Bits and pieces from along the way. About half the songs here came from seven-inches and the rest simply didn't quite make the albums. I've always liked sets like this. They provide a somewhat more informal picture of a band than you get on most albums.

Certainly, that holds here. The material is decidedly uneven--not so much in recording sound but rather in style--and so gets into more unseen corners than you might otherwise get to glimpse.

These songs aren't presented in chronological order or anything. The disc is sequenced like an album, and sometimes it sounds like square pegs are being forced into circular holes. Now, don't get me wrong; the American Analog Set is astonishingly consistent in the way it plys its meditative fare. But even within that well-constructed sound there are anomalies.

And that's what I like to hear. A band pushing its own envelope. A quick note for those unfamiliar with the band: This is hardly punchy stuff. But it is edgy, in its own, deliberate way. Few bands are willing to go as far as the American Analog Set in fully defining an elongated phrase.

A somewhat different take on the whole instrumental guitar sound. Ballurio still relies on a rather processed sound--drum machines or simply sharply recorded drums, a metallic guitar sound, etc. But instead of merely aping the pyrotechnics of a Joe Satriani or Steve Vai or whatever, Ballurio takes a bluesy stance.

For me, it doesn't work too well. The bombastic arrangements and sterile sound don't really get me into a bluesy mood. The playing is good and often fairly expressive, though I'm not sure how much feeling could be wrought through this sound.

Still, I'll give good notice for the attempt to break away from the pack, even I'm not particularly knocked out. My real problem is more with the sound. For this approach, something earthier and duller would have worked much better. Take all the edges off, and maybe then we'd be talking.

But I've gotta write about what's actually here. And even with a fairly creative approach to the sound, Ballurio doesn't quite ride above the rest. Good playing and decent arrangements aren't enough.

Good old fashioned rock and roll. Like the sorta thing that Cheap Trick used to play eons ago. Loud, fast and almost criminally hooky. There are a few nods to more recent developments (the odd jangle anthem--and these boys even that well!), but simplicity is the word here.

Another big key is the way Bastards of Melody never lets the energy lag. Even on mid-tempo songs there's an insistent groove that keeps everything in motion. There just isn't time to get bored while listening to this disc.

The kinda album that makes you want to buy a convertible and drive up and down the Florida Keys. Raucous, joyous and all that. The thick sound ties in with the tight arrangements to ratchet up the fervor that much more.

Maybe not a perfect album, but a pretty damned good one. I really can't come up with any serious complaints at all. If Bastards of Melody doesn't make your soul bubble open with joy, then you're already dead.

There's something about these experimental electronic reworkings of hip-hop grooves. Maybe it's just me, but I'm almost always knocked out. Are all of these kinda things really great, or am I just getting the cream of the crop?

With Beneath Autumn Sky, I'm pretty sure it's the latter. Like some of the best stuff on Wordsound, these folks manage to express their new ideas within existing hip-hop vernacular, thus ensuring the continuation of the groove.

Or, to put it simply, these are some tight jams. Really great stuff, both out there and utterly intimate. Listening to these pieces is like watching the thoughts flit through someone's head. That's how up close these songs can get.

Nothing ordinary or repetitive here. Just some astonishingly creative fare expressed in truly beautiful fashion. Pretty hard to argue with a proposition like that.

Raucous, almost throttling fare. Betty Already bashes out its songs with little in the way of subtlety or depth. I'm not saying there's no thought here; actually, there are quite a few tasty cynical digs to be had here. It's just that everything is on the surface.

And it's really loud. Betty Already utilizes two singers (male and female) who often wail in tandem. I've always liked that; it sounds really cool, especially when the lines don't run parallel. And they certainly don't here.

Rough and ready rock and roll. Not much more than that, but a more than attractive way of thrashing things out. The vocal work is about as complex as things get, and that's not terribly complicated. Sometimes, like now, simplicity is its own reward.

Play it loud. Don't think about it too much. Just let the power surge through you. That's the best way to appreciate Betty Already. Overanalysis will get you nowhere fast.

A friend of mine reviewed this disc when it first came out back in late 1999 on Goldenvoice. He loved it then, and I'm happy to see that this fine album will have the chance to find a wider audience.

The Bicycle Thief is Bob Forrester (of Thelonious Monster) and a few friends. The idiosyncratic lyric style is still in full effect, though Forrester has moved his music just a wee bit toward the mainstream. You know, these things sound like fully-formed songs. That sorta thing.

