So what happens when you get a combination of distinctive rhyme structure and a knack for creative beatwork? Well, something like Aesop Rock. Something that is rarely uninspiring.

Aesop Rock's approach might be best described as a highly technical dancehall style. He'll scat on a beat, but always with letter-perfect enunciation. The ideas fly past faster than the speed of sound. I'm wondering how he gets his mouth to comply.

The songs are free-form in style, probably the best way to present the complicated and intricate thoughts of the lyrics. This is an album that requires a listener to think. Both the rhymes and the music defy convention or simplistic references. There's no way to avoid the intellectual assault.

Which, of course, limits the mainstream appeal. On the other hand, anyone who is dumb enough to think that rap music is for idiots would be quickly turned around by this disc. Poetry rarely sounded so good.

I've long wondered just why people would go see synth-pop acts live. I know, 15 years ago folks would trek across the country for a Depeche Mode or New Order show. I just didn't get it. I mean, there's a reason the Pet Shop Boys don't tour very much, right?

Well, Alphaville proves me wrong. At least a little, anyway. The band is playing (over a drum machine most of the time, augmented by live electronic percussion) and there are a few variations in the live renditions.

So anyway, I guess I can kinda understand attending a show. But then there's this live disc here. And that, well, cannot be explained so easily. The production is great, incorporating the atmospherics of a live show into the band's lush synth sound. But why not just a greatest hits?

Contractual obligation and silly fans are the only answers I can find. These versions do not differ enough from the studio recordings to merit this set. Sure, the performances are great, but we've already heard them before. The quality is high; I'm just wondering about the point of this exercise.

There's this really big sound these days. It involves a woman singing in alternately wispy and earthy tones over pseudo-folk guitar and pop beats. A lot of folks doing this. Amelia's Dream is one such band.

Unlike many similar-sounding acts, however, Amelia's Dream isn't afraid to venture far afield into unusual (for this form, anyway) musical sounds. In general, the tunes are strong, forceful and confident. In that way, these folks have already figured out the game.

The pouty cover of "Evil Ways" is a bit silly, but it's still a nice piece of fluff. Using the Santana arrangement is probably a good commercial move, but I always prefer unusual remakes.

That probably sums up this disc for me. It's extremely commercial, well-produced fare. With just enough of an artistic flourish to provide the proper character. The big boys just might have use for Amelia's Dream.

Yer basic groove-soul four-piece, except that there are five guys. The fifth man plays beatmaster and turntable king. And that makes all the difference.

All of a sudden Big Ass Truck goes from average to just about awesome. Okay, it's not just the electronic addition, as that stuff had been incorporated into the songwriting, but I'm telling ya, it's a big piece of the action.

The boys don't range that far afield from the groove-soul sound, apart from the odd garagey moments. That's okay. This disc was recorded in Memphis, and there's plenty of Stax in the sound. The generally loose construction of the songs is helped by a light hand in the mix, which allows all of the elements to blend together well.

Enjoyable. A nice little party album that would segue well with some Gran Torino (though this would change the mood just a bit). No, it's not old soul, but there are moments where you might forget that. Made for smiles.

With the shelving of Three Mile Pilot (that's what the oddities double disc was all about), the Black Heart Procession is now the main show for Tobias Nathaniel and Pall Jenkins. And so, with that earlier project now just a memory, this current band starts creeping back from whence it came.

Which isn't at all bad. It's just that the Black Heart Procession is branching out here, taking the occasional sidestep from the rootsy goth feel that has been its hallmark. The roots are still here, but there is a resonance and a lushness at times. These songs are haunting, but in a different way.

And they sound more like the weirder side of TMP. Can't get away from that. This is by far the most ambitious album for this pair, so much so that they've asked a few friends to sit in from time to time. It seems two guys weren't enough for the current vision.

But don't take my description as disapproval. Indeed, this slight refocusing merely reinforces my awe. Jenkins and Nathaniel are two of the most accomplished songwriters around, and their arrangements are nothing short of stunning. Another jaw-dropping performance. Long may they run.

The name says it all. This is, indeed, one of those electronic collage sort of efforts, a few guys (or maybe just one) locked up in a room playing with relatively old equipment.

Rather than focusing on any one feel, Brainstorm Sheen feels free to borrow from all over the musical landscape before eventually landing in that comfy, fuzzy Kraftwerkian technoland.

