Gloriously fuzzy industrial hackings, full of wild samples and bile. Eight songs; all really fucking mean.

FYI: the speed is 33, and the a-side and b-side aren't clearly marked. You'll have to listen to figure it all out.

The tunes are pretty short (and tunes is not a very good description of the music found) and sweet. The points are made bluntly, without much sophistication.

Okay. Man, this gives me a real rush. I love feeding other people's anger, and there's enough here to jumpstart a major riot. The sound is decidedly lo-fi, but that just adds to the mystique. A real find.

Well, that 45-second intro to "Blinded by Fear" is about the coolest thing At the Gates has ever done.

And the second coolest thing is this album. I've always thought the boys never quite crafted their songs enough, leaving all sorts of loose ends and wasting so much potential. Not here.

Faster. Leaner. Tighter. At the Gates has whipped all those old songwriting bugaboos (and perhaps actually decided to write songs this time) and cranked out a set of blazing prog-death metal.

The Euro-metal lines have always been around, but now with the attack sped up just a touch, they make more sense. All of the diverse elements the band has always exhibited are now on display in full glory. Methinks the boys might have listened to some Edge of Sanity and been impressed.

I was prepared for this album to really suck. But At the Gates discovered coherence, and this album really wows me. A lot like my experience with Death back in the spring. And, in fact, those two bands (which I have never liked) have undoubtedly put out a couple of the best metal (period) albums of this year. If you claim to like metal (or any sort of loud music), Slaughter of the Soul is a must.

Sludgy rhythm guitar, distorted vocals and a nice Van Halen-esque touch to the lead work. And just when I was getting used to those dichotomies, the sound turned to some morose U2 ballad thing.

Whoa. And that was just the a-side. The flip ("Pressure") has an odd psychedelic pop feel, with more of that U2 vibe.

Man, I really liked the way this started. And then it was like another band was inserted onto the slab in a pressing mistake. I still want to know what the band really sounds like.

Well, mostly remixes, anyway. The more accessible tracks on the album are rendered into (mostly) even more club-admissible form. Okay by me.

And the experimentation levels remain high. Download, after all, is more devoted to the mining of the frontier than to the serving of fodder. Microscopic keeps the standard high.

While not quite as adventurous as the album, these remixes (and a couple new tracks) are worth searching out. The connoisseur of fine electronic experimental fare will feast on this assortment.

The Humpers crank out smoke-soaked and beer-drenched party-time punk music. This is not as easy as the band makes it sound.

Obviously best appreciated at high volume, too. Indeed, my appreciation increased as my eardrums screamed for mercy. As simple pleasures go, Live Forever or Die Trying is about as good as I've had in some time.

The production has left a slightly textured feel, not unlike the sound of the Wayne Kramer album. The guitars wail and duel with purpose, riff against lick. And the almost inane but purposeful lyrics will keep even the most dour amused.

When in doubt, hit the knob. Volume is the plan, and the plan keeps away the man.

Old school west coast hardcore (not unlike DK, D.O.A. and such) with the added benefits of accordion and keyboard filling out the sound.

The two tunes were recorded live in the studio (no overdubs, I assume), leaving the already wild sound even more primal. Life After Life is messy and fun, and the production brings out every dripping moment.

And the songs are mordant as well. If you can make out what is really being sung, you have better ears than me. A part of "Doors" seems to be stolen from "Psycho Killer", but that just might be me. Certainly a perfect appropriation, anyway. Just adds another dimension for me to dig.

A perfect example of the Japanese schizo-noise pop thang. Which, for me, is cause for celebration.

Skin Graft has exposed such cool bands as Space Strakings to U.S. ears, and now this single harkens Melt-Banana's 7" into America. Oh, sure they must suck. After all they're currently opening for Mr. Bungle.

Yeah, this stuff seems weird if you listen with conventional ears. But the tunes are actually sweet (underneath all the extra stuff), and it sure is nice to hear exactly what American bands can sound like when they go overseas. This is prime.

Like much of the Skin Graft line-up, Mount Shasta owes a big chunk of what commercial acceptance it has to the Jesus Lizard. But on this album, the band moves past mere caterwauling vocals and crashing guitars and into, dare I say it, pop music territory.

Well, not that you'd equate the sound with even such awesome dissonant popsters like Alice Donut, but Mount Shasta does appear to be constructing its songs in somewhat the classic pop form. Now, the execution of that contains the chi-core noodlings mentioned before, but much more emphasis is put on coherence than blind faith in noise.

