C
Universum
(54-40 or Fight!)
reviewed in issue #269, October 2005

C might stand for the Czech Republic, home base for these boys. Or it might stand for "champs." These boys play instrumental post-rock like few others.

And even before I saw the reference on the sleeve, I thought of Del Rey, one of the great, oft-overlooked instrumental bands. These guys incorporate that signature ringing guitar tone often enough, though C likes to veer in plenty of other directions as well.

So much so that Sonic Youth and (early) Don Cab (also listed on the sleeve) are completely accurate comparisons...both in style and quality. The songs on this album lurch and stagger from sound to sound, but the underlying strength is present throughout.

I really dig the way C cycles through ideas. Give each notion its due, and then move on. Proof, I suppose, that there's always something new under the headphones, after all--even if it is largely a sly re-examination of the past. Most exciting.

C.O. Jones
Dreams of Suckcess
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #151, 1/19/98

Rather competently executed grungy stuff (though with a very clean lead guitar sound). While not updating the style much, C.O. Jones certainly has a handle on this sound.

The songwriting fits the grooves, and the playing is very good. The production left a solid, but not overwhelming sound. All pluses, in my book.

But, see, I've heard this before. No, the band isn't ripping anyone off, but they're sticking to the main avenues. Considering that these guys are all still teenagers, there's plenty of time to explore more unusual musical styles.

C.O. Jones won't make a mark playing precisely this sort of music, but the band is definitely worth keeping an eye on. Way too much talent to ignore.

Still meandering around the Pearl Jam style of grunge, C.O. Jones sounds like it is slowly finding its own signature sound. There is a definite evolution from the first disc I heard.

To start with, more consistent songwriting. I suppose the easiest way to explain it is that the songs conform to type a bit better, but that's not all. When other influences are brought in, they compliment what is already here, instead of totally taking parts of songs.

The sound is still really clean, very well done. Hey, like I said before, these boys have all the tools (they are boys, none of them yet 20, I believe) to really go far. If they keep improving like this...

Well, who knows. There is talent galore here, whether it is realized with this project or bands to come. It's always nice to get a fresh glimpse of the future.

c.t.z.n (featuring B. Hill)
Japan as the 51st State of the U.S.A. CD5
(Syntax)
reviewed in issue #190, 11/1/99

Not unlike the Atomic Soul Experiences singles in the somwhat workmanlike electronic beats, c.t.z.n. also manages to craft a catchy little tune, overlaid with somewhat more overtly aggressive lyric content.

The song speculates on the possibilities of Japan becoming a part of the U.S. This is as much a satire on the attraction for America shared by younger Japanese as a comment on the Japanese political state.

The point made is that Japan is the 51st state, in reality, if not in title. This is presented in integrated, instrumental and vocal-only tracks. An odd way to kick out the ideas, but it works. You can dance, contemplate, or both. Why not?

C-Rayz Walz
Year of the Beast
(Definitive Jux)
reviewed in issue #265, June 2005

I've always been a sucker for politically-conscious hip hop, which is one reason why I've always been a fan of Def Jux. I'm also a big fan of collage-style production, especially when it sounds organic. RJD2, for instance. C-Rayz Walz comes hard with both on this, his first album since 2003's Ravipops (The Substance).

The songs are all over the map. Some are serious explorations, and others are obviously bits of fun. C-Rayz Walz trips all through it, his voice at once impressive and yet containing element of everyman as well. Approachable greatness. Gotta love that.

The sound is full and round. This is music that exists outside of the rhymes. Music that has a mind of its own. Music that complements the lyrical flow. That's the sort of thing that really impresses me.

Fall into this world and you might not want to leave. The lush beats and thick rhymes are quickly addictive. Yep, just another winner for Def Jux. Like you thought it would be a dud.

C17H19N03
Terra Damnata
(Fifth Colvmn)
reviewed in issue #103, 3/18/96

First, a note about the sponsors: Fifth Colvmn.

Many of you are no doubt familiar with Chemlab (If not, then you should consider getting educated). Fifth Colvmn licensed Burn Out to Metal Blade, but the new one stays home. These folks are purveyors of some fine industrial works. Okay, now the review of this band.

