Another of those "emo-core" things. Back of Dave packs a load more sonic violence and traditional song construction than the Crank 10" twosome.

The three songs included are all very nicely done, with some rather exceptional songwriting and wicked playing. I really didn't expect something this good, and I can't really explain much else about it. The pictures on the disc are cool, and the music much better. Do not miss this one.

Live, which is probably the best way to appreciate Bazooka. Their improv collaboration with Jack Brewer (he's got something to say on "Incense & Wax") was often more interesting than moments on Blowhole, their first (regular instrumental) disc.

Those wacky guys in Bazooka like to think they're playing jazz, and the percussion-electric bass-sax trio manages to corrupt just about every theory professor's notion about jazz that exists. Hell, I listened to one of my profs in school who tried to make me believe that Ornette Coleman's free jazz had something to do with theory (still don't buy it).

Returning from that tangent-from-hell, Bazooka sometimes tends to repeat itself (these guys don't really vary their style much), but the live improvisations sound much more spontaneous than the studio disc (with obvious good reason). As a jazz record this is pretty sloppy and not terribly innovative, either. But it is amusing stuff to hear, and that Sab rip-off on "Painful Theraputic Process" is interesting, even if Iceburn does that sort of thing much better. Put this one in the middling pile.

Christie Front Drive hails from Denver; a CD of previously released 7" and EP tracks will be coming out soon from Caulfield (the cool Omaha label). Boys Life has a (very good) disc out on Crank! and a track on the Red Decibel KC Misery compilation. Obviously, that band resides somewhere in the greater Kansas City area. Both bands play something the label calls emo-core (something that I've always called "post-punk pop", as I really hate adding -core to everything).

As previously noted, the Christie Front Drive tunes are right in that Jawbox sorta area, perhaps a bit more introspective. Very nice moody pop songs.

Boys Life kicks it a little heavier once the songs get moving, but the three songs here are decidedly lower-key than the recent album. This is not a bad thing. I got a real Engine Kid feel from a couple of these tracks. And now that I've come around to that sorta thing, that should be taken as a real compliment.

A nice set of six tunes from two bands with loads of potential. Keep your eyes open; both of these groups could flash before your eyes soon enough.

God only knows why Warzone consented to this. Cause for Alarm plays old school thrash hardcore like nobody's business, shredding through the pretentious multitudes with vicious lyrics and ace playing. Its four tracks are among the better hardcore performances I've heard this year.

And then comes Warzone's four-song contribution. This is the best I've heard the band in some time, which isn't saying much. The playing is sloppy (and the production leaves stuff so muddy it's hard to tell at times anyway) and the lyrics are typical Warzone.

Your cash is warranted for Cause for Alarm. Ignore the Warzone half, and you'll be pleased.

Dick Justice: the (nick?) name of the head of disciplinary action at the U of I in Champaign. This band, of course, wouldn't want to get sued over that little fact or anything.

The guys play simple and easy pop-punk, crossing over into pure Urge territory at times. Not bad, not terribly memorable. A fine little snack, nothing more.

A solid dose of what my brothers would call space hoedown music. Or simply technical blues instrumental guitar work with an odd ambient and bluegrass tinge.

Which is a lot of stuff going on at once. Firkins has found a more mechanical sound for his guitar that makes him sound like a MIDI-ed Billy Gibbons.

Of course, Firkins has no real style on which to hang his hat, and that can be a problem. But I'd much rather deal with a guy like Firkins who keeps trying new stuff than someone keeps repeating himself.

Sounding like Dokken with more keyboards and a duller guitar sound, Goldy stakes his claim to... well, I'm sure it's something.

But I have no idea what. The cover and photos are pretentious as hell, and so is the music. Unfortunately, Goldy didn't even mix his guitars above the keyboards much, so whatever decent playing exists lies somewhere under a cloud of cheese.

I'm not sure if it's Goldy or co-producer Matt Bradley who does the singing on a few tracks (the liners don't mention anything about vocals), but perhaps that's for the best. They aren't good; they sound like a straining Don Dokken (yikes!).

I'm just lost with this disc. I have no idea what the point is. I apologize for being so obtuse, but that's how it goes. Whatever.

Guilt runs the risk of being lumped with all the other heavy anthemic hardcore bands out there. But in the long haul, it's the band's attention to detail and musical creativity that wins out. Just a glance at the meticulously crafted liner notes (they're really something) would tell you that.

Think of this as Rollins-style stuff with an extended dynamic and emotional range. Better playing. Much more interesting song-writing. Guilt has the whole package (including the packaging, as I noted earlier).