Talent. Wow, like a breath of fresh air, Mount Shasta rises from the increasing hordes of Lizard imitators and clearly defines its own sound. This is pretty damn necessary for artistic survival (but not, of course, commercial success), and I'm happy to see the folks grasp the concept so fully. Who's the Hottie? is not going to be mistaken for anglo-pop any time soon, but I can remember when almost no one wanted to call GuiltRegretEmbarrassment pop, and now that album is part of the alternative music canon. Quite a set of tunes.

The concept of Napalm Death as a real forerunner in the death metal/grindcore scene is very accurate. But it's been years since any incarnation of the band has released anything that is truly groundbreaking.

"Greed Killers" is a great track, loaded with industrial tendencies and the occasional sample. Sounds a little like Fear Factory. In fact, "Self Betrayal" sounds a lot like Fear Factory's first album. And "Finer Truths, White Lies" takes a page right out of the Fudge Tunnel book.

All this means the guys who now call themselves Napalm Death are making pretty decent music. Behind the times, but then, that happens when you get old. The new album should be worthy of consideration, though Napalm Death's days as a trailblazer are long past.

The return of (easily) the most innovative punk band of all time. And all the expected elements are here: wacky experimental bits, catchy pop-punk tunes with off-beat lyrical content, long overwrought songs that are best understood while in the throes of a serious drunk and the completely indescribable.

For a chunk of folks out there (including me), it would be unthinkable to compile a list of the great punk bands of all time without including these Vancouver boys. Hell, they've only been at it for over 15 years, and still each new release blazes with artistic fury.

The Worldhood... is a little more pop oriented than the last AT release (Why Do They Call Me Mr. Happy? EP), but pretty close to the Mr. Right & Mr. Wrong career-long compilation on Wrong records (where you can find all sorts of cool Nomeansno side projects and other keen stuff).

In other words, the mindless masses out there just might get on the slap-happy heavy bass sounds of Nomeansno. Tracks like "Angel or Devil" are easy fodder for the kiddies, while those of us in the know will even groove on the prog-punk musings of "My Politics" and other such tracks.

Just looking at the disc brings me pleasure. Listening causes a neural overload of happy sensations that pretty much wipes me out for a good chunk of time. With albums like this, bliss comes cheaply.

As Rahowa stands for "Racial Holy War", lots of folks won't touch this thing with lead gloves. But I believe every person has an equal opportunity to make a fool of himself. And the members of Rahowa are overachievers in that area.

The music is basic anthemic hardcore stuff, with some out-of-place keyboard and acoustic guitar bits mixed in. George Eric Hawthorne's vocals are often almost gruff enough to front Obituary, though he croons Pete Steele-style when a ballad is needed.

And, of course, the lyrics themselves. In order to make things real easy for me, they are printed in the liners. The basic message is "White and might make right" and "Hatred is a beautiful thing". Apocalyptic odes to the death of the white race and such are the norm.

Folks like Pat Buchanan and Phil Gramm scare me a lot more than these guys. I mean, most of the folks out there think this sort of thing is silly or offensive. But a good chunk of the people will be voting for Buchanan and Gramm in the next few months, and a lot of their positions are not far from what Rahowa proposes. That one of those men could be president is what should scare you a lot more than some fringe CD.

Cool techno industrial pop from the heart of Germany. Steril keeps club beats and a sparse sound up through most of the disc, leaving a very favorable impression, indeed.

In fact, the lack of atmosphere in these songs sets Steril apart from the better-known German imports. 21st Circuitry and other labels have presented compilations of the more experimental German acts, but this is the first full-length I've seen.

And it is more than pleasing. All of the usual suspects abound: samples introducing the songs, the ubiquitous German guitar noise, distorted vocals and the like. But Steril keeps the noise to a minimum and in so doing has crafted a slightly spooky-sounding group of songs. Unusual and interesting.

I've heard tapes, 7"s and a CD from this band, and it never does the same thing twice. A lot of that has to do with a passing parade of more guitarist/lead singers than you can imagine. This incarnation has more of an alternative pop feel, a la Buffalo Tom or something like that. The last was more of a Nuge thing.

As usual, I like what the band does. It isn't pretentious or silly, but simply good. I do think the band should stick to a particular style long enough to attract attention, but the variety has kept me on my toes. A worthy effort.

The point of this? Got me.

Four tracks. The first is a tale of walking in the women's restroom and finding a guy there. It's not even funny or perverted. Just a guy who wanted to take a dump in the ladies'.

