This is the second American release for the band, and by an odd coincidence, their first release also corresponded with a My Dying Bride release.

Of course, this is no coincidence. Anathema plays a cool gothic doom-death metal, just like My Dying Bride. Except that where MDB uses a number of electronic instruments and is very sterile and cold, Anathema just leaves all those spaces blank, content to stick with basic guitar work. The effect is spooky, yet oddly inviting.

I loved that first disc, and this one is no different. The sound is great, the songs have been constructed into mini-symphonies of pain and everything clicks. Yes, there are only five songs comprising 41 minutes of music. Not radio friendly, to be sure. But trust me: Anathema makes long songs you can really get into. This isn't just masturbatory excess. Anathema creates true art.

Plenty of hootin' and hollerin' on this set of crunchy pop-hardcore tunes. The stuff is intended to amuse, and if you can get through the awfully self-indulgent song structure, well, you'll laugh.

At times, Bobsled resorts to simple pop-punk glory, and the band does alright with that. But the main reason folks are interested in Bobsled is the unusual way the women construct their tunes. Lots of herky-jerky moves, combined with a real off-balance list to the beat often enough.

This sort of thing grows on you. The odd moves almost remind me of a raw version of Nomeansno, though this is more of a feel issue, as Bobsled's music is nothing like the cool ones from Vancouver.

Still, Bobsled has done something fairly impressive: create an original sound in the punk-hardcore oeuvre. This bodes well for the future.

I got a full-length from these folks a while back (self-titled, on Thick), and the ethereal pop stuff was alternately cool and annoying. I remember liking the disc in general.

The a-side is a remix of a song from that album. The song is reduced to a beat and vocals, with lots of things tossed in just under the level of average hearing. Nice and subtle, perfectly beautiful. It would make a great track for some intense, slow-motion part of a movie. Three minutes of this song and interspersed slow-motion shots... I shoulda gone to film school.

But then I would never have heard this. The flip is "1:40 a.m.". It's as sly and understated as the remix, but without the beat. Yes, I know a lot of people who just wouldn't sit still long enough to appreciate something like this. If I had been drinking a few cokes before I reviewed it, who know?

But I do like it. This is cool stuff that doesn't insult your intelligence. It challenges the listener to really get into the sound. A very good thing.

There's this odd thing that folks call the "Chicago noise pop set" or something similar. Among the current members of Cheer-Accident (there have been a few over time) are Thymme Jones (Yona-Kit, Brise-Glace and at times Gastr del Sol) and Dylan Posa (Brise-Glace, Flying Luttenbachers). The "other" members (such a slight; sorry) are Phil Bonnet and Jeff Libersher, who are the folks that provide the great guitar work throughout.

Certainly not easy music. Cheer-Accident thrills in dissonance and odd chord changes, yet it is still at hear a pop band. This sort of thing is just taking pop to a whole new extreme (one that I like very much).

Simply glorious noisy pop music. Much of this sounds like a celebration that music is being made at all (as opposed to rank chaotic bluürgings), and I, for one, share in the joy. Cheer-Accident does not make music for the masses, but if you want to tap into a dirty pop vibe, I haven't heard this album's equal in a while.

You know what happens after making albums for 12 years? You get to be an institution. Hell, I remember when the paper boy came to our house when I was in high school (mid-80s--yow!) with a D.R.I. t-shirt. And this was in the wastelands of eastern New Mexico. So they've obviously sold out and moved on, right?

Well, those Metal Blade records might be considered sell-out, I suppose. But the sound hasn't really changed, except that the songs sometimes approach three mnutes in length. And that's been the case for ages.

No, D.R.I. doesn't rip off these super-speed-demon riffs for songs at a time anymore. The folks have slowed down and gotten a touch more tuneful. And now that punk is cool again, people are even buying the CDs.

Full Speed Ahead is cheesy at times, I guess, but the sound is a nice approximation of that snotty thrash stuff that hardcore bands cranked out in the mid-80s. And let's get real: this is much better than that shitty Circle Jerks reunion disc from last year. D.R.I. never quit. And it's still a real deal.

Perfectly indescribable.

Like the succinct press notice says, Geezer Lake combines punk, pop, noise, jazz and a whole lot of other stuff to create a big messy bowl of bitchen music.

The a-side is off the new full length. It's a glorious jambalaya of blurting horns, caterwauling guitars and wildly distorted vocals. Remember that note about Chicago pop acts with the Cheer-Accident review? Well, these guys fit that scene pretty well, except that they're from Greensboro, NC.

They can still walk the walk, though. The flip is a stunning bit of work called "Sages". The folks at Thick think it may be the best song on the whole picture disc series, and while there have been some good ones, they may be right. If the excellent "James Dean" had been as good, this would have been my first "Five A" review. But Geezer Lake comes close enough. If you see this anywhere, don't leave the store without it.

The second full-length from one of the more versatile industrial dance acts around. Hate Dept. has always more than satisfied, and Omnipresent keeps that string going.

Capable of shifting moods as well as anyone in the game, Siebold and Co. are simply masters of this domain. While you'll have to hit the recent EP to find the "title track" of this album, you do get a reprise of "New Power" from that release.

Perhaps the band's most important attribute is its ability to combine the catchy with the intense without creating wanky anthems. These songs tear at your soul, and still you want to rush the dance floor.

This album is a bomb. Who knows what will be left once it has been properly detonated. We are all powerless to resist the charms of Hate Dept.

Cool pop music, infectious and distorted and played with vicious punk abandon.

