Well, before I really wank on this album, I must say I really like the guitar sound. It is really great.

But, much like their last record, the boys in Agressor don't stick to one idea for more than ten seconds or so. The overdubbing is blatant and annoying. I know albums are created in the studio, but it takes real work to make a disc sound like it was done in one take. Not here.

I suppose if the guys had more original ideas, some of this could be acceptable. They can all certainly play, but there is no experimentation at all. Everything is a rehash, and in the odd moment when Agressor finds a nice little groove, it's always gone within seconds.

Not a movie, mind you, but a CD-ROM game.
The music takes elements of your average video game music (the martial qualities, the cheesy synthesizers, etc.) and merges that with your average Alien Sex Fiend music.

And that's not average at all. Yeah, since you need music for both the good and the bad guys, some cliches are necessary. And at times ASF relies a little too heavily on the generic video game drone.

But I'd also like to get a copy of the game (not to mention a CD-ROM) to hear just how all of this is put together. Much like what Chemical People did for the Dark Brothers, ASF has taken video game music to a new level. And the mixes show what can be done with this music outside of the CD-ROM. Tame, but interesting.

For some unknown reason, the only place the songs are listed in their correct order is on the CD, which is sorta a pain in the ass.

But for the most part, you can't tell one song from another anyway. The first three go blitzing off into some sort of distorted thrash realm, powered by what really sounds like a cheap drum machine. Okay, so "War Machine" is pretty good (ironic that it is the slow piece among the collection).

And after that, there's more of what came earlier, and a couple other decent songs. You know, I don't mind thrash, but do something with it. Just cranking things up to 150 bpm and laying over moronic guitar licks does not take genius.

I didn't expect a legendary performance, but I also didn't think I'd get a third-rate Slayer impersonation. Bleah.

Approaching pop introspection with the same approach to dynamics as Engine Kid, Bear manages to veer much closer to the mainstream than their American soul-mates.

First off, these folks were raised on the Smiths and other melancholy pop bands that never quite broke through over here, so there is more of a tradition on that side of the pond.

The three tracks are all quite nice, but the stunner is "Counting", a masterpiece of morose emotion that runs over 10 minutes long. The other two tracks are shorter, but each is quite different than the other. In fact, "Not Even People" owes a nice debt to Neil Young, who made it acceptable to painfully distort a bass guitar as Bear does.

Would that there was more.

This album marks the debut of Cemetary as a post-death metal band. Sure, a few years back, Cemetary was solidly in, but the transition begun with Godless Beauty is finished on Black Vanity, and there's no looking back.

The standard in this nebulous world of doom/death metal is still Tiamat's Clouds, but Cemetary makes a strong statement with this album. And since what was left of Tiamat has moved on, well, Cemetary just might take the crown.

Quite honestly, many parts of this album are downright gorgeous, mostly due to fine guitar work. The keyboards, when used, are complimentary and not excessive.

The tunes are written to be dramatic and rather anthemic, but the work is good and it sounds great. Cemetary has crafted a fine disc.

Imagine Perry Farrell trying to croon Sheryl Crow songs. Or something like that.

Of course, Chevy Heston doesn't steal its songs from 70s cheese like Crow does, and therein lies the charm. Sure, the words are pretty pretentious at times, and the drums seem to be stuck on the same syncopation, but you keep moving along.

As does Chevy Heston. This isn't a masterwork by any stretch of the imagination, but the band has some interesting ideas, and you have to admit this stuff is amazingly unique for belonging to the same area of music that is trendy these days. A worthwhile spin.

Cub joyously bounces around in that nebulous realm between pop and punk that seems to center itself somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. These three women from Vancouver call their music "cuddlecore", but I think I'll stay away from that moniker, too.

The sparse production serves the songs well. Cub writes understated tunes that are even better appreciated on second and even third listens. Nothing preachy, and yet the messages get across just fine. Perhaps there is a lesson here...

And no fear of silliness here. Anyone who records a song whose bridge is "Dress like a boy/Pee like a girl" is quite alright by me.

Come Out Come Out surprised the hell out of me. It's full of great pop tunes, with no clinkers at all. Well, the single cover, "Vacation" is a little cliche, but then again, why not be silly at times?

There are lots of reasons I can't take black metal seriously. For one, it's just damned silly. But then, you could say that about the origins of grindcore and death metal years ago. So there must be more.

And there is. Unlike death metal and grindcore, black metal isn't a radical music change. Most of it is cheap thrash. In Darkthrone's case, it's cheap thrash sequenced by a cheap Casio. Or at least it sounds that way.

For you who really like this stuff and know what I'm talking about, four of these songs were written by the infamous Count Grishnackh, who is still in jail for generally being a dick (and for murder, too, I think). Since the lyrics are in Norwegian, it's kinda hard to tell exactly what they're about.