Weird ass name, no doubt about it. and C17... lives up to that with meandering experimental fare. Nuance and subtlety are the tool here, supplanting usual suspects speed, distortion and volume.

No, these folk are perfectly willing to spend 8 minutes (or longer) to weave a complex musical web that isn't ambient by a long shot, but certainly will throw those expecting a Skinny Puppy or Pigface-like take on electronic music.

Kinda reminds me of early In the Nursery. Snippets don't do it justice; a full listen is required. And anyway, this band doesn't speak in bits and pieces; it uses big words and sentences with impeccable structure.

Completely impressive. C17... has a good grasp on composition and structure, and is not afraid to challenge to listener. Always a good thing. Those with patience will be rewarded.

Caboto
Nauta
(Scenester)
reviewed in issue #230, June 2002

Caboto is four guys from Italy who have decided to take noise pop to its logical jazz fusion extreme. Indeed, these songs are almost completely jazz in construction and playing style, though the band itself is a standard rock combo in composition.

Not entirely unlike that Iceburn tried to do before it obliterated itself, I guess, though Caboto does well without using too many "jazz" instruments (there is some trumpet on one piece, and an accordion does wander around a bit--though you'd hardly call an accordion a "jazz" instrument).

The result is a sound that feels familiar without actually being so. Fans of Tortoise, the Sea and Cake or High Llamas will appreciate some of the "high pop" moments, while June of 44 fans will probably appreciate the sometimes manic interplay between the guitar, keyboards, bass and drums.

And, yes, jazz fusion and prog fans will find some bits they like as well. Of course, by mixing all of these sounds so stylishly, Caboto may well alienate fans at the same time. That's the risk of going out on a limb and crafting a clever take on an innovative sound. Me, I'm just surfing the multitudes of lines. Great stuff.

Cadillac Tramps
Tombstone Radio
(Doctor Dream)
reviewed in issue #20, 9/15/92

Imagine rockabilly filtered through concrete. Well, not too much of the country part of rockabilly, but you get the idea. Real hard rockin'. I can only imagine what these boys are like live, but the show must be amazing. The songs on Tombstone Radio have a live feeling like I haven't heard in a long time.

A real bad drunk. You know, when it's midnight, you realize you've already gone through a bottle of Tequila and are halfway through something you don't even recognize. This is that very moment. You can only go down. But what a high.

This compares well to Sugar Shack (recently reviewed right here) and the good Rev. Horton Heat, although it really doesn't sound like either at all. No, the Cadillac Tramps are uniquely themselves, and they rock my world.

Due to an unfortunate reading habit, I caught an article in Newsweek that talked about the resurgence of bar bands. Like NRBQ and Los Lobos. Um, okay. I like Los Lobos a lot, but give me the Cadillac Tramps and decent brew any day.

A couple of summers ago they were wandering around with Sister Double Happiness, and I missed it (I was working two jobs and did an A&A issue that week). Needless to say, I was rather pissed.

It's a simple formula: basic chords, basic beats, basic melodies and angst. A big ol' glass of angst, with chaser of bitterness. Sure, the Tramps owe a debt to punk for the attitude, but they exhibit a real love for the basic rock and roll that brings out the best in a 25-cent; draw. And the best part: you don't have to be drunk to appreciate them. Just turn up the stereo.

Caesura
More Specific Less Pacific
(54-40 or Fight!)
reviewed in issue #230, June 2002

Speaking of points along the noise pop fusion continuum, here's Caesura. Sounding much like early June of 44, what with some wonderfully squalling guitars and blistering rhythm work, this trio hacks away incessantly. Sometimes they really connect.

Actually, most of the songs here are tight, focused and brilliant. Unlike most bands who ply these waters, Caesura specializes in short bursts of energy, songs that would seem to be fragmentary except for the depth of ideas within them.

The sound is raw, almost to the point of bleeding. The only things that keep these pieces from cutting their way through the plastic on the CD are the simple (and vaguely rounded) sounds of the guitar and bass. Almost no effects--most of the time--which keeps the overall feel just this side of utterly abrasive.

Which isn't to say these pieces are pleasant. There are plenty of lines for the intellectual listener to follow, but Caesura specializes in emotional and physical response. This music gets the blood flowing, cranking the heart more and more until it seems it just might not be able to handle the strain. Then the album is done. Finally comes the junkie's dilemma: Risk physical depletion or ignore the jones. Me? I hit repeat.

