One of the better tracks from Aesop Rock's new album, Labor Days, and a fresh b-side. Each comes in dirty (original), clean and instrumental versions. And that's pretty much the tale.

"Maintenance" is the track that should interest the casual fan, although the bare-bones beats and pieces in the instrumentals should excite DJs and folks who like spinning. Aesop Rock is most creative in that area.

Two great songs. If Aesop Rock gets you going, then the flip here is more than worth digging up. A nice little package.

Some cool jangle prog. The rhythm section is solidly in the roots/groove kinda area, but the lead guitar and sound are much more technical. The more I hear of this kind of mixture, the more I like it. Certainly, it makes sense.

A kind of fusion, really, the merging of two decidedly distinct branches of rock and roll. These boys can play, and even though all the songs clock in at less than four minutes long, they often take their time getting to the point. A very cool form of construction.

Easy-going and yet rigorous at the same time. With some solid hooks. Plenty of ways to latch on to the sound without alienating a lot of folks. That's much harder to accomplish than it sounds.

Basically, Alien Canopy presents a fresh sound that challenges without annoying. I'm impressed. I think I'll burrow back into the music for a while.

Armchair Martian and Bad Astronaut played some of each other's songs (with one ringer), using the same drum kit and amp and such. The band members kinda switched off now and again as well, if I'm reading things right.

In any case, this is a wonderfully loose and spirited set of tunes, seven in all. The liners don't mention who's playing what, and really, it doesn't matter. Just listen to the thing front to back and back to front and smile. Roots punk rarely sounds as good as it does coming from these guys.

The sorta effort that simply leaves me sitting around with a silly grin on my face. While the stuff here would certainly stand up to heavy analysis, it's best appreciated in the spirit in which it was played: Just for fun.

The second album from Ritchie Blackmore and Candice Night. Another round of the medieval/goth/etc. tuneage. These pieces are somewhat more crafted than on the first album, and the production is more solid as well.

Which makes the overall endeavor that much more fulfilling. This is very much an acquired taste (a somewhat more commercial and excessive version of latter-day Dead Can Dance), but Blackmore's Night plays the music without condescension.

And that's the key to the enterprise. This stuff is kinda cheesy by nature, and it has to played with a sense of fun and devotion--in equal measure. This music isn't exploring new territory, but nonetheless it's played with just the right touch.

A smidge better than the first album, which I rather enjoyed. Nothing spectacular or earth shattering, of course, but still fun. Works for me.

There's a long story behind this album. Blue Meanies signed with MCA a while back, and this album was released last year. MCA immediately forgot about it and the band negotiated an astonishing lucrative escape route. Basically, they got to keep everything they had bought with MCA money, and MCA also handed over about 10,000 copies of this album. It's about the rosiest major label drop story I've ever heard.

And it's true. Anyway, since the album really never made it to stores (though I recall seeing it in one and asking myself, "What the hell are Blue Meanies doing on MCA?"), the guys are re-releasing the thing on Thick. They sent it to me. And so I'm giving it a listen.

The ultra-manic adventurism of earlier albums is missing, but for a major label-release, this is quite "out there." The intensity is still high, and while the songs--the music in particular--have been "straightened" a bit for the masses, this does, indeed, sound like a Blue Meanies album. With tight harmonies and razor-sharp horns.

Oh yeah, and Jane Weidlin guests on "She Breathes Fire." See, it was a major label album. Probably not the best Blue Meanies effort, but an interesting side trip for one of the most creative bands around. The boys compromised a little, but this disc doesn't embarrass the legacy one bit. Alright, so it had no chance of attracting hordes of No Doubt fans. I still don't know what MCA was thinking. Doesn't matter. I'll take this album as is.

Remixed by RJD2, this single from The Cold Vein contains clean, dirty and instrumental versions. Cannibal Ox streams his rhymes out as they fall from consciousness, but he still flows with the grooves.

This remix gives the song a cool feel (I haven't heard the original, so I can't compare the two), though still decidedly insistent. The song slowly creeps up on you, finally laying on the full trip after a suitable buildup.

Even so, there's nothing bombastic here. Just a smooth ride. And a most invigorating one at that.

Old school. And I mean, spiked and colored hair, buzzsaw riffola and hoarsely shouted gang vocals old school. The kinda stuff that stiff-necked parents love to hate.

Except that the kids who grew up on this stuff are parents today. Ah well. The Casualties don't try to go anywhere with this sound. They're most agreeable to the notion of simply continuing a tradition.