In fact, Forrester has managed to craft a number of songs that deserve to be played over and over by mainstream radio. Clunky pop songs with just enough of an anthemic climax to burn the choruses into the brain. Kinda like World Party, though somewhat less crafted.

In all, a joyous affair. My friend was absolutely dead on here. You Come and Go Like a Pop Song is utterly brilliant. There isn't a dull moment or misstep. Just bliss.

If you've missed anything from Blood for Blood, say a compilation track or seven-inch or something, there's a good chance you'll find it here. This set of odds and ends (including a show recorded at the Middle East back in January) should pretty well catch everyone up with this Boston crew.

I'm not so sure this set provides a full picture for the noninitiated (though the live show probably does alright), but current fans should have a lot of fun digging through this chest of goodies.

The sound quality does vary (in particular, the demos get a little ragged at the edges), but considering the number of covers and other side trips the stuff holds together astonishingly well. Not the most coherent album, but I don't think that's the intent.

A celebration of Blood for Blood. That's what this is. And if you're in the mood, join the party. Happy presents for those ready to receive them.

Sharp, thin guitars piled into a classic punk sound. The Briefs sound like they belong back in 1978 and not 2001, but the spirit is most welcome. There's a lot of energy in these songs.

Not a lot of power. That thin sound I described keeps these songs lean and tight. Three chords and a dream. Not the most melodic fare, but good enough to make me smile.

And with songs like "Silver Bullet" (the chorus is "Kill Bob Seger right now!"), well, it's hard not to like the Briefs. Goofy? Yep. And with just enough of an off-handed approach to keep the feel loose even as the songs tighten up.

Hard to pull that trick off, too. The Briefs make this stuff way too much fun. Nothing complicated or particularly deep. No need for any of that. Just crank it up and get ready to bounce.

Don't worry. The title is hyperbolic and not emblematic of the demise of the band. Maybe you're more in the know than I am. Whenever I see a title like that, I kinda flinch.

But no. Buried Alive is quite the going concern, as this album should prove. Few bands can blister the extreme hardcore sound like these boys. Few bands have the creativity and energy of these boys. Few bands can blast out pure power like... you get the picture.

In short, Buried Alive has burned out another winner. Now, you'll notice a few live tracks at the end. They were recorded at a CMJ show. There's something you should know about CMJ shows. You don't get a good soundcheck. I'll give the guys bravery points for recording this stuff, but the sound isn't very good and the tuning is reprehensible. You don't think tuning matters with music like this? Um, take a listen and get back to me.

It's not kosher to bitch about "bonus" fare, however. That stuff is just the trimmings. Buried Alive has burned out another great album. That's what's important here. Let the power overwhelm you.

A few odds and ends from this Arizona duo. B-sides, unreleased tracks, remixes and some videos (which can be viewed on Mac or PC). An EP bursting at the seams, really.

Another skip along the arty southwestern road Calexico has been treading for years. Frothy and enjoyable, but with enough serious overtones to keep the mind engaged as well.

About what might be expected, I suppose. The pieces don't fit together quite as well as the stuff generally does on the albums, but they're not supposed to. This set is about collecting the debris. Mighty fine debris, I might add.

The liners say, "Ian Svenonious plays David Candy." And the album comes off as some kind of performance art, an intensely earnest interpretation of 60s psychedelic party pop sung by a smarmy singer.

I'll say this: The disc never gets boring. Weird? Often. Especially when "David Candy" goes off on spoken-word rambles. There's a 19-minute piece called "Diary of a Genius" that seems to take this whole concept to the edge.

I admire the artistic purity of the vision behind this album. Full-bore creativity focused like a laser on some of the more self-indulgent music of the century. I'm not sure people are supposed to "like" this.

More like "dig" it, man. And I don't. Not exactly. While I think Svenonious succeeds in bringing David Candy to life, I'm not sure why he did it in the first place. Maybe I'm looking for something that's just not here. Maybe I should just be happy with what I can hear. I dunno.

I'm always appreciative of blues artists who write their own material. I'm even more appreciative when that material is original and not derivative. I'm most appreciate when that original material is damn good. Rita Chiarelli makes me most appreciative.

The songs sound like they were recorded in one take (though I know they probably weren't). There's just this loose, live feel to the album. A lot of that has to do with Chiarelli's expansive songwriting style, with a fair amount of credit going to the extensive instrumentation. It's not every blues album that includes harp, organ, mandolin, accordion, dobro and piano. It's not unusual to hear these on blues albums, mind you. You just don't normally hear all of them on one disc.