Sort of a alterna-pop version of the NOFX sound. Really fast wall of noise, thin guitar sound and shouted vocals. But the clean and thick (not necessarily a contradiction, as this proves) production and songwriting style leaves Kiss the Clown sounding more like a pop band. No complaints from my side.

Right up my alley. The guys know how to make pop tunes really sing, and the sound is pure bliss. All the stars are in alignment, and everything came together right. This is one of those albums that manages to take the possibility of mundane music and turn it into something great. I can't say anything else; I'm giddy from the experience.

Not many bands can get away with having the first track on an album run 12 minutes. My Dying Bride fans would be disappointed if it wasn't.

"The Cry of Mankind" isn't just any 12-minute song, either. It sounds like a real attempt to replicate the epic angst and fury of the "Symphonaire Infernus Et Spera Empyrium", which I consider to be one of the greatest musical compositions of all time (yes, going up against al the music the world has ever known). Ever since that moment, My Dying Bride seems to have attempted to stay away from such an all-encompassing (and soul-wrenching) statement. Not here. And the most amazing thing is that "The Cry of Mankind" comes damned close.

Turn Loose the Swans was a wonderfully sparse goth/doom album. The Angel and the Dark River has moments that harken back to such ideas, but the definite emphasis here is on re-establishing the band as one of the heaviest in the universe. The production is lush and full (like the first full-length, As the Flower Withers, and there is much more usage of guitar and epochal songwriting. My Dying Bride really came out swinging.

And I couldn't be more pleased. By taking all of the varied sonic elements of its past and throwing them into this stew, My Dying Bride has finally lived up to the promise of its first widely-released EP. Not to say the other albums, EPs and singles have sucked, but the "Symphonaire" left big shoes to fill, shoes that no other band could even touch. The six songs over 52 minutes leave me utterly drained physically and emotionally. Perhaps the best album I've ever heard, period.

Pretty catchy metalcore with just a hint of the funk. The production is a little weak (still kinda wimpy, really), but the solid material mostly makes up for that.

And while the music is none to original or innovative, N.I.L.8 makes sure you know it's just out to amuse. The topics are heavy into the social issues, but never preachy. Just pictures of a place that is less than paradise, with an easy-going backing track.

If this album were pretentious in the slightest, I'd have a problem with it. But it's not, and because of that I can simply bask in the simple pleasures afforded. Uncomplicated loud music with cool riffage and a bouncy bass.

I remember liking the last album, which had a few more European overtones and less emphasis on the sludgy trends currently hot in the U.S. Like their labelmates Wicked Maraya, this time out they get a lot more into the Pantallica style of riff work.

And it doesn't click often enough to distress me. I'm not a big fan of anthems for anthems sake, and while the first album had some nice doomy moments, here Reign seems to have slowed to a dirge for no good reason. The performances and production are exemplary, and those help the album stick out the other shortcomings.

What I really miss are the cool lead guitar lines that flowed through the first album. Nothing the band does here makes me excited at all. This is a real bummer.

A really nice Euro-metal take on American rock trends of the past 10 years, from glam to industrial and everything in between. Weird and wildly diverse, but still fairly amusing.

It doesn't work all the time. Schubert is trying on too many hats to really settle down on a simply style, and there simply is no center to the disc. But the many bits of silliness (particularly the intros that had nothing to do with the songs) kept me going.

Schubert tried, and occasionally succeeded. This isn't any worse than most cheesy American "metal" albums of the past few years, and on inspired moments like the bizarre rendition of "Cheek to Cheek", it's much better. With some consistency, Schubert could really do something.

A sometime songwriting collaborator with such folks as Scott McCaughey of the Young Fresh Fellows, Silva saw his songs recorded by such luminaries as the Smithereens (and YFF, of course). He died in late 1994 (after this album was recorded), but it has taken a while for this final collection to see the light of day.

As his credits might show, Silva had a knack for writing the perfect pop song. This is exhibited all through the album, from the country-tinged "Longshoreman's Hall" to the Big Star-ish "Christmas Is Holy" to "All the Places (I've Never Been)", which is right down that Young Fresh Fellows lane.

Silva was one of those people who could simply write songs that people refuse to forget. If you haven't heard of him before, don't feel too bad. He's one of those guys who everyone likes, but no one can sell. He's gone now, but there are plenty of reasons why folks should never forget Jimmy Silva. Fourteen of them are on this album.

The first track is a CD-Rom thing, and I don't have that capacity. Oh well. I'll just stick to the music. Sample and distortion-heavy industrial stuff that reminds me a bit of a more-commercial Skinny Puppy.

More experimental than club ready, for sure. Sweat Engine has crafted a nice melange of sounds into this vision of sound (nice paradox, eh?). Not for the squeamish, certainly.

I can't quite figure out what this is all about, but then, I can't see the CD-Rom. That could make all the difference in the world. As music alone, though, Sweat Engine has left a few necessary pieces out of the mix. Still, there are plenty of cool experimental electronic bits to keep my attention.

A big chunk of (mostly) Seattle talent donates tunes recorded live at the Crocodile Cafe to a compilation benefiting the Northwest AIDS foundation and Planned Parenthood of Seattle-King County. Not a bad idea.

And while the hipsters will check out the Presidents of the USA, Spinanes and Mad Season, those with a more pop mood will like the Minus 5 (featuring Scott McCaughey, Jon Auer, Kurt Bloch and Peter Buck), Built to Spill, YFF and Uncle Joe's Big Ol' Driver. Yes, plenty for everyone.

The live production is sparse, which benefits the lighter bands, showcasing some nice songwriting. But there isn't a bad tune (or even a bad band) in the set. A nice load of fun, and a good cause to boot. Why not get happy?