You might recall the Family Tree disc I reviewed in the last issue. All Natural was the guiding force behind that album, and here the guys step up on each track.

Dave Kelly's rhyming is smooth and complex, playing off the grooves laid down by Tone b. Nimble. These aren't simply tales of the city; All Natural has a few ideas to spin as well.

In style and content, All Natural fits in well with the socially-conscious Native Tongue movement of about 10 years back. The beats are quite creative (never derivative), but the real star here is the mental acumen spun by the rhymes.

Alright, I'll admit it. When it comes to hip hop, I'm old school all the way. A little P.E., N.W.A, De La Soul, Queen Latifah, Paris or Ice T is what I like to spin. All Natural weaves its own web, but it wouldn't be out of place on that list. Top notch all the way.

An eclectic and evocative set of songs. Nate Ashley builds his pieces bit by bit, focusing on particular element (rhythm, melody, a guitar line, whatever) and then gradually populating the song as necessary.

He doesn't repeat himself, either. Because of the somewhat obsessive arrangements, his pieces do share a similar feel. But Ashley doesn't like to stay put for very long. He's always off in search of new ideas.

Hot damn. That's exactly what I like to hear. A guy who relentlessly challenges his own sense of complacency. The songs blister by breathlessly. There simply isn't a chance to get tired of this album.

These are not the musings of a poor schlub who wants to sell a million bucks. Rather, they're the expressions of a talented artist who knows exactly how he wants to express himself. Get lost in his world.

Aaron Bennett plays soprano sax here. And that's about it. He's playing live at the Luggage Store Gallery in San Francisco, quite literally making it up as he goes along (these are improvisations).

He does share the sound on a couple tracks, first with Kattt Sammon (who uses her voice much like an experimental musician might use an intrument) and later with the audience, who play toy instruments along with Bennett on "Concerto for Soprano Sax and Audience."

So you know the guy's got a sense of humor, too. In fact, through these six improvisations, Bennett displays a remarkable variety of emotions. His playing isn't merely assualtive, prodding or inquisitive. It's all three and much more.

Some artists don't know what to do with total freedom. Bennett uses it to find new and better ways to express himself through his sax. There is a lot going on here, despite the fact the vast majority of the album contains the sound of just one instrument. Or, just maybe, there's a lot going on here because Bennett is the only person making noise.

Soulful, rootsy stuff with just a light touch of groove-band guitar stylings. Lots of fairly trendy pieces thrown into the pot, and Coby Brown Group does a pretty good job of keeping everything together.

Yes, this is commercial stuff. It's aimed at the masses. The tempos stay right down the middle of the road, and the melodies hew the same line. Adventurous, these guys ain't.

That said, the songs are immensely listenable. Not really what I go out of my way to hear, but this stuff is definitely done well. To hit the next level, these guys need only one thing: better hooks.

'Cause if it can craft three or four of those "can't get it out of my head" choruses, Coby Brown Band could really blow up, All the basic tools are here.

Cheap 'n' sleazy metal. Very much Crue-influenced, though the female vocals do add a twist. There's a cool energy running through the stuff, I just wish the songs themselves matched the effort.

The riffage is derivative, and the songs themselves just aren't inspired. They're fast and loud, but there's nothing here to really latch onto. These songs almost sound like parodies.

I know they're not meant that way. But like Heshie on "the Sopranos" said, "There's a hit, and there's not a hit. This is not a hit." I can't even begin to suggest where to begin. I'd be more inclined to start over.

Another set of deceptively menacing songs from Duf Davis and friends. The vaguely-tuned acoustic guitar is still strummed to strange effect. I still get a little creeped out by the whole thing.

That's good, because I think that's what Davis wants. He's not trying to make happy, cheery music here. He's trying to express a number of different ideas, and his hyperkinetic strumming helps to get those thoughts across.

Really, though, the star here is writing. Davis has a warped way of penning lyrics, and he and his pals then paint some of the more intriguing musical pictures you'll ever hear.

Some folks might find Davis' idiosyncrasies a bit off-putting. Annoying or aggravating, even. Life goes on. I really like the way Davis and friends express themselves. Period.

