Let's get something straight right away. This is bubblegum punk, and nothing more.

I like bubblegum punk. It's good for a sunny day on the beach and a trashy kiss-and-tell fundamentalist evangelist expose book. And I like this album better than the first one.

But we're not talking about solving the earth's problems or anything pretentious. The attempts at social commentary are more silly than affecting, and I get this feeling the BTJ boys have listened to a little too much Social Distortion.

Add in a bizarre, way-overblown cover of the Steve Miller tune "The Joker". As I recall, it was meant as an anti-anthem. The boys missed the point. Completely. Kinda like that rendition of "Mrs. Robinson" by Kik Tracee (yipes) a few years back.

Fun, guys. This music is all about fun. Okay?

Some ex-Triffids collect together with new blood to continue their tribute to American pop music.

Much of this is positively gushing sounding, the lush production nearly overwhelming everything else. Thankfully, the songs are quite well-written and manage to pierce through the wall of sound.

They do an oddly upbeat rendition of the Leonard Cohen-Phil Spector tune "Memories", but it works, as does the rest. A disc I don't want to take out of the discer.

The usual goods from Tranceland: awesome rhythm section, not so much focus on the vocals.

Crust plows its way through fifteen tracks (!!), most of them fairly humorous, some slightly tasteless or even sickening.

This is a little tighter than their previous efforts, I think. Somehow I detect a coherence that was not around before. It still whomps me in the butt and leaves me bleeding by the side of the road.

Just in case you thought grindcore had faded...

This is a pretty punchy and commercially produced kinda grindcore, to be sure, but the spirit manages to burn through the veneer at least some of the time.

As for the quality of the songs, they're a little repetitious, even by the standards of the genre. But in short doses (which is, of course, what it's all about), Disgust crank a fine level of adrenaline.

I still get the "God, wouldn't it be really cool to sound like Hank Rollins?" vibe, complete with the current Rollins Band blend metallic riffs over hard core beats.

Lyrically, this is general unfocused pissed off rage. While I agree with the anti-rape sentiment of "Ritual", I get the feeling these folk have read a lot and not understood quite as much. It comes off as a reading of propaganda, as well-intentioned as it is.

You gotta love any band with two drummers and a drum machine. An emphasis on percussion, perhaps?

Not overly, anyway. Most of the time the songs grind away with a driving rhythm that is just plain infectious.

Much more technologically advanced than their last album, on this disc the Evil Mothers also have figured out how to find a groove and exploit it (an unusual talent in the industrial arena).

Much like the seeming paradox of the rap band (only Stetsasonic and maybe Schoolly D's backup come to mind there), Evil Mothers prove that there is such a thing as a real industrial band. Guys who can get together, jam, and still output the industrial goods.

Absolutely, positively amazing. I simply cannot say enough.

The 90210 poster boys (their last album cover has been in many shots at the radio station, I understand) return (only a few months late) with a much poppier sound.

It seems to work a little better for these guys, however, as they always seemed a little uncomfortable with getting out of control. There are the obligatory punk moments, but no Jane's Addiction references here, and I applaud that excision.

The whole thing still reeks of major label blues at times, but overall Fat Tuesday are enjoyable and even occasionally crankable.

Sloppy hard core that tries to (slightly) funk things around. The guitars have that no-bass buzzsaw sound which begins to wear after a while.

Lots of angst and not so much substance to the lyrics. The weird thing is, I still like this.

Yeah, objectively this is on the wanting side. But there is an energy (or something) that really attracts me. No rational reason, just something in the riffs (which get to be sublime at times) that steals my attention.

I should think this sucks, but I really dig it. Funny how that is sometimes.

The Soundgarden sound has invaded San Diego with a fury. But, thankfully, the vocals counter the anthemic riffs with a reedy delivery. Sounds cool, believe it or not.

Hate Head does need to find its own sound in the mishmash of grunge conventions it has taken on, but there's time. I can hear moments of creativity exploding through the attack, and with enough encouragement this could be a great band.

