I don't know how other folks review albums, but I usually let them spin a while and then start collecting my thoughts. Usually my critical mind gets turned on one way or another and that kicks the review off in the proper direction. On this, the Appleseed Cast's second installment of Low Level Owl, I just sat and listened. Enjoyed myself. Didn't think about writing.

But I had to eventually. After all, that's the least I can do for someone sending me a great album like this. Sure, we all knew it would be spectacular. It came from the same sessions as the first Low Level Owl. I didn't quite expect what I hear, however.

There's this Flaming Lipsian use of noise as melody that's really fine, but what really impresses me is the way that the album fits together. There is a flow, a similarity of feel that all the songs share. The pieces just tumble in perfectly one after the other (I'm talking about song segments as well as the songs themselves). All I can do is sit here and smile.

Sorry I'm not giving any great critical rhetoric this time out. I'm on my ass, smiling. The Appleseed Cast is nominally an emo band. But these guys are simply one of the great rock bands going right now. They create sounds that matter. Hard to do better than that.

AWOL One takes care of the rhymes, and Daddy Kev provides the backing beats. Regular readers know where my interest lie. I wanna hear something original from both sides.

Daddy Kev creates some really fine grooves. He's not afraid to try something new or to stick with something really thick and stinky. He puts these songs together with flair and ease. Quite enjoyable.

AWOL One comes on a bit sloppily, but that fits the beats Daddy Kev has laid down. The rhymes are relatively simple, though there's plenty of thought behind them. After listening for a bit, I really got into his delivery. Hardly smooth, but it works

There are plenty of ideas from both collaborators. The album ranges for some 70 minutes, and it never gets dull. Just keeps rollin' and a rollin'.

By the way, Billy Mahonie is a band. Four guys wringing noise pop instrumentals out of the ether. Bash, crash and sigh. Not a bad way to live, methinks.

Sharp rhythms and squalling guitars twist and congeal at the center of the attack. From there, plenty of unorthodox sounds and ideas flit to and fro. I didn't use those words to belittle the ideas. Rather, I'm fairly astonished at the flexibility of the players and the songs themselves.

How can a guitar can mutate from a screech to a ringing tone in a second? No, really, I know the answer, but the amazing part is that such a transition can be employed within a cohesive song. Billy Mahonie has locked down what it wants to do.

And that is, simply put, to make good music. Great music. The sorta stuff that whips around the brain a few times and then settles in the queerest of places. An album that makes you think. There can never be enough of those.

Two guys, Jeff Root and Kim Miller, who do all the writing, playing and singing. This album does have that clinky "one-man band" sound that you can get with lots of overdubs, but I'm kinda used to that.

Root sings in the rather affected style of Roger McGuinn, and the harmonies do have a Byrds-like quality. But with so much electronic instrumentation (percussion, keys, etc.), this has a decidedly modern feel.

I do wish the guys had gone for a more stripped-down approach to the sound. The punchiness of all the electronic gear doesn't quite fit with the folky pop-rock of the writing. I'm sure it was cheaper to record this way, but the sound doesn't really serve the songs.

And the writing is pretty good. There are plenty of little cliches decorating the surface, but at the core, Root and Miller have a good feel for the dramatic, lilting style they've chosen. Just wish they could make it sound better.

A bare-bones version of classic death metal, with a lot more bounce and groove in the riffage. Charnel House has a knack for finding some really great guitar lines and rhythms.

Unfortunately, the band also feels the need to break up the grooves with speed breaks. Another classic style, I admit, but it has always struck me as lazy songwriting. There is a way to merge the two ideas, even within one song. Just requires deft transitions.

Charnel House hasn't found those. Still, I do like many of the pieces I hear here. And I also think the relatively restrained sound (it's still loud, but you can hear all of the individual instruments) works very well with the band's style.

Good stuff. Just needs a little work, especially between the song segments. There's a lot here to like. If Charnel Horse can spin a tighter web around its various styles, then it will really be hard to resist.

