Traditional metal riffs and Sabbath stylings flying together with funky rhythms and slightly processed vocals.

A lot of this has a late-eighties feel. You know, when bands like Mordred and Faith No More actually released records. When it works, it cooks. "Tranquilized" starts off as a really great song.

Of course, Acid Bath has this silly tendency to drop a Sabbath reference at the worst possible time. Like when "Tranquilized" is really grooving, the band cuts off the funk and goes into a free-form Sabbath tribute for a few minutes. Um, guys?

I just don't understand why bands feel compelled to destroy a perfectly good groove. Perhaps they don't want to be sissies or something dumb like that? Come on. There is a lot of potential wandering around here. The members of Acid Bath should be forced, however, to burn all of their Sab records. Get on with your own career.

The sorta album that leaves you breathless just listening to it. I think this is the kinda thing doctors should play to patients in terminal comas. If it doesn't wake them up, the folks are brain dead.

Bile has an amazingly aggressive industrial attack. Most industrial acts are predatory by nature, but Bile seems to want to leave scorched earth in its wake. This is positively soul-wrenching music.

I don't think anyone has achieved this sound before because no one really wanted to. There is a definite slowing of time at the edge of anything, and once Bile takes hold, it may seem like ages before you can crawl back and reclaim consciousness.

Nasty and evil, pure and simple. The band's name says it all, and the music speaks for itself. A lot of you have latched on to this like mother's milk, and I don't blame you. Feed and grow stronger, children of the beast.

After the up-tempo wonder of the a-side of their single, I was expecting a little more of the same on the album. Well, I know this is a soundtrack and all, but I was still hoping for music that would stand out.

It is there. The problem was my preconceived notions about how Brise-Glace should sound. I should have known better. Brise-Glace is the last band to try and pin down to anything.

Headed up by Jim O'Rourke (Gastr Del Sol and many other bands), Brise-Glace is a collection of "alternative" musicians who have decided to make a jazz record. And not just any jazz record, but a really weird one. One that would probably sound more in step with sonic constructionists, except that this music is performed, not sampled. And the music...

Can't be defined. Not now, not ever. The songs usually end up focusing on some odd rhythm or another, and you can count on a distinct lack of melody. The recurring theme is almost always somewhere in the rhythm. It is hypnotic.

And, well, brilliant. Why else would such folk as Henry Kaiser stop by and contribute? Brise-Glace refuse to stoop to expectations. Instead, the music soars above such mundane things.

If there is such a thing as the Columbia (Mo.) sound, Ditch Witch is it. Piling heavy, melodic riffs on top of punk-shout vocals and tying it all up in a college rock package, these boys have been around the area for years.

As a caveat, I have liked this band and one of its predecessors, 2.2 Children for a long time. Like five or six years. Just so you know.

Live, the band can be more animated, but the six new tracks on the disc display the moodiness that seems to attract many of the M.U. unwashed to the shows. The other five tracks are from the Faye Records 7"s, though not all of the "Her Fall" double 7" is included. Many of you (maybe all) haven't had access to that fine work, and it deserves light.

Speaking truthfully (as I like to do), "If I Lose" is one of my all-time favorites. It rips with an emotional intensity that you don't usually find in such sonic ware. That emotion makes Ditch Witch a real force, whether the song being performed is mellower or heavier.

This almost came out on Jawbox's DeSoto label, and you can hear a lot of post-punk influence going on here.

Not out of place with such folk as Girls Against Boys and other D.C. noise types, Edsel use creative percussion rhythms and a crashing guitar sound to set the table for nice pop melodies. It takes a while to peel through the sounds and figure out where everything is at, but that's just part of the fun.

This does fit in somewhere among the pop minimalist school, I suppose, but Edsel occupy the creative end of that spectrum. For starters, the songs are not limited to simple meandering. They often completely transcend their origins and cross over into a whole new pop plane. Very spectacular at times.

Jams, jams, jams. This isn't exactly easy music, but is sure is good. Edsel will worm its way into your brain.

Much the same as their album, also reviewed in this issue. Minimalist pop expanded into the universe.

For each song, Edsel finds some little kernel that can be exploited and made great. This is kinda hard to explain without playing the music, so why don't you just throw this thing on the turntable and find out for yourself?

Both tunes are gems; Edsel is truly cool.

Another of those highly Iron Maiden-influenced death metal bands. And once again, the mix of mid-eighties Euro-metal and death metal is a tasty one.

