Kinda what the title sez. The Action Time plays rock and roll, the unprettified, skanky sort purveyed by the Ramones or Replacements. There are a few refinements (a shaky keyboard lays in some new wave progressions), but nothing that can get rid of the grit.

I'm pretty sure the Action Time has no real intention of cleaning up its act. The attitude here is almost over-the-top, like it had to be manufactured or artificially stimulated or something. But all that does is add some more crunch to the music.

There may be all sorts of philosophical reasons for the Action Time's sound (a vague, rambling manifesto printed on the back side of the sleeve serves as liner notes), but luckily what survived the recording process is, quite simply, rock and roll.

This short, untitled EP was intended as a kind of thank you. I don't think I was necessarily supposed to review it. But if you can get a hold of this, then do. Eric Alexandrakis has turned his aim toward Christmas, and not much survives the assault.

From the almost top-40 sound of "All I Want for Christmas Is You" to the shyly pretty "Christmas on the Moon" to the warped "Santa Claus Is Dead" to the experimental collage "Christmas Shopping Can Be Stressful," Alexandrakis exhibits a stunning range of sounds and thoughts.

Joy and sorrow, exultation and frustration, love and hate, life and death. They're all here on four songs. Pretty damned amazing, if you ask me.

Back before the Renovators were the Renovators, they were Bergers with Mayo (an easy pun, as the trio was Al and Ted Hemberger with Bob Mayo). This live set from almost 10 years ago gives a good idea as to the roots of the current band. All the songs are covers, but played with more enthusiasm than I heard on the band's studio disc.

Three Hendrix tunes, and pieces from Stevie Ray Vaughn, Doc Pomus, Mark Knopfler... you can see where this is going. Fiery smooth blues seems to be the aim.

I have to say I like the way these pieces are played much better than the newer stuff. These guys are having fun, even if they really aren't taking the old songs to new places.

For me, it's always interesting to hear the progression of musicians. And I'm sure the fans of the Renovators feel the same way. Now, I generally do prefer covers to be interpreted in more unique ways than these are. Still, it's always nice to hear guys enjoying themselves with music.

Pretty much the musings of Jason NeSmith (apparently not the Jason Nesmith--the son of Michael Nesmith--from Kill for Thrills and other projects), with a little help from his friends.

Though there are moments when I wonder. This is the sort of loopy and downright strange pop music that I might imagine coming from the offspring of the one talented Monkee. But enough musing on that. Let's get down and dirty.

The songs don't fit together. NeSmith doesn't like to play the same song twice, and there is very little continuity in the album. Even so, the set holds together, if only by the sense of absurdity propagated by most of these songs. They don't always make sense. And so, of course, it is much easier to understand the whole.

There are three covers: "Tenderness" (General Public), "Sport (the Odd Boy)" (The Bonzo Dog Band--a 60s troupe of loonies that included Neil Innes) and "Don't Worry Kyoko (Mummy's Only Looking for the Hand in the Snow)" (Yoko Ono). Do you get the concept yet? There is no concept. Only a desire to take music to places it hasn't been. At least, spots it hasn't visited in a while.

A kinda retrospective-oddities-etc. set. I think there's probably room for a more complete reckoning, though this does check in at 21 songs and 71 minutes. What this collection does do is provide an interesting snapshot of how hardcore has changed over the last 20 years.

The first tracks could almost be NWOBHM. They're lean and vaguely melodic. Almost immediately, however, Cause for Alarm shifted to a heavier (and somewhat oxymoronically) less metallic attack.

As the years wore on, the sound in the studio stayed heavy, but cleaned up a bit. Still by no means metal, Cause for Alarm really came into its own, showing what a little experimentation can do for a great hardcore sound.

Like I said, this probably doesn't do the band justice. But I'm not complaining. Sometimes you have to take what you can get. And what you get here is a solid, uncompromising portrait of a classic hardcore band.

A few guys from the city formed Dangaru after they "had grown tired of sitting around the house after their bands had broken up." That same sort of basic attitude is reflected in the writing and playing.

Just yer basic rawk with some nice flourishes (these boys do know how to use distortion as a melodic element). The hooks are loose, but sweet. There's nothing spectacular going on, but the songs are fun and they've all got a nice, live feel.

I'm constantly amazed by the number of bands who can't figure out how to play simple music. Dangaru knows the secrets, most of which involve not sweating the details. Just have a little fun, and the music will reflect that. And Dangaru is nothing if not fun.