But with all the beats and ideas swirling around, it's hard to peg the real sound here. This level of intensity and complexity is extremely addictive. Each song simply drives up the ante for the next. And Brainstorm Sheen always pays off.

This album easily could have been sterile and stillborn. It's a testament to the quality of the band that bs.3 is instead a living, breathing, vital piece of work. Unstoppable, really.

More than ever a pop band, Brandtson continues to crank out thick, crusty gems. Songs with immediate appeal and plenty of complexity for the long haul.

It took me a few attempts to get through the disc (my ancient player is beginning to skip way too much), but I simply had to do it. The snatches I heard were far too tasty to give up on. And when I finally got the laser in harmony with the plastic and metal, well, I was rewarded.

Or, as one of the subtitles of the EP says, "Some things are worth figuring out." Indeed. Brandtson just keeps getting better, and it's been pretty good since the beginning. This short set (six track plus a bonus) is simply sterling.

Buffalo Tom was on the cusp of stardom for like, forever. I got vaguely hooked on the band with "Birdbrain" and "Velvet Roof," not paying too much attention because I was always thinking the boys would just fly away to mainstream success and leave little indie-addled me along. I really thought massive recognition was imminent after "Late at Night" was featured in the most-popular episode (among the MTV set, anyway) of "My So-Called Life." But fame always somehow slipped away.

So we're left with the music. The first couple of albums sounded a lot like early Uncle Tupelo (which is one reason they were so popular at my college radio station), but Buffalo Tom kept evolving, as bands like to do. The guys cheesed out, found their edge again and then sorta settled into a middling groove. I think one of the reasons Buffalo Tom never quite broke through was that none of its albums were totally solid. There were truly great songs on each one, but there was always a clunker or two.

And then there's this compilation, decidedly sans clunkers. But the songs don't quite fit together, even though they're all by a band that touched musical greatness more than once. Stripped of their context they don't quite work as well. I guess what I'm saying is that the old albums may have been better than I was remembering.

Maybe I'm just working too hard here. Most bands would kill to write one song as good as the worst one here. Greatest hits packages (which this is) are always going to be sterile and somewhat muddled. We're talking about more than 10 years of work here. So I guess I'm bitching a bit much. Buffalo Tom is one of the great underappreciated bands of the 90s. This set does, indeed, confirm that simple fact.

It'd be easy to lump Crüxshadows in with the almost-past dark wave movement. Easy is usually wrong. Taking liberally from early trailblazers as Gary Numan, Alien Sex Fiend and the Cure, Crüxshadows has crafted itself a nice little niche.

This music could be from 1985 or 2000. Hard to say. That's really the beauty of it. What drives the sound is a coherent band performance. These folks play live, and this album has an electric live feel that is quite unusual.

And while the influences are apparent, they only decorate the unique band sound. The mix leaves plenty of space between the instruments and the vocals, giving every member enough room to shine. Like I said, this is a band.

And a good one at that. Most goth acts try to create an otherworldly sound, drowning out reality. Crüxshadows instead focuses on the mystery within the real. Creepier, really, and much more involving. Not many can do it this well, much less better.

Just in case you didn't catch them the first time, My Pal God is re-issuing the first two Drums and Tuba albums. With some extra tracks thrown in, just for the hell of it.

Those unfamiliar with the band should know that there is a guitar in addition to the drums and tuba. Sometimes the tube is exchanged for a trumpet. Something the drums are traded in for sax or other things. Still, always three sounds at once. The three instruments jam in all sorts of ways, all the way from a vague Dixieland style to something that can only be called Hendrixian.

These songs are much more loosely constructed than last year's Flatheads and Spoonies. A lot more of a jam feel than real songwriting. Basically, a mood is set and the guys go from there.

No other band sounds anything like this. Not just a historical oddity, this disc stands out on its own as some real quality work. I think I prefer the tighter material the guys are putting out these days, but there are some astounding moments here.

The second of this re-issue set. On this album, the transition from a more free-form jam sound to more controlled song structure is underway. The players are working harder to create innovate sounds within their newly-controlled lines.

I may be overemphasizing this evolution thing. It's not like a cut-and-dried series of events. More shading, really. In any case, this disc is more of a traditional noise rock-jazz fusion disc than the first.

And really, isn't that what all of these abstract noise rock types are doing? You know, June of 44, the Flying Luttenbachers, Don Caballero, whatever. It's not jazz and it's not rock. It's simply something else.

