There are a couple of ways to approach this. The first (more serious) one would be to call Alice Donut the finest post-apocalyptic punk pop band in existence. The second would be to exclaim ALICE DONUT, MAN!!! FUCKIN' ALICE DONUT!!!

Either would be appropriate.

I would put this disc a slight notch below AD's last studio release, The Untidy Suicides of Your Degenerate Children, mostly just for the lack of a song titled "The son of a disgruntled x-postal worker reflects on his life while getting stoned in the parking lot of a Winn-Dixie listening to Metallica". But that might seem like nitpicking, and it probably is.

Martin Bisi takes the helm (as he did on the Donut's recent single) and guides the crew (with original guitarist David Giffin re-joining the gang) through various moods and psychotic episodes. The amazing thing about the Donut is that these songs, while mordantly bizarre, are stunningly catchy. A tribute to serial killing, a Roky Erickson cover, a paean to homosexual pedophilic lust in the U.S. Senate and most of the rest of pertinent human experience is included herein.

ALICE DONUT, MAN!!!

FUCKIN' ALICE DONUT!!!

Obviously, this is Joey's new project since getting the boot from Anthrax. The song sounds like a more anthemic Anthrax, but the lyrics are kinda dumb.

He's got good sidemen, and they seem to have a more Eurocentric view of metal. Fine by me. Unlike many folks, I always though Joey was a good enough singer. We'll see what the album sounds like.

Running through band members almost as fast as Napalm Death (which is where at least one ended up, and where more than one came from), Benediction has soldiered on, mostly because of the keen perception that a famous band name sells more than a good record.

But Benediction has always come through with the goods on the full-lengths (though the EPs have mostly blown chunks). This disc is more tightly produced than any previous outing, and Benediction has always been known for a pretty clean sound.

There is certainly an emphasis on song crafting and structure that lesser bands ignore, to the point of overwork at times.

Benediction has arrived with another good effort. Not sparkling, but certainly worthy of note. While the time of benediction for the band may be arriving one of these days, this album makes it easy for the boys to keep on keeping on.

Somehow, this just doesn't sound real. While the playing is competent, the instruments sound like toys somehow. And the lyrics are either incredibly dumb or just too surreal for me to really understand.

And yet I like this. Childress' take on pop music is at once childish and aggressive (or perhaps that makes sense). And the sound just keeps wrapping itself around my ear, making me smile. I hate it when that happens.

Three guys who like to make haunting music way down under. No words. Perhaps it's better that way.

Warren Ellis gets most of the fun, playing a violin, accordion and two things I've never heard of: a space belt (though I recognized it when I heard it) and a kalimba. So what could have been merely contemplative music with a vague VU/(mellow) Sonic Youth vibe has become something again altogether.

Seven songs, fifty minutes. Some of the tunes are short, and obviously some are really long. A nice diversity of sounds and styles, and yet I don't think I'll mistake any other band in the world for this outfit.

A highly accomplished disc. The textured sound (produced to get a very "live" sound) is really something to hear. Quality all the way around.

While the press refers to Duh as "musically-challenged", the odd thing is that the songs are dumb, catchy pop hardcore tunes. And as track 7 ("Our Guitarist Is in Faith No More") explains, there is a star trip thing going on.

And that doesn't even mention the current and recently-departed members of the AT staff in the band. Hell, this is such an inside joke only the well-connected or label-whore types have a shot at getting the whole story. But why worry. This is a gawdawful mess of silliness. And to treat as anything but would be a serious mistake.

Brit punk band best known for the youthful nature of its members (though 13-year-old drummer Dee Generate was sacked in favor of Philip Rowlands soon after the band recorded its first 7"), Eater had a short-lived career in the mid-to-late 70s.

This is the most complete collection of one disc ever released. The sound is pretty good, particularly when you consider the small amount of studio time these guys put in.

While contemporaries the Clash and Buzzcocks have (deservedly) garnered more attention and praise, Eater's take on the pop punk sound is still worth checking out, particularly considering the current musical trends. That couldn't have anything to do with the timing of this release. Ya think?

A good chunk of the new Brit hardcore movement, except that the guys are from Milan. Oh well, it's all continental...

Much of the time I was hoping Extrema would shift out of the Fudge Tunnel hero worship, and the boys do at times (mining Coroner grooves on "Money Talks", for example). Not quite enough for me to declare brilliance, but a real sign of serious potential.

Extrema still needs to define its personal sound more, instead of bouncing from influence to influence like the kids in the pit at their shows. Mix it all together for a coherent idea, and the stew will be that much more tasty.

Caveats aside, this is a fine disc. With the right direction (and new digs outside of Italy), Extrema could really explode in a few years.