"Darkthrone is for all the evil in man." Um, okay.

Only for the connoisseur. I'm a big fan of experimental sound construction, so I like this a lot. DVOA is Mark Spybey, a guy from Vancouver with apparently far too much time on his hands.

Spybey keeps things fairly loose and unassuming. The samples come from everywhere, but rarely does one element drown out the rest.

I can listen to this sort of thing for hours, trying to figure out how someone collected all the sounds and put them together the way they did. This is not mere experimentation; there is an attractive end product.

But DVOA has no intentions of attracting even mainstream college listeners. You must be prepared, and if you are, you will be rewarded.

Sometimes you listen to a disc and just gasp: "Now that's a fucking album!"

"Twilight", the first track, is worth the cash for the disc. Seven-plus minutes of beauty and fury. Despite protestations to the contrary, Edge of Sanity has moved more toward melody and other doom conventions, but there is plenty of the old school viciousness to keep the purist fans happy.

Whine if you want about keyboards and such. That will carry no truck with me. If you can listen to this disc and say it sucks, then you live in another musical world than I do. Edge of Sanity has always been one of the more experimental death metal bands around (particularly for one from Sweden), and Purgatory Afterglow keeps that legacy alive. So you can actually hear musical thoughts and compositional progressions. This isn't blind chaos; it's music at its most advanced form.

The songs are all solid. The playing has gotten better, if that's possible, and Edge of Sanity is still out there pushing the boundaries of death metal. It may be loud, heavy and fast, but I get the feeling more than a few in the mainstream will be discovering Edge of Sanity this time out.

About three years ago my radio station was putting on this festival. We had a few regional acts, and then ALL and Flaming Lips to headline. The Lips got lost, and we didn't know if they'd show. If they didn't, the guys in ALL assured us their roadie band was one of the best in the world.

Well, now Scott Reynolds is singing for a version of that roadie band, and the results aren't too surprising. This sounds like a rougher ALL. The production leaves a little to be desired, but then not everyone can be Bill Stephenson and Steven Edgerton behind the knobs.

Much like ALL albums since Reynolds' departure, Goodbye Harry is closer to the Descendents at many times than the ALL discs of the late 80s. There is a more hardcore feel to much of the record, and the production I referred to earlier helps in that aspect.

But at the end, what you have is a wonderful heavy pop disc. Reynolds' voice is one of the most distinctive (and recently missing) voices around, and it sure is nice to hear that chirpy wail again. And it's nice to see his daughter growing up on the cover (she was at the show we did in Columbia, too).

Nicely engineered to an exacting lo-fi standard, Gorefest rips through 10 smashing pieces of death metal.

The usual fine songwriting is back, and the boys have all the tools to make those jewels shine. Simply put, no one can pump vitality into old school death metal like Gorefest (sorry, Bolt Thrower... these guys are better).

A real test of death mettle is whether or not you can listen to the disc all the way through. Some refer to this as the "it all sounds alike" test. Whatever. Gorefest beats that to a pulp. I went through the disc once, and then again just to make sure I liked it as much as I thought.

Well, I did. And I wanted a third shot (but I had a few other things to listen to). No, this isn't bombastic or oppressive. Just lean and mean songs, recorded almost in a hardcore style (the sound, I mean). Gorefest doesn't beat you over the head. It comes right up to you and rips out your heart. Yikes.

Ever since Elvis joined the army, Chuck Berry went to jail and Buddy Holly plowed into Iowa (and the music establishment established a beachhead on rock music it has never relinquished), there have been scattered rebels who play like it's still 1958.

Occasionally these types pop up on the big scene, like the Rev. Horton Heat or Stray Cats, but these folks are usually treated more as novelties than serious musicians by the mainstream.

So Hi-Fi and the Roadburners don't have much hope for a big wad of cash. Oh well. They play music in the Chuck Berry tradition: short songs, sweet licks and hoarse vocals. The R&B tradition is represented in full swing, with a full-time sax and great rhythm section. Jeff Schuch keeps cranking out nice bits of guitar song after song, and Hi Fi (aka Erik Kish) has a nice, unrestrained sound to his voice.

I'm pretty much a sucker for this sort of thing. Hi Fi and the Roadburners are more retro than most, as even their lyrics follow the urban blues tradition that gave birth to rock and roll so long ago. Damned fine.

Led by Richard 23 of Front 242, Holy Gang rambles through a familiar mish-mash of metal samples and hoarse vocals.

While there may be 10 tracks, most are simply remixes of either the title track or "Sanity Fair". While I think the idea that Tyson got a raw deal is more than a bit silly, I would agree that white men in his situation (William Kennedy Smith comes to mind right off the bat) have gotten a lot luckier than he did. Is there still racism in our society and our justice system? Sure. Just look at death row.

