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

There's this stereotype of music in the big city. Kids leave home playing Mozart and Bach, go to music school in, say, New York, and come home playing some of the weirdest stuff around. Suffice it to say the folks who are collectively known as Anti-Social Music are never going home.

Which isn't to say these pieces are truly off the map. There isn't the almost-blinding idiosyncrasy of a Philip Glass at his most maddening. Nor is there the "concept for concept's sake" form of experimentalism epitomized by John Cage. Rather, these always-engaging works push the envelope by melding together rather disparate styles.

Imagine some of Ornette Coleman's mouthpiece squawks dropped into some Gershwin-style classical jazz. Or a little Vandermarkian riffing within a romantic (if a kinda atonal) atmosphere. In any case, this music is most definitely written and performed to the letter. Improvisation is not on the menu here. If you're surprised by something you hear, it first occurred to the composer.

Which makes these pieces almost more impressive. Improv can bring out some wonderful ideas. But to conceive and then preserve such creativity is truly the mark of greatness. Anti-Social Music knows a few good composers, and the collective knows how to make these works sing.

Public Eyesore sent me a passel of discs. They're all great. I'll be reviewing a couple of them each issue until I finally run out (when you review a limited number of albums a month, you've got to pace yourself).

In any case, I think even the non-Spanish speakers in the audience can translate the title. Castro is an electronic artist who specializes in that somewhat forgotten realm of the ambient. There is but one track here, a long and involved trip through Castro's mind.

Long, but never dull. Castro isn't aggressive with his music, but he sure knows how to light a fire under some great ideas. Within the context he's set up, Castro introduces a multitude of thoughts. He's careful to give each one full expression before adding it to the ether and unveiling the next beauty.

Patience is required, sure, but boy is it rewarded. Castro's hand is steady, and his mind is alive. The trance caused by this disc isn't to be missed.

Of late, most of what I've heard from Revelation has been decidedly toward the extreme range of hardcore. Christiansen lies somewhere between emo and noise pop. Which is, indeed, a very fine place to weigh anchor.

Not only that, either. Christiansen has a good handle on this sound. Crunchy, vaguely disjointed and filled to the rim with great guitar lines. There's just enough of an anthemic tilt to these pieces to lend a certain lurch, that kinda half-stumble which is most attractive.

At times lovely and at times utterly stark raving mean, Christiansen makes the most of its time. These six songs (and a "secret" bonus track) are more than enough to whet my appetite.

A little one-off--Dabrye is still hanging his shingle out with Ghostly International. But first, some work for this new "feature" imprint from Hefty.

Dabrye's realm is electronic. He dabbles in funk and hip-hop and isn't afraid to throw a little jazz in besides. His pieces have a thick sound, but they're never cluttered. Every bit is organized down to the last byte.

There's no getting bored with these fun jams. Sure, Dabrye insists on crafting original beats and clever asides. His experiments simply merge into the smooth flow that he's created. This is music for a mellow, but not calm, evening. If you know what I mean.

And if you don't, well hell. Dabrye's got soul coming out of every electrode, and he's not afraid to infuse his pieces with that emotion and desire. Just makes me like the stuff that much more.

A long time ago grunge was a specific sound, best epitomized by the sludgy anthems of Skin Yard. Then Soundgarden and later Nirvana took that sound and infused both melody and metal guitars. Drywater takes that post-Skin Yard sound and strips out the metal. Leaving heavy, anthemic pop punctuated by ragged harmonies.

Not terribly unlike where Alice in Chains or Screaming Trees ended up, I guess. Drywater has figured out that the trick to this stuff is the hook, and each song has a killer.

This relatively modern take on grunge hits me better than you might figure. The slightly-moaning vocals actually help the songs move along better, and in any case the songwriting is quite good. No matter how you arrange these pieces, they'd probably come out pretty good.

Try not to take this stuff too seriously. I couldn't. I just hung out for the kicks. Which are pretty damned fine, if you must know.