Often enough, albums of this genre are very difficult to get through, as the songs tend to run together. But Guilt keeps up the diversity and the interest level. Sure, the band doesn't quite transcend the genre (that's nearly impossible), but along with Victory compadres Earth Crisis and Snapcase, Guilt rules.

Wending from soft faux-soul to serious guitar-renching anthems (all songs by and all instruments performed by Brian Hartzog), all with a serious Hendrix affectation.

Sound like anyone you know?

A damned ambitious sounding album, one that doesn't fit into any easily-defined slot. This bodes well for Hartzog's future. The guy is obviously creative and able to express himself in many different ways.

Not that the album is perfect or anything. The Hendrix connection is a bit too obvious much of the time, and Hartzog has a lot of the pretension of (the onetime) Prince without any of the catalog to back it up. But this is a lot of fun to groove on, if you're tired of listening to the same old thing all the time. Hartzog is definitely good enough to get somewhere.

The 21st Circuitry album Meat Your Maker was pretty damned fine (I'm still pulling that one for the occasional social spin), and the four songs here keep up the techno-industrial vision promulgated before.

Each song has a distinctly different feel than the others (obviously a good sign), from hard and heavy ("New Power (Suck Dry)") to mellow and introspective (the next track, "Omnipresent"). Yes, four tracks with plenty to love.

I'd love to keep writing, but I don't know what to say. Praise praise praise. I wait on bended knee for the next full-length effort. Hate Dept. is one of my favorite bands. I think I've run out of all the possible cheesy things I could squeeze from my pen. Find and enjoy this disc.

With more of the industrial dance beats that permeated his last solo album, Greg Ginn returns (with Screw Radio cohort Andy Batwinas) to wend a big fat load of instrumental guitar tracks. And trust me, two seconds, and you know it's Ginn.

This is good and bad. With the preponderance of product that Ginn has produced over the last two years, his style is everywhere and easily identifiable. Ginn is no rip-off artist. He knows who he is and what he sounds like.

But I think a lot of this output suffers from Stephen King disease. If he just would distill the ideas a little longer and, say, put out half the records he has, they would be immeasurably better. And that's not saying Hor or any of the other records suck. They don't. But just imagine what a little editing and reworking might do...

While labelmates Bazooka also play sloppy jazz, Hotel X has more players and a fuller sound.

It's not that the players are terrible. But there just isn't quite the devotion to craft that you might expect from a more serious jazz disc. Hotel X is a little tighter and more innovative act than Bazooka, but this still suffers from the "punk jazz" syndrome.

Which leads to raves on the first listen, but after more I just get tired. All the fresh angles are exhausted. Which is the difference between really fine stuff and the average.

Hotel X is pretty good. And this disc is miles ahead of the last one. Maybe next time.

Howe tries to get funky, but his typical ultra-clean production limits the effectiveness of that effort.

I mean, real funk is fuzzy. George Clinton proved that you could be musically innovative, highly complicated and still funky. How? Keep that bass distorted and moving. Howe's bass lines are syncopated, but not terribly groovy. And the sound is just too precise.

Of course, everyone plays like a virtuoso (because all the folk are). And Howe's work is impressive from a strict technical skill standpoint. But he needs to crank out tunes like he and Richie Kotzen had on their collaborative album a while back. These things are just stale rehashes of places he's been before.

And those places have no feeling. Everything is so dead solid perfect, no emotion can creep into the proceedings. The song titles are generic (one could just as easily apply to any other). The performance, while perfect, is also just as bland.

I remember the last I.C.U. release. As I recall, I thought it was alright, but the folks needed to work a little more. The same verdict after hearing this effort.

Up-tempo fuzz-guitar stuff with a vague punk-industrial feel. In other words, all the right trends are covered. But the songs are missing that particular spark to really make a difference. Hearing these songs makes me wonder what six months of working the stuff out live would do for them.

Right now I.C.U.'s tunes are merely average. But if the band would really settle down and do the leg work, I think the prospects for success would be much better. And by the way, don't worry about that legal case noted in the liners. It went down 10 miles from my house and has been resolved (I think the charges were either severely reduced or dropped altogether). In any case, your letters won't make a bit of difference.

Prog-rock from near Grand Rapids (MI). More keyboards and somewhat catchier than latter-day Rush, these boys really crank out the anthems.

The playing is intended to make good music, not ito be flashy, and the band deserves credit for that. The mastering came out a little low, though, leavingthe guitars and vocals sometimes stuck behind the keys.

And the heavy commercial element did grate on me rather heavily. Serious prog-nuts may find the playing and production below the Magna Carta standard. But those who simply like tuneful music that is kinda complicated should groove nicely along.

There are ways to sequence an album properly. This disc didn't follow any of them. No song flows smoothly into the next, and as Jolly Mon refuses to play the same style from one song to the next, what you get are jarring inconsistencies.