Chris Cairns
Runaway Train
(FireHeart Productions)
reviewed in issue #251, March 2004

I don't get many bluegrass albums in the mail, and it's a shame. I love the stuff. There's something about the frenzied--yet technically perfect--banjo and mandolin picking and raucous shouts that speaks directly to my soul.

But Cairns shows off many more sides of the sound than that. His songs take on all tempos and subjects. He even throws in a gospel quarter for good measure. Cairns is a fine songwriter, and he plays a nice banjo (and rhythm guitar), but most importantly he creates wide open spaces for his compatriots on fiddle and mandolin and such.

That's the nice thing about bluegrass, and acoustic music in general. There's plenty of room for every player to shine without overshadowing anyone. The sound on this album is immaculate--there's none of that tinny "authentic acoustic" sound that I just hate. Rather, the tones here are rich and full. Which is, after all, truly authentic.

If I had to quibble, I do wish Cairns would relax and let loose a bit more. There's plenty of energy on this album, but I need a bit more to send me into the stratosphere. Still, this is a fine collection by any standard. And, for the record, I'd love to hear lots more in the future.

Cairo
Cairo
(Magna Carta)
reviewed in issue #71, 2/28/95

Yes!
Well, that's who Cairo certainly wants to be. The Trevor Horn-produced version, not the original. Keyboards ascendant, melodies twisted among the vocals and guitars.

And long songs. "Ruins at Avalon's Gate" checks in at 22:35. My.

The production is lush, but it follows the musical lead and is not too technical. Sure, these guys are playing pretty complicated fare, but they string it together well, and nothing sounds jumbled or contrived.

I've said before that I'm not a big fan of this sort of music, but I like this disc. Cairo knows how to flesh out simple musical ideas and turn them into the progressive sound favored by the band. Each songs has at its heart only a couple real melodic ideas, and thus nothing is too complicated. The soul comes through.

Caledonia
Spires
(self-released)
released in issue #160, 6/1/98

A pleasant mishmash of pop styles, noisy ethereal stuff, if you like. The vocals alternately lilt and growl, and the music morphs to fit the mood of each particular song.

The songs themselves don't follow strict construction rules, instead generally meandering about and finding a good place to alight for the moment. I wish the writing was a bit more disciplined (that would help eliminate some of the more egregious musical tangents), but this loopy style has plenty of its own charm.

Ultimately, the songs just don't quite click for me. There are lots of nice moments, but Caledonia just hasn't quite settled on what it wants to play, and that indecisiveness leaves the songs lacking that final defining moment.

A work in progress, most definitely. There's plenty of potential, but not quite enough craft. More live shows ought to work out the songwriting kinks, and once that gets more settled, who knows?

Calexico
Spoke
(Quarterstick-Touch and Go)
reviewed in issue #139, 7/21/97

The three members of Calexico are better known for their session and tour work with lots of famous people. Here, the sound is spare and the musical inspiration is all over the map. There are plenty of Spanish guitar bits and lots of generic American West spookiness (is that a genre? I don't think so...).

Kinda like a more conceptual Palace. The playing and singing is tight, but the songwriting has an ethereal quality that is hard to place, except that Will Oldham and also Smog came immediately to mind.

The stuff was recorded in a home studio, and so the sound can be horrific at times, but that's exactly what the music needs. This is not arena shaking music. It's not even living room shaking music. It's thought wave shaking music.

The best kind of music defies full description, and Calexico has achieved that standard. A timeless album that quickly works itself into your subconscious, where all sorts of damage will most certainly be done.

Another ride in the American Outback with Calexico. As heard through the ears of a European cinematographer. No Sergio Leone jokes, please. Though this music would be right at home if A Fistful of Dollars had any sense of irony whatsoever.

Joey Burns and John Convertino, collectively known as Calexico, found enough time off from their usual gigs (Barbara Manning, Victoria Williams, Giant Sand and others) to record this puppy late last year. The sound is much fuller than the first disc, but as the music was already rather wide-ranging, not much could be improved in that area.

A great ride. Goofy, yeah, but also breathtaking. The better facilities didn't spoil the boys, who have made a better sounding album that still manages to be as inventive as its predecessor.