The Coal Porters are a somewhat shifting group of Brits who like to play all sorts of American country music. Lately, they've been getting more into bluegrass. The group plays a Chris Hillman tribute show every December 4 (Hillman's birthday), and this particular concert shows off the band's recently-developed mountain music licks.

The songs encompass much of Hillman's career, with a particular focus on the Byrds (and a good dose of Burritos as well). The picking is most fine and the singing most often in tune (which is about as close to perfect as you want to get with this kinda stuff).

For a live recording, this sounds great. Wonderful. Sharp, yet rich tone. None of that tinny junk. Just a good balanced sound that allows everyone to be heard. Again, just where you want to be.

Nothing complicated. The formula is very simple, and the Coal Porters have executed it to perfection. The songs are timeless, and the performances here are worthy of the works. A most enjoyable set.

Gently rolling emo. Dead Red Sea lolls around, slowly churning out duly satisfying songs. Very deliberate, but that in no way takes away from the joy of these pieces.

The song construction is simple and direct. Almost in the realm of alt. country singer-songwriters, though the sound itself is still straight emo: Vaguely atonal guitars, less-than-perfect vocals, strident rhythms.

Makes for a good mix. Dead Red Sea veers from influence to influence, depending on the needs of the song. The overall sound is thick and full; more of an emo feel. Which only makes sense.

I like the way these songs have come together. It's hardly typical, but close enough to be comfortable. I surely would like to hear how these boys develop their ideas in the next couple of years. Could be most interesting.

Big monster fans of Motorhead, lemme tell ya. By way of the Dolls (just ignore my space-time continuum problems). They've got the attitude and the riffage. They need some help in the sound and construction areas.

These songs simply don't sound mean enough. That's a production problem, pure and simple. The guitars need to be rougher, more raw. The overall mix needs to be cranked up a notch. These songs oughta leap out of the speakers.

As for the writing, well, many of the pieces here are just too long. If yer gonna play this kinda stuff, it's gotta be wham-bam-thank you-ma'am. Hit it and split it.

Don't make this stuff more complicated than it already is. Bash and roll. The Dragons aren't too far off from the ideal, but this would be so much better if they put in just a little more work and blow off some of the chaff.

Embedded is producers Ese and Hipsta. The three tracks here (in various forms) feature Vast Aire (from Cannibal Ox and Atoms Family), Zion I and Lodeck. Each of the three tracks ("Building Blocks," "Tippin' Dominoes" and "Hyperventilation") will be on the forthcoming Bedford Files, an underground hip hop collection.

Embedded does have a fine touch on the beats. Not only that, each track matches the creative style of the MC in question. There's definitely some solid collaboration going on.

One 12" that's chock full of goodies. Each of the three tracks is solid, tending toward outstanding. First rate all around.

Two guys (Arthur Schupbach and Ed Stankewick) who like to make pop music. They're not particular as to style (sixties garage, nineties minimalism, whatever), but they do like the notion of a ragged but true hook.

And so, as the songs crash or plink or chime, there's always something worth humming. That's the notion that holds this album together. And how a little tiny drum machine-driven piece can still sound something like a bounding alt. country tune.

Simply produced, but the sound swells when necessary. Exploding Head knew what it wanted when it went into the studio, and obviously the boys have the skills needed to complete that vision.

While hardly pretentious, this album still manages to project a kind of stark majesty. Into the Ether is a finely-crafted gem.

There's a decidedly dubious story behind this album. One day, the members of the Goblins were wandering around the Touch and Go headquarters, where they came upon one of T&G honcho Corey Rusk's prized possessions, the Misfits coffin (an old stage prop). Supposedly the guys found a passel of unknown songs (complete with chords and tablatures!) in a hidden panel. And so now they've recorded them.