Just the one-word title on the A side. The flip goes by "A Bear Explains the Right and Wrong Ways to Put on a Shirt, Shoes, Pants and a Cap." I'm not kidding. On marbled green vinyl, no less.

Well, then, there's the music itself. Dianogah hasn't changed much since the last time I checked in. The guys still can play a languid, looping instrumental like no one's business. I kept waiting for the bite to kick in. It never quite did, though there's still plenty of intensity within the general laid-back nature of the songs.

Perhaps I'm being a little vague for you. If you're not already in the know, Dianogah hangs out in the same musical world as Don Caballero or Shipping News, albeit not so stridently. The ideas are similar. It's just that the expression is a bit kinder. Just as sophisticated and intense, but still kinder. There's nothing wrong with that.

I'm not going to talk about the titles for the songs here (two of them clock in at about 20 words per). Commentary about the music will suffice.

Stereobate brings a nicely complex instrumental to the party, the sorta song that would do Don Caballero or June of 44 proud. There isn't a point so much as a general theme, and then the story ends abruptly. As it should.

The Distance Formula whips out a couple of well-constructed tunes, somewhere between the ol' indie-rock ideal and emo stridency. Nice harmonies and fairly atonal guitars. All tied up into a tight little package. These folks sure know how to write songs.

A quality pairing. Two bands that don't quite fit together naturally, which makes for a good set. There's just enough of a connection to help expand both bands' horizons.

I haven't heard a band so enamored with the Treepeople in ages. Clockhammer, too. Great bands. Haven't been around for years. You have no idea who I'm talking about, do you?

Basically, you take yer regular bash 'n' pop, throw in a singer who likes his vocals hoarse and then color the music with truly inventive and somewhat counterintuitive guitar work. Great lead lines, in other words.

Anyway, then you play the songs a few beats faster than you really oughta. Get that out-of-control feeling going. Play even faster. Don't worry about consistency, because all that energy is gonna sound great on tape.

The thing is, it does. Dr.roberts knows precisely hose to make this sound sing. Oh, man, I'm riding hard today. What a rush.

The Embarrassment was a band from Wichita. Kansas. Broke up in 1983, briefly reunited in 1990 and then gave up once again. Around the halls of my college radio station at the University of Missouri, folks spoke of the Embarrassment with wistful awe. What should have been.

In terms of hits, that is. In terms of legend. And, well, now that the band has more retrospective releases (including one called Retrospective) than actual albums, maybe there is something of a legend out there.

In any case, this set of songs is intended as a companion to the Bar/None compilation Heyday, which did a pretty good job of packaging the band's "official" output. Studio outtakes, live recordings from radio stations and clubs and the like populate this disc. The recording quality is rarely great and often somewhat below average. What does come across, though, is the weird aura of the band, the thing that has created so many crazily devoted fans.

Anyway, if you've got any questions, just listen to track #2. It's called "Podman," and if that doesn't hook you, forget about it. You're not gonna want to join the cult. The rest of us can laugh at you and practice our secret handshakes. And play the sacred recordings over and over.

As in, "Damn, there's only four songs here!" I think my Emperor Penguin jones has been on the table for quite a while. This far-too-short disc does do something important, however. It proves that Emperor Penguin can jam live.

With all the studio tricks and "assembly required" work that goes into the usual Emperor Penguin tuneage, I wasn't sure how the stuff would translate live. Or if the guys could really anything resembling the studio sound in a live setting.

The arrangements are somewhat stripped-down. The funk comes out a lot more, and I don't think that's a bad thing. There's a definite Parliament-Funkadelic feel to a couple of these songs, more than I'm used to from these guys. Indeed, the live shows must be just as incredible as the albums.

And, hell, this disc is impressive in its own right. Probably more for the hardcore fan than casual listener, but that's usually how it is with live sets. My fix is satisfied--but not for long.

Rock and roll with some Latin flavor. The verses are generally sung in English, but most of the choruses (and titles) are in Spanish. There is a bit of a Santana feel (more on the pop than the trip side), but the guys manage to craft their own feel, particularly when they venture out more heavily into vaquero territory (my own word for west Texas rockabilly, a la Buddy Holly or Charlie Sexton)

There's commercial potential here. Ernesto takes the edge off ragged rock and smooths the corners of the Latin beats. Even so, the stuff has a fresh sound and doesn't feel derivative or dumbed down.