Add live covers of "Radar Love" and "Ice Cream Man" (um, okay), and a live version of "Manipulate" (which was one of the better songs on the LP). Of course, the live recordings are muddy as hell, with "Manipulate" being almost incomprehensible, though the fault may be more the band's than the engineer (what engineer?).

Attitude and "dyke rock" will only get Tribe 8 so far. Some talent will be required one of these days.

The a-side is not on the CD. The flip, "When a Man Says OW!", is. As noted in the review for the full-length, this is one damned impressive band.

"Stuck" is a wonderfully loopy up-tempo piece that simply soars all over the place. Yeah, it's messy, convoluted pop, but then, if it sounded like Milli Vanilli, chances are I wouldn't like it.

Another good reason to dig this band. Go to the other review for full details. Collector's note: unlike most Skin Graft singles (like the Melt-Banana also reviewed in this issue), this one does not have a comic book in it. Bummer.

The band is made up of former members of Shorty and the Mercury Players. The disc is produced by Jim O'Rourke, who the press sez has proclaimed this work "the best album since Spiderland." Them's big shoes, my friends.

And U.S. Maple does travel in the same discordant pop circles as Slint did (and much more so than the two bands the members played in before), though these guys seem to be a little more preoccupied with wicked, chaos-inducing guitar noodlings. Just a bit more, anyway.

Still, Long Hair in Three Stages is indeed one of the best albums of the year (hell, we're in December, I think I can say this now). Anyone who prefers melody or coherence can go elsewhere, but there's a big load of us random pop fans that will eat at this table any day. A masterpiece, perhaps.

Martin Bisi at the knobs again, and he really yanks a live sound out of the band. Lots of strange echoes and muffled noises for such a noise oriented band, but those bits are the crowning touch.

The lyrics are rather confrontational, but Bisi is careful to make sure the sound is just this side of hyper-aggressive, and with the pop sensibility the band shows with the songwriting here, that's good. Lots of guitars flying around, lots of stuff in the back. But the base rhythms are straight 4/4, with standard bass progressions.

With enough time and a little maturity, Ultra Bidé could become the second pop wonder at AT, after Alice Donut. All the tools are there, and the band obviously knows its way around a tune. Dig in.

Sticking aS much as possible to the sixties (where there is plenty of stuff to mine), the compilers of this set got a load of the coolest instrumental acts (and a few that sing sometimes, too) to cover themes from spy shows, cop shows and a few movies.

Personally, I'm damned happy to hear that spooky guitar sound (and wacked out vocals) promulgated by Deadbolt. And such luminaries as Huevos Ranchers, Los Straitjackets, Man or Astroman?, Forbidden Dimension and Combustible Edison also take part.

The tunes are pretty much straight run-throughs, in each band's personal style. In other words, you recognize both the tune and the players. That's a decent way to do a cover.

A nicely put set that seems a bit cheap, but not enough to worry me. Radio commercial fodder for years here.

I haven't liked a Voivod album since Nothingface, and I haven't been really blown away since Dimension Hatross. I thought the band had been delving into Rush territory for years, and the press said the new lead singer had been chosen to fill out a "real power trio sound". Let's just say I wasn't expecting much.

This album is a real step back. In time. Combining the aggression, power and songwriting style of Hatross with the technical precision of Nothingface and the later albums, Voivod has finally put out another album I can sink my teeth into. Walls of sheer noise combined with searing guitar licks and Michel Langevin's metronomic timekeeping.

The disc also has CD rom capabilities, but I have an old piece of shit computer, and I haven't scored a CD rom drive yet. So I can't say anything about all that. But the music is nothing short of wondrous. Negatron may very well be Voivod's ultimate expression, a stunning synthesis of all the ideas promulgated in the past. I'll not worry about that now and just listen, enraptured.

What happens when K.K. Null meets the noise jazz pop gurus of Chicago (Jim O'Rourke and cohorts Darin Gray and Thymme Jones)? Lots of cool shit.

And if you aren't a big fan of Brise-Glace, any of K.K. Null's output, Gastr Del Soul or any other such outfit, well, you just might dig this after all. The noise is nicely modulated, and Gray and Jones have really crafted some fine rhythms. The stuff keeps moving, despite whatever chaos presents itself.

Sure, Yona-Kit is not music for the masses or anything. But this disc is more of a "lite" version of the stuff the guys usually put out on their own. Hell, you can even hear K.K. laughing now and again.

Adventurous enough to keep me enthused, and mellow enough to allow the average person to keep her wits. Yona-Kit is a cool idea, and the album is executed with love and care.