Chiarelli's strong, smoky voice also colors these songs most impressively. This is how the blues should feel. They don't need to be overblown or produced to the point of oblivion. They should sound natural, like life itself.

I've only heard a couple of albums from this label, and I've been mighty impressed by both. Chiarelli's expansive take on the blues confidently takes listeners on a scenic tour. She incorporates rock, jazz, folk and country elements without sacrificing the soul of the blues. Completely entrancing.

A collection of 12 10" record sides, this album represents a couple years' work. But what is it, anyway? I'm struggling with that question. The easy answer is that cLOUDDEAD is comprise of why?, odd nosdam and dose one, with a few friends along for the ride. These folks exist on the fringe of coherent experimental electronic music--on the hip hop tip.

The rhyming kinda keeps the songs in tow, while the wonderfully warped beat work and atmospheric electronic backdrop do everything they can to takes these songs to other dimensions. Often, they succeed.

Once again, I've got to say this has a bit of that old school (am I really saying this?) Wordsound feel. A lot of work went into creating an effect here, and oftentimes that effect overshadows the ostensible focus of a given song.

Things get trippy that way. At no point does any of this get dull. The creative ferment behind this album must be something to behold. I'm blown away. Anyone with half an interest in either underground hip hop or the experimental side of electronic music should be most pleased with this disc.

Crazy Mary runs groove rock through a jangle pop filter. An interesting idea, and one that works when the band remembers the hook.

The thing is, you can get away with vaguely atonal vocals and rambling lyrics if the songs go on for a while; listeners are ready to exercise a little patience with the proceedings. But when you're aiming for three minute bliss, some tightening up is necessary.

Crazy Mary resists formula like the dickens, and that results in a couple of sublime songs. "Voices of Freedom," for example, really shows off what this sort of genre bending can accomplish.

A lot of the other songs, however, just don't every take off. They need a little push, some oomph. Hooks are always in short supply, and these songs just don't have time to evolve properly. Crazy Mary is never boring, but it doesn't click like it should, either.

What hath Fear Factory wrought? These days, the merging of techno and metal is almost seamless. why, only nine years ago it seemed unthinkable... Actually, this sound has been coming and going in popularity. Crossbreed reminds me a lot Clay People (a truly great band), though these boys lurch into anthemic overkill. At just the right time.

The sound is so polished I figured these guys had to be survivors of their local scene in the Tampa Bay area. But the only member with previous creds that I could find is keyboardist/samplemeister DJ Izzo, who did some time as the singer for Nocturnus a long time ago. His hands are the ones crafting many of the nice touches here.

Infectious, heavy and still eminently danceable, the songs here benefit from a light (and deft) touch in the studio. Instead of making Crossbreed a techno band with guitars or a metal band with samples, producer Matt Chiaravalle allowed the sounds to intermingle completely. Seamless and stupefying.

Yeah. This stuff is that good. The sorta album that makes purists hold their heads in their hands. Let 'em. The rest of us will latch onto this wire of purest energy and bite down hard.

A little drum 'n' bass, a little jungle, a little metal, a glam ballad fragment (really) and a lot of experimentation. Headrush surfs along some of the more successful of the recent electronic dance music trends, adding in some guitar and samples to fill out the sound. The result? An otherworldly experience.

There's just no way to completely explain what's going on here. Headrush has borrowed from so many corners (the vocals range from dancehall raps to metal screeches) that there's no way to describe this stuff in full detail.

So I'll just say the ferment is most impressive. Just when I think I'm settling in, another sound, another side trip comes along. Headrush refuses to sit still, and yet throughout most of this album whatever noise escapes my speakers could reasonably be identified as a Headrush sound.

That's what's most impressive, I guess. Even with this kitchen sink collage approach to songwriting, Headrush remains consistent in its goal to propagate quality music. Whatever the sound, the vitality runs high. Most invigorating.

More of a Cold Meat Industry kinda release than what you might expect from Victory. Yeah, Integrity does play something akin to extreme hardcore, but the underpinnings are more gothic soundscape than anything else.

And it works. The blistering riffage and electronic noise combine to create searing sonic portraits of life gone wrong. There is no respite or release from the pain inspired by this disc.