Calexico is one of those projects that some people instinctively understand. The music has a way of worming into my head and then instructing certaiPezzgic and follow along. Lunatic notions become the norm, and my mind meanders and bounds like a pebble down a mountain stream. Pretty damned cool.

There's just something infectious about what Calexico plays. Usually it's a country song in a Mexican groove, or perhaps a Parisian torch song done in western swing with mariachi-style trumpets in back. No matter what John Convertino and Joey Burns throw into the pot, it simmers out as a stew that can't be licked up fast enough.

Not that this is all happy music, mind you. There are cold, lonely nights out in the desert as well. But even so, the sound is irresistible. The disc just rollicks on and on, with the hope that the good times never end.

Those expecting some experimental byways won't be disappointed. There are a couple of lengthy mood pieces with plenty of space for interpretation. But even these are more than accessible to the more mainstream listener.

In short, Calexico seems to have effortlessly bridged the gap between avant-garde and commercially-appealing music. There's plenty here for fans of all stripes, without condescending to anyone. A most impressive achievement.

A few odds and ends from this Arizona duo. B-sides, unreleased tracks, remixes and some videos (which can be viewed on Mac or PC). An EP bursting at the seams, really.

Another skip along the arty southwestern road Calexico has been treading for years. Frothy and enjoyable, but with enough serious overtones to keep the mind engaged as well.

About what might be expected, I suppose. The pieces don't fit together quite as well as the stuff generally does on the albums, but they're not supposed to. This set is about collecting the debris. Mighty fine debris, I might add.

Calibos
Calibos
(Arlingtone)
reviewed in issue #197, 3/27/00

Vaguely loopy emo. In the modern style, which means there are a few melodic enhancers, particularly in the lead guitar. The pieces sound kinda light in the pocket at first, but there is an underlying depth.

It's not in the vocals or lyrics, though. Those are fine, mind you, but not earthshattering. Nope, Calibos just gets cooking every once in a while. It's the band thing. Where the three pieces get together and simply transcend the basic emo trio sound.

The disc sounds good, too. A dully sharp sound (how's that for a moronic oxymoron?) that blends the instruments just enough to create the illusion of a larger band. Part of that is also the interaction, of course. But the knob guy deserves a hand.

What seemed slight at first really blossomed into something cool. Calibos just bounds. That's all. Bounding around and about. Like a sunny day in an isolated meadow.

Califone
Califone EP
(Road Cone)
reviewed in issue #195, 2/14/00

Streamofconsciousness poetry, both musical and lyrical. Kinda like if Neil Young took to a few Palace songs and utilized all the latest machinery, including drum machines.

But not in a Beck way, if that's where you think I'm going. This isn't poppy stuff. There's a rural blues sound to the guitar licks, and the drum machine (when it appears) doesn't get in the way. Rather, it just provides the proper heartbeat.

Vaguely experimental in melody and beat usage, but not overly so. Califone is out to redefine sonic conventions, certainly, but not in such as way as to confuse or overly titillate. This is just simply cool music.

And sometimes, that's all it takes. The creativity in ferment here is astonishing. Way too much to take in with just a whiff.

California Guitar Trio
Rocks the West
(Discipline Global Mobile)
reviewed in issue #199, 5/8/00

The trio is Bert Lams, Paul Richards and Hideyo Moriya. They get occasional help from Tony Levin on bass and Bill Janssen on sax. They play their own pieces and those of others--including Mussorgsky's "Pictures at an Exhibition," Ellington's "Caravan" and Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." To say the trio has a wide repertoire is understanding the matter considerably.

While this live set falls prey to the "tin guitar" sound that seems to plague most recent high-quality acoustic guitar recordings, the sound is good enough to distinguish between the players. Their individual styles and tones are apparent. So I'm willing to overlook my other sound quibbles.

While obviously classically trained, the members prove themselves most proficient in adopting whatever style is necessary to play the song right. The rousing rendition of "Misirlou" is proof of that. Always technically precise, but also most expressive.

Sure, this is paradise for the guitarist's guitarist. The playing is exquisite. But there's just as much here for a casual fan, someone who likes to hear good music presented in a somewhat unusual format. You know, most songs weren't written for three guitars. But it works so well here, you'll be asking "why not?" when the disc runs dry.