It's the rare death metal album that could be termed catchy, but Furbowl does its best. The riffage is creative and melodic, and the production is touched up with some keys and a fiddle (as opposed to a violin).

Like the best Euro-metal, Furbowl keeps things moving along at a quick, but not too quick, pace. There is plenty of time for the leisurely fast guitar solo and drum break. A lot of things were put in the pot, and miraculously, the simmered mixture is divine.

Boy, lots of things swirling around here. There more than a touch of doom, some (programmed) double-bass pounding old-school percussion, a load of classical vocal samples and more. The production is a little on the sparse side, where I was hoping for lush, but I got used to it , even starting to dig the sound.

When this stuff comes together right, like on "Drowning in Sorrow", it is really good. There are middling parts on the album, but nothing gets dreary. Keep plowing through and you'll find more goodies.

This project is the brainchild of Bobby Sadzak, once of the (Canadian) band Slaughter. He plays all the bass and almost all the guitars, not to mention program the drums and lay in the keyboards. There are a couple more full-time members and a load of guests wandering about. Despite what I would consider an odd way to record an album and function as a band, this disc is great. The louder you play it, the better it gets.

Album #2, and this one is filled just as high with crunchy rhythms, pounding bass and squealing guitar. Often enough, the rhythm section seems to be at war, adding to the chaos of the moment.

In fact, there is more than a latent trace of funk here. It's just hidden underneath all that noise, like the vocals. And to be honest, the vocals just aren't that integral to the overall Johnboy sound.

In all, nine songs of controlled chaos. Highly combustible and ready to spurt. This is every bit as fine as their debut, and perhaps just a smidge better. Things have tightened up in the slightest way, leaving a little more of the soft underbelly exposed. Just the way it should be.

I know, minimalist pop is going around like a bad disease. As if those Pavement freaks weren't bad enough, there's a thousand other bands who discovered that their musical talent would lead to only one sound...

And then there are those who use the form in a more creative way. It's a fine line, really, between godawful and good, and Locus Solus straddles it. At times the band achieves something wonderful, merging monotonous riffs, monotonous melody and the occasional shout to a nice effect. And then sometimes it just sounds dull and uninspired. I think the good songs are the ones that aren't borrowing from anything in particular. And in this form, not borrowing can be quite difficult.

Locus Solus Has a nice record here. Some really great songs, some pretty terrible ones. Dig through, and I bet you'll pick different ones than I. Good.

Um, still Billy Milano and folks he recruited to carry on the name. Not that they're untalented hacks (quite the opposite), but this is still Milano's project. He wrote all the lyrics and split music writing duties. I'll quit bitching about that particular thing now, because I also understand how difficult it is to let go of a profitable marketing tool like the M.O.D. name.

Like the last Megaforce album, this is pretty decent metal-core. Nothing great, but it's certainly tight, well-played and even somewhat catchy. Dated? Yeah, but then Anthrax and Sacred Reich are still getting paid, so why not Billy and friends?

I've never been the biggest M.O.D. fan, and this doesn't turn me. It's a good album, and it does continue the M.O.D. sound spectrum, but I just hope for something more.

No one questions Tony MacAlpine's talent. He has technical skills on the guitar that almost every other player around would kill to get a hold of. But he has always been searching for a signature piece, a song or album or even just a riff that would really define his sound, his place in the realm of guitarists.

I don't see that here. The songs are a little cooler than recent efforts, giving them an even more Satriani-esque color. No stealing, but just a general feel.

As usual, MacAlpine goes through as many effects as he does scale runs, which keeps things lively and interesting. You can't fault him for not trying.

Another solid album, but not the one to really break Tony MacAlpine into the

After a couple of releases on Epidemic licensed through Metal Blade, James Cavalluzzo and his Malhavoc cohorts have signed a nicer deal with the folks at Cargo.

The expected from Malhavoc: highly stylized industrial production, severe sonic pain, a concept of the music as art. This disc is intended to be the story of a certain MC.J.C. (you guess) and his view of life. And if you don't get it the first time, then there are alternate tracks orderings listed in the liners.

Pretentious or what? Yes, it is. But you can also listen on a purely superficial level and still get off on the music. If you thought Premeditated Murder was big step up for the band, get your hands on this. Malhavoc cycles through genres and emotions in the quest to explain…well, all this MC.J.C. stuff.

I thought after the last album that the band's improvement curve would be getting flat by now. But this is another huge jump forward. I won't underestimate again. This is sublime.