What's most intriguing is that Integrity's power comes not from over-the-top energy and excessive distortion. The sound is very clean. The songs themselves are built on mechanical rhythm sections. Almost a Bloodstar sound at times. But the integration of hardcore guitars and vocals with this electronic base is full and complete. An inspired construction.

The prevalence of keyboards and drum machines might put off a purist, but anyone who can get into the Ex or Refused should be able to handle Integrity with no worries. Me? I had a blast. The depth on this album is absolutely stunning. An amazing achievement.

Followers of this series know the story. Konkurrent brings a band into the studio while that band is touring Europe (Holland, in particular) and has said band screw around. Twenty to thirty minutes of improvised music is then put onto disc. Here, Low came in and asked Dirty Three to sit in. The results, as if you couldn't guess, are spectacular.

Both bands were playing the Crossing Border festival in Amsterdam, and in between everything else they managed to stop off and record a few songs. Five collaborations and a truly spooky version of "Down by the River." Must be heard to be believed.

Sometimes creative bands are too competitive to truly work together to make something special. That didn't happen here. Low and Dirty Three combined the best of what they do to create some beautiful, haunting tunes. Just another reason why this is one of the best continuing series around.

Hard to believe that Lunachicks have become one of the most venerable acts around. I mean, they go back almost forever. And they're still cracking out loud, messy punk rock with the best of 'em.

The quality level, as always, is inconsistent. There's always a few gems on each disc and some stuff that sounds forced. I get the feeling that's never gonna change. As always, the rule is: Go to the show.

But since I'm talking about the album... I had a good time. This disc is nothing spectacular, but it is fun. You can't take Lunachicks seriously. There's just no way to do that.

Have a good time, and take yer B vitamins when you get home. Too much Lunachicks will give you a hangover. In measured doses, however, these gals hit the spot.

Calculated pop tunes, clunky hooks with an emphasis on craft. The key, then, is to provide just enough transition to keep the songs together.

The Multiple Cat does that, if a bit tenuously at times. Some of the songs here hold together by the barest of threads, but that lends an excitement, a thrill to the songs which really enhances the overall sound.

The writing and the arrangements don't lend themselves to loose playing, requiring instead a dedicated approach to their performance. That's exactly what comes through here, and the bare-bones approach to the production ensures that every little piece can be heard.

The natural tension provided by the writing style drives this album, and the quality of the writing and playing makes listening a most pleasurable experience. The Multiple Cat requires a little patience, but such diligence will be rewarded many times over.

A long time ago, back in 1988 or something, I smelled patchouli for the first time. One of my good friends was wearing it. I didn't know that it was a perfume or anything like that, so I started going off about how it smelled like some cat pissed or something. My friend was good enough not to scream at me. A while later, someone else explained the situation to me. I felt bad, though not bad enough to apologize. I'm a jerk that way.

The reason I tell this story is that I still think patchouli smells like cat piss. So a duo that has not only decided to name their band after this scent but also taken the scent as their collective last name probably plays music I won't like. But that's not the case. I just wanted you to understand my natural initial aversion.

Bruce and Julie Patchouli play folk music, mostly with acoustic guitar accompaniment. There are, however a few other interesting pieces in the arrangements, and Patchouli takes great care to avoid dropping into the whiny or simply meandering sound that can plague a lot of lazy folk singers.

These folks aren't lazy. And the songs on this album are anything but muddled. The craft and care exhibited is impressive, and the performances are understated but still quite intense. Patchouli doesn't take any shortcuts, and a quality album like this is the result.

There's a sound that has long been associated with college music. A certain type of college music. The female lead vocals-lilting riffs-pretty melodies-goshdarnit earnest kinda music. You know, the whole 10,000 Maniacs kinda thing. Primrose Path sits right in the middle of that byway.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, and Primrose Path does a good job with the sound. There are the requisite heavy lead guitar solos and other similar explorations that keep the band out of Natalie Merchant territory (you'll notice the difference in the two references, I hope). All very solid.

Kinda predictable, too. That's my main complaint. Primrose Path didn't surprise me much. There's very little to complain about here. The songs are pretty and reasonably complex, and Joelle Berger has a good voice. It just annoys me when I can predict the course of a song and an album.

These folks need to do something to break themselves out of this groove. Find something that makes them distinctive and special. I have no doubt that the talent is here. Just some refocusing required.

Some bands have perfect names. Punchy is one of them. The band plays power pop music that has a certain, um, punch. There are also a number of country rock references which fit right in.