Let's see. The song titles are things like "Sleepy Silver Door" and "Dragonfly Lady" and "At the Edge of the World." Is that stoner rock, dude? Well turn it up!

To Dead Meadow's credit, the only bit the band seriously cribbed is the fuzz-laden sound. In fact, one thing that's missing is serious guitar pyrotechnics. There's not even a lot of singing. Just a few ponderous musings, separated by the odd vocal bit.

And unlike most other bands in this genre, Dead Meadow has worked hard to make its sound as hypnotic and engaging as possible. I mean, these songs work. They're extraordinarily simple in construction, and the production is pretty damn basic as well, but that works.

I really can't imagine a more stripped-down approach to stoner rock. But then, I haven't enjoyed such an album as much as this one in quite some time. Just let the chords roll on through.

Songs about drinking and fighting and fighting and puking and, um, Elvira, mistress of the dark. I think she fits in pretty well. In any case, the Drunks sure do.

One of those "no-brainers." Literally. The songs don't get past the "three chords--or two if you play loud and fast enough" theory. The lyrics are filled with attitude, but still surprisingly insipid.

And yet... if you play loud and fast enough it's hard to notice the problems. All you hear is this buzzsaw attack. And that's not bad. The Drunks don't have any charm, but they do have a way of pleasing nonetheless.

I think anyone who reads A&A with any regularity now how I feel about Emperor Penguin. To put it succinctly, I'm pretty sure there isn't a more creative and fun band plying the "vaguely electronic" trade these days. The three songs here don't do anything to change my impression.

Knodel is a band from Portland, and one of the reasons it's on this EP is that it has much the same attitude as Emperor Penguin: Anything goes, as long as it works. Knodel's pieces are a bit more technical and not quite so loose as Emperor Penguin, but only by the slightest of margins. Quality-wise, the Portland crew gives the Chicago folks a run for their money.

Which means that this short set will give you a full return on your investment. The unexpected makes more than a few appearances, and that's always a good thing. Play this at your next party and see how many people go, "Hey, that's kinda cool. What is it?"

A showpiece for the writing talents of Sarah Knab and Niall Hood, Fear of Commitment spins a number of intense, low-key songs. Or, to put it another way, these songs sound simple and inviting, but they have one hell of an undertow.

Which, by the way, is a good thing. Most of the pieces deal with, well, relationships (you might have guessed that from the name of the band), but in a way that manages to escape cliches. All that remains are human emotions.

There is more than that, but not much, really. Which isn't as much of a problem as you might imagine. By shifting perspectives and stripping everything down to the core, Fear of Commitment has put together some stunning songs. Every note feels like a raw nerve.

No matter how pretty the songs are (and many are gorgeous), there's usually something dark lurking. Knab had a relatively plain voice, but she is able to make the sweetest song a harrowing experience and then pull everything back to one at the end. This must be heard to be believed.

Long EP or short album, you decide (nine songs in 22 minutes). At times, the Filthy Thieving Bastards are happy to play amped-up garage punk. But then, the boys are just as likely to break into a little Irish jig. There's also the wide territory in between as well.

This willingness to play whatever seems right makes the Bastards a right refreshing blast. It also helps that the songs are sharply written and played with a loving intensity. These guys sure are having a lot of fun.

Which is probably the most important thing, in the end. After all, there are a million punk bands and almost as many "Irish" bands. If you're simply rehashing old ideas, well, it's pretty hard to get anywhere. The Filthy Thieving Bastards don't exactly break new ground, but they're enjoying themselves so much it's hard not to go along.

All the nonsense about these boys aside (including the general silliness of their rhymes), the fact remains that these songs sound great. The beats slam, the effects are spooky and the whole experience just makes me smile.

Not that you should take anything these boys do seriously. But the cheesy pop-rap-metal feel works. No two ways about it. Yeah, most of the words spoken are of the four-letter variety. The humor is crude. Listening to the Posse isn't exactly an intellectual activity.

But it feels good, see? That's all that counts. And to be fair, the production on this disc is outstanding. When songs are this chewy, I'll over look a lot. And there is a good amount of junk spewed.

If you're gonna take offense, though, you'll be facing a long line. The Posse is an equal-opportunity discriminator. No one escapes the blade. There are those who think that such stuff has no redeeming value. Fuck them. This stuff sounds good. That's enough for me. Let the weenies whine.

Not being the most observant person (and given that I don't read press kits as a general rule) I assumed the reason I got two copies of the new Insane Clown Posse album was because of the slightly-different packaging. But, see, the real story is that there are two new ICP albums.