For the record, I think the whole story is bunk. There may be a glimmer of truth somewhere in it, but the idea that someone in the Misfits would take the time to write out tablatures (or even know how, for that matter) is ludicrous. Nevertheless, what I hear on this disc is a bunch of songs that certainly sound like old Misfits (down to the shlocky production values).

And as tributes go, this is one of the more original I've ever heard. It sure works. Eleven songs in thirteen minutes (the disc actually clocks in at 13:13, which is most likely no coincidence), all raw attitude and horror show imagery.

A lot of fun, even if the frame tale is kinda hokey. A nice way to get back into the spirit of the old Misfits (and not the decidedly lame version that still rises from the dead every once in a while for touring purposes). Play it loud, suckas.

A groove band with a heavy blooze 'n' boogie jones. The Heed doesn't bother too much with syrupy hooks or other pop conventions. Rather, the guys hope that a heavy dose of the backbeat and clever lyrics will carry the day.

Sometimes, it does. Certainly, the guys can play, and their expertise is impossible to ignore. Often enough, the songs seem to rely a bit heavily on technical skill and ignore writing craft. A few of these songs do sound "unfinished."

The album sounds good. Not too brassy and certainly not underdone. The sound is probably the most consistent part of the album. It does tie the package together nicely.

But the guys do have some work to do. Mostly in the writing phase. Instead of falling back on cliches, they need to dig a little deeper to resolve some of the trouble spots. Find their own way of writing out of a corner. Then these songs could really sing.

At its core, Hyptonic is Scotty Vercoe on keyboards (of various kinds, but generally a Rhodes) and Lydia on vocals. The sound is a spacey sort of acid jazz trending toward trip-hop.

With a heavy dose of experimentalism to boot. Hyptonic isn't afraid to leave the land of the straight and narrow and take flight. Indeed, some of the most transcendent moments on this album are at the fringes.

All while sticking to the basic notion of wrapping a song around a tight groove. There's always a little funk sticking out of the hip pocket, just waiting to put that booty in motion.

Cool but steamy, Hyptonic succeeds by refusing to stick to any one formula. The songs share similar themes but spin out into unique sounds and ideas. Which just happens to be a recipe for innovative and invigorating music.

Dragging some groove into smooth country rock, Jackalope Junction tries to have the best of a few worlds. Sometimes it even pulls off the trick quite nicely.

After all, both laid-back country and groove rock are but different steps away from the blues 'n' boogie, and as long as any merger attempt incorporates that middleman, well, it's bound to work.

And when the band focuses more on harmony-laden alt. country, well, that works alright as well. Sometimes I think the production punches up the sound a bit too much (these songs aren't quite as grand as the sound might make you think), but that's not a fatal flaw. Might even attract more major-label attention that way.

And that's where I think these folks are aiming. They might make it. Jackalope Junction has a command of a number of different styles, blending them quite well. I don't think the songwriters are going to run out of good ideas any time soon. Always a good sign.

Kankick is the DJ, spinning tracks for a number of talented MCs or simply dropping some spare beats for the floor. An obvious devotee of late 70s soul and funk, Kankick's compositions are all about flow and style.

Which isn't to call them dull or vapid. Rather, he imbues his simple beats and melodies with an underlying strength and complexity. There's always something more going on.

And on the tracks with vocal accompaniment, the rhymes and the beats fuse seamlessly. Kankick's dexterity allows him to tailor his sounds to the needs and desires of the MCs. Indeed, there's quite an interplay going on in most tracks.

While not the most ambitious of albums, this set of tracks quietly impresses. There's a subtle beauty to the beat work, and the rhymes always have something to say. Great music for simply kickin' back.

Just yer basic old-time rock and roll quartet: Guitar, upright bass, tenor sax and drums. Every piece has its say, and there's room for all to speak. The songs? Well, they lie somewhere between the jump blues, rockabilly and Chuck Berry-style guitar-led rock. Played with fire and verve.