Down home pop/rock. I like this sound a lot. I don't think enough bands consider it. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers did real well with a certain variant some time back, but I think there's room for more exploration. Punchy simply proves that point.

Not afraid to embrace the future, Punchy employs a sharp production sound that includes some electronic percussion and synth work in addition to the organic organ and more typical instrumentation. Anything to fill out the sound. It feels right normal.

The only missteps come when Punchy tries to get a little high-falutin'. Simplicity is the key here. adding some heft is one thing; relying on electronic grooves to drive a song (such as on "Needle Exchange") is going a bit too far. Luckily, the band generally sticks to what it does best, and I'm most pleased.

A re-issue of a 1974 album (the first of two Phil Ranelin re-issues reviewed here), The Time Is Now! is, quite simply, a stunner. Ranelin plays trombone, and he assembled a sizable set of musicians to come together and collaborate.

Those familiar with and entranced by John Coltrane's later deconstructionist work will recognize some similar themes. Also, remember that this album was recorded at the time that fusion was running rampant through the jazz world. There are some fusion elements (particularly in the way the piano is used), though the instrumentation fits in with "traditional" jazz.

The players obviously felt free to express themselves in any way they liked, but there was a solid commitment to the group sound as well. I've got to say that I've never been able to get enough jazz trombone. I love the way that mellow tone (and the similar but higher tone of the flugelhorn) plays off the sharper sax and trumpet sounds.

Ranelin's original notes say, "Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs. Personally, I feel like it was a blessing." Couldn't have said it better myself. Sometimes everything comes together in a cosmic wave of brilliance. Such is the case with this album.

The second of two Hefty re-issues, this album first was released in 1976. Conceived as a call to strengthen the "Afro-American" family, this album shows Ranelin's almost complete progression from the free deconstructionism of Coltrane to the fusion sound so prevalent back in the mid 70s.

Indeed, the sounds of the two albums could hardly be different. Vibes from the Tribe is very sentimental album. Simple melody is preferred to hard bop reworkings, and more often Ranelin uses his wonderful trombone tone as a lush backdrop rather than an instrument of exploration.

I prefer the experimental over the sentimental any day, and so I have to admit that this album comes as a bit of a disappointment after listening to The Times Is Now!. But I can hear that Ranelin took a real artistic chance here, and even if it didn't pay off in a way that I would like, I've got to give him credit for walking off the edge without fear.

The creativity is just as intense and expressive on this album. I just didn't like so much the paths it took. Another side of Phil Ranelin, a man who obviously had (and has) talent to burn.

You gotta like an album where the percussionist is listed as playing "odd things." Albert Ayler was a fairly obscure jazz saxophonist, and this album is intended, as the title states, to be a tribute to him.

Rent Romus' Lords of Outland don't go about this endeavor in the usual fashion. Rather, they attack the tribute in the way Romus seems to think Ayler would, by mixing some of Ayler's pieces with improvisations inspired by Ayler and his life.

By far the proper artistic choice, and one that Romus and company execute well. The original improvisations have much the same feel as the Ayler compositions, and the overall album paints a more complete portrait of Ayler as the artist and hero than a simple run-through of his pieces could.

One of the easiest ways to impress me is to take a creative musical journey. This album does that, both in its conception and execution. Most satisfying.

One of the most venerable epic metal bands around, Savatage returns with yet another operatic outing. It's a ghost story, of sorts, the tale of a photographer who can't separate his emotions from his job. He goes insane.

The songs are generally told from the main character's point of view, which tends to make the lyrics somewhat confusing. Not a bad thing, as long as everything comes together in the end.

And it does, to a certain extent. As with most Savatage albums, the focus is on the music and making it sound good. No worries there; the stuff sound great. It's technical and bombastic, but again, that's Savatage being Savatage. No complaint from me there.

The usual problems do crop up. The songs do tend to sound like after a while, and they certainly don't deviate far from the well-worn path the band has been treading for all these years. Another solid effort from Savatage. The fans should be pleased, though I don't think this album will win over a new army of believers.

A studio mix disc, though Dietrich Schoenemann's notes say that he tried to put this set together as if he was mixing for a club floor. Well, of course.

All snideness from me aside, Schoenemann did a pretty good job of making this set sound "live." The segues are fluid and the music choice is solid. Schoenemann sticks to fairly sterile, more European-sounding stuff (the sorta music that grew out of Kraftwerk, etc.), which make this disc something of a sonic exploration for those of us over here in the U.S. who don't get exposed to such things on a regular basis.