They do so very well. The adrenaline never flags, and the blistering lyrics follow in the best traditions. A big cup brimming with vitriol.

Nothing complicated or sophisticated. Just two fingers straight up punk rock (yes, I stole that; sue me). Ride it as far as you dare.

Always nice to review some local talent. Especially when the boys can rip like this. Cody Cods refuse to limit their sound to anything conventional, except that most songs do contain something of a blues'n'boogie groove somewhere.

But past that the songs wander into funk, hardcore, hip hop and even groove territory. There isn't a cohesive band sound, and for once, I think that actually helps these guys.

Young bands need time to try out a number of different ideas. The fact that Cody Cods can play this many styles well bodes well for their future. They just need to consolidate a bit.

Sticking to the blues and boogie grooves is a good start. And about half the songs on this disc sound like they could have been recorded by one band. The trick is to bring the other pieces into the fold without destroying their creative fire. There's only one way to do it: Play, play play.

Another tape from the prolific Dale Collins. I was a little worried about burnout after hearing his last effort, and Collins himself told me then (and in a note with this tape) that he's going to take a break from writing and recording to recharge.

Still, this tape removes some of my more serious concerns. Collins is back in his own pocket here, rarely resorting to easy tricks to finish off some songs. Rather, these pieces are better thought out, and they have a much greater emotional impact as well. Once again, Collins is talking to, not talking at, his audience.

I think that was my biggest concern, and Collins figured it out for himself. The songs here are much more harrowing and involving. He's back on the edge of emotional and intellectual breakdown. Which is where many of the great songs can be found.

Recharging can only do him good, but I'd say Collins has already figured out his problems himself. This guy has a great feel for the minimalist blues. He must be heard.

Another side path along that wonderful Slint-Rodan-June of 44 axis. Lots of lines criss-crossing and crashing together, with the occasional vocal accompaniment.

I'm a sucker for this kinda stuff. It just runs circles in my brain and makes me smile like an overjoyed baby. Especially when the stuff is done this well. Crush Kill Destroy is very much in the line of fire of what Don Caballero is doing these days, though without the latent aggression.

Intense, yes, but not hard. The general feeling is that of an atom. The listener is the nucleus, and the music is the electron cloud, spinning in all directions. There's no way to separate from the electrons without a major explosion, and there's no reason to separate anyway. The attraction is too strong.

That's how I feel. This disc simply entranced me. Not much more to it than that. Simply great music.

Jennifer Daniels is certainly ambitious. This album ranges widely both in terms of lyrical and musical content. Daniels is, in a way, a typical singer-songwriter. In that she sings her own songs, anyway. But all the stops were let in the production of this album. Hardly an amateur effort.

When I talk about the production, I'm not saying it was overdone. It's simply that the sound is full and lush, even when it's just Daniels and her guitar. Sometimes a veritable orchestra surrounds her, and sometimes she stands alone. In every song, Daniels is the center of attention.

Precisely how it should be. The songs are the stars and she is the lead instrument. All of the accompaniment in the world couldn't hide bad writing, but in this case there's no need. Daniels is adept at penning perceptive and evocative--yet not cloying--pieces. These songs get right to the heart without playing silly games.

Not just well done, but greatly done. Daniels has the ear to know exactly how to sell her outstanding songs. She's put together a first-class album. Someone ought to take notice.

An interesting counterpoint to the Jennifer Daniels album I reviewed earlier in this issue. Devon (Sproule) is also a singer-songwriter, but not as accomplished. She wears her influences on her sleeve (Liz Phair, Alanis, Lisa Loeb--in a pinch) without really integrating them into her own sound.

And that sound is overproduced. Not as full or lush as Daniels achieved, but all the cascading guitars and drum machines work to obscure the songwriting. In this case, that's sometimes a good thing. Devon isn't a bad writer, but she does resort to easy solutions now and again.

Combined with the exceedingly-overbearing production and the album ends up sounding fairly generic. Which is too bad, really. I think Devon does have some interesting things to say, and some of her songs are pretty good.

But she needs to work on them some more, and then once she hits studio she has to have enough confidence in what she does to put herself, and not the production, out front.

Heavily-produced country rock. Very much like the pop country that's dreadfully present these days except for one thing: These guys don't seem to take themselves seriously.

That's important. I can accept brassy production (including synthesized horns) if the songs are good. And while Dos Coyotes aren't above pandering, these songs are generally fun, if not particularly deep.