A malicious trip through insanity that might be more harrowing if not for the absolutely gorgeous music that accompanies the samples and scratched vocals.

Gracious Shades operates in the electric industrial universe. I'd guess that every sound on this disc is sampled or generated by a synthesizer (except for the vocal track). But instead of leaving this universe sterile, Gracious Shades presents a picture of institutional life that while frightening, is still very much alive.

Quite an achievement. Aberkash crosses all musical boundaries, making this visceral statement accessible to the underground and the masses. This is right up there with the best albums I've heard this year.

Mixing the sing-song songwriting skill of a Daniel Johnston with the musical schizophrenia (and editing skill) of Creedle, Kreamy 'Lectric Santa has certainly crafted a highly original disc.

Mostly because no one in their right mind would even begin to construct anything like this, I suppose. But then, I prefer to leave reality often enough, and KLS provides a nice outlet for a field trip to the frontal lobes without excess chemical baggage.

Twenty-six songs (including three designated "The Triad of Destiny") of pure chaos, with the odd coherent verse of a song dropped in. No hits, nothing that would even begin to make sense on the radio, but taken as a whole, Kreamy 'Lectric Santa might be pushing that envelope I call insane genius. Tres cool.

Up-tempo three (or four)-chord monte. Nothing complicated, nothing to fuck up.

And Lidsville takes care to keep the sound simple and unassuming. The songs are nice and thick, with chunky chords and infectious (but not insipid) choruses. While it is that easy to describe Lidsville's approach to music, it's also pretty easy for me to say I like this album. Big loads. With tons of love.

And where to go from here? I guess I'll just have to crank the disc again.

A decent take on the lighter side of northwest pop, though this does sound like all the members are under 16 (as they are). The songs get a little sing-songy in the chorus and the lyrical content is a bit simplistic for this sort of music.

But all that said, I still enjoyed the listen. A couple years of working together on more mature stuff could leave Limbo anywhere but.

Three tracks of total doom. This reminds me a lot of Candlemass turned up to 11.

Not much really going on here, as Mindrot seems to just be treading water musically most of the time. If you really get into that "witches brew" sound of swirling guitars and no motion for minutes at a time, you might dig this. But not me.

Just too much wanking around for my taste. The guys can obviously play, and the production is quite bright and punchy, which lends an odd feel to the sound that I do like. If the full-length contains more songs like "Dreaded Light", the third (and best) track, then perhaps that will redeem Mindrot in my eyes.

A Sab rip-off with a real twist: it sounds like they got Kevin Cronin to quit REO and join up. Eee-yow!

Riffs right out of the Iommi songbook, Ozzy-esque vocal lines sung by the aforementioned reedy-Cronin impersonator. Um, this is too fucking weird.

And a special note: I'm very tired of bands that have nothing better to do than get stoned, write lyrics that are not mystical but merely insipid and then proceed to rip off every decent riff Tony Iommi played (the number of which is exactly 11). Come on. Get a life. Okay?

Very much Alice in Chains meets Pantera while having an affair with Chastain.

Oh my.

Obviously the pretension factor is through the ceiling. These boys have artistic arrogance sweating through their collective crotch, and that stuff can be highly corrosive.

And I'm afraid the results are mindnumbingly dull. The anthems are nicely performed, with requisite angst and (I assume) hair dancing. But I've heard it all before, and better back then. Everything is fine here, but I'd just stick with the band name article. A little more time in the salt mines to refine a personal vision is my recommendation.

An initial blast of that Beantown hardcore sound, and then Otis takes control. The guitars caterwaul, the rhythm gets positively infectious (like the way good grunge songs crank along) and then the pressure hits the cooker.

More than a little Chicago in that guitar work, but I hear elements of other noise hardcore bands like Glazed Baby and Season to Risk (okay, so both of those bands took some lessons at the feet of the Lizard as well) in here as well. Of course, that awesome bass-percussion interplay is something I'd have to call an Otis trademark.

I'm shocked that music this harsh and abrasive can also sound so accessible, but I suppose that's why I like the disc so. Each song comes on with a different sort of fury, lending many sides to Otis. A wonderful day to crank a disc.

Lush keyboards overpowering the occasional urge to really delve into the deeper issues of doom metal, Shadow Gallery is content to run through Fates Warning territory without adding much to the formula.

Long songs, by-the-book major key solos, powerful vocals and esoteric lyrics. And yet, I am somewhat intrigued.

The package is just so solid. Nothing terribly inspired or even creative (I've heard all this before too many times to mention), but a decent presentation of the idea. The production keeps the music from getting too sugary (those keys are omnipresent but never overpowering), and the players rip through the material. I'm willing to forgive the spot Kansas-esque moments.

