Old Friends (short reviews of previously-reviewed artists):

Inventive and playful hip-hop dropped over some wonderful beat work. That's about what would be expected from this crew. The real question is does Antipop Consortium take a step forward or not?

Yeah, I think so. In particular, the rhythm construction underlying the rhymes is most impressive. These MCs rhyme on the beat, which is impressive considering the complexity of what lies at the base of the sound.

A joy to hear, and a joy to ponder as well. The lyrics are thoughtful, though hardly pretentious. There's a sense of fun here, even when the ideas get serious. It's very easy to slip in pocket with the grooves.

Very few hip-hop outfits use so much techno theory in their beat. Even fewer DJs are able to so completely master a wide variety of musical ideas and sounds and make them fit so well with the rhymes. A step forward, indeed.

I'm a sucker for layered pop-rock done well. Most often the sound is done interminably badly, but when things go right ... well, Vince Buffa does it right.

Veering from glam to Beatles-esque collage to Lou Reed-style talk-singing to 50s-era be-bop-a-lula to a little Dylan (with a few other side trips as well), Buffa refuses to be stuck in one category. There are a few constants to his sound, however.

One is the meticulous production. It's easy to get that when you do almost all the playing and singing. But these songs sound like band efforts. There isn't that oft-demented one-man-band feel here. Buffa must have split personalities, because he's able to give each of the instruments in the sound a singular presence.

The music is positively beautiful. The lyrics are amazingly dark, aggressively so at times. I like the dichotomy, and I like the way Buffa puts the entire project together. A whaleload of effort, work that has been rewarded with a most fulfilling album. Not for the faint of heart, but then, few worthy works of art are.

Who knew that Columbia, S.C., was such a haven for great emo? Well, there have been signs. A while back I was pretty well knocked out by Burns Out Bright, and it's pretty rare that a scene has only one good band. If there's no competition, it can be hard to really be inspired to work on your chops.

And once again, Burns Out Bright blows me away. Without sticking to any one particular emo ideal, the boys do a nice job of hitting the sound just so. The depth of the ideas in the songs is most impressive.

Dade County Resistance is a bit more limited in its approach, sticking to an uptempo, melodic feel (not unlike a rougher-edged Ataris, say), but these guys do have four great songs here. Same goes for Last to Know, who whipsaws from contemplative to blistering (sometimes in the same song).

The production values are a bit limited (particularly with the second two bands), but the songs are great. And isn't punk supposed to be just a little ragged on the edges? I thought so. I wish more bands and labels would put together projects like this. It's always nice to have a snapshot in time of a particular scene.

It is my firm conviction that the ability of DJs to create full arrays of sound using sampling, sequencers, drum machines, synthesizers and the like has been highly underrated by a lot of folks. It's as if the mere use of technology somehow takes the soul out of art. There's a similar argument going on these days in the (painting) art world concerning the possible use of lenses and other aids by the Dutch Masters, and I stand firmly on the side of the folks who say it's the end result that matters.

Caural isn't just a technology-driven outfit, but there's no way the sounds on this disc could have been created using old cut-and-paste methods. The splices couldn't have been this smooth, this seamless.

I'm sure plenty of folks will toss this right into the trip-hop pile, and that's not an unfair association. There are plenty of creative side trips and spacey grooves to be had here. But I hear more. The title of the album is revealing. I think Caural wanted to create an entire universe of sound.

The folks came pretty durn close, too. From the first instant, the sound transported me to another realm, one with inverted laws of physics. Where the sky lies beneath the feet. I had to let go to truly grasp the full ideas expressed by this disc. And in that way, I guess, this album is one fine trip.

Manic, melodic Eurometal with soaring female vocals. Edenbridge's sound is very technical and dry, but the wealth of sounds in the mix gives these songs more than enough soul.

And actually, I kinda like hearing the lines this distinctly. Lanvall (songwriter, guitarist, keyboard player and producer) has a knack for crafting some astonishingly beautiful melodies. He's more than willing to slow things down for a quiet ballad and then leap right back into the fray with a speedy rocker.

There's just a hint of the gothic in this symphonic style, but mostly the feel is grand and operatic. Many folks would consider Edenbridge well over the top, but not me. I prefer to call the sound expressive, not excessive.