On the other hand, if you're guilty, you're guilty. Just because similarly guilty people get off because they're white is no reason to release a guilty man early.

Musically, this is mostly a retread of ideas lots of people have put forth before. I can hear lots of Ministry and, yes, Front 242 as well. The production is nice and slick, but what lies behind it is more mundane.

Pretty cranking hardcore with a great wailer at the mike. Perry Masco just keeps everything flowing very nicely, even when the underlying music gets a little messy.

Traditionalists will turn up their noses, but I.C.U. has a fairly addictive sound that fits in many genres. The music is loud and the riffs are crunchy. Is it "alternative"? Is it "punk"? Is it "metal"? Yes, yes and yes. And no, no and no.

I.C.U. faces the same problem bands like Die Monster Die haven't quite conquered: great music, but as the industry likes labels, what's yours?

I say don't fall victim to labels and stick to the "great music" claim. Someday the world will come around to your point of view. And if not, at least you made great music.

Techno beats with more generic pop-style bass lines and a guitar sound right out of glam.

The production lets everything get a little muddled, and at times things sound like a muddy grudge match between Jesus Jones and P.I.L. laid over techno or house rhythms.

But the whole is much better than the parts. Honestly, this stuff is pretty addictive. The most important thing is always to find that kernel of catchiness in any idea. And when you're already in a pop medium, it can be easy to try and manufacture fun.

But Indian Rope Burn simply lets everything flow with panache, avoiding the temptation to meddle and ruin everything. Pretty much astonishing.

Following the (high quality) lead of acts like Nine Inch Nails and Ministry, Kill Switch... Klick starts with the killer groove. Once that is established, then anything goes. But it's that basic rhythm track that makes or breaks the industrial dance band. And these folks have what it takes.

At times the beats are a little more simplistic than I might prefer, but this small problem is overcome by the rest of the attack, usually including guitars as well as synthesizers.

The production leaves things more on the sterile side than the "live" sound that is currently in favor. But that's no reason to ignore this fine disc. There's more than enough to choose from and make you happy.

Killdozer's vision of concrete blues usually goes down like a load of bricks. This stuff is chunky, slow and mean. The only thing that hurts worse is passing it a day later.

But here we find a kinder, gentler Killdozer. The tunes are still generally rude, but not quite hateful. And instead of being a series of pile-driving guitar riffs, the songs actually hold together quite well.

For more evidence, check out their rendition of the country standard (I've heard it more than a few times, but I don't know who did it first) "Pour Man". While admittedly heavy, this is nowhere as truly vicious as their attacks on Neil Diamond, Lynyrd Skynyrd and Jesse Colter (twice!) in the past.

For final proof of the mellowing of Killdozer, check out "Daddy's Boy". This is a tune that could have been done by Led Zeppelin. Sure, the guitars are a little heavy, but not by much. That fucker has "big monster hit potential" written all over it.

Is all this bad? Nope. This is still the same old Killdozer. I think the guys just got tired of everyone telling them they couldn't play their instruments, so they decided to show us they could. Probably next album they'll play "1000 Smiling Knuckles" at half speed and twice the volume. Cool.

Unlike a lot of people, I never liked Paw or the Lawrence, KS, scene their success has dragged out. Means to an End got signed because Paw was supposed to be great, and they play a lot like them (only a little heavier).

That doesn't excuse the fact that more than one guitar line is stolen from the Seattle original, and that Means to an End seems bent on replicating an already stagnant music movement.

Without merits? As is usual, the performances are decent, and the production is quite nice. The clean sound allows you to identify all the theft even easier.

This sounds like a cash-in sorta disc. The band wanted to cash in on a trend, and so did the label. No harm in trying, I suppose. I just don't have to like it.

Merging spoken word samples, world beats and other stuff is not exactly new in the world of the ambient.

But doing it in this way is something I haven't heard before. Ob1, more than most ambient acts, attempts to create true sonic sculptures.

And it's mostly successful. The sound is rarely dull, and things move along nicely. Interestingly, while there are nine tracks listed on the back, there is only one on the disc, and it's not always easy to discern where one composition ends and the next begins.

But in the ambient world, that makes sense. All are one, and one is all.

Five tracks from four Finnish albums. The word is Jello loves the band, and wanted the U.S. to get a taste. Fine by me.

Sounding somewhat like a mix of D.O.A.'s bombast and DK's speed, Radiopuhelimet (whatever that means) pulls a mean sled. This is great raw punk. Period.

Maybe A.T. would like to license some of the albums for the U.S.

Please?

Refusing to be typecast as anything, Rosicrucian continues its musical wanderings. With stops in the realms of thrash, prog-metal, Euro-metal and even grunge, you can't ever be sure what the next song will sound like.

But chances are you'll like it. Rosicrucian does have an idea as to what makes a good song, and while there are lots of bits and pieces flying around, the production leaves everything seamless.