There's something about lilting, brooding pop music that really gets to me. Dutch Kills bores deep into the subconscious, both with its incisive lyrics and loping melodies.

The general structure here is an organized meander. At first listen, the songs seem to just float along. But by the end obvious themes have arisen, and repeat listens confirm that the threads were there all along.

Well-crafted, but not to the point of dullness. Dutch Kills is constantly inventive, working very hard to keep its intense songs lively and interesting. Five songs are simply not enough. I'd like seconds, please.

Those familiar with these two bands will know that an EP featuring these folks won't last long. Like, say, long enough to fill one side of a seven-inch piece of vinyl.

Think U.S. Maple with a serious case of dysentery. Or any noise pop band on crank. Doesn't matter what you think, there's still no way you're going to be prepared for these short, violent assaults on sobriety.

What trips me out is how these two bands can play so loud and so fast and so well. Especially when, at first listen, this stuff sounds like guitar salad. Just part of the charm. Hoo boy, this stuff smokes.

I've been trying to figure out the Fire Show for years now. The only thing I can tell you with certainty is that these folks are damn near geniuses (if they aren't in actuality). Past that, well, little ol' me is a wee bit stumped.

While not direct descendents of Slint, the members of the Fire Show have quite obviously listened to Spiderland hundreds of times between them. Personally, I believe such a regimen is necessary to be a truly functioning member of society. Which may be why I have such contempt for most of the world.

All that aside, the Fire Show tells stories with its songs. Sometimes funny stories, sometimes stories with coherent music. Sometimes with both and sometimes with neither. This is where my confusion enters. I know where these guys are coming from. I just can never piece together where they're going.

That's why I dig this band so much. Every album--hell, every song--is utterly unpredictable. Just when I'm sure I can pin the boys down to one little thing, that notion is dispelled with extreme prejudice by what I'm hearing. Man, do I love bands that keep blazing trails. Even if the trails lead to nowhere in particular.

Much better than the disc I heard a couple years ago. The hooks, well, they're just as caustic and raggedly beautiful as ever. But the rest of the sound has really kicked in. Nowadays, the GC5 sounds like a real goddamn band.

The songwriting is sharper, too. The lyrics are clever, and they add a wee bit of bite to the surroundings. Of course, once the chorus kicks in it's all over. The GC5 sure knows how to crank a song into pop overdrive.

Without being poppy, of course. The guitars have enough rough edges to dispel any notions of slickness, and the vocals (both Pete Kyrou's lead and the backing howls) have just the right level of rasp. If you were trying to craft the perfect summer punk album, well, this just might be it.

And while a boatload of craft went into this album, all of it is well-hidden. What comes through is the band's energy and spirit. All the hard work has been converted into adrenaline. Just like it should be, doncha know.

This disc was produced by Kenny Passarelli, whose work with Otis Taylor and others has been so impressive. And like Taylor, David Jacobs-Strain mixes emotive vocals with intricate guitar strumming and picking to create a somewhat otherworldly version of the blues.

And whether he's doing classics, his own material or arranging traditional songs long past copyright, Jacobs-Strain firmly stamps down his own imprint. There's no mistaking his handiwork.

There's also the astonishing sound achieved by producer Passarelli. As I noted, this album bears a passing resemblance to Otis Taylor's fine works, but Jacobs-Strain focuses a little more on his guitar work (which is often achingly beautiful) than on the imagery of his lyrics. There's more of an old-fashioned picking sound here, and it sounds great.

The power of this album is unmistakable. From the first notes, it is apparent that this disc is not to be missed. The guitar work alone is enough to recommend this set, but Jacobs-Strain has one of those old man voices (particularly surprising for such a young guy) that resonates with the moan of his picking. One of the finds of the year, certainly.