Almost prototypical 50s-style rock and roll, at least the way folks view that music today. Of course, this stuff sounds much better than the old stuff, just because of the way the sounds boom out of the speakers.

But modern recording methods aren't what make Sean Kennedy and the King Rats so good. Rather, its the way the guys play off each other, swingin' and swayin' from song to song. The pieces themselves are sharply written, but these guys just play the hell out of them.

That combination is irresistible. This album just smokes. Anything else I could say is superfluous.

Just because you name a song "Gluing Carpet to Your Genitals Does Not Make You a Cantaloupe" doesn't mean you're a cool band. Though I have to admit it improves your chances.

The Locust plays the extreme noise game with technical precision. Imagine the manic frenzy of pre-thrash hardcore produced to induce a surfeit of distortion. And add in 70s style techno keyboards. All whipped up into one serious killing machine.

This does have many of the hallmarks of the "no wave" phenomenon, though the Locust plays with such precision and intent that it really goes much beyond that ideal. This is seriously aggressive fare, an almost unquenchable adrenaline burst. Only serious users should mainline this stuff.

A wide-ranging collection of freestyle rap. About half of the pieces here were recorded live at various times from 1990 to the present. And it's those live, fresh performances that drive this disc.

Mikah 9 is not a particularly disciplined rhymer. This makes the studio tracks sound messy and somewhat stilted. On the other hand, while on stage he plays with the medium, scatting and kicking his tongue around whatever beat might be around. He's in his element when thinking on his feet.

So even while the sound is occasionally dreadful on those true freestyle tracks, the energy is so much higher. Those pieces just leap out of my stereo. The studio work is fine, but not nearly as arresting.

Left with such a schizophrenic effort as this, I've just gotta praise the parts that get me off. Mikah 9 is incendiary live. Sometimes the studio tracks come close, but they never match his live style.

Imagine extremely dense roots music, fronted by a guy who sounds vaguely like Bob Dylan--without the enunciation issues. Follow that dream, and add to it a tendency to drift into other 70s sounds, like glam or reggae (say, at the same time). And once you've got that in the spinner, well, just imagine that the boys don't stop there.

The Monsoons remind me a lot of Muckafurguson in the way they assimilate a wide number of styles within their own sound. And the offbeat sense of humor surely doesn't hurt, either.

Each of these songs is tightly written and expertly played. With a sense of fun and adventure. Despite all the ingredients, there is a loose feel to these pieces that's really exciting. A first-rate trip.

Takes me back. A long ways. The Mystics happen to believe that it actually matters what you're rhymin' about. In other words, they express ideas in a most poetic manner.

With such an emphasis on the rhymes, the backing tracks do suffer. They often consist of not much more than a beat and a keyboard line. This seems a bit odd to me considering the decidedly stylish soundscapes that introduce many of the songs.

I understand the impulse not to overwhelm the vocals, but geez, there's no reason to dumb down the tunes. Most of the time, the sophisticated thoughts are more than enough to overcome any musical shortcomings. Even so, I wish there was a bit more there there.

In any case, I can't rip on the intent. Ripping off big ol' ideas and rhymin' them to the beat isn't easy. The Mystics have a most impressive way of expressing themselves. If they put a little more effort into what bounds behind the thought, the entire package might shine like a star.

Adam Rafferty on guitar (electric), Jeff Siegel on drums and John Menegon on bass. Not yer typical jazz trio. But one that makes sense, nonetheless.

Two takes on the Coltrane-penned title track, with Rafferty flying in and around Coltrane's sax parts. He has a light, expressive touch that is suited perfectly to the task. And without perfectly aping Coltrane's riffs, he manages to capture the idea of the song and also restate it in his own way.

Rafferty and Siegel contribute a track each, with Menegon writing two. And while Rafferty's guitar is the principal solo instrument, Siegel and Menegon don't simply sit back and vamp. Their interplay with each other and Rafferty is what ties the album together.