As if to prove my point, there's a dance mix of "Senorita," a song that was pretty poppy to being with. Thing is, I still had a good time. Dos Coyotes are right in the middle of the old new wave, but they've got some good songs. And that counts for a lot.

One of the great bands of the late 80s and early 90s was the Jesus and Mary Chain. I mean, the brothers Reid wrote some of the best pop songs ever. The Fleshpeddlers seem have figured this out, and they have fused that industrial pop sound with a general new wave sensibility.

Irresistible for just about anyone going through an 80s retro fascination, methinks. Whether using synth-pop or industrial bases for the rhythm section, these songs simply soar.

Imagine, say, if Magnetic Fields were to suddenly develop a craving for Revolting Cocks or something. That good, at least at times. And even when the Fleshpeddlers miss the mark, it isn't by much. The songs then are merely cool.

One of those albums that jumps out at me and screams, "Listen to me! Listen to me! Love me!" I kinda have to follow my impulses there. I'm in blissland. Feel free to join me.

Roots stuff that relies heavily on plucked lead guitar lines and plenty of blues. Oh yeah, and more than soul, too. This is one trio that sounds like a full-blown bar band.

Which is pretty hard to do, let me tell you. Freeloader blisters its way through song after song, not unlike the way the Black Crowes used to do back when the stuff was tighter (and, in my opinion, generally better). There is more devotion to a wider range of influences and more care in the songwriting. But the grooves are very similar.

So yeah, southern-style blues rock with a touch of the Stones and the Dead. Really. The good parts, mostly. Like I said, these boys keep the songs tight. There's introspection, but mostly within a set piece.

Well done. Better than that. From the first note, I knew this one would be good. You may not believe that, but it's true. The sound these guys achieved told volumes about the care and feeding of these songs. So much work the stuff sounds utterly casual. Exactly as it should be.

Guinea Pig consists of Doug Carroll on electric cello, Drew Gardner on drums, Tony Passarell on various saxophones and pocket trumpet and Rent Romus on various saxophones and flute. The music is improvised (around various themes) and the flow is free.

The results are somewhere between Coltrane's Village Vanguard live recordings (I get a real strong vibe that way) and, um, freaky deaky free jazz. What's kinda interesting is that this stuff also reminds me a bit of old Iceburn, if that makes sense to anyone.

In any case, this quartet understood the rules laid down and responded accordingly. The players are always in touch with each other, even when the sounds seem to by flying in from outer space. There is always something at the center.

I guess that's the ultimate test of improvised fare. Does it work? Does it affect the listener? Guinea Pig succeeds on all counts. This stuff blazes a hot trail in the night.

Ragged, emotive pop. John Houlihan puts everything he's got into the playing of these songs, and they're so good it's obvious he worked awful hard on the writing end as well.

The songs come across as an intimate conversation. Over drinks, I mean. There's a lot of shouting and the like. Like a rowdy chat with an old friend. A grand night out.

I really do like the low-rent production sound. It's not calculated; that's just what happens when you're trying to play one-man band. It fits the songs perfectly. No need to go lush or crazy with this stuff. Just let it speak for itself.

And that works. Houlihan doesn't do anything complicated. He just writes and plays great songs. I don't think he needs to apologize for anything.

There's a formula to these old rocker albums. Put in a bunch of new songs, throw in a reference to the past and a fun cover. So there are a number of 70s-tinged rockers (with at least as much of a nod to Traffic as Deep Purple), a reworking of a Hughes-era DP tune and, for some reason, a really heavy version of "I Just Want to Celebrate."

Hughes does seem to be getting in the soul-funk pocket (thus my Traffic reference, I guess), though the guitar riffage is still post-grunge. An odd set of combinations, to be sure.

Interestingly, the rendition of "Highball Shooter" here is stripped down. With the load lightened, the song really boogies. At times, it sounds like this was the sound Hughes wanted for the entire album. If the guitars had lifted their load and let the organ sing a bit more, that might have happened.

Even so, this album rarely gets turgid. I liked the lighter, funkier stuff (Hughes' voice can still do the work, at least in the studio), and I wish the whole album had jumped into that groove more. Still, I'm pleasantly surprised.

This is more what I expect from southern Michigan bands. Thoughtful, raucous fare with the rhythmic precision of Twitch and the aggression of God Bullies. Though, of course, since this is 2001, there are a few modern touches.