Well-designed and performed well, to boot. Personally, I like the rougher-edged tunes better, but the poppier stuff has greater mainstream potential. Figuring out how to play things is always the toughest call.

The Ex not only deconstructs music; it also takes apart ideas. In case you weren't aware of a connection, the source materials for some songs are listed with the lyrics. Would that be ootnotes or just pretentious statements?

I'll be straight: They're both. The Ex doesn't even consider appealing to the unwashed, uneducated mainstream. This is music and thought for people who appreciate new ideas. Not so much daring as simply arrogant, the songs churn ahead on strange axes and convoluted philosophies.

In other words, you gotta think about this one. The music does have a certain rhythm to it, but not in the regular sense. It's just that if you listen long enough, the circulation of the beats begins to make sense. As for the lyrics, well, they're not so much high-brow as they are, um, poetic. The Ex expresses itself in fascinating ways.

You might think I'm coming down hard on this album. I am. I really enjoyed it. Mental workouts are always a kick, especially when the toil is both musical and textual. After more than 20 years, no band sounds remotely like the Ex. Most likely, few would want to do so. Nonetheless, this is most compelling fare.

I get a better picture of the band here than I did on the EP I reviewed a while back. The Explosion is just the latest vaguely hardcore band from Boston. The guys might want to be melodic, except that they have no talent that way and the lines get flattened by the driving tempos.

There is a whaleload of energy here. The Explosion is appropriately named. And I like the somewhat more ragged feel they've achieved on this album. It fits the songs and the band much better.

These aren't pretty boys. They aren't trying to play pretty songs. They don't sing about pretty things. So just let the sound come through full throttle. Amazing how something as simple as that can really turn things around.

Better songs help as well. This is just a vast improvement over that earlier EP. There's no pretension in the production. The songs are just a bit more coherent. Color me impressed this time around.

On this disc, Frenzal Rhomb is much closer to power pop punk than its first time out with Fat. The relatively complex guitar lines and song arrangements are still here, but there does seem to be more of an emphasis on hooks and melody in general.

Even so, the adventurousness of the band hasn't been shackled. Frenzal Rhomb isn't afraid to rip off some thrashy hardcore or even an oi break if that makes sense for the song in question. This does lead to some issues with album cohesion (not all these songs sound like they're being played by the same band or even sung by the same singer), but I'd rather the guys be stretching out than constricting.

What is impressive is the way each song has been engineered to fit the sonic ideal the guys were trying to hit. This is what contributes greatly to the diverse (and somewhat scattershot) feel of the album. Hard to complain, though, when the guys can do so much so well.

If I had any advice, it would be to find a way to combine all of these ideas into a more unified band sound. At least make the songs recognizable as Frenzal Rhomb tunes. Understand, though, that I had a blast listening to this disc. The wildly fluctuating sounds are most unusual for a punk band, and I'd hate to stifle such innovation. Play loud. And don't worry about a damned thing.

Since reviewing Prog (1), I've had a chat with Lyle Holdahl (and a couple of his friends), who insist that it is pretty cheap to simply "buy" you own disc from mp3.com and send them out to reviewers. Since the artist scores a nice bit of the price, the cost is less than I figured. If this discussion confuses you, check out my review in the last issue, where I made an apparently incorrect assumption on the economics of buying your own CD from mp3.com.

Basically, this disc is more of the same. Holdahl uses keyboards as active instruments (and not merely as drenching curtains), and he's a big fan of prog (duh). Each song is pieced together from a number of keyboard-driven elements. And while that is apparent, this isn't yer average one-man-band project.

Holdahl has a vision. He knows what he wants, and he's worked his ass off to get that sound. I'm really into that sort of obsessive artistic passion. No matter what the sound, the results are always compelling. Weird or even bizarre sometimes, but always worth hearing.

Holdahl's pieces aren't weird. They are obsessive, with layer upon layer of keyboards (programmed to sound like different instruments) utilized to flesh out his imagined sound. It works for me. This isn't commercial fluff; it's a little out there. But sometimes out there is the best place to be.

Not unlike the way National Geographic used to number its pages, Isis numbers its songs from the beginning. So the first track, "SGNL>05 (Final Transmission)" is listed as "12." on the case. It is, of course, track 1 on the CD.