The sorta album with appeal for a wide variety of jazz fans. The sound is smooth, but certainly not cloying in any way. The players rip off blistering solos without disturbing the mood. The quiet intensity of this project is most impressive.

I guess grunge will never die. Pope Syndicate does update the sound nicely, stripping down the excess from time to time and really letting the songs show themselves.

Until the choruses, that is. And then the same ol' bash and moan. Not that it's bad, by any standards. These guys sound pretty good. I'm just not sure this is the most commercially viable sound these days, and grunge (this particular shade, anyway) was never an underground fashion.

So I've gotta guess these guys are playing for keeps. And while they play very well and have written some good songs, I just don't hear anything that tells me these boys have "rock star" halos. That's not what I really care about, of course, but I'm just saying.

A couple guys playing that ol' minimalist pop. Keys and guitar, mostly. Subdued. Or introspective. You make the call.

The note enclosed with this disc says "We're a little folkier this time...," and that's about right. More of a focus on interplay between the keyboards and guitar and less on the vocals (or lyrics). In general, the instruments don't range far from the base but rather dance in parallel squiggles. Not a lot of intersection, but some good movement.

There's something about the way these songs come together that I really like. For one, the guys are very deliberate about the way they construct their songs. They don't rush their thoughts, giving the ideas plenty of time to germinate.

Contemplative. Meditative. There are plenty of words to describe this music. Just don't come away thinking that because the guys aren't the loudest or fastest around that this stuff is anything but intense. Cause this stuff can get so hot it burns.

Four tracks from the band's upcoming album and four tracks just fer the hell of it. Schatzi (not named for Marge Schott's dog, or they would've spelled it differently) plays a most pleasant form of power pop. The sounds bound forth with aplomb.

There is a hint of the emo, though that's been mostly processed out in the production. Which is okay. These guys have a way of making vaguely atonal hooks snap in tight.

There's nothing here that specifically grabs me, but on the whole the package is impressive. I kept wanting to hear the next song. Which is to say: These boys know how to make this kinda music really swing. A full-length would be more than welcome in these quarters.

And now, how about some extreme prog. Samples, loops, hoarsely shouted vocals; all that run though the mechanics of a prog band. Not a bad idea at all.

Indeed, the form gives a great stage for presenting complex ideas in a leisurely manner. And so why not incorporate a number of seemingly disparate ideas? After all, there's plenty of time to write good transitions.

This is prog, anyway, and there's no getting around that. All of the extraneous ideas are just ornaments. Integral ornaments to Somnambulist's sound, mind you, but still mere pretty baubles.

A fairly creative way of getting beyond the basic prog sound. Somnambulist still plays technical games, of course, but it has added a level of aggression and milled the edge of its sound to razor sharpness. Quite addictive, really.

I like these guys. I've reviewed all of their albums, and each time I come away impressed once more. This is just a classic piano jazz trio: Michael Jefry Stevens on the bench, Jeff Siegel on drums and Tim Ferguson on bass (stand up, of course). Three players, each of whom has his own style and way of approaching the material.

And, as usual, that material is rather varied. A couple songs from "South Pacific," a Billy Strayhorn piece, something from Sidney Bechet, a spiritual and a song which is best known for receiving the Dizzy Gillespie treatment. Oh yeah, each member contributes a song as well.

Which makes this set the least "original" of the trio's four albums, at least in terms of songwriting. Of course, the real trick in jazz is taking a song, no matter who wrote it, and finding something new inside of it. Making that piece your own, if just for a moment. Stevens, Siegel and Ferguson seem to have an instinctive knack for just that.

Of course, such "instincts" are earned by years of hard work. As a trio, these three men take their time working out the various pieces of a song, taking one and then another on a spin around the floor before coming together at the end for a smart summation. Yeah, that's standard theory, but when a trio has the chops and creativity of these three, the "formula" yields beautiful music. The song selection, arrangements and playing are all first rate. This is, quite simply, great jazz.