And so, this is the second of those two. Just like Bizaar, the rhymes are generally retarded. Sometimes they are funny, but most often the charm lies in the production. Hey, these songs are musically seductive. Easy, yes, but still a lot of fun to hear.

Right, so you still have to wade through the rest of the ICP program to luxuriate in the thick grooves. I know, sacrifices must be made. But in this case, there might be a good reason. I mean, this stuff sounds really fine.

Having a good time is a decent reason to buy an album. Two sets of ICP? Well, not unlike Eminem, there is plenty of good stuff going on here. It is balanced out by a whaleload of stupidity, but hell, what do you want? Beethoven? Come on.

Here's a true oddity: jimmyjack has a female drummer. The two guys play bass and guitar. Well, and drums whenever "Lady K" gets on the B3 organ. I have the feeling this works kinda like Trans Am live.

And that's not a horrible reference. jimmyjack likes to mix up its sounds. Everything from raucous country to Blondie slapstick disco to blistering uptempo fuzz rock. And a whole lot more.

Basically, each song has a groove. These grooves do not match up from song to song, but on the whole it's possible (if you stretch) to puzzle out something of a band "concept." If you really want to think about it that much.

It works either way. jimmyjack can be appreciated viscerally and intellectually. Not many bands can appeal to so many senses at one time. This trio as they say, has it going on. Few could have built such a wonderful joy ride.

The fixation on now-obscure movie stars continues, with Carroll Baker gracing the cover. The fixation on complex, involved pop music also continues, with Motion Picture spinning eleven entrancing tunes.

The pieces are generally built around acoustic guitar, with tightly crafted string arrangements adding an extra layer or two. These songs sound easy-going at first. And then you hear the words.

Written in character as if they are pieces of old movies (at least, that's what it sounds like to me), the conversational lyrics are at once evocative and haunting. The phrasing and idioms are dated, lending a black and white feel to the songs.

Another way to put this is that Motion Picture has crafted an album to match For a Distant Movie Star. Stay in the groove, boys. This stuff is too good to give up on.

Vernon Neilly plays guitar. And this is his album. But instead of laying down track after track of blistering playing, Neilly instead is content to stand back and serve as writer and producer (and, of course, staff musician--including guitar).

As he says in his liner notes, he wanted to include all of his favorite types of music, a diverse list, to be sure. The main problem I hear is that one of those is "easy listening," and about the only way to use that as an influence is to kinda mute everything else to the background.

So, for example, he's written a beautiful Santana-like blues lead guitar line on "Para Carlos," but the song is a half-step too slow. The backing music is electronic (drum machine, keyboards, electronic bass) and even the sax added in by a friend doesn't really bring the song into the realms of the "real." It's just a bit too "easy." I have to say, though, that this is one of the more unique albums created by a guitarist. Neilly does a fine job of sublimating his guitar ego, but I think he may have gone a little too far that way. This disc needs a little fire, a little something burning throughout. These songs don't need to be this "easy."

This is another of those "thank-you" discs that probably wasn't intended for review, but what the hell. The Renovators put together three new Christmas songs, then strip in "sing-along" (or Karaoke, if you prefer) instrumental versions, add a Christmas message and then finish with four tracks from their previous albums.

The Christmas songs are spirited pieces, generally on the slow boogie side of things. The Karaoke bit is amusing, and since this is intended for the fans, more than appropriate. Why not have a little fun?

And that's all this is: A bit of fluff for the holidays. No grand ambition, just a little goofin' off caught on tape. Nothing wrong with that.

Strange as it is to say, Southern Culture on the Skids is one of the more venerable acts on the Chapel Hill scene (using that term in the most general sense possible, now that SCOTS is based at the Kudzu Ranch-- a good few miles from the "triangle area" proper). These deep-fried rockabilly kings (and queen) have been blasting out socially-unacceptable albums for more than a decade.

On a more personal note, I'm awfully happy to see that Chris Bess is playing keyboards for SCOTS these days. I remember the times (about a decade ago) when Bess played accordion for the St. Louis band Enormous Richard. He also sang ER's classic "Tamp that Fucking Driveway, Richie!" Anyway, he fits in very well, and while I'm not sure how long he's been with this band, it's good to know he's still as warped as ever.

As for the album, well, it's the usual assortment of self-deprecating Southern jokes and wonderfully tight rockabilly swamp boogie (I'm sure there's a term for this sound, but it's not coming to me right now). This disc is much looser than anything the band did for that (unnamed) major label. In fact, I'd say getting dropped just might have given the folks a reason to enjoy playing once again.