Certainly that's true for Drums and Tuba. One of the most unique-sounding bands in the world. Period. The guys also just happen to be brilliant. A side benefit, if you will.

More wigged-out musings from these fine folks. While sticking to the pop universe (in a very vague way), the tunes quickly fly into all sorts of strange territory.

This has the feel of kids playing around on new instruments. Intuitive kids, kids who instinctively know which direction to turn at every crossroads. There's a whimsical rejection of the "normal" world and an embracing of heretofore unimagined sonic pairings.

This sort of thing will never have mainstream appeal, except as a sort of novelty act. But that doesn't do the band justice. These songs are well-conceived. Often goofy, but still put together with skill and care. I just hope the folks don't cheese out.

A somewhat pouty take on the ol' L7 formula. The band cranks out some nice riffage and Brita Admundsen purrs and wails (as appropriate). Simple and easy. Well, it sounds that way.

Which is always the trick. Nothing here sounds contrived. It's probably not too hard to tire a bit of Admundsen's histrionics (she sounds a bit too much like a chick singing rock and roll some of the time), but I wasn't overly concerned. I was too caught up in the fire.

And that there's plenty of. Fistfull doesn't try to reinvent the wheel. Instead, the band lays down some regular hardcore, smushes it into a conventional construction and cranks up the sound. Beauty.

Fans of 7 Year Bitch and the Gits also might find some joy here. Fistfull is a bit more tuneful, but just as powerful. This is one serious sonic attack.

Disposable pop songs in the key of the cold wave. You know, that vaguely gothic industrial style that blew through both coasts a few years back. Robotic and yet lush.

The Fleshpeddlers remind me of SMP or Non-Aggression Pact, mostly in the use of old school hip-hop beats. There are some gothic keyboards flitting about, but this is definitely an Operation Beatbox attack.

It has always surprised me that so few people have thought to combine these styles. I mean, the best part of 80s rap was the beat work, the rhythmic vocal delivery. That stuff still works. So why not drop that into a light industrial sound? Why not, indeed.

This is so far away from where music trends are today it is a wonderful breath of fresh air. Imagine the Beasties fronting NIN. Maybe that will help describe what's going on here. It works. Real well. Not much more I can say about that.

The first new songs from Robert Forster and Grant McLennan in more than 10 years. But it's more than just the songwriting. Hearing those two voices together again initiates such memories that it's hard to be objective about this disc.

Not unlike the Peter Holsapple/Chris Stamey reunion album of almost 10 years back, this set finds the old partners mowing old fields with a new machine. It sounds familiar, but with a twist or two.

These guys are older. They're wiser. They still write songs about the inner life. The songs are still amazing. Rather than go for an overly grand sound, McLennan and Forster instead keep an intimate feel, inviting us back into their world.

Like I said, I really can't be terribly objective about this one. I was immediately entranced and the spell has yet to break. Maybe in a month or two I'll find some big flaw. It's not apparent to me now. This sure seems like one of those reunions that might be even bigger than the sum of its parts.

One thing I like about getting a package from Vaccination is that I never know what will be inside. Well, I know it will be pretty well great with some of the coolest packaging around, but musically, I never know what's coming.

GrndNtl Brnds takes this thought much further. Halfway through the album I had no idea what was coming next. Except, of course, that it would most likely blow my mind.

There's the manic pop phase (a la Thingy), the strangely intricate folk phase, the avant-garde noise phase, etc. And the band does equally well with each sound. In general, the pieces come off as fairly disconnected. But in truth, I think there's a fairly well thought out core to each piece.

I'm doing a horrible job of describing this. Except to say that the disorder is only skin deep. Great fun, with plenty of complexity underneath to satisfy the demanding listener. Not exactly anything. Well, except good. GrndNtl Brnds is much better than good.

The breakout success of the Flaming Lips a few years back proved that there was a market (if limited) for obsessively crafted headphone pop. Now, the Helio Sequence doesn't sound a whole lot like Oklahoma's finest (the sounds are a lot more technical and less noisome), but it is in the same arena.

There's a spaciness to these songs that's pretty cool. Almost as if these songs were beamed into my stereo rather than jumping out from a CD.

Like the music has been a journey, see, and not my mind. I can't nail down this feeling much more precisely. But it's a trip, to be sure.