Just getting that out of the way. As for the music, Isis is about as torn as Neurosis has been. The pieces go from experimental noise to churning sludgefests. With a few stops in between. Consistency is apparently not a goal of the band.

Creativity, however, run high. These pieces do work together to create a mood of doom and despair. In fact, there's something of a theme going on (I'm guessing some of the plot points began on earlier albums and may continue on future efforts). And, as might be expected, the sound is thrilling.

What I mean by that is that the stuff just leaps out of the speakers, no matter what the band is actually playing at the time. This is vital stuff. Isis messes around a lot, but within all of that is a core that should scare you plenty. Ride this dark cloud.

Jennifer Zablocki writes the tunes and sings them, too. Kittyhawk (one word, I think, which isn't exactly right) is the band. The folks play rough-edged, heavy roots stuff. Plenty of guitars.

Zablocki's voice is low and full, just right for this sound. The heaviness of the band gives Kittyhawk a distinctive sound. Most roots acts aren't willing to rock out. These folks are ready and willing.

And still, most of the songs are contemplative affairs. They're missing memorable hooks. Zablocki's songs are dense, holding lots of words. That works alright in the verses. But the choruses could use a little trimming. And the melodies could be a little more pronounced.

The physical talent is undeniable. Zablocki's voice sounds great, and the band can play anything. But the songs need more emotional punch, a bit more to hang a hat on, if that makes sense. Something to make me remember them better. Not easy work, but it can be accomplished.

What happens when old punkers get introspective? Katt Lowe might provide a clue. This album (produced by Cherie Currie of the Runaways) is chock full of mid-tempo AOR rockers with a decidedly haggard edge.

Lowe's doesn't hold a tune well. Not a problem when she's howling. But some of the numbers here require a more subtle touch, one that she can't provide.

There are quite a few jangle-pop acoustic guitar riffs dropped in alongside the chunky punk-metal lead lines. The stuff doesn't mesh. It's like two songs are playing at the same time. Again, that might be a nice effect, but not when you're trying to make simple rock and roll.

Lowe has a knack for writing proto-punk anthems ("Only Hurts a Little" and a couple other songs here). Those songs sound decent. But when she gets more sentimental or otherwise needs to draw on some kind of commercial-style emotion, she can't come through. The songs sound uninspired and her voice just can't hack it. Lowe has certain skills and a definite appeal. This album didn't showcase her strengths.

So I'm sitting here, looking at the cover and the liners. Haven't put the disc on. I'm thinking, these boys really like the Clash. You know what? They do. Early Clash, more like, the strident, aggressive stuff. But still, the connection is there.

I know, literally millions of punks worship the Clash and wish they could be the Clash. Right right right. But then there's doing your own thing. And Madcap does, to an extent. There are oi-like choruses and nicely manic arrangements to keep me amused.

And yet. To be fair, Madcap does do this sound right. There's no laziness here. The boys rock hard and loud, and the songs are lotsa fun. Nothing to sneeze at, in any case.

But not enough to really break the band out of the pack, either. Good generic, but there's no getting around the fact that Madcap sounds like an awful lot of bands out there.

This album is "dedicated to and inspired by the life and music of Jeff Buckley." So sez the back cover. Doesn't mean there are any covers or anything. More an extrapolation, music created because of the band's exposure to Buckley.

As for a sound, the trio doesn't stick to anything in particular. From full-throated spacey rock to nuevo folk to blues to stops in all parts of the world, Maggi, Pierce and E.J. don't make long stops at any one musical harbor.

And yet, each of these songs sounds like it belongs on this set. Perhaps it's the indirect subject matter. Perhaps it's Maggi's silky steel vocals. Perhaps these folks simply know how to bring in all sorts of influences without getting lost musically.

I dunno. One or all of those probably apply. Here's the thing: When an album this adventurous manages to hold together well, someone's doing something right. Maggi, Pierce and E.J. really know how what they're doing. Top notch all the way.

These guys are from New Jersey. Their singer is named Jeff Epstein. So why does he sound like a recent transplant from Dublin? The Gaelic brogue sounds a little weird draped over the band's lilting pop tunes.