Hoarse vocals, rough-yet-rolling guitar licks, and a brutal bass and drums attack that will leave you gasping. Something somewhere in the mix screams "Freedom Rock on PCP!" And, well, Mule's a lot better than that.

If you're like a lot of people out there, you'll say "yeah, Mule's really cool" 'cause Spin said so and then forget to play them.

But if you really listened to Mule, you would have no choice in the matter. Because even the slightest devotion to the musical slave-driver that is Mule will compel you to become a disciple, or apostle, or whatever. You will evangelize; you will spread the faith.

Because, in the end, that's what college radio is all about. Bands like Mule that are so great you just can't keep them to yourselves. Tell your friends down at the bait shop or crack house or wherever. They'll be glad you stopped by. And so will Mule.

The world's first environmentally-conscious death metal album? Probably not, but I can't recall such an album so single-minded that way.

To preface the rest of the review: I appreciate that Obituary was trying to evolve and do something new. That wins points in my book. I applaud the members for the effort.

But the result; it does bring to mind the old saw of "every song sounds the same". Most of the tunes feature fairly slow riffs and vocal layering that get repetitive very quickly. Now, when things speed up a little (like to Slayer speed), then a little more of the old Obituary comes through, and things sound different. For this record.

I prefer tunes like "Redefine" and "Solid State" to "Don't Care" and "Boiling Point". It's odd that two such divergent ideas would trade blows on the same album. I like the concept of change; the second trick is to do it well. Obituary has a little work to do there.

Sparse. Real sparse. The press sheet is some sort of poetry (pretty cool), the music is an odd take on Neil Young's version of folk music. So you could call Palace Brothers unusual.

If you're familiar with the previous work, then you're somewhat ready. But the production for the most part leaves a lot of space between the instruments and voices and the microphone. It gets a weird result, but I like it. The songs themselves often don't have much construction on the surface. Well, compared to more traditional folk forms, anyway.

Again, it takes an effort to like this music right off. But that debt will be repaid many times over.

If you remember the Mayo Thompson re-issue from earlier in the summer, you should be prepared.

Having been around for over 25 years, The Red Krayola is the main vehicle of Thompson's muse. He gets a few friends together and they play some very odd music. In years past it might have been called "psychedelic pop", I suppose, but that term has mutated over the years, and I don't think that's quite right now.

I think I like "eclectic pop" better. The Red Krayola folks turn traditional rhythms ad melodies on their heads, exposing them as the true opiates of the masses. It can be difficult listening to an album with so many discordant statements, but as you know, I like that sort of thing.

Anything that makes me think this much is certainly fine. And if this music doesn't haunt your mind like a pissed off secret, then you didn't listen hard enough the first time. Like it says, "Play Extremely Loud."

I thought this sort of thing had faded, but I guess not. A few of you out there may remember a band called East Ash on C'est la Mort records. You can find them in cut-outs now. But anyway, the members of East Ash were big U2 fans, which came through in a garish way in their music. That the singer served me a lot of drinks before my 21st birthday notwithstanding, I didn't like them.

Rollinghead isn't quite as obvious in its musical affection. The music is more often standard college rock stuff, but singer Dave Grant affects a Bono-esque smarm a little too much for comfort.

The irony here is that Rollinghead is from Kalamazoo. About 20 miles away. I'm not sure if I've seen them before, and I'd say the same thing after listening to this disc. It's nondescript. I've heard a million like it before and will hear that many in the future. Nothing is awful; I'd remember that. Rollinghead needs to work some more and really find that something that makes a band. It just takes time.

Originally intended to be a Seconds solo project, Mr. Kevin decided he liked what happened so well that he made this more of a real band. Now that the record is done, for example, he found a bassist. But there is no bass playing in any of the songs here.

You don't miss it, really, because most of the guitar chords are centered around the low E string anyway. Kevin's songs are a little more upbeat than the last 7 Seconds album. Hell, he seems to be having a lot of fun here.

Honestly, though, there isn't anything new. If you like Drop Acid or 7 Seconds or any of the myriad other things Seconds has done in his career, you're likely to dig this. If you didn't, then you probably won't. If you have never heard of any of there things, then shove this into the discer and press play. I like the sorta poppier sound here a lot, and I've dug Seconds about wherever he's been. Much fun.

Extra-chunky punky grunge stuff coming out of Southern California (imagine!). But jeez, that guitar is THICK!