There is a Beatles cover, and that's where the boys kinda get a bit excited. The thing is, "Tomorrow Never Knows" was already a kinda spacey song. Oh well, one minor (negligible, really) misstep isn't enough to get me bummed out. I'll accept these transmissions any day.

Some raucous bash 'n' pop, somewhere between mid-80s Soul Asylum and Big Star. In fact, one of the guys (hard to tell which by the liners) is a dead ringer for Dave Pirner.

And well, I always liked that throaty howl he had back then. The music itself borrows from the two bands I listed liberally, almost to the point of losing its own sound in the process.

But not quite. This is a nice blast of power. Some folks seem to forget that pop music can really rock out. Holy Crap is under no such illusion.

Imbruco is having none of this modern emo sound. Nope, just a strident guitar sound injected into fairly atonal anthems. Oh, and lots of distortion. Kinda like dusting Frosted Flakes with sugar, if you know what I mean.

Swerving radically from the sublime to the buzzsaw, Imbruco also hews tightly to the line. There does seem to be a bit more of a focus on the vocals than might be necessary, though the harmonies are still fairly non-melodic.

I've always liked this sound. I mean, going all the way back to the progenitors. Imbruco does it well. I do think the band needs to find a signature of its own, but that shouldn't be too hard to accomplish. I mean, they made this fine disc, didn't they?

Another in the series of re-issue compilations of the rather intertwined careers of Suzanne Langille and Loren MazzaCane Connors. These songs are, for the most part, traditional blues done in a rather iconoclastic style.

I've always found it hard to connect with Langille and Connors, perhaps because I have never been able to get my head around their own compositions. But I know most of these songs, and the trembling, almost terror-drenched arrangements happen to bring out the most dramatic elements of the pieces.

The easiest comparison would be a much more avant garde Cowboy Junkies playing the blues. But, like I said, so much further out to the edge as to make such a reference almost useless. I'm not sure that anyone has ever played the blues quite like this.

Maybe this is the disc I needed to begin to share some head space with Langille and Connors. I've been coming around slowly, but I really like this one. I'll give it a few more spins and then go back and see how much my appreciation has deepened.

I got this disc a ways back (like in April), but it got put on a shelf with some computer catalogs (the sort of thing I consult only when I need toner), and so it got lost. Until now.

Leatherface proves that old punkers can still light up the stage. Yeah, this is as much pop as punk, but the ragged edges keep the sound honest. Really, the arrangements are spot on, and there are no complaints about the energy level of the band.

And man, I love the thick sound. Just a swirl of drums guitar and bass, with hoarse shouts wailing out the vocals. You know, one version of punk heaven.

The songs just keep spewing forth. Leatherface's comeback continues apace, with another fine effort. Actually, this is one of the better albums I've heard this year. Way too much fun to put down easily.

An interesting idea: Mix ska, rock and African guitar pop. Except totally different from the Talking Heads.

For starters, the skankin' beats are preeminent, and the African guitar lines come in a close second. Behind all that is a little rock and roll. Just a little. Enough to make this sorta recognizable.

Of course, it all fits together. This simply puts similarly-influenced sounds back together in the cradle. The sort of thing that makes you slap yourself in the head and say, "Why didn't I think of that?" Um, maybe because Lovewhip did. And boy howdy, does it work. When the band really cuts loose and lets the horns, drums and guitars go at it, the sound is sublime. And it's just about as good throughout the rest of the disc. Quite a find.

It sounds like the Chicago sound has finally rubbed off on Man or Astro-Man?. Sure, the excessiveness of the exercise is still around, but the surf sound is all but gone, drowned out in a more strident sort of riffage and plenty of noise touches.

So does this mean the guys are going for a grand statement? I don't think so. It is possible to find plenty of references to the more familiar sound, but I think the band just wanted to try something different. Not a bad idea, either.

A success, too, in that the rather expansive concept takes throbbing riffola and heavy distortion quite well. Rather than a soundtrack to a space opera, this album sounds like the score to an exploitive horror movie.

While I liked the old style, Man or Astro-Man? had to move on. And this is a good way to go. A real positive step for a band that I thought might be getting a bit stale. Not so, not so.

I made the note an issue or two ago that I hadn't heard anyone try the ol' My Bloody Valentine sound in a while. Well, Mean Red Spiders tries to cross the Primitives with MBV. The result is a bit fluffy, but awfully tasty going down.

