost inexplicable way.

A strange concept that simply works much better than it should. If you've ever wondered how a harpsichord might be used by thoroughly modern musicians, start right here in your quest for knowledge.

The little postcard inside this disc asks what music I like. Among the choices is "krautrock." I guess that's what l'Age d'Or puts out. Indie rock and electronic stuff (often mixed together) from Germany.

This compilation is a selection of the label's 1999 releases, and the fare is uniformly inspiring. The acts take on various sounds, from new wave to techno to punk to basic Anglopop. There's also a rendition of "Autobahn" played on a banjo. This is immediately followed by a fuzzy punk version of "Rollin & Tumblin" -- the verses in German and the chorus in English!

See, those tracks tell me these folks must be slightly crazed. Which is always a good thing when listening for new music. You've gotta be a little off-kilter to dig something different.

I'm already a big fan. Anyone who cherishes the original really has to scope this label out. There's some wonderful stuff here.

Gathering a number of luminaries (Jarboe, David Grubbs and the Grifters, among others) along with many in the Secretly Canadian stable, this collection is exactly what it promises: Vocals, and nothing but.

One of the points of a set like this is to point out how many different ways people can sing or use their voices. There are a few artists who do simply sing in a conventional fashion, but this is offset by the majority of the songs here, which stand apart from the general concept of a capella as a gentle sound.

Indeed, most of the these are aggressive in many different ways. It's impossible to get bored because the performances are generally quite unique. And even when you think you might guess how a particular artist might sound on a set like this, you're probably wrong. I was. More than one.

A grand idea like this will either turn out badly or brilliantly. Since it originated at Secretly Canadian, the likelihood of the latter was certainly higher, and that's how I hear this. There is power in the unaccompanied voice, and this collection provides ample proof of that thesis.

Carl Verheyen can coax some wonderful sounds out of his guitar. But that's not the focus here. Instead, it's Verheyen's mystical prog take on the blues that is truly arresting.

The band is a trio, and this album was recorded to highlight that fact. No there aren't many overdubs and the sound has plenty of room for the notes to explore.

And when I say that Verheyen plays the blues, well, I probably overstate. These are rock songs that borrow heavily from the blues, but the sound itself is a laid-back rock feel. Like a mellower version of the Dregs, if you will.

What I like best of all is that Verheyen doesn't try to impress with excess. He likes to make his guitar sing, not wail. This isn't music that excites the senses as much as the intellect. But that's okay. Sometimes, a little contemplation goes a long way.

There are 13 tracks here, but that's just to complete the theme. Woodall, through his use of found sound and creative studio work, has crafted an interesting meditation on the entire concept of luck. Bad luck, to be specific.

At times playful, and at other moments rather subdues, the music constantly challenges. The pieces have something of a classical cast to their sound, but I think a better comparison would be a movie score.

Music and attendant noises. Yes, I think that conveys the concept of what I'm hearing so much better. Woodall is telling stories with his pieces, and he uses whatever he can find to illustrate his tales.

Whether haunting or invigorating, Woodall always manages to impress. These pieces are quite easy to access, and once inside there is plenty of room for wandering. Put this disc on and take a field trip to your frontal lobes. Don't forget the black cat.