It's all in the ear of the beholder, I guess. I've liked this style of music since I was a kid, and that love refuses to die. Edenbridge is as classy as they come.

A truly clever satirical look at the absence of fathers in too many children's lives. Need a dad for your child? Just go down and buy the latest model.

The chorus is a wonderful collage-style mess of sound. I wish the verse had a bit more of that to it. But then, the thoughts in the rhymes demand to be heard. Always a tough balance.

I love the concept. The rhymes are funny and a little frightening. I wish the beats and backing music could be a little more infectious, but this here's one time I'll let the message take center stage.

There's a trick to writing gentle pop songs. The key is to stay in a mellow mood without getting maudlin or syrupy. Monica Ann Crigler has the perfect voice for this sort of tune, just a wee bit fragile and quavering. Not an affected warble, but just an honest uncertainty.

Playing brightly, yet softly, is also a challenge. But the members of Goats in Trees are up to the task, turning out top-notch tunes one after the next. The band sets the mood perfectly, allowing Crigler's voice to spread the icing.

These songs were recorded in a large number of studios and settings, and yet the project still retains a singular sound. Just one more professional touch that proves how hard Goats in Trees has worked to refine its vision and music.

An enticing, enchanted album. Even those who generally turn up their noses at pretty, soft pop could very well find themselves taking a second listen. From the first note, it's obvious these folks have that almost undefinable "something" that draws in an audience.

One of the things I've always loved about Uncle Tupelo's No Depression is the great fuzzy, ragged live sound of the album. I'm sure there's a way to achieve it by design, but most often it seems to arrive as a fortuitous accident.

No matter how it came, Grand Champeen has it here. Doesn't hurt that the boys play a raucous form of rock with just a hint of roots sensibility. Or that lead singer Channing Lewis could be Jay Farrar's kid brother. This stuff is a lot more straight ahead than UT, and that's more than okay with me. I just love to hear this sound.

Each instrument is distinct, and yet the pieces all fit together into a blistering storm, complete with thunderclaps and flashes of lightning. Grand Champeen refuses to introduce complications into its songs, and so the results are simple and, um, pure.

The more the disc rolls on, the more I realize these guys have really taken the "Hank Williams meets the Replacements" formula and played right up against both extremes. Daring? I dunno. It has been done before, but not with this much abandon. Big things just might be on the horizon.

Emigre sells fonts, CDs (they initially released Basehead's Play With Toys), books and the magazine in which this album appears. I'm not exactly sure how all of it works, but there is a strange connection between Emigre and Honey Barbara. The band put together a wide array of sounds and ideas and spun them together so that they create something seamless and coherent.

Dark, but not moody. Introspective without getting into navel gazing. Witty, but not overly clever. Wildly diverse without following unnecessary tangents. Just a constant burble of sterling musical and lyrical thought. This is music that demands intelligence in a listener.

And that's not to say it can't be appreciated in a mindless way. There are some nice hooks here, even if they aren't terribly meaty. It's just that I think the best way to really dig into the heart of this disc is to start thinking about it and then let the subconscious get going.

Honey Barbara creates "important" music without getting pretentious. I think what I'm trying to say is that these folks do just about everything right. Maybe this isn't music for the masses. I don't care. It's music that really speaks to me. And that's all I have to go on.

If you haven't caught up with KMFDM lately, Sascha (and Sascha alone) is at the helm. There are plenty of helpers, but this is one man's vision of the German Engineering sound

And it's a strangely retro one, at that. Think Die Warzau with heavier guitars. Or KMFDM itself back when it was a bit more experimental. Taking a few more chances than I've heard from this brand (and if any band is a brand, this is it), Sascha breathes a bit of life into the ol' industrial standard-bearer.

Um, yeah, it's still a KMFDM album, which means crunchy guitars and growled vocals and an addiction to tight, technical riffage. But there are quite a few bits of modern electronica dancing around the edges, and these songs do sound a bit more loosened up than anything I've heard from this outfit in quite some time.

I also received the "Boots" CD5, which is simply three versions of "These Boots Are Made for Walking." That one's strictly for the completists. This disc, though, is well worth a spin, even if you thought KMFDM shot its wad 10 years ago.