Enjoyable, surely. I'm never quite sure how to judge these types of albums, but I can say that I like Schoenemann's taste and the way he puts together a set. That can't be bad.

I'm pretty sure these guys aren't British, but if this isn't Britpop, I don't know what is. Tasty pop hooks, uptempo disco grooves and just enough guitar to balance everything out.

Every song is a change of pace, though Smoother rarely looses track of its personal sound. It's just that the boys don't like to sit still or play the same song twice. I can sympathize.

Generally, the lyrics are witty and sly, with only the occasional trite slip-up like "She's cute like Betty Rubble." The production is slick, as it should be, leaving the songs sharp and wicked.

A well-written, well-played and well-produced album. Very professional, and yet there's a freshness that manages to erase most of the craft marks. Just the way a tight pop album should be.

Like your hip-hop on the creative tip? The So-Called Artists complain about being called experimental, so I'll not tag them with that "epithet." Rather I'll just say the boys play around with beats like Play-Dough and they drop their rhymes in a similar fashion.

Stream of consciousness style, really. And that wears on me after a while. The beat work intrigues throughout, but I can't say the same thing about the rhyming. The style is unique, but it gets old.

And that's too bad, because the guys have some good things to say, and in small doses I have to admit I'm kinda knocked out. It's just the totality, the long run, that I can't handle so well.

I hate to piss on the parade of some folks who have worked so hard to create something original. And So-Called Artists are nothing if not one-of-a-kind. I just want a little variety.

So imagine a grunge band hooked on the Smiths. Really. I'm not making this up. I couldn't make this up.

It took me a few minutes to place exactly what I thought I was hearing. But what Static Eden does is combine vicious grunge riffage with Morrissey-style vocals and a vaguely new-wave production sensibility.

I kept waiting for my judgment to be wrong, for a song to come along that completely defeated my take on this. Some songs are grungier than others. Some songs are Smithsier than others. But both elements are always present. This is a really strange combination.

Oh. By the way, it works. I mean, when I think about it a little, that only makes sense. There's an anthemic streak in each, and Static Eden plays that to the hilt. These songs may not be as important as the sometimes pompous presentation makes them out to be, but they're pretty damned good. A lot more fun than should be allowed by law.

Not many bands manage to combine pile-driving guitar lines with seriously contemplative lyrics. Or, for that matter, with delicate sonic exploration. Stereobate is at home in those territories and so much more.

So much so that while I'd feel comfortable dropping Stereobate into the emo pile about half the time, there's also more than enough evidence to align the band more with noise rock and experimental pop. So much to choose from on just one album.

A thoughtful nature is threaded through all the songs, and that's what holds the album together. Stereobate isn't the sort of band to repeat itself often, but the guys do have their own way of speaking.

A most engaging style, I must admit. This music challenges, to be sure, but it rewards as well. Get inside the main track and ride all the way to the station. The scenery is most impressive.

Katie Terrio has the ability to roll her voice in some most endearing ways. She really tries to sell these songs with everything she's got.

And the songs themselves are pretty good, better lyrically than musically. The problem I hear is that the production job tries to subdue some of Terrio's natural talents. Much of the time her voice is allowed to roll and tumble, but sometimes a heavy hand even drops that in the mix.

From time to time, there seemed to be this idea that making songs sound more generic would be a good way of getting attention. That much more cheesy guitar, a particularly overfamiliar drum track, that sorta thing. Terrio dosn't need to sound like everyone else.

When the arrengements are kept simple, Terrio shines. When the bombast arrives, well, even her unique voice gets lost. And that's really a shame.

Most college towns have some sort of music scene. Athens, Ga., has been a music center for well more than 20 years. What's cool about Athfest is that the festival focuses on up-and-comers rather than the tried-and-true.

There are a couple of old-line Athens bands featured here, such as Five Eight, but none of the "big" names that might totally overshadow the event itself. As a celebration of music, Athfest gets bands of all sorts. This preview compilation doesn't flow very well due to the wide variety of sounds propagated by the bands, but that diversity bodes well for the festival itself.

One of these days I may make the trip south to check out Athfest. The music I heard on this disc (and last year's preview as well) have given me the itch. If you're in the area from June 21-24 this summer, you owe it to yourself to catch some new music.