Not as many as might be expected, however. Inside Five Minutes harkens back to the days when experimental hardcore bands really worked the rhythm side of things rather than the noise side.

And the key here is the churning rhythm section. Everything else builds off that, and the constructions are intricate and impressive. The production sound is lean enough to allow those rhythms to predominate, and that only emphasizes the most unique elements of the band.

This album builds and builds until forever. I kept waiting for a letdown, something that would give me a hint of weakness. I didn't hear it. These boys are moving in their own circle, and they do it extremely well. Merge with the throb.

Not unlike the Inside Five Minutes, these guys also remind me of my time in southwestern Michigan some seven-eight years back. Keleton DMD also relies on a strong rhythmic base, though this one is much more technical and grinding--almost an early Jesus Lizard feel to many of these songs.

Which doesn't bother me in the slightest, of course. The manic, almost crazed quality to the pieces is the sort of thing I love to feed on from time to time. And the boys do add their own spin to the sound, dropping a more complex chord structure in from time to time.

In other words, these songs may be fast and loud, but they're utterly within the control of the band. Any "craziness" is calculated. It doesn't sound that way, but I can hear some serious playing going on within the chaos.

Ah, first class all the way. Keleton DMD sounds like the sort of band that never disappoints live. I bet the guys take chances, and judging from these songs, I'd say those shots almost always pay off. Sure did here.

Prog for the pop fan. James LaBrie (the singer for Dream Theater, if you didn't recognize the name) has put together a solid band, and he and the band have written some fine tunes. Drenched in keyboards and featuring technical guitar, drum and vocal runs, this stuff is still approachable by folks who appreciate the far edge of Rush or Styx.

I'm not dropping those references as a slag. Not at all. Both bands have put out some fine prog-tinged stuff, and LaBrie and company take that pop edge and just run a little further on.

What saves this from getting too excessive (and makes it accessible) is the relatively light hand on the production knobs. Yes, the keyboards do predominate now and again. But what really comes through is the solid songwriting.

And the fact that this stuff might appeal to a broader audience in no way takes away from its power. Nothing has been sacrificed to achieve this. Just worked out that way. Hardcore prog fans might note be so sanguine, but what the hell.

I've got a Lovesick CD sitting on the shelf. I'll review that next issue. First, though, I figured I'd go after this small slab of vinyl. Lovesick's contribution is loud, short and sweet. Messy emo, I'd say, though it's hard to tell from the production. That's where the mess lies. I just can't quite get a handle on what's going on.

No such problems for Aloha, who lays out a track of beautifully textured pop. There's some marimba going on, but don't think High Llamas or Tortoise. Rather, think of the marimbas as just part of an extended percussion section. One that dances rather than churns. Wow. I'm really knocked out.

This is part of an extended split 7" series from Makoto. I'm happy to recommend this one on the basis of the Aloha alone, though the Lovesick is intriguing. I have a feeling the CD will be more enlightening.

Harry Manx plays slide guitar and harp. For the most part, this album was recorded live. The notes say there were a few guitar overdubs. Nonetheless, the feel is certainly authentic.

Mostly originals, with a couple of Muddy Waters tunes and a couple other covers. Manx has a light touch on his guitar and harp, and his voice, while not a traditionally raspy blues instrument, still manages to convey the ring of authenticity.

While not overly sentimental, Manx prefers to stay on the brighter side of the blues. Contemplative, yes, but not down and out. The production is similarly breezy and simple, almost transparent. Sounds like I'm in the room with Manx and he's playing just for me.

Funny how so few producers can manage such a trick. Also funny how many blues musicians try to plumb this territory and end up sounding trite. To repeat myself once again, Manx sounds like the real deal. These songs sing when he plays them.

There are bands who know how to use noise. There are bands who blend noise and melody. And then there are bands like Maudlin of the Well. Let me restate that. There is no other band like Maudlin of the Well.

Acoustic interludes punctuated by extreme riffage and howling. With plenty of goth overtones to boot. All exquisitely orchestrated. And I mean that literally. There are plenty of orchestral instruments contributing to the broad sweep of this album.

Ambitious doesn't even begin to describe what's going on here. Beauty, horror and the realities of life combine to create a far-reaching, rich and deep experience. The sound is full, but not overwhelming. It allows the listener to dig into the crevices and find new ways of approaching the music. Inviting, to be sure.