Prog punk, as if there were such a thing. The Kung Fu Killers do not simply write straight three-chord songs. The boys (with names like "Lo Maniac" and "General Tzo Wat," I'm gonna assume we're talking about people of the male persuasion) do play with utter abandon and a general ignorance of distortion-free guitars. It's just that the title track has distinct movements. About 30 seconds each, as the song itself is relatively short.

And they're based on the same driving riff. At least, one section of the title track is based on the riff that is most prevalent in "Werewolves of Our Youth." Personally, I'll stick with the A side.

I like the unusual writing style. I don't know if the Kung Fu Killers can write a series of songs in the same way, but the title track here is certainly worth a listen.

A five-piece pop band that features such fun elements as the odd Moog or theremin break. And, of course, impossibly thick and distorted lead guitar playing licks that a deliciously tight and sweet.

The name Masonic almost certainly comes from the fact that three members share last name of Mason. Jennifer Christen provides the vocals, and her flat (as in sound, not key) alto really works with the slightly loopy style of the music. Provides a kinda laid-back feel to the stuff.

And so when the songs bash away or simply fade softly, there's a sense of comfort and ease. Almost immediately, the band establishes firm contact with the listener. I knew what was coming, and I ate it up most contentedly.

Predictable? Sure. Predictably great. Understated power pop is one of the most beautiful sort of music there is. Masonic locks down the feel and just wails away. I'm completely hooked.

This is the sort of thing that happens when five creative people get together and create music without any sort of plan or method. Need New Body is more than content to kick out musical pieces that bear no semblance to the concept of a song, except when it seems a song is precisely what is called for by a particular situation.

Which is to say that the pieces found on this disc might be assembled, or they might be played live to tape. They might have discernible melodies, bass lines and lyric themes. Or they may be simply a series of vaguely connected noises.

Coherence is not a virtue here. And I've happy to revel in the chaos. As with most projects of this nature, there are underlying thoughts which connect the astonishingly disparate sounds that fill this disc. I can hear them. I don't know what they're saying, mind you, but that doesn't bother me much. I'm just happy to groove on.

Not the sort of disc for those with ordered minds. Need New Body respects no convention on song construction. But it does propagate some wondrous sound, stuff that is a joy to behold.

I suppose this is an EP just because there are only four songs here. The disc clocks in at well past a half-hour, though, so I'd be happy to call this an album. But I won't. I always respect the wishes of the artists.

Especially when the sounds coming forth are such as they are here. The songs are driven by either keyboard or guitar (often both) and unwind much like June of 44's more existential pieces. Certainly it would be easy to bring to mind such acts as Tortoise and the Sea and Cake, though the linear tracking of the melodies are much more in line with noise pop fusion than anything else, even if the sound is most certainly that of the restrained techie.

Gorgeous, if in completely unconventional ways. Each piece unfolds at its own pace, taking the listener on some breathtaking journeys before finally wandering home and making a final point. The weird frat-party scene of the cover is almost perfect: It's precisely what this disc isn't. And thus it serves as a great description of what lies within.

Lush, fuzzy pop with a pleasant underbite. The sound is glorious and full. The lyrics tend toward dark and cynical, though there is the occasional spot of light--just to mix things up.

But wow, this stuff is so thick and chewy! I just love the way the songs ooze out of the disc. There are plenty of fast pieces to accompany the almost-symphonic mid-tempo blooms, but everything is well-conceived and executed. The Scooters give solid craft a fine live feel.

And that's about as good a compliment as there is. A massive effort went into the creation of this album, but these songs sound as if they were just tossed off two minutes ago.

That kind of nonchalant brilliance always brings a smile to my face. These folks sure do play the hell out of this style. Who cares what the kids are buying. Good music will never go out of style. It just doesn't always pay the bills. Guess we'll all have to live with a great album, and let the chips fall where they may.

It's been a while since Velocity Girl faded into the past (I vaguely recall seeing Sarah Shannon in a post-VG group at the Black Cat in D.C. sometime in the late 90s, though I'm not entirely sure if that's what I saw that night), and now Shannon has recorded her first solo album.

Not necessarily what you'd expect. The orchestrations (yes, I said orchestrations) are tres-Bacharachian, and the songs are full of that late 60s-early 70s faux-innocent feel. Blake Wescott (once of Pedro the Lion) is Shannon's producer, writing partner and jack-of-all-trades in the studio. Frank Lenz (whose outstanding album The Hot Stuff I reviewed in January) drums and helped write two tracks as well.