That's the psychoanalysis part of the review. The music side sez you can't go wrong with SCOTS, no matter what album you pick up. This is one of the better ones; it swings, but the band also has learned a thing or two about writing and playing over the years. Sometimes, experience can add a wrinkle or two that makes the music just that much better. In any case, enjoy while drinking a jar of your finest moonshine.

Somewhere between 38 Special, Survivor and Journey lies this anthemic AOR sound that allows an acoustic guitar to riff on and melodies to get downright silly. John Taglieri lives in this world, and while it's really not my thing, I've got to say he knows what he's doing.

I mean, he's got some serious hooks. The stuff is kinda cheesy (okay, really cheesy), but Taglieri sells out every line. Yeah, there are plenty of cliches (like, say, leading into a chorus with a rising "yeah, I'll love you 'til the end!"), but that's just part of the genre.

It's really easy to laugh at stuff like this, but that would be missing the hard work and craft that went into this album. Some might call that a shame or a tragedy, but this is what Taglieri wants to do. And you know, he really does do it astonishingly well. My only real complaint is that the drum machines sometimes sound a bit too much like drum machines.

There are plenty of folks out there who still listen to this sorta music. And Taglieri is worthy of attention. It may not be my bag, but I'll give Taglieri his props. He's got some serious chops.

If there were such a thing as industrial metal goth pop rap, that's about what Twistid does. In other words, a sillier venture could hardly be imagined by anyone.

The songs are vaguely catchy. Really stupid, generally, but amusing. Some of the time, at least. The problem for me is that the backing tracks often sound like they were created on someone's $50 keyboard. Not a good thing.

Particularly when the rhymes just don't get beyond ridiculous boasts and crude observations. The point? I dunno. I think someone is trying to have fun. And I'm sure some folks do.

But not me. This just didn't get me terribly excited. Just kinda dull, really. Twistid isn't so much twisted as merely tired. I'm bored. Let's move on.

Another sampler from one of the top distributors of Japanese music. Not only are 10 bands represented here, but 10 labels as well. And in case you were thinking that there was any one type of music on the menu, free your mind.

Because these 10 tracks have very little to do with each other past the fact that they were recorded in Japan. From pretty pop to jazzy torch to blistering post-punk blues (and plenty more), this set has just about something for everyone.

In the good sense of that phrase, of course. There's no pandering here, no presentation of mindless goo for the masses. Big Fish Music finds the good stuff lying underneath the surface and then drops me a line every once in a while to show off. Showing off is called for; there's a lot of good stuff here.

Blue-collar punks blowing out a few class-conscious songs. Not so much political, really, but just personal observations. Like how it sucks that your boss (who drives a Mercedes) thinks he can treat you like shit. That's definitely more human than anything else.

The Vigilantes have that ragged melodic anthemic sound. You know, where you can sing along without being able to tell if you're out of tune. Catchy stuff, to be sure. Nothing complicated, rather, these boys succeed by keeping the ideas short and simple.

Um, that's often what works best in punk. The best can incorporate strange ideas, but the rest do well to stick to three chords and sweaty hooks. That's not to say these boys don't have talent. They do, and they know how to use it best. That's all.

Think of a trio that tries pretty much to split Big Star and Palace right down the middle. Or, as some might say, this is a collection of muddled pop songs that reek of heavy inspiration.

Stuff full of heavy licks and throbbing hooks. Though the hooks aren't necessarily coherent. Just wonderfully affecting. These songs wobble in such a charming way it's pretty damned hard to put them away.

But I don't really have to, which is a wonderful thing. Winechuggers have an endearing way of writing and playing. This short introduction is just enough to make me want lots, lots more.

Yet another sideways step in the W.O.O. universe, Bonnie Kane leads a merry troupe of jaztronauts on a mind-bending trip through space. Space as in music and as in the stuff that exists within music.

The recording is live, with all of the attendant glories and pitfalls that entails. The improvisations do sound inspired, but there are moments when one or more members of the band gets a little lost. Again, that comes with the territory.

What's most intriguing about these pieces and the noises within is the multitude of sounds that come out of each individual instrument. Much of the improvisation is not so much something within a traditional scale as it is just plain "what can I do to this instrument?" That most of the experiments actually come off well is a tribute to the talent heard here.

Not for the faint of heart, or for anyone who doesn't appreciate truly unusual music. That caveat is there both to discourage and to encourage. If you like to journey into spaces previously unknown, let World of Tomorrow be your guide.