The distorted wall of sound (heavy on the treble) does make the tunes run together, but they're so damned peppy that I find it hard to bitch about. I do wish the band had tried to add a bit more complexity behind the ringing mush, but like I said, this is on the fluff side of things.

As for that sound, I've never heard it used quite so extravagantly on a basic pop band. I think it might drain some of the life out of the hooks, but it sure does give Mean Red Spiders a unique feel. No one else sounds quite like this.

And that goes a long way. Yeah, I wish there was a bit more to all of this. But there's not, and I can't do anything about that. I'll just have to be happy with what is here.

Perfectly nice Britfolk (is that a term?). Mojave 3 dresses up its moody pieces with some interesting orchestration. Almost all acoustic, lending the songs an intimate feel.

Pretty, almost to a fault. These are well-crafted shiny gems. Very little hint of imperfection, even while showing off plenty of vulnerability. A difficult feat that sounds like it was accomplished with ease.

The songs stay in the same general territory, slow-to-mid-tempo with very few ups and downs. A recipe for boredom, really, except that the arrangements and orchestrations are marvels. Like a painting, really.

Yes, it takes lots of practice to put together music like this. Mojave 3 has been at it a while, and yet this album is just as fresh as the first two. Lots to like, as per usual.

Where most folks create textured pop by taking bits and pieces of odd influences and flowing them into a standard structure, Lucy Mongrel takes big chunks of just about every sound imaginable (foreign and domestic) and then remaking pop construction to fit her purposes.

Add to that an utterly idiosyncratic delivery, and you get this disc. Mongrel isn't so much out there as she is visionary. Music can't stay pent up in a box, and the best way to move it forward is to try a few new things.

So she might be singing a cafe song over a flamenco riff backed by some sort of African beat, or she might be playing the blues in an almost unrecognizable fashion. She knows what she wants to do, and the execution is quite good.

Truly unique. The stuff might be somewhat unsettling, but that's the idea. Just try to find whatever point of entrance you can. Mongrel has left the door wide open.

Recorded live for a Dutch radio station, this seven-song sampler shows off both old and new material. Generally acoustic, which gives the earlier stuff a bit of a new spin.

The sound here compares well with the Mojave 3, a full-yet-folky feel. Monroe Mustang is less refined (as is just about everyone), but the bumps just lend more opportunities to get into the material.

A big change of pace for those familiar with the band's two albums. This thing was recorded while Monroe Mustang was in Holland to play at a festival. The band doesn't tour much, certainly not in Europe. Perhaps this inspired the adjustment. Or maybe it just made sense at the time.

I'm not too worried about the why. It's the what, and what this is is terrific. A new window on a great band. Plenty to appreciate and marvel at, to be sure.

The sort of earnest, jangly college rock that I heard 10 years ago when I was, um, in college. Takes me back a ways. I haven't heard a band like this in a while.

The real key to the sound is to create these little underhanded anthems with as little over-the-top stuff as possible. No Apples for Adam throws in a bit of the groove rock, but as everything is stated so simply (almost muted), it just sounds like rustling in the reeds.

There are, of course, modern touches and improvements on the theory. Digital instruments blend in (as a window dressing, really) and the production is really quite sharp. That low-key sound is no mistake. It really places the focus on the songs themselves. And the stuff easily acquits itself.

Alright, part of my affinity here is something of a nostalgia trip. But No Apples for Adam knows how to write and perform intimate pop songs. Period. This stuff works because it's good. Any resemblance to good music past is just a bonus.

Yeah, I know it's a re-issue. From way back in 1984. But I think it's interesting to see how little the field of Sabbath-y bands has progressed since then.

I know, the proper term is stoner rock, but that sounds silly. The Obsessed cranks out sludgy pieces with basic riffage and a singer who's a nice rough copy of Ozzy.

That is the formula. And while other bands have punched up the sound (and occasionally kicked it into overdrive with sparkling riffola), the song generally remains the same.

Does it suck? No. These guys are competent. Even better than that at times. It's just that the sound by itself can't define a band. An interesting historical document, even if it shows how turgid some musical movements can be.

He's still around, trying to take the blues into the new century. Omar has always approached the blues with a revivalistic verve, but he hasn't let tradition dictate the way he sings.

And this disc just continues his tradition. Rock beats and bass lines, plenty of studio effects and that howl. Despite all of the extras, this still sounds like the blues.