If this had failed, I would have lauded the effort anyway. I mean, you gotta try before you create something great. Maudlin of the Well succeeds in its mission. This is a great album, a work of uncompromising effort and vision. If you never thought the grind could be used artfully, well, you're an idiot. In any case, this disc puts the lie to that idea forever.

Reminds me a lot of the bands Maow (where the world first heard Neko Case) and Cub. Stripped-down, effervescent, almost reverbless riffage. Nice, though somewhat ragged harmonies. Just basic, non-offensive rock and roll.

I don't mean that last bit as a dig. It's more descriptive. The Moto-Litas aren't out to piss anybody off. They're just out to play hard and have fun. They play by the rules and excel by putting everything they've got into the songs.

Very few missteps here. But it's not rock by numbers. The Moto-Litas are simply basic and fun. Nothing complicated, but plenty of punch.

A big wad of fun. Large smiles on my part, to be sure. There can be great pleasure in simplicity, which the Moto-Litas have certainly discovered. No need to complicate matters when the stuff is this good.

If yer hankerin' for a little boom-chicka-boom country music, Willie Heath Neal is happy to oblige. A collection of originals (with some help from his bandmates) is punctuated by a cover of "Guitar Town." Most appropriate, as Steve Earle has become a poster boy for retro country music now that he's kicked the smack and gotten back to making music.

Neal has a great, throaty voice that almost roars. His songs concern women, drinkin', cheatin', lyin' and other sorts of pain that most men fall into without thinking. You know, country music.

Recorded so that it sounds like an old time Johnny Cash album. A lot of echo in the studio, but still plenty of space between the notes. Fits Neal's writing and personality perfectly.

Most enjoyable. The problem with a lot of modern country music is that it left the country and moved to the suburbs. Neal takes the music back where it belongs, and does a whale of a job while he's at it.

Recorded in a couple clubs with a few edits but not much (if anything) in the way of overdubs. Ryan Greene produced, ensuring a thick sound that's not far removed from the last studio album.

There are some interesting bits. "Sara Fisher" has some changed lyrics, though the song still conforms to the 30-second limit. "Room 19" does not have a drum machine intro (duh). That sorta thing.

As the liners confess, this an exceedingly cheap and easy way of making an album. It's a nice retrospective, though, especially with the reissues of earlier albums coming along in the fall. Not to get too much into a marketing mode, of course.

This is a fun outing. Nothing spectacular, but it does prove that No Use for a Name has been around long enough to be just as tight live as it is on albums. Also, the fans are rabid enough to know the lyrics. But of course, you already knew that part.

The messy side of "technical" linear rock. Propeller does deal with intersecting lines and that sort of thing, but they guys aren't terribly particular about being precise. These are vectors drawn with magic markers, if you will.

A good idea, too. Adds a feeling of unpredictability and adventurism to the sound. I'm never quite sure where the song is headed. That a most refreshing feeling.

No one I've heard has tried this exact approach. Okay, so maybe it's just that the guys aren't the most proficient players in the world. But I don't think that's the case. Often enough the playing is quite adept. It's just that the band seems to prefer a bit of a mess.

And a glorious one it is, too. The pieces lurch along, always pointing toward an ultimate goal. Propeller made it to the finish line in style.

Yet another take on the linear noise rock sound. Quixote takes a blistering approach to the concept, flying through its pieces at a fair clip while not sacrificing one bit of technical accuracy.

Right along the Kepone axis of the Jesus Lizard ideal, though a bit cleaner for the most part. Quixote isn't afraid to mess things up, but such moments are just for show. The real key to this band is the churning rhythm machine.

And boy, does that work. There's just no let up in the throbbing, merely an almost mechanical set of marching orders. Insistent doesn't begin to describe the inner drive of this album.

Most enjoyable. At times the songs flatten out to allow an atonal hook or two (a nod to the emo, I suppose), but generally after a few seconds of contemplation the beat goes on. An almost irresistible ride.

There are hip-hop acts who innovate musically, tearing apart the beats and reassembling them into something wondrous. Then there are the rhymers who take apart words and ideas, splicing them into true poetry. Radioinactive does both.

I don't think you understand just how rare this is. Especially in the how. Radioinactive adheres--on the surface--to contemporary rap styles, dropping melodic choruses over heavily rhythmic verses. Just below the surface, however, the rules don't exist.

Beats fly willy nilly, melodies are deconstructed, ideas are dissected. Full-on creative ferment aided by some actual heavy thought. Okay, so some of the stuff is silly. The chaff blows away, revealing a most intelligent core.