This trio (Hall on percussion, Khoury on violin and Shearer on winds) works its way through a sprightly set of decidedly free jazz. It sounds to me like the genesis of the pieces was improvisational, and they evolved over time to a somewhat more static form.

I really don't have any info to support that inference; I'm just guessing here. Perhaps the main themes were blocked out, leaving room for improvisation (a well-worn jazz writing technique). And perhaps I'll have to renege on that free jazz appellation. There's quite a bit of structure here, though the boys still don't adhere to any particular tradition I'm familiar with at all.

Recorded at a number of locations, this album doesn't have a perfectly consistent sound. Some studios and concert locations are better than others, and it's easy to hear the difference between stops. Not distracting, though, just a point of interest.

The endlessly inventive minds of this trio are what really impress me. Each piece here is worthy, and the set as a whole is almost impossible rich in ideas and strong performances. A delight for the intellectual listener.

If you take the wonderful distorted sound of digital hardcore and combine it with old-fashioned industrial music (back when Einsturzende Neubauten was the best-known practitioner), you'd come up with something close to Latz.

These two Germans (H.J. Mennicken and M. Bulgrin) warp their way through a trove of material--some borrowed and some original. There's a fairly straight-up run-through of "Ring of Fire," and some twisted reworkings of a couple Lene Lovich songs (complete with Lovich's vocals).

In short, this works. Latz doesn't limit itself to mere sledgehammer attacks. It also has a fine sense of techno chilliness, which is employed at the appropriate moments. The sound is filled out nicely that way.

Something of an acquired taste, I'm sure. For me, Latz is a delicacy to be savored. At high volume, the peak of its power.

Melding traditional emo song construction with the sort of off-kilter melodies exemplified by, say, the Smiths, Lewis has created something that never was quite before.

And that is the grand, almost epochal, mopey tune. Just as the best Smiths songs merely plumb the depths of emotion rather than wallow in them, Lewis artfully discusses its pain. The lyrics and music combine to form a unitary force, never forgetting that a swoop contains both a fall and a climb.

The songs are written with a fine sense of craft, and they're played with intense care. Nothing calculated in the final product, though. Rather, these songs play out like intimate conversations. Almost voyeuristic at times.

Pretty, but with an underlying power that's almost irresistible. Diving into these songs is easy. It's the getting out that's tough. And once you finally escape the pull, all you'll want to do is give in once again.

Sometimes you just gotta get into a little trash. Lollipop Lust Kill is nothing more than simplistic, bouncy metal riffage, overblown goth vocals and a lush sound. Think Type O Negative under German engineering. Or maybe latter-day White Zombie with better guitars.

There's even a cover of "Personal Jesus" to fully complete the silliness of this project. I'd like nothing more than to dismiss this as a cheap imitation, but it's just too damned fun.

A lot of that comes from the thick sound. Pillow soft, and yet hard as steel. The perfect confection for those of us who like to indulge cheap metal-industrial complex fantasies now and then.

Great art? Probably not. But in terms of sheer satisfaction, very little compares to Lollipop Lust Kill.

The Mars Volta has six members and at least twice as many faces. At its heart, this is a band that plays experimental futuristic (but not necessarily spacey) prog. With a decided bent toward rapid changes of pace. As might be expected of such a venture, Alex Newport produces.

Reminds me a little of Blue Meanies (without the ska, of course). Just the willingness to experiment and see what sticks. The whipsaw songwriting style would be really annoying, except that the transitions are solid. All three of the songs here make perfect sense, in their own way.

Grandiose, overblown and, you know, brilliant. The Mars Volta aims for the top, and I'd say it gets pretty close. This stuff is a wee bit out there, but not, say, as far as Mars itself.

Some kids today won't believe me (I became convinced only after years and years of skepticism), but back in the late 60s and early 70s a few bands like the Grateful Dead and the Allman Brothers took American roots music, messed around a lot and created some truly astonishing fare. Music the likes of which most folks won't attempt these days.