You remember the mullethead side of 80s music, all that AOR radio stuff? Kinda hard rock with some keyboards in the background. Like Loverboy, 38 Special (they were the deep-fried version, of course), Night Ranger or the Outfield. That sorta thing. Well, Student Rick is the emo version of that.

I'm not kidding. There's this ragged, grandiose feel to some of the more uptempo pieces, and even when the boys pull back into more of a traditional emo style I can hear them echoes. Particularly of the Outfield.

There's also a pretty serious Millencolin sound, which makes sense. Those Swedish boys aren't afraid of cheesy American rock, either. I like the way these guys incorporate mega-anthemic styles into a stripped down punk sound. It only makes sense. And, of course, it's astonishingly addictive.

Um, if yer lookin' for something truly underground and edgy, Student Rick is not gonna pass muster. But if you like tight tunesmithing and an extremely sharp sound (courtesy of Edgerton, Livermore and Stevenson at the Blasting Room), well, I can't imagine a finer choice at this moment. Damn, did I have fun.

Crashing, tumbling, bursting atmospheric rock music. This Beautiful Mess is not only the band's name, but it pretty well perfectly describes the way the members write and play the songs.

What I mean is that there are a ton of different ideas and sounds going into each song, but they're blended together so expertly that what results is a shimmering blast of incandescent beauty.

Reminds me a bit of what U2 was trying to do in the early 90s, though not quite as pretentious. And a lot more human. The one thing these songs do is connect. Right from the start.

Yeah, it sure is pretty. But there's a depth here as well. Solid writing and a collage style of arrangement ensure that. This Beautiful Mess certainly lives up to its name.

Perhaps you might've picked up on LunaSea's specialty by now: Well-executed power pop. Oh sure, there's plenty of variation in the roster, but that's the base. And Totally Blind Drunk Drivers (a moniker that strikes me as just a tad too busy--though it's absurd to criticize a band's name, especially a band from Estonia) fit right in with Longwave, Kitty in the Tree, Moths and the other bands on the label.

Not only in that these boys deliver thick and fuzzy riffage punctuated by outrageously hummable hooks. Well, that and the overall quality of the package. Good writing, a loose playing style and spot-on production. All truly fine.

Ear candy of the highest order. There's just something about heavy, bouncing chords that makes me want to sing along at high volume. Perhaps you are similarly afflicted. Totally Blind Drunk Drivers will exacerbate this condition to an almost insufferable level.

You know, one of those albums I can't resist. There's just enough of a hint of that fine 70s glam sound to kick my attraction into overdrive. According to the press, these boys are all the rage in their native land. I figure there's a few people over here who just might go a bit kooky for them as well.

Not exactly b boy-style hip hop, but 2 Mex sure does come on with the party grooves. Plenty of "Jump Around" kinda funk twisted up with some vaguely political rhymes.

A pretty good way to approach things, really. Always keep one eye on the groove and one eye on the wisdom. 2 Mex accomplishes that with skill and ease.

He also incorporates a few Latin elements into his beats, though to be perfectly honest they're merely window dressing. These grooves don't vary much from the current hip-hop norm.

All told, though, this is a fun album. Nothing particularly deep or original, but simply bouncy enough to provide a little ear candy. Works for me.

My general opinion of tributes oughta be well-known by now. They're best when they focus on a rather less well-known artist. Even better is when the bands doing the tribute don't sound much like the artist getting the tribute treatment. That way fewer obvious comparisons can be made.

Neither is the case here. Everyone knows just about all of these songs (and if you don't, well, why are reading this?). And the bands recruited all fit (loosely) into the electro-industrial complex.

The renditions are all similarly good, but they don't rework the originals much and as such come off as very pale imitations. The album did make me want to pop a NIN disc in the changer--just to get rid of any memory of hearing this tribute.