Not great, but reasonably enjoyable. Accessible enough even for AOR, Shadow Gallery has good radio potential.

Standard metal-core circa 1990, accessible, rhythm heavy and loud as hell. Of course, the a-side tosses a load of silly takes on eastern philosophy, and the flip is more of a rant about how stupid we all are.

I couldn't agree more. The music is reasonably catchy, though obviously a retread. Enjoyable enough for a few spins, but the folks should delve a little deeper into their creative bag to really make a mark.

The production on this disc is far superior to the punk live recordings Creative Man has released recently. The liners don't tell me who is in this edition of 10cc, an important point. I mean, these can't be all the original members. At least one of them has to have found some sense and given up on playing 20-year-old songs that weren't all that popular way back when.

What's the point of this disc? Money, I guess. Whatever.

A big part of me wants to tell these guys: Wake up! Metallica was first, and they won! Give it up!

Of course, Testament has always had more European metal influences (even with James Murphy taking over lead duties), and that's why I've also had this soft spot in my heart for the band.

This set of 14 live tracks and 3 acoustic studio pieces (Unplugged schedulers listening?) is a decent representation of Testament's career, though I think it relies a little too much on the lesser later albums. The production is decently clean, and while I liked Alex Skolnick, Murphy's guitar work is rather impressive.

But now wither the Testament? Perhaps a final bow is in order.

Finding love with the current pop-punk sound and yet dragging around a ball-and-chain from the glam days of the 70s, the Turbo A.C.'s pretty much have my ass in a sling.

As regular readers know, I'm a complete sucker for this shit. The songwriting is cheap and easy, and the riffs are slung out like so many shots of whiskey. I'm already addicted.

Six songs, all making me jump out of my kneel-chair and bounce around on the floor. A beastly image, and I apologize. But no mea culpas for the music; this stuff is simple, to-the-point, and dead solid perfect. Exactly what you need to find love in a pitcher of beer at a seedy bar.

A small note: playing it loud sure won't hurt, either.

A full 10-song set from these Michigan boys (you do remember their recent EP). Tearing all-new assholes, Universal Stomp solidifies its aggro-hardcore sound.

Yeah, as I noted before, at times US is a little trendy, but the varying influences are still holding together, with the grind, the rap and the grunge complementing the boys' punk appeal. Once again, this merits a "wowsers".

If you do something right, you do it right, and Universal Stomp has a clear vision of where hardcore should be headed. Pick it up and play it loud. Scaring the neighbors has never been so fun.

This monster compilation contains 38 tracks (from 38 acts), 23 of which have not seen the light of day before this release. Some of these are on upcoming releases (like the title track of the new Benediction), but some are just for this set.

Far too much to go into any detail, but it is nice to hear new stuff from Dead World, Dismember and Pungent Stench. And while I had reservations, the Pungent Stench track is quite good. I'm still a little wary of the upcoming album, but "Tony" does easy my concern somewhat.

Lots of young bands on here as well. If you want to hear the future of the Nuclear Blast-Relapse stable, dig into tracks from Konkhra, Cradle of Filth, Enemy Soil and others. A great set of deathly sentiments.

I've always thought the idea of covers albums (or tribute albums, whatever) was to present a new generation's take on some highly influential group of the past.

Preferably a lesser-known group, though with the proper guidance a more famous act could be done well.

You don't get much bigger than the Who. But while many hits are present, many of the songs redone here are b-sides and other obscurities. Bravo.

If only the bands didn't work so hard to sound like the Who. Well, Alex Chilton sounds like Alex Chilton, but he's spent his whole career trying to sound like the Who and other Brit-pop bands of that era, so I don't think that counts. Blur does a decent rave-up of "Substitute", but what I said about Chilton applies to them as well.

After listening, I ponder how this disc has increased my appreciation for the Who (or any of the acts on the disc, for that matter). And if that's the final test, then this fails.

Last Decade Dead Century is one of my all-time favorite albums, with apocalyptic pronouncements and anthems that actually said something interesting (and no whining about some girl who did them wrong).

Since then, Warrior Soul has disappointed me. The second disc was alright, the third dreadful, so much that I didn't even pick up Chill Pill for $3 in the cutout bin.

And this is the comeback? Kory Clarke's voice is still one of the more interesting around, but songs still lack the immediacy and prophetic insight of Last Decade: "Government hides behind religion, kids like us are thrown in prison." Five years ago that sounded like paranoid claptrap. And now?

While some of the songs here are topical, they are behind the times instead of out front. And that's the big disappointment for me.