Radioinactive is that most rare of collectives, a group of folks who are able to push the boundaries of both music and rhyming thought. Few challenging works are as accessible and enjoyable as this. This is the real deal.

Riff-heavy hard rock punctuated by a technical industrial style and keyboards. In other words, a number of relatively disparate elements tossed in the blender.

It works when there's a good hook. "Anything" is a bit poppier and more uptempo (with some lovely glammy vocals), but that song works. So does "Time," which is grounded a bit more in the band's regular style.

The hook is the thing. And Rainshine's a little hit or miss with those. Here's my test: I listen, and if the chorus makes me feel a little uncomfortable then I know something missing. A piece didn't fall in right. This applies to writing and lots of other artistic endeavors as well. The gut is a good judge.

I like what these guys are trying to do. Generally, the verses are fairly solid. They just need some kick-ass choruses to put them over the top. I mean, if you're gonna play an anthem, play an anthem!

Pop punk with bagpipes. Quite the novelty. I have to admit, it does sound cool. Even if the songs themselves are, for the most part utterly silly.

There are a few nods to "real" Scottish and Irish music, but I hear more American country than anything else--all this done up right in the pop punk style, of course.

I can't get past the novelty thing. This is fun music, certainly, but eminently forgettable. Even with the bagpipes. I dunno, maybe I need to listen a lot more or something.

Maybe not. When I got done with the disc, I wasn't quite tired of the stuff. But I didn't feel like playing it over and over, either. If there was a bit more to the music, perhaps the bagpipe element would fit in a bit better. The Real McKenzies aren't bad at all. They just don't inspire me.

Paul Reddick leads the Sidemen with a harp in hand. The growls, then makes that little piece of metal wail. There's nothing nice or easy about the way the Sidemen play the blues. Strictly for those who crave pain.

Or, as the liners say, "hard blues for modern times." Slinky guitar work, a rhythm section that's tighter than Laura Bush and that most expressive harp. All originals, too, save for "Blind River Bound."

These guys sure know how to dip into the blues and stay in the bag. There's nothing fake or phony about the way these songs rock. Rock, by the way, in a blues sense. These aren't blues rockers; the Sidemen are blues men, pure and simple.

I fell into the music and had to claw my way out. Otherwise I woulda just played this thing all day and never got any more reviewing done. The blues rarely sound so good.

The cover says this is a tribute to the dark master of pulp fiction (Philip K. Dick, which is where the "PKD" comes from). In the liners, Rent Romus explains his concept of "vortex music," which is something along the lines of improvisatory free jazz inspired by the freedom of thought found in science fiction.

Whatever the explanation, Romus is always worth hearing. His improvisations are creative and invigorating, and he always puts together a band comprised of talented and adventurous musicians.

He's done that again. These songs take wild leaps of imagination, but they never get lost along the way. Sure, there are plenty of "far out" moments (that's kinda the point, really), but Romus has enough of a hand on his band to keep the pieces moving in the right direction.

As a tribute to Dick, well, I suppose this works. More to the point, though, I'd call this simply inspired by Dick. And that's not bad at all. Romus and company come through once again with an album of uncompromising (and still most invigorating) music.

Just when I think I've heard about everything I thought possible from the minimalist singer-songwriter crowd, here comes Erik Sanko. His songs are simple, direct and awfully spooky.

The songs key off rhythms, generally Sanko's sharp guitar playing. The production has given these songs a ringing quality--a lot of work went into making this album sound "small."

The songs are just gorgeous. There's a hint at a lush sound, and that merest of notions really colors these songs. Sanko's lyrics are subtle, but not nearly as much as his music. The stuff creeps up from behind to do its dirty work.

A real find. Well, that'd be true if this wasn't on Jetset. I think by now the secret's out about that outfit. Oh well. Erik Sanko more than lives up to the expectations set by his label. The quality and emotional impact couldn't be more impressive.

I'm using this term a lot this issue, but it seems to fit every time: Minimalist. The music is, indeed, similar. Satanstompingcaterpillars sound nothing like their name. Rather, the folks play textured, contemplative pop. Not unlike, say Silver Jews.

The languid feel of the songs isn't really undercut by anything at all. These songs are as thoughtful and rolling as they seem. There's nothing to slow the hypnotic flow, just beat after beat from the endless sea.