I'm not sure where to start in describing this band, except that it has some real Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd sorta moments, with plenty of white-boy funk (read: Jane's Addiction) and grunge thrown in. Usually all at once or not at all. This stuff is weird.

And at times I get an early King Missile groove thing going on. And how I would have described that band's Shimmy Disc output is beyond me as well. I might as well give up while I'm ahead.

As a whole, this just doesn't appeal to me. I can't say why, except that it combines a lot of stuff I don't like into sounds that I still don't like. Jolly Mon sounds damned pretentious, and the music just doesn't live up to that attitude.

Kotzen gets one thing right: fusion doesn't have to be boring and mellow. Unfortunately, his idea of fusion often sounds a lot like a hyper Joe Satriani record.

Mainly, I suppose, because the instrumentation is basic: guitar, keyboards, drums, bass. Some horns would have been nice.

But Kotzen imbibes his playing with more feeling and emotion than I thought possible, considering that flat fusion sound he gives his guitar and the preponderance of pyrotechnical moves. Even as he flashes across the universe, you can feel some semblance of kinship with Kotzen and his ideas.

The songs are fairly well-conceived and written, and Kotzen doesn't repeat himself too much. He brings in too many different styles to fall into that trap. But he really needs to bring more instruments and flesh out the sound a bit more. That might have made a pretty good record into a great one.

Still, Kotzen now has two (counting his collaboration with Greg Howe) of the better instrumental guitar albums of the year.

Wicked psychedelic pop with enough noisy chaos to remind me pleasantly of Brise-Glace. The Laurels are more cohesive and less jazzy, but still eminently cool.

Which leaves me at a loss to explain the strangely faithful cover of "Immigrant Song". Oh, yeah, there are some odd echo effects, and the guitars are a mess of sound, but then, the Led Zeppelin version was noisy as hell, too. Whatever. The a-side more than warrants a ton of attention.

Yngwie's best moments have always been the ones where he shamelessly rips off Iron Maiden. And if you're gonna steal, you might as well steal from the best.

Unfortunately, the single (which I really ripped a couple issues ago) was taken straight from Warrant, which is a real step down in the inspiration department. Tracks like "The Only One" remind me of his failed stabs at Top 40 greatness in the late 80s.

And yet, the best of the bunch are songs like the first track, "Vengeance", which honestly sound better than anything on the current Maiden disc. Of course, that's really not a compliment. Malmsteen, as usual, changes gears relentlessly, but this album is much better than that single portended. It's no worse than what Polygram was releasing from him about 10 years ago. I didn't really like that, either, but it isn't complete shit. A lot better than I thought it would be.

Mostly the product of Keir McDonald, who was a member of Viv Akauldren (back when that was still a band).

A home tapes project (not unlike the Magnetic Fields) that is oddly moving in its mechanical ways. McDonald has a way of making the technology sound human, and the songs are (just a little) on the psychedelic side.

Many of these songs were originally released on 7", and the whole Medusa Cyclone set of work now finds itself on CD. An odd taste of ambient pop (ooh-I just coined a genre!) that has enough texture to stand hundreds of listenings.

Too cool for words is a silly cliche, but I'll bite and use it here. McDonald has a way of making the strident accessible. His song construction methods are revolutionary, and yet not difficult to ascertain and enjoy.

This one's a real keeper, boys!

Man, this reeks of marketing advice. It sounds like the three tracks were assembled so as to show off the band's ability to play jut about any sort of metal a label might want. Of course, this leads to haphazardly constructed songs and an obvious lack of personal musical direction by the band.

Yeah, the guys can play, and the package is nice and slick, but the music is as generic as it comes. I don't know who got to these boys, but they sure fucked something up. I'd love to hear some songs that aren't completely over-produced to influence some major label A&R flack.

Bad boogie-woogie piano players haunt Holiday Inn lounges all over the country. Some good ones just want to have fun. Like Mark Braun (aka Mr. B).

Paul Keller is a bassist and leader of the Bird of Paradise Orchestra, which swings as well as any I've heard in some time. And modern recording technology allows the sound to bound out as bright and bouncy as it was played. Which makes this pretty much damned irresistible.

And while you get a few (not necessarily big band) standards like "Down the Road Apiece" and "Mardi Gras in New Orleans", most of the compositions are Keller's or Braun's. No problem. These guys know how to craft songs that swing and make folks like me smile.

High art? What's that, anyway? The point of this disc is pure fun, and Mr. B, Mr. Keller and company are more than equal to the task. Can you dig it? (Um, sorry, wrong decade.)