As you might have already guessed, this is a tribute to the Police. Most of the hits are included (though, thankfully, no one did "Every Breath You Take"), along with a couple lesser-known songs (as lesser-known as any Police tune could be, I suppose).

The usual problems that plague tributes flit through this one as well. Some of the bands simply rerecorded the songs in their original styles without adding much. Some, though, like Blinder, picked a more obscure song ("Does Everyone Stare") and then turned a little twist on it. On this disc, there are more of the latter than the former.

Just when I would get worried that the album would simply cheese out or descend into cover band territory, another scintillating rendition would emerge. The production quality here is top-notch, and most of the work is as well. I'm not a big tribute fan, but this one is worth a spin.

"The Show" is TV show produced in L.A. by the SideOneDummy folks. Even if I didn't know that at first, I'd be able to tell by the SideOneDummy.com ads in between every segment of this tape. Those ads are really, really annoying.

The segments themselves, however, are pretty cool. Host Joe Sib doesn't take his guests seriously, and since we're talking about real punkers here, the guests generally don't take the interviews seriously, either. After each interview is a video or (most often) some life footage from the band. The sound is pretty good and the camerawork is amateurish.

Which helps to lend a certain charm to "The Show." After all, this is punk rock, and punk ain't perfect. If it weren't for all the unnecessary ads (which really began to grate after a while), I'd give this my unqualified approval. As it is, I still have to say I liked "The Show" loads.

This is one of those "quickie" promo CDs, and it took a thorough search of my paper pile to piece everything together. Varnaline, I knew. I popped the disc in right away and went to searching. Eventually I figured out what was going on.

Well, the first thing going on is the new Varnaline album. That's what this is (I knew that). And it's better than the last album I heard from these guys. These songs are more finished, if you know what I mean. Instead of just throwing some ideas out there and seeing if they stick (most did on the last album I heard, but still), the guys seem to have figured out how to smooth out the craft without dulling the edges.

Not that Varnaline's sound is all that rough and ready. The band specializes in thoughtful rock songs accentuated by more acoustic than electric guitar work. There's also a reliance on organ that really flavors the songs quite well.

I really liked the last Varnaline album, but like I said, after listening for a while I kept feeling this need for closure from the songs. That's what's here. Varnaline has sealed the deal. Great songs with some real punch.

Straight-up, in-yer-face punk rawk. Nothing particularly unusual, but the boys do have more than their share of attitude. That's what has to carry this disc, and it does.

Blitzing riffage, howled vocals and a general sense of outrage at the world as it stands. All very standard, and Varukers don't add much to the formula. Just intensity, and lots of it.

For me, that works. I don't hear where these guys are all that much different than most melodic hardcore bands (hardcore melodic? You be the judge), but I did like feeding on the electric wire.

When you need some adrenaline, you'll take it wherever you find it. I found it on this disc. Good enough for me.

First and foremost, Adam X sticks to the beat. Everything else is secondary. The beats here aren't particularly complicated, but they are stylishly presented. Club music for the discerning dancer, I suppose.

Very German, though I believe Adam X hails from NYC. The sound is clean and sterile. Even when some keys drop in, they're ultra-tight techno. All steel and no cushion.

I like it, myself. The trick to this sorta sound is to surprise the listener, to do the unexpected often enough to set the hook. These tracks are generally predictable, but at just the right moments, the beats are shaken up.

That's enough to keep me listening. You've gotta know when to tweak the rules, and Adam X has that skill down. I think this disc might be a little too technical for the average listener, but anyone wanting to venture out onto the chilly side of dance music ought to step through these doors.

These boys are not afraid to mess around with sound. I'm really not sure how to properly describe what it is I'm hearing. There's no way to sum up Zao is a simple phrase. "Atmospheric death metal" doesn't begin to tell the story, though I think that's where I'll begin.

If you remember Tiamat, maybe that'll help. Those guys played the death metal game with a lush fan, eventually progging out into more standard Floydian Eurometal. Zao doesn't prog out; the sound can be very thick and distorted--though razor sharp and clean.

Also, there's a lot of quiet in these songs. Zao uses the conventions of death metal, throws in a good amount of modern electronic theory and then writes songs in its own style. Literally, from a whisper to a scream and back again.

Boy, is this something. An epic, soaring album of agony and immense power. I have no idea how many people will be able to withstand the assault, but those who stand firm will be rewarded.