You can dig through for some cool tunes to play. Beats most of the grungoid records I've heard lately.

Focusing more on the punk than the pop grunge of their last album, Heatmiser have come closer to creating their own identity.

Sure the punk is still poppy, but aggression is the order of the day. These guys have a need for sonic assault.

A taste of the boys before their second album comes out in the fall, Heatmiser are dead on target this time out. Miss at your own peril.

I first saw this act as an opener for Pigface. We had just sat through a garishly awful Stick set, and were not ready or willing for what happened next.

The problem with experimental music live (and if this isn't experimental...) is that it's damned hard to connect with an audience. If I had happened to be on some sort of hallucinogenic or something, then maybe things would have been different.

But I prefer to see my shows relatively straight. Also, when you only have two guys running around manically simply trying to keep all the appropriate levels of feedback whining all the time, the music loses its effect a little.

On disc, however, Schultz and Pounder are able to control their surroundings and do more than one thing at once. This is music for a psychotic romantic evening. I like to dim the lights, pick up a cool book and put discs like this and Scorn and the like on.

Like any experimental act, Lab Report don't connect all the time. But by pushing the limits of time, space and music, these folk have done everyone a great service. Because, after all, life is not a series of ordered events but a shower of chaos that descends upon us. Mutate or die.

Jangle-pop filtered through a metal/grunge filter. Reminds me a lot of Law and Order, except that the lyrics don't quite have the same bite.

A nice conglomeration of sounds, actually, even though the metal side of things adds a little too much bombast at times.

Cheap and easy thrills, sure, but I can't complain excessively. Catchy as hell at times.

The usual Pigface mode: a lead 12" (or CD5), a fairly straightforward industrial album and then a few more ambient and wacky remixes on another disc.

The first six tracks are regular Pigface album fare. Except that "Asphole" and "Fuck It Up" are catchier than any previous Pigface tunes, and "Chikasaw" is simply stunning.

The rest is more experimental, bordering on the ambient at times. The changeover makes this a little difficult to listen to at one setting, but it's certainly worth the mood swings.

Will the remix disc fuck up the first few songs, while making the rest more coherent? With all the creativity in the mix, I've learned never to try and predict the next Pigface move. Just flow and enjoy.

Attempting to roughen up a Louder-era Soundgarden sound, Psychosis do a fairly good job.

I've heard this sound a lot before, and I think this compares well to Non-Fiction, one of the few bands who have appropriated a grunge sound and done something interesting.

For starters, there are the occasional acoustic touches and slight variation in riff theory that pick up my ears. The rhythm work, in particular, is rather nice.

A natural evolutionary process will have them solidifying a real "Psychosis" sound, as Non-Fiction did with their second album. Real potential lies in these grooves.

As retreads of the late sixties hard rock explosion go, Thee Hypnotics have about as good a feel for the originals as anyone.

Who could miss the many references to Black Sabbath, Cream and Iron Butterfly (not to mention Deep Purple, Mountain, Uriah Heep and even some Rolling Stones moments)? When a couple of Black Crowes sit in, the bombast gives way to blues for a moment.

They play the revival game as well as anyone, and this is a fun album to crank real loud (and the mastering does that anyway). Not an original bone in the machine, it still satisfies a certain craving.

It takes a lot of hard work to be this silly. Those (NoMeansNo) silly Hansons have put together their own league of punk (er, puck) rock-playing teams. Twenty-one tracks of absolutely wacky (though sometimes brutal) paens to the game of the Great White North.

A few people wondered how far the whole Hanson concept could go. If they keep thinking stuff like this up (and don't repeat themselves), I see a long run.

This disc is chock full of fun, plain and simple. If you have a low tolerance for goofiness, then I suppose you should try and find a sense of humor. This stuff is absolutely hilarious. I can't wait to see the Goombah Cup Final.