Sounds like Gone (though it's mostly just Greg Ginn-Andy Batwinas cranks up the drum machine) with some odd samples from radio (and some studio-created ones as well). I think Ginn buries the samples a bit much in favor of the somewhat repetitive soundtrack, but then, I want to hear what is said, and I think he had the opposite intention.

Sort of a hardcore-industrial reaction to the EBN. This stuff isn't for the clubs, it's headed right to the car tape decks. And since those are also being used to tune in to all the idiots on the airwaves (as opposed to significantly more thoughtful programming like Pacifica or NPR), that also seems rather appropriate.

There's something that doesn't quite satisfy me here, but bits like "Have I Heard the Lowdown on Clinton?" are positively hilarious. And there's more than enough entertaining spots to keep me amused for some time. A noble project that is almost an overwhelming success.

The reason this isn't a quartet is because there are seven people in the band. Of course.

A little more up-tempo and jazzy than the Squonk Opera disc I reviewed about a month ago, TSOQ plays fun music with cool horns like trumpet and clarinet. And that instrumentation is obviously taken into account when the tunes are written and arranged.

And this is very much a musical theory-driven band (unlike the Bazooka reviewed in this issue). These folks are good musicians, and they play to convey a sense of fun and propagate a real party atmosphere (the whole thing has a weird New Orleans vibe-like if the Dirty Dozen Brass band played Mothers of Invention tunes). While the more conventional may not appreciate the dissonance and volume TSOQ puts out, this stuff is as cool as anything I've heard in some time.

Jazz? Sure. Rock? Well, kinda, at times. Music for a nice romantic evening? If you have a thing for making a real mess of the house. Something wild and crazy to scare the neighbors with? Absolutely.

Basic, straight-ahead punk rawk with all the trappings: silly lyrics, real fuzzy guitars and a real fast beat. We've heard this formula a thousand times before just this year, and many times better.

The point of this music is to suck (at least at some level), so a harsh critique is pointless. Speed Duster doesn't really have the fun quotient of other bands who have employed this sound, and I guess that's where the failure lies. There are a few nice musical references, but those bits don't help the whole package.

I first caught 30-06 on some compilation out of the Seattle area (C/Z? Something else? I can't remember). I recall liking the stuff. This album reminds me why.

Mixing the raw bass power of such Trance bands as Johnboy and Ed Hall with the anthemic song structure of the grunge culture, 30-06 creates some interesting soundscapes. This is definitely a Pacific NW product, but with enough soul and power to escape most of the anti-Seattle rants.

Which places the band square in the middle of the current "alternative" sound, which has a lot to do with Pavement attitudes about song construction and Jesus Lizard beliefs about dissonance. From this, 30-06 doesn't escape.

But when the band keeps the music moving and doesn't degenerate into sonic madness, the stuff is good. I understand the need to feel artsy and innovative, but wanking around with fuzzy guitars has been done by people more and less talented than 30-06. Unless such musings are in the hands of masters (and there are so few of those), they uniformly sound silly.

Wallace wears many hats on this disc. Various members of the saxophone and flute families, piano and keys. His able side men keep things going, generally in a cool mode, but occasionally picking things up as necessary.

The performances are fine, with everyone giving a workmanlike, if not brilliant, effort. Wallace's own compositions make up most of the album, and like the performances, the tunes are good, but nothing exceptional. Wallace does show off his considerable skill, sounding equally at ease with hot and cool moments. His tone, particularly on whatever saxophone he's playing, is impeccable.

And while this is a perfectly good record, Wallace and friends have not created any sort of distinctive record. Perhaps he was trying to do too much with one session, or maybe Wallace needs to polish his tunes a bit more. This disc is missing something that would make it truly memorable.

My turntable must have been playing tricks on me. Considering the recent 7", I wouldn't have described Whorgasm as L.A. Guns meets the Pretty Hate Machine side of NIN before, but that's right where this album is.

Catchy as hell (which I do recall) and so cheap and easy it almost seems like a guilty pleasure. Of course, there are the artsy and trippy moments where they borrow a lot from the old glamsters Sweet (dig "Numb" for those wonderful Connolly-Priest-Scott-Tucker gang vocals and sound).

And the mutations continue from there, as Whorgasm keeps up the beats, riffola guitar styles, wild samples and cool vocal effects. The Bowie cover is great, and by the time you get to obvious novelty hit types like "Michael Jackson's Sex Change" and "Tell Him to Get a Bigger T.V.", you'll be completely entranced. And probably laughing a bunch as well. Whorgasm is about as unpretentious a band as I've every heard (good thing, considering the music the band promulgates).

As fun a ride on an album as I've had this year. Not specifically what I expected, but I did anticipate a good album. Whorgasm comes through with a real blockbuster. We are all powerless to resist.