Maybe not. Sounds more than a little like a cleaned-up version of Van Morrison. For better and worse. Some of the soul is missing, but then, so is some of the dreck. The Other 99 isn't a band to wallow in much of anything. The songs just keep popping out.

Perfectly agreeable. And perfectly forgettable. Jangle-pop can be that way sometimes. The guys aren't doing anything wrong here. Not in the slightest. But I'm just not up and inspired by the tunes, either.

No chances were taken (with the possible exception of that oddly affected singing style), and no clunkers fell through the cracks. There's nothing to argue with here, really, except the fact that I just can't get excited by the tunes.

Um, ten songs that haven't appeared on a Paul Newman album before. A couple 7"s, an EP and some compilation appearances. All featuring the groovy electro-noise pop noodlings that made the band (semi) famous.

I'd like to note here that Jon Solomon at MPG wrote "Aiding and Abetting" on the CD. I'm touched. I've never had a CD personalized for me before, and though I'd like to think that such a gesture wouldn't affect my appraisal of this disc, I'd be lying if I said that were true. So go out there and BUY this AWE-INSPIRING set from one of THE GREATEST BANDS in the history of the world. NOTHING ELSE YOU HEAR THIS YEAR will come even close to the EXPERIENCE of hearing this disc for yourself!

All silliness aside (said silliness inspired by the manically eclectic musings on this disc), this is a fine set of totally unconnected songs performed by one of the more inventive bands around. I expected something cool, and that's what arrived. There is, indeed, greatness within.

There was a time a ways back (say, 1968 to 1973 or so) that all soul was eclectic. James Brown doing his thing, Marvin Gaye doing his, Al Green doing his, Sly Stone doing his, etc. Then from 1972 to 1976, Stevie Wonder took all of that and said, "This is soul." Meaning just about the entire rock and blues experience.

Reese incorporates rock, funk, folk and more into his version of "eclectic soul." Most of the songs have a vaguely funky drum machine underpinning, allowing the other elements to float freely above.

And it works. Unlike, say, Lenny Kravitz, Reese doesn't go for overkill. He allows emotion (dare we say, real soul?) to creep into his voice and music. And he doesn't seem to agree with the notion that volume equals power.

More power to him. I'm not sure the mainstream is ready for eclectic soul, but that's what some reviewers said when Music of My Mind first showed (some of the same reviewers revised their estimations when Stevie broke big). In any case, Reese is ready for anything. He's got the chops and the vision to go as far as he wants.

Not stinting on the aggro, Right Brigade simply blisters though a solid set of near-extreme hardcore. Rolling sludge might be a good way to describe the sound, if that makes any sense. The sound is thick, the chords are full and the songs churn along at a good pace.

Furious? Not quite. These boys are hardly out of control. But the stuff never gets turgid or dull; indeed, the songwriting is pleasantly unconventional. Right Brigade is hardly afraid to try out new ideas or vary its songs construction.

Which leads to a most invigorating album. Like I noted, the sound is full and angry, but not excessive. The band remains the master of the songs and all they survey, wielding a dense shock of attitude as a battle standard.

Play it loud, and this sounds good. Crank it up, and it sounds better. Oh, the hormones are pulsating. Gonna have to pedal down in a minute. But not before I'm finished feeding off the strength of this disc. Bite down and taste the thrill of pure electricity.

The grandiose, anthemic style of the music just screams "this is a strong woman, hear her sing!" Patti Rothberg really doesn't need the overkill.

Her lyrics are smart and insightful, even if she does tend to try on trite bites a bit too often. But any wittiness on her part is wiped out by the bombastic production, which throws all sorts of silly things into the pot (there are sitars here, okay?) in some sort of weird attempt to put Rothberg over the top.

I'll admit, I'm a horrible judge of this kind of stuff. I just don't like this kind of commercial excess. Particularly with a singer who obviously knows how to put words together.

Rothberg is smart enough (and trite enough--not an insult) to connect with a major-label audience. I still think she should do it with just a little less bombast. Give her voice enough room to actually express itself.

Understated, deeply introspective songs that immediately demand attention. The Stars of Aviation set the table right and then deliver a sumptuous feast. Not one of those bells-and-whistles sorta dinners, but more of a candlelight affair where the duck is crispy and succulent.