On the opposite end of the tribute spectrum from The Broken Machine is this set of tunes from the Lounge Brigade and Gringo Floyd. The two bands swap tracks here, each kicking out truly laid back and swinging versions of Sublime tunes.

Indeed, while most folks do know these songs, the two bands here give a whole new spin to such familiar material. Reminds me a lot of the Grunge Lite album put out by C/Z years and years ago. Heavy on the kitsch, but with a nice kicker.

Amusing, and not in a stupid way. This album presents a whole new way to look at Sublime, which is one fine function of a tribute. Good stuff, and fun to boot. Hard to argue with that.

Just yer basic label sampler. Almost. TKO always takes care to jam its collections full of music, and this is no exception. Twenty-six bands grace this disc, and about half the tracks are previously unreleased or available only on vinyl. So completists have a reason to plunk down their change.

TKO specializes in aggressive, tuneful punk, ranging from oi to hardcore with plenty of stops in between. A veritable cornucopia of punk on this set.

I like to think of the Punch Drunk series as solid mix discs, the sorta thing I'd make more of if I had the time. Glad the kind folks at TKO did it for me.

The covers compilation series that has spawned a clothing line. I'm not kidding. Look in the liners.

Ah well, this is one of those series that has gotten better with age. More music, higher production values, more intriguing choices. I mean, how many discs do you know that would segue from "Eve of Destruction" to Natalie Imbruglia's "Torn" to the Pet Shop Boys' "Suburbia" ?

So if pop punk versions of all sorts of songs get you off (there are 53 tracks here, including a version of "We Are the World"), this is the best Chartbusters yet.

This collection from Canada's most unusual record label hits all the highlights from the past three or four years. There are tracks from a number of Neko Case projects, Duotang, The Smugglers, Thee Goblins and more.

A lot of good stuff, all of it previously released. So if you've already tapped into into Mint's wide range of appeal, well, keep on keepin' on.

On the other hand, if you've never managed to come across this label before, you're gonna find some of the most creative pop, punk and country music around. I've been a fan for years, and this disc vindicates my ardor.

Alright, so Big Star has never sold many records. Everybody who knows anything about music is well versed in the band's three albums (and Chris Bell's unfinished--but released years later--solo album). Not like we're dealing with an unknown here.

So the fine folks at LunaSea figured they'd overwhelm us with quantity. Twenty-three songs recorded by the likes of Mike Daly (once of Whiskeytown), the Moths, Marty Willson-Piper, Paula Kelley, Longwave and Nada Surf. Most impressive lineup.

And while most of the versions here generally fall within the pop guidelines laid down almost thirty years ago, there are subtle (and not-so-subtle) differences. For example, Longwave's version of "Holocaust" recasts that minimalist wail as a dark power pop anthem. And it works. As for the Chris Bell stuff, well, Alex Chilton, Jody Stephens and the two main Posies played "I Am the Cosmos" at the reunion gig put on by my college radio station at the University of Missouri (I'd already graduated, but I did barbecue at the show). So that's fair game. It fits.

Everything her does. These are some of the classic songs of our time. I don't think there's any way Chilton, Bell and Stephens had any idea they were creating something special, but that's how it turned out. And this disc is a fine celebration.

Atmospheric extreme hardcore, verging on doom metal drom time to time. Oh my, I think I'm gonna make of mess a myself here.

The power alone is enough. Will Haven blasts enough sonic disturbance to sterilize insects at 50 feet. Add to it an almost perfect grasp of just how far to take untrammeled aggression without losing touch with reality.

These boys stay in the real. There's very few studio tricks or other nonsense. Just throbbing, achingly harsh riffage. The kinda stuff that burns on contact. The boys manage to keep their sound fresh by incorporating a number of interesting ideas, including just backing off for a moment to emphasize the power that is to come.

Once again, I'm left without proper words for the experience. Will Haven leaves a path of wreckage strewn in its wake. This stuff grinds and pummels any object that offers resistance. And that's not me. I'm the one saying "Full steam ahead!"