No halt, that is, until Satanstompingcaterpillars decide there should be one. The guys aren't above playing with noise, albeit in a most restrained and understated fashion. There's pretty much one mode here, and it really works.

A most impressive set of songs. Right down the middle of the minimalist pop style, but with a style all its own. I likes.

Nettwerk picks up another ex-Revelation band. Almost looks like a farm team situation going on. Of course, I know better than that...

Sense Field was always kinda commercial, and this album sees the guys continuing in that trend. The songs are still really anthemic, but the playing is more restrained. Yeah, some of that is probably calculated so as not to scare off the kiddies, but it's a good idea with these songs.

Thrashing and bashing out atmospheric songs like these just isn't a good idea. Someone got to the band and explained that to them. This album is only vaguely reminiscent of the Sense Field I knew from years back, but it's easily the band's best and most consistent album.

Sometimes that happens. Some bands are better cut out for the big leagues. Sense Field always sounded to me like a band that needed wider pastures. It found them, and this fine album is the result.

Workmanlike extreme hardcore. Six Foot Six obviously did this on a small budget, and the sound is a little thin. But that does give me a pretty good feel for the writing behind the songs.

And each of the four songs has at least one piece that clicks. The problem is that the band subscribes to the shifting gears theory of songwriting, which only works well if you've got a handle on how to make solid transitions. These guys don't.

I hear potential, but my suggestion would be to work on the songs some more. Changing things up can be a way of keeping the material fresh. Too many stops and starts without context just makes a mess of things.

I'm sure this description is going to offend about everyone involved, but Stinking Lizaveta sounds to me like prog stoner rock. The riffage is certainly rooted in late 60s/early 70s hard rock, but there's so much more. And it's certainly not all prog.

But with titles like "War of the Worlds," well, there is a sense of the grandiose and excessive to go along with some stellar playing. Suffice it to say I haven't heard anything quite like this.

And yes, I'm impressed. The pieces are heavy, but they move along nicely. And the sharp composing and playing ensure that the final sound is good. The production has dulled the edges (which reminds me of stoner rock), but the notes still come through clearly.

Boy, this is a real find. Hard to believe that folks still want to make music like this, but I'm sure glad they do. This almost obsessively-crafted album is a real gem.

Almost impossibly catchy songs, richly arranged (there are tons of sounds in these pieces) and expertly played and sung. With abandon.

It's that bit of exuberance which really draws me in. These folks are astonishingly good at what they do, but these songs are tossed off like a bag of popcorn. Such nonchalance is rarely found in combination with thick textured music.

I'm getting chills. That good? Absolutely. The songs drill their way into my head and simply refuse to leave. I'm trying to dissect the stuff so that I can explain my state of bliss, but the real truth of the matter is that it's the almost impossible combination of characteristics which really makes 20 Minute Loop so astonishing.

I know, I said kind things about the band's last release. Add those to this and then multiply. Maybe then you'll begin to get an idea of just how good these folks are.

Angry Johnny (who's also a star of the movie) and the Killbillys provide many of the songs here, but luminaries such as Trailer Bride, Drive-By Truckers and Used Carlotta (and others) contribute tracks as well.

Can't tell you exactly what the movie is about, though the music certainly has a certain Southern Gothic feel to it. You know, like if William Faulkner had ever realized he was really writing about white trash.

Oh yeah, lots of trash. Confederate flag-wavin', bourbon swillin', shit-dealin' kinda folks. Based on what I hear here, this movie might be a real hoot. As long as it doesn't take itself too seriously.

The music veers from southern rock to punk to whatever it is you prefer to call Trailer Bride (ghostly southernania is what one scribe down here likes to call it), and it never gets dull. An eclectic collection, but one that never fails to entertain.

One of the fun things about this band is that every member is named James or Jim or Jimmy. The bio simplifies, saying that all the members go by "Jim". So the band's moniker is appropriate.

Again and again I had to keep telling myself that only three people (with a little help from some friends) made this music. It's a lot more than just the sound. These songs move all around the pop and rock universe, stopping to groove one moment and then pull a Zappa another.

Without ever losing the center of the sound. Visitor Jim has a firm handle on its feel, and despite the wide wanderings this is a very cohesive album. Central to everything is a sense of whimsy. This music may sound serious from time to time, but these guys are just having fun.

That's infectious, too. Visitor Jim brings smiles in no time flat. That the music is complex and well-crafted simply means that it will keep bringing those smiles for a long time to come.