The guys have a knack for developing their songs. These pieces starts slowly and build in intensity (if not in volume) until something appropriate happens. A shattering climax. A slow fade. Something like that.

What I'm saying is that the band refuses to follow formulas. These songs are small symphonies, works that illuminate rather than educate. Knowing the difference is one of the small things that makes the Stars of Aviation most impressive.

Now, there's no more room for subterfuge. David Steinhart, the main songwriter behind Pop Art and the driving force behind Smart Brown Handbag, has finally recorded a "solo" album.

Of course, the songs here sound more than a little like those that Steinhart penned for and played with those two bands. Only makes sense, when you think about it. And so I have to listen to a set of sparkling, smart and, well, clean pop songs.

By clean, I mean that Steinhart doesn't clutter either his lyrics or his melodies. The lines are straight and pretty (hardly stark). Very few people can write songs like Steinhart, and this album is at least as good as any other collection of his I've heard.

I use the pronoun there advisedly. Yes, Steinhart came into his own as an artist a long time ago. He has finally decided to put his name above the title. The results are similar to previous efforts. Steinhart, quite simply, is a master at the pop form. All I can do is revel in the beauty.

Like her labelmate on Cropduster, Patti Rothberg, Amanda Thorpe has big-time aspirations. But Thorpe dresses her well-penned tunes in just enough clothes to get in the door. The sound is still loud in that commercial style, but Thorpe has plenty of room to maneuver and express herself.

Her songs are like forest paths, meandering amongst bushes and leaping across streams. They are fairly free-form in their construction, but with enough traditional focus to keep average listeners interested.

And here, like I noted, the production is spot on. A bit too glossy for my tastes, but right where a mainstream artist wants to be. Thorpe's voice is always the key element, and it is never overshadowed, even when the guitars come out to play.

It does help that Thorpe writes in a somewhat sparser way than Rothberg. And she managed to keep her voice (and thus, her lyrics) in the forefront of the sound. It's amazing the difference that makes.

Thousand Foot Krutch can ape everyone from Limp Bizkit to Blink 182 (and thus by association, NOFX). The lyrics are somewhat vogue, but upon closer reflection, there's a definite Christian bent.

I'm not against that, mind you, but it might explain why this music just doesn't do much. It's all derivative. Perhaps, and I'm just guessing here, the guys were working a bit too much on their rhymes and not quite enough on the riffage.

That's a problem with message music of all ilk. Plenty of punk bands are so focused on their political message that they forget to be interesting. Thousand Foot Krutch kinda falls into that same trap.

There's even a cover of "Unbelievable." Might this be connected to Orgy's riff on New Order? I dunno. But the truth is, despite chunkier guitars and an extended pro-Jesus rap, the guys don't do much with the song. Just like the rest of the record. The musicianship is competent, but not terribly engaging. Got some work to do there, boys.

Imagine the vaguely bossa nova soft rock of the early 70s. Now imagine it acoustic. That's just about exactly where Thunderegg has hoisted its standard.

Lyric heavy, to the extent that words come more rapidly than anything else. Rather hypnotic, really, the way the vocals serve as their own rhythmic device, playing off the throbbing of the band.

It is a muted throbbing, actually, as is just about everything on this disc. Thunderegg doesn¹t really seem to believe in kicking out the jams in any way. There's an almost suicidal impulse to mute any excess whatsoever.

Thunderegg has found a unique sound, and after a while (a good while, to tell the truth) I finally started to get into the mood. While easy-going, this isn't particularly easy music for me to like. But the unstinting quality of the writing turned the trick. Fall in.

Victory dives face first into the emo ocean. Thursday is as good a band as any to ride. In fact, I'd say these guys are better than most. The vocals are genuinely melodic, as are some of the auxiliary guitar lines, though the riffage throughout is still generally more rhythmic than tonal.

And, of course, the churning still rules. It's just that Thursday really makes these anthems utterly hummable. Not in a pop sense, but something more along the lines of a purer distillation of the emo concept.

Indeed, what Thursday really does is add more lines. The songs are complex, with multiple vocal tracks competing with the somewhat freeform nature of the musicians. Like the best bands, Thursday often sounds like it has exploded past the point of no return, only to coalesce and pull the whole song back together in one deft motion.