That's really his trademark. The blues isn't certain licks played in a certain style. do it by the numbers and you're sure to sound stilted. No, the blues is a state of mind. It's an attitude. It's the way the songs are slung.

Omar and the Howlers know how to whip out a blues tune or two. Purists have (and will) protest, but these boys sure can wail.

Laid-back rolling rock, with snippets of world music blended in. Rick Rowland sounds a lot like Mark Knopfler, and the music as well shares that grand, yet restrained, feel.

Make no mistake. The arrangements here are impressive, showing off an wide range of sounds and ideas. The sweeping sound is the perfect backdrop for the languidly poetic lyrics. Pinpoint execution.

And boy is it. There's an awful lot in the mix here, and it simply fits. There's no need to add a sheen or in any other way crank up the sound. Just leave enough space to let the songs impress.

Which they do. Heartfelt pieces, filled with emotion and power. And yet, they just seem to trickle off the disc. This one will sneak up on you. Let it.

Rather heavily-produced roots rock. Robert Otey can sound like Geoff Tate or Bob Dylan, depending on his mood, but he's really amped up the music behind his vocals.

This lends a grandeur to the songs, but it also makes them more distant. Heartfelt songs as grand statement. Sorta like a heavy metal ballad, except that these pieces are much more intricate.

Indeed, the craftsmanship is wonderful. I just wish Otey (who also produced) had given his songs a bit more room to breathe. There's just so much going on and the mix is cranked so high. A major-label sort of job, I guess, but it just leaves me a bit cold.

On the whole, though, the songs are solidly written and performed with style. Otey plays a style that lies somewhere between mainstream and underground sensibilities, and he might have some difficulty bridging that gap. Still, his talent cannot be challenged.

Rancid's second eponymous release, though I think the first one qualifies as an EP and not a full-length (All I got is a tape, so I can't check the time to be sure). As the rather brief press note states, this is by far their fastest and heaviest release.

Not that the boys completely give up on skacore. It's just that there's much more of an emphasis on power, though Rancid's haggard tunefulness hasn't been lost. What has been dropped are the most obvious Clash references.

I get the feeling that the guys finally decided that mainstream success was always going to be one step away, and they should just make music they liked. I'm not saying this was a conscious decision, but I can detect a rejection of some of the more commercial aspects of their last album.

Brett Gurewitz produced, which probably also added to the power element. He can crank out a thick punk sound like few others. This is, by far, the most spirited Rancid album. I'm not sure how it will hold up over time, but boy, is it a rush. I think the guys might stick around for a while.

If you ever wondered what Earth Crisis would sound like if it decided to begin life as a Limp Bizkit cover band... well, Relative Ash is a bit more creative than that, but you get the idea. A little of the extreme hardcore, a little of the metalcore (not the same thing at all) and a little bit of the rapcore. 'Core all around, I suppose.

It works pretty well. I'm mostly impressed by the slightly off-kilter sound, though Relative Ash certainly throws itself into these songs. The energy is impressive, particularly for a major label release.

And the sound, while somewhat refined, is still quite edgy. No, you're not gonna mistake this for a Victory release, but it's pretty good. There's a nice squall to the guitar sound, and the vocals are a good mix of screams and singing.

Maybe not a world-beater, but pretty damned good. Relative Ash has impressed me. There are some real nice moments here, stuff that would sound impressive anywhere. Be on the lookout.

The title pretty much sums it up. Twenty-six songs, everything from classics to a nice chunk of stuff from the most recent album. This is 7 Seconds live.

The sound walks the line between high production values and the rawness required by a live recording. What emerges is a vivid, engaging feel. This does, indeed, sound like a show. Turn it up louder, and you can almost see the band.

In fine form, I might say. The songs just flow out so fast and furiously, it's almost impossible to keep up. Again, this helps to create that live show feel.

A pretty fine effort, and a nice document. The sound is good enough to use this as a greatest hits, but still ragged enough to replicate the energy of the live show. Indeed, this was recorded at one show. Sounds like it. And that is, indeed, a good thing.

Squeaky-clean hardcore. The playing is ultra-tight and the sound is rather loud. Shutdown never allows itself to get out of control, instead focusing inward on the songs themselves.

As far as construction goes, this is classic hardcore. One or two riffs per song, with a tendency to find the mosh. A bit more complex, perhaps, than what might have come along in days gone by, but still recognizable.