No, there isn't much in the way of real new ideas, except in the way certain things are combined. And while that may be interesting, it isn't revolutionary.

On the other hand, Rosicrucian has put together another great album. I would be at a total loss as to how to promote the album, other than time travel back about five years and promote the track "Stench of Life" quite heavily. But since we can't do that, perhaps we should just be content with turning the knob to 11.

Heavy southern blues 'n' boogie 'n' bombast with a political message. An interesting mix, considering the message on the title track is an attack on Louis Farrakhan.

Well, cheap shots are one thing, but the theme of the song is straight out of Malcolm X. Which makes the whole thing rather impressive.

Musically, Son of Slam doesn't break any new ground, but the b-side is rather catchy (okay, so the chorus is "Fuck anything that moves", but still), showing some real potential. This is a good package.

Crashing through with a wonderfully atonal attack, the Spitters have all sorts of nasty things to talk to us about.

The production leaves everything sounding rather flat, which is fine, since there is just about no attention to melody anywhere. Well, maybe an occasional coherent bass line. The drums and guitars seem to be merely weapons in a sonic assault on the world.

But like any good fighting machine, the Spitters have a few feints before the final attack. So don't expect the wall-of-noise or any such thing. Much of the disc merely grinds into your subconscious, supplanting your aversion to horror.

Certainly not easy taskmasters, the Spitters make things difficult for the listener. But if you persevere, you just might find the light.

Smack dab in the middle of today's hardcore trends, Strife manages to set itself apart, mostly by some outstanding riffage.

Well, that and the boys cut loose often enough to recall old hardcore heroes as well. In fact, the slow stuff doesn't really suit the band. Only when the speed picks up considerably does Strife sound completely coherent.

Plenty of the old school in their playing, but the members of Strife have also come up with a few engaging musical ideas. For a genre where innovation is often reviled, it sure is nice to hear some fresh playing styles. Strife has enough going on to attract attention even from those who don't play much hardcore.

You never know what to expect from a band that has influenced acts all over the music spectrum. Swans can destroy you with a single throbbing beat plowed over and over into your skull, or Swans can entrance you with gothic pop. Or any number of other things.

What you usually can expect is an album that lies all over the place, with many spotty moments. This 16 track opus is no exception.

There is no one thing Jarboe and Gira do best. The brilliance is in the diversity and complexity of the result. My personal favorite on the disc is "My Buried Child", which drops layers of vocals over a single rhythmic idea and various percussive and other effects. It just sounds great.

At other times, things do lag a bit. But Swans attempt to make every disc a masterwork, and it's pretty impossible to live up to that each time out. This is the best Swans disc I've heard in some time.

If it's Hell Yeah!, it must be punk...

Well, of course. Thorazine is a four-piece from Philly, and these folks play with a stripped-down, up-tempo sound.

Jo-Ann Rogan's vocals are quite good, though her alto (almost contralto) growl does bring to mind Donita Sparks, but Thorazine is a lot more raw than anything L7 has put out in a long time.

Four songs, all great. No way to lose here.

Mix metal guitars, cheesy keyboards, industrial beats and an anthemic way of putting all this together, and you begin to get the idea.

Honestly, Thorn is most interesting at the beginning of the songs, before the guitars come in and drown all of their interesting sequencing out. There's a nice pop feel to all that. But I suppose the guitars are necessary in someone's mind.

A lot of potential. The album should be interesting. By far, the best track here is "She Rises Like the Sun", which doesn't bang you over the head with the guitars so much. And it has a killer groove.

More of that will move Thorn out front and center.

Self-proclaimed "all-dyke" punk outfit whose music is as fast and sloppy as its attention to the cares of mainstream society.

With titles like "Butch in the Streets", "Neanderthal Dyke" and "Barnyard Poontang", Tribe 8 is pretty much assure of being branded a one-issue band. Which is too bad, because while the playing isn't spotless, the women have a good grasp of what's catchy, and most of the songs demonstrate a decent (if rather raunchy, and that's just fine with me) sense of humor.

Tribe 8 does have a little work to do if its members want to get attention outside of their sexual orientation, but for where they're at, they're doing just fine.

The music is pretty standard electro-pop, but Samudrala does so many odd things to his vocals with the production that this has to be considered rather experimental. Many of the vocal lines have Eastern melodies, which when combined with the odd effects makes for an unsettling listen at times. Just what I like.

I'm not at all sure what he's going for, but Samudrala is a highly creative guy who makes cool music.

A nice collection of recent and soon-to-be released stuff from Cleopatra.

This is stuff from their industrial/techno/etc. line of things. So you get pieces from Laibach, Spahn Ranch, FLA, Digital Poodle and more.

I've heard almost all of this already, and I liked most of the tracks the first time. But if you're trying to figure out what you dig, then get in.