Music from the heart and the brain. The creative fire burning within these guys is something to behold. Just when I thought emo itself had evolved past the point of no return, here comes Thursday to prove me wrong. Blisteringly beautiful.

Yes, it's another set of songs from the Fat Wreck roster. All 20 songs can't be found anywhere else. Like "original" movie soundtracks and stuff like that, that does lead to some ups and downs.

Still, when you get stuff from NOFX, Lagwagon, Swingin' Utters, Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, Frenzal Rhomb, Propagandhi, Sick of It All, No Use for a Name, Tilt and more, well, it all doesn't suck.

For the price, I'd say this puppy is more than worth a spin or few. I found plenty that I liked. Would that all samplers worked out this well.

Seven tracks. Titled "I," "II," etc. These folks want me to pay attention to the music. Easy enough.

There's some really great electronic noise experimentation going on here. Vitriol tends to focus on one (at most two or three) disturbance at a time, so there isn't a lot of complexity in the pieces themselves. Within the noise generated, however, there's a wealth of sound to explore.

These are more feedback and distortion chords than simple lines. Vitriol even throws in some seriously manipulated vocals, just to heighten the tension. I have to say, just about everything these folks do works.

Deceptively simple sounding, Vitriol really knows how to burn out the noise. This is some of the classiest stuff of its kind I've heard in ages.

Waterdown is a recent signing at Victory. This disc is one of the things that got the band the deal. A full-length is coming soon. This here is merely the window dressing.

And quite a show it is. Waterdown has that technical hardcore feel of bands like Refused, but with a few twists of its own. The utilization of a number of different vocals styles is one, and the way the band warps styles is another. Waterdown just don't won't play straight up.

Rather, it makes one whale of an impression. This disc is far too short. I don't know if you're gonna be able to find the thing on this side of the Atlantic (the guys and the label are German), but if you do--grab it!

Clyde Wrenn doesn't play much in the way of happy songs. He sings broadly, but adds sounds to his arrangements almost the way an impressionist dabs on canvas. Lots of little things go into these songs.

Somewhere down that alt. country road, Wrenn has hammered together an outpost. He likes to figure out what went wrong for the characters in his songs. Then he kinda laments the silly decisions and absurd notions that led to their downfall. And, like I said, almost everybody falls down.

Which fits the sound very well. A note of celebration might be welcome every now and then, and there are a few here (relatively speaking, of course). The thing about listening to downer songs like this is that they always make me feel good. I don't know if I'm without empathy or what, but I'm just happy I'm not the fool in the song.

There are lots of reasons to like Wrenn's songs. There's the writing, the singing, the playing and the overall production sound. All are ace. If you had to put together a primer on this sound, Wrenn is one guy who belongs in the book. I'm just entranced.

Mix albums are always difficult to review. The DJ in question (in this case, Adam X) is mostly responsible for picking the music and then applying a little audio collage work to the stuff in order to move the set along. You know, just like he might do in a club.

Which is all very good. But when I hear a club DJ who's really on (and this doesn't happen much down here in the New South), I'm as impressed by the freshness of the choices and interesting ways the music is presented. It's a live thing, and when you commit such an endeavor to album, that element of surprise is lost.

Still, Adam X has good taste in music, and he's got a light touch on the mixing board that presents his selections in the best way possible. This is a fun disc. I'm not sure how well it will wear on me, but I've got to admit it's working right now.

Johnny Young is a reconstructed grunge boy. The riffage and song construction are straight outta Seattle, but Young brings in elements of blues and some electronic underpinnings to update the sound.

Does it work? Well, I wasn't bored, and it's been a while since I could say that about even a pseudo-grunge disc. I'm still not knocked out, but I must admit that I'm a lot more impressed by Young's creativity than I imagined when I heard the first chords crash down.

If young has a problem, it when he delves a little too deeply into more mainstream AOR sounds, like some vague references to latter-day Van Halen (never a good idea). The grunge base is anthemic enough as it is.

Pretty good, which is pretty high praise considering how little I like grunge stuff in general. Young has given a nice update to the sound, though I think he'll have to go a bit further to the edge if he wants to break out. Take a few more chances, man. The one's you've taken so far have worked out well.