The sound is probably the most impressive part. The songs just pop out, vivid and bright. Like I noted, the playing is spot on, and the band doesn't use too much distortion, so the lines are easy to hear. The mix also keeps things separated and clean.

I think that's what helps to make this such an energetic outing. Rage and anger have rarely been expressed so rationally. Shutdown doesn't cut much loose much, but that didn't limit the aggression. If anything, the songs intensify as the guys tighten down the lid. This is one serious album.

Soulhat publishes its songs with chickenfriedeggmusic. That's as good a description of what the boys do as I've heard. Basically, this is nice roots rock laid over a bluesy rhythm section.

The two sections don't always match up, at least not as first. Things get even screwier when the bass and drums do a little dub, but even that comes together soon enough. What's strange here is that these guys aren't trying very hard to make their sound coherent. They seem to like the conflict.

The sound helps out. Quite lo-fi, with plenty of rustles and ambient noise included. The use of some electronic devices is done quite well. The stuff is blended in so naturally that your ears swear they're acoustic, but your mind knows better.

I'd be remiss without mentioning the soulful vocals of Kevin McKinney, which really put the final bit of glorious color on the sound. Pretty damn fine, indeed. Some albums are simply a joy. This one is much better than that.

Another outing from a former Drunk member. Rick Alverson wrote a lot of Drunk songs, and so it's not surprising that this sounds a bit more like the old band than Bevel.

There are points of departure. For starters, this is much more personal and muted than most Drunk fare. Alverson wasn't exactly feeling on top of the world when he recorded this, and you can hear his quest to regain self-confidence.

I should be clear that the confidence in question doesn't involve music. Alverson never lost his feel for that. Indeed, as these songs twist and turn (they're written in sort of a road-novel construction, if that makes any sense) it becomes quite apparent that the writing is sharper than ever.

Oh, and the pieces are achingly beautiful. Simply gorgeous at times. It's all I can do to listen and not simply bask in the splendor. Life changes can sometimes result in great art. Spokane is such a project.

The songs of Michael Robinson, played by Robinson and a couple of friends (with plenty of help). Somewhat arty pop music. In any case, Robinson really likes his lyrics.

And he is trying to say a lot of things in rather pretentious ways. Most of the time, that's not a problem. He achieves what he's going after. Particularly when the band cuts loose. When you're trying to be serious, sometimes the best thing is to get silly for a moment or two.

The album drags in the places where the band follows the script to the letter. The tempo doesn't matter so much as the energy level. Robinson's writing style is rather intense, and he needs to provide a few more outlets for the sound to get punched up.

It is nice to hear someone with such a clear vision. The Tabloids don't quite reach transcendence, but most of the time the stuff is pretty good. These piece do need a few more live airings, but Robinson is on the right road.

A nice little compilation from yet another Bay-area punk label. If you've paying attention to my reviews during the past year, you'll notice that I've had generally kind words for Adeline bands. There's 15 tracks here, and I like them all.

And with bands like the Dillinger Four, One Man Army, Samiam, Pinhead Gunpowder and the Criminals, what is there to complain about?

Just some nice, raw punk rawk. That's what Adeline specializes in, and that's what you get here. Enjoy.

Another one of those video game soundtracks, this one features such industrial goth bands as the Crüxshadows, Sunshine Blind, Seraphim Shock and even a track from the Mission UK.

It probably does help that a video game requires uptempo music. This disc absolutely does not drag. And the bands stick to fairly similar musical and lyrical themes. Pretty much anything to do with vampires. Not that that's terribly difficult for these folks, mind you.

Movie soundtracks should sound this good. This is a fine collection of good (and often great) songs that flows as smoothly as the best mix tapes. Not sure how all of it will fit into the game, but I'm quite pleased with the disc.

Probably best-known as the keyboardist and singer for Kansas, Steve Walsh has been around. And this disc tries hard to touch as many bases as possible.

And instead of playing it safe, this puppy is seriously progged out. Very little cheese. Not much in the way of easy listening. Walsh sounds like he made this album the hard way. In any case, it's sure a challenge.

The main problem is that the sound can get a bit antiseptic, especially where Walsh speak-sings instead of just letting go. The writing shows off an amazing range; why stay pent up?

Grand designs, and they mostly stand up. This is an experimental prog album, something that might scare off a few folks who were hoping to hear another "Dust in the Wind." But if you're up for it, Walsh has prepared an album worth a listen.