Moses Guest does. Taking roots, folk, blues and jazz, and then squeezing those ideas through a modified prog sensibility (does anyone remember the Dixie Dregs these days?), this quartet of accomplished musicians turns the trick nicely.

There are nods to the Dead, the Allmans, the Doobies (back when that band was at its creative high point), but what Moses Guest does best is define its own rules. Its own sound. These pieces are given the "modern" roots sound, which is considerably stripped down compared to its 70s predecessors. I like that touch.

I like most of what's here, and there are two full CDs worth of songs to dig. A double album (well, on vinyl it'd be more like a triple album). Yet another nod to the progenitors. With faces pointed toward the future.

The artwork is a series of photos from 11/22/63. Another one of those "famous" dates. I'm not sure what the Kennedy assassination has to do with the songs here, but whatever. The art sure does look cool.

Red Animal War focuses on the rhythmic side of emo. Indeed, its exceptional focus on a tight center really impresses me. This particular style always seems to invoke passion for me. Slowride, on the other hand, is all about thick riffage, power pop and soaring anthems.

Three songs each in an alternating format, and the sound counterpoint that arises is quite refreshing. I like both bands equally in this context, and the differences point out each act's strengths. This is the sorta disc that gives the split EP a good name.

Reverse might well have been at home in the late 80s and early 90s, when glam metal acts were branching out and trying to find new ways to make melodic loud music. Stuff like Law and Order, Warrior Soul and the Kings of the Sun took different paths, and none really succeeded commercially.

The hooks and riffs here are certainly informed by grunge (which is what the kids decided they liked the most out of the "new" melodic metal), but Reverse isn't afraid to drop the heavy guitars and drop a pretty, introspective pop piece like "Overhead" every once in a while.

There are elements of garage rock and other more obvious pop references in this sound as well. Reverse is a hard rock band the same way Foo Fighters is a hard rock band. Not to make too close a comparison--these boys have worked very hard to craft their own sound--but these days it's okay to drape big fuzzy guitars and other pieces of sonic chaos over a pop frame. Just as long as the hooks are solid.

And are they ever. The harmonies in the choruses are tight and impressive. I like what I hear, and that's really the ultimate test for me. Sure, there are plenty of ways to categorize what these guys do. I prefer the simple term "good music."

As much as I dug RJD2's "Let the Good Times Roll" 12" a couple months back, this album is so much more that I'm simply blown away. The collage style of beat mixing and sampling is addictive, and the little robotic intros add just the right amount of fun.

Many times party jams are simplistic and dull affairs, full of repetitive and boring beats and maybe (maybe!) one quality hook. Forget about anything on top of the beats. That kinda stuff is throwaway. Well, RJD2 stands that tired old theory on its head. Incorporating a lot of great blues and soul samples into his throbbing beat work, this fusion of time and space proves that it's more than possible to have fun with satisfying music.

And there are rhymes, every once in a while. I'm not crazy about them--as this is something of a party record, there isn't always a lot said. But the music is stunning. And I don't care about what you might say concerning the use of extended samples. I don't have the liners for this album, but as long as credit is given (and payment made where due), then the use of old sounds to make such a modern recording is just fine with me.

After all, the history of music shows that every innovator is simply taking what has come before and restating it in terms that current listeners can appreciate. RJD2 has crafted an exhilarating thrill ride, one of the most fun discs I've heard in quite a while. There's plenty of life in those old grooves. Long may they crackle.

Another fine bit of constructed music. Ernesto Diaz-Infante and friends. Lx Rudis mans the Matrix 12, Andre Custodio adds darbuka and tom-tom and Ernesto Diaz-Infante contributes guitar, violin and even some voice noise (to call them vocals is probably pushing it).

There are "three college radio-ready edits" at the top of the disc. These comprise the densest and most involved of the pieces. The other 27 tracks are somewhat looser and certainly less intense. Not unlike what Miles did with Bitches Brew, the trio took its source recordings and created the 15 minutes or so at the top of the disc.