The songs are in the pop vein and have great hooks and lyrics. There isn't anything to complain about, and a lot to rave on about.

As a slab of punk glory, Maquee is tops. But Smile has a little more in mind. The production makes the sound heavier than any similar band I've heard. Well, Fluf came close, but this still piledrives that sound to the dust.

And the songs are positively addictive. It's like eating chocolate ants, or maybe drinking good beer. You just know this stuff is good for you. Jump around all you want, get an aerobic workout. Keeps you singing along in the car so you don't fall asleep on those late-night commutes. Whatever.

Smile makes me do just that. Wow. A really great album.

Smog is Bill Callahan (with the occasional friend), a guy who is somewhat of an underground sensation.

Self-indulgent to a fault (some intros take more time than King Crimson or ELP), there are still many wonderful moments on this disc, particularly when things get moving in a most unusual way.

As you can expect with a Drag City artist, the pop music contained herein is most strange, denying the obvious truth that the simplest way to joy is a pure, ecstatic melody. No, for folks like this, the simplest way to joy is beating yourself, recording your agonized moans, beating yourself again, stripping those moans onto some sounds of cattle breeding, beating yourself again, releasing the thing as a song. The joy comes in listening to the thing.

None of the music sounds like that, except for the beating yourself part. This gets so personal and strange it can be painful to listen to. It sucks to be this Bill. And we have to listen to it. If it weren't so interesting, I might even be pissed.

The one thing that bugged me about these guys when they were Wrathchild America was the woeful inconsistency of the songs. The Souls at Zero disc was an improvement there, if nothing else than a coalescing of their preferred styles. But there was still this nagging feeling that sometimes they wanted you to notice their (great) playing rather than what they were laying down.

Which leads to this disc. The original songs (three new, one demo from the LP) are pretty good, but the covers really suck. That's both playing and rendition-wise. I guess I never liked those songs in the first place.

I'm still curious where Souls at Zero is going to wander. That's why these little EP releases are so damned aggravating. What hints you get as to the direction of the band are all washed out in the shit you have to wade through. Here's to an album soon.

Well, if Rollins Band found a little funk, used a more traditional metal guitar sound and Hank actually decided to sing, those folk might sound like Treacherous Human Underdogs.

This disc was produced by Melvin Gibbs of Rollins Band. I don't know if it was his influence or what, but everything seems so mundane. The riffs are precise, all playing and singing are immaculate. But there is no fire, no emotion. When Leon Lamont Hinds sings the words "Raped at Birth", he almost mumbles them. Where's the feeling?

Not terrible, but awful generic all the same. Treacherous Human Underdogs need to work on feeling the music being performed.

Pleasant folk pop, somewhere between the Moon Seven Times and the Indigo Girls.

The production isn't overly lush, which helps focus attention on Carrie and Libby Johnson's voices. A good place to start.

The Johnsons also write songs that complement their vocal talent and also manage to affect the listener. It's easy to cheese out when you're playing music like this, and 22 Brides manage to simply keep a nice, mellow feeling rolling along.

A lot of things combined at just the right level to make this album wonderful. Hopefully the future will be as kind to 22 Brides.

A new song, "Can I Get a Witness", five covers and five live tracks.

The new track is alright, but a little silly and sounds a lot like bands the notes slag. The production on the five covers reflects the $200 the band insisted on holding the spending line at. As an artistic statement about the way those songs were recorded in the first place, it's cool. But it still sounds like complete shit.

The live tracks have a great sound, and the songs (being older) are better. But to get excited about the live cuts on an album, well...

Warzone may be a hardcore stalwart (though I have heard other opinions) and all, but this is a pretty bad excuse for a record.

Slightly punky (mostly in that most songs are rather short and fast) pop, with a lot of stuff around the edges that can only be termed psychedelia.

It shouldn't work, I know, but there is something earnest in the delivery. And the energy flow is off the register. Unlike many feedback freaks, Wrens know all the angles, from laid-back to caterwauling scream.

The songs follow in that way, too, keeping you on your toes. Just in case you were ready to pigeonhole these guys, oops, they slid off again. I like that a lot. And there is a lot to like here. Using every tool in their possession, the Wrens craft edgily arresting music. You won't be able to stop listening.

Butterglory
Crumble advance cassette
(Merge)

Simple, understated pop. The occasional burst of guitar glory makes this an even more appealing album.

Widely-instrumented pop. This sounds like the perfect Merge band: Songs with a reason, wondrous playing and an off-kilter pop sound.