The result is a breezy affair, which allows Shannon's fluid and expressive voice plenty of room to find its feet. Much more than an exercise in nostalgia, these songs evoke the past with an eye toward the future. This stuff hardly sounds dated.

It's good to hear Shannon once again. I wouldn't have predicted this sound for her, but it works so well I can find no reason to complain. She and Wescott created the perfect platform for her voice, and she just nailed the audition.

Sometimes I get an album and it so piques my curiosity that I just can't quite place where my interest is coming from. The Silent Goodbye plays overly long songs in a somewhat clumsy and ham-handed style. The chord progressions (not to mention to lyrics) are astonishingly pretentious. And yet I'm strangely drawn.

Part of it is the absolute conviction of the band that this music is not just great but world-class. These guys play this decidedly affected material with the energy and style of true rock stars. And while that might make simpler music sound half-baked and overdone, here it simply amplifies the creative energies of the band.

The songs are dreadfully long. They're often turgid. The band plays them with an almost operatic touch, wringing every bit of drama from the wings. And damn if the stuff isn't utterly compelling.

I have a feeling a lot of folks will disagree with my opinion of this stuff. For some reason, the twisted zeal of the band has won me over. There's no good reason for it (and certainly no accounting for my taste), but I find the Silent Goodbye beguiling in the most vulgar of ways.

Six songs from the outlaw side of country music. Speedbuggy USA prefers to call its sound "cowpunk," but there's a lot more cow than punk. And just enough rock and roll and folk to drop this smack dab in the middle of the dread "alt. country" morass.

Actually, the closest reference point I can find are the Mermaid Avenue projects, where Billy Bragg and Wilco wrote music to accompany a number of unfinished Woody Guthrie songs. The loose arrangements and spirited playing would fit in well there.

Just a fun set, even if it's way too short. Six songs? Sixteen would have been much more welcome. Speedbuggy USA's laid back style is most welcome in these here parts.

Imagine you are David Lee Roth. You've just left Van Halen. And instead of veering into 50s and 60s rock, you decide to kick start the kitsch groove rock sound.

Well, Spookie (that would be the singer) doesn't have Roth's pipes, but he does have that low rumble, and he speak-sings his lyrics (just like Diamond Dave when he was playing the hipster). The music lies somewhere between Smashmouth and the Spin Doctors, though it usually has a ton of extra junk tossed on top. Piano, horns, you name it.

And the band isn't afraid to completely change moods, slipping in a Latin feel here and some trip-hop there. It's all in good fun, though Spookie doesn't seem to have the self-awareness to wink at his audience. This is silly-sounding music, and that's a compliment.

Deep? Naw. Introspective? Come on. But as party jams go, Spookie Daly Pride has what it takes to impress. Just ride along with the goofs, and you'll have a good time.

The recording leaves a lot to be desired. The playing and writing, however, is first-rate. Strychnine manages to make its points with sly humor, rather than overwrought angst. And the riffage rumbles well into the night.

I do wish I good hear this better. But then, I guess the lo-fi treatment does have a charm all its own. If I really crank up the volume, just about everything in the house shakes.

A fine adrenaline rush. Nothing spectacular, mind you, but more than solid enough to make an impression.

Old Friends:

Brick Layer Cake Whatchamacallit (Touch & Go)
It's been seven years since Todd Trainer (drummer for Shellac, Rifle Sport, etc.) has put on his BLC guise and cranked out some seriously deranged music. The riffs are thick, the tempos too slow to believe. BLC may be rock and roll constipation, but the stuff still sounds fabulous when cranked to 11.

Malkum & Chris Yes, I Want to Go (Buckatoon)
Another sterling acoustic blues set from Malkum Gibson (harp) and Chris Kleeman (steel guitar). A few classics, a few lesser-known oldies and a couple originals that fit in nicely. An all-around fine album.

NOFX/Rancid BYO Split Series Volume III (BYO)
Rancid plays six NOFX tunes. NOFX plays six Rancid tunes. Fat Mike writes the liners. A winning formula all the way around. Lots of fun, and that's pretty much the whole point.