Students of this kind of constructed improvisational music will be most interested in dissecting those "complete" pieces and discovering where the sounds originated. For most everyone else, the first three pieces will be more than enough.

And that's because they're great. This isn't to denigrate the rest of the disc--there are plenty of intriguing and engaging moments later on--but I'm a fan of putting as many sounds as possible together, and that's what happens up top. There are a number of ways to enjoy this disc. Use it as you please.

Understated pop music, full of electronic bits and strange snippets of manipulation. Vaguely psychedelic, but it's pretty hard to put a finger on what causes that impression to form.

There's a constant mystery to the sound of Satanstompingcaterpillars. Part of it is the fact that the band shifts its sound from release to release. Here, most of the music seems to be created electronically. The vocals are stage-whispered, and there's this odd feeling that the tape is about to snap.

Of course, I'm listening to a CD. I'm talking about the manipulation of the music to make it sound like a tape in distress. More extreme and uneven than simple tremolo, this effect causes the notes to waver (both in pitch and speed) and produces something of a sinister shimmer.

I like what I'm hearing from this edition. Satanstompingcaterpillars has constantly surprised and delighted me; this disc is no exception. Delve into the bushes and see what you're missing.

Savath + Savalas is Scott Herren, who might be better known to some as the man behind Prefuse 73. Herren has a number of guises, all of them most intriguing. On this effort, he is the composer/conductor/arranger of jazzy pop.

Light in tone, but not in intensity. These instrumentals wax and wane with an almost incandescent fury--but the tone stays mellow. It's just the thoughts that burn.

Herren has a way of taking basic forms and adding new levels of complexity. These pieces could have been written by Burt Bacharach, but the arrangements are much fuller and more stylish than even the best 70s pop. That's why those in the know always pay attention to Herren. No matter what he calls himself at any given moment.

If you like yer Britpop with more of a rock edge, Six by Seven might turn the trick. This album finds the boys a bit more contemplative and laid-back than previous efforts, but that hasn't slackened the overall focus of the work. Well-crafted and gorgeous, as usual.

Not many bands can flit from a Smiths-style ode to a Fall-ish rant to a Weddoes-type strummer without sounding absolutely daft. Six by Seven shifts gears effortlessly, and because the band's context has been so deftly presented, climbing up and down the ladder makes perfect sense.

Methinks calling this album more laid-back was a mistake. It's more like the sounds are more diverse. The band has matured, and it is now capable of playing a wider range of songs with confidence. Every piece here is a little gem, and while perhaps some might have sounded out of place before, on this album all of the bits fit just right.

Pastiche is a well-worn Britpop staple. Six by Seven uses the technique more in putting together an entire album, rather than just a single song. All of the different songs here click when heard as a piece. They're great separately, of course, but together they really make a statement.

I wonder if these guys named themselves after the old Pirates pitcher Kent Tekulve. You remember the series of '79, don't you? The dude with the funny glasses and the submarine throwing motion? Oh well. Anyway, these boys play a nicely rollicking version of noise pop, the kinda stuff that could be called emo. Except that the guitars are a little too melodic.

That and this music consists of lines that bob and weave, creating meaning at the points where they intersect. Tekulvi has advanced that theory by introducing competing rhythmic lines as well. The overall effect can be distracting--at least when the lines are meandering. But often enough the whole comes together for a minute of serious distillation. Might even call it a shakedown.

A pretty mess. A mess that isn't messy at all. Just good. When I wondered if the guys knew where they were going, I always received an answer in the affirmative. Nice of them to pay attention to my needs so well.

Old Friends:

Voodoo Glow Skulls Steady As She Goes (Victory)
The Voodoo Glow Skulls take their show to Victory, and this disc is just as fast and furious as anything they've done before. Another solid outing from the Casillas brothers and friends. Don't miss the show (that can't be said often enough!).