Call Me Lightning
The Trouble We're In
(Revelation)
reviewed in issue #257, September 2004

I'm beginning to think there's a trend toward prog-influenced hardcore. In truth, Call Me Lightning is hardcore in attitude only, but the devastation these songs leave in their wake has all the hallmarks of a massive attack.

Unlike the Alison Ranger album reviewed above, the sound on this disc is exceptionally clean and sharp. The general songwriting conventions and musical ambition are similar, but Call Me Lightning lies much closer to latter-day Guns N' Roses than, say, the Ex.

Which isn't to say that these boys are sell-outs. Rather, they simply prefer to have all the trappings of a commercial rock sound and still stick to their wacko indie music rantings. Hey, as long as it works, right? Well, it works. Amazingly well.

Yes, this is precisely the sort of adrenaline-pushing, intellect-tickling music that makes me shoot first and clean up later. I'm a sucker for blistering tunes that, oh, by the way, are skillfully crafted and far deeper than mere epidermis. And I'm pretty sure that there are at least a couple more people out there whose taste agrees with mine. Call Me Lightning is most satisfying.

Calliope
Calliope
(Thick)
reviewed in issue #74, 4/15/95

Loosely-recorded ethereal pop, with a sound that seems to be merely floating out of the speaker. Not what I expected from Thick. But that's cool with me.

Melodically, Calliope has obviously spent years listening to brooding UK pop, from the Smiths to My Bloody Valentine. Everything seems to be just tinged with a minor key. That little feeling that tells you something isn't quite right.

Not precisely my cup of tea, but Calliope pulls the trick off pretty well. There aren't that many overlays, so the simple, pretty sound can emanate from your stereo and not be cut off by something jarring.

A cool (slightly psychedelic) pop disc. What's not to like?

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.

Meandering, occasionally maddening pop stuff. To call this introspective would be a horrific understatement. Calliope is so far underneath its own skin it's swimming in ... well, I think I'm taking that little metaphor a bit too far. Nonetheless, I hope you get my point.

The melodies are disjointed, but they are sweet. You've just got to let them express themselves in their own time. Calliope cannot be rushed to do anything, especially when it comes to tying a song together. A couple of pieces here don't click until the very last thought is expressed.

It sure helps to be able to float along with the flow. Impatient listeners will give up long before the good stuff arrives. Sometimes the moment of epiphany comes after the song is done. All of a sudden, it makes sense.

I like challenging music. Calliope doesn't pander to ignorant listeners with short attention spans. Rather, these songs reward those who like to think about the music they hear. Dive in headfirst and let the experience move you.

Calliope is all about fusion. Fusion of rock, jazz, funk, electronica, hip-hop and a few other sounds I can't quite put my finger on just yet. The result is an arresting set of low-key moody rockers. You know, lounge music for music snobs.

Hey, I think that might be a catchphrase or something. Readers from a few years back might recall the derision I heaped upon most "lounge" acts, and so they've probably already picked up on my distinction. This is lounge done well, or perhaps more accurately, mellow mood rock for moderns.

Wow, the hits just keep on coming. What Calliope does better than most is find a solid groove and then chill. The songs don't really go anywhere, but damn, they sound good. And the little stylistic and instrumental decorations about the edges subtly burnish the sound. Just enough to make my smile grow eight miles wide.

Cool. As in cool. You know, cool. Very cool. Am I repeating myself? Maybe, but Calliope deserves as much praise as I can wring from my increasingly meager pen. Everything else written here is mush.

Robert Calvert
FREQ
(Cleopatra)
reviewed in issue #60, 8/15/94

While it seems most any British guitarist of importance in the last twenty years can claim to have passed through either Hawkwind or King Crimson, Robert Calvert does deserve the appellation "ex-Hawkwind".
And this 1984 recording is an industrial extension of what Hawkwind has been doing for the past twenty-plus years.

Certainly not listener-friendly, FREQ relates a picture of Great Britain in the early eighties, from the miners strike to the IRA to Margaret Thatcher's stodgy ass. And don't forget the music. The U.K. was sending us the new wave at the time. While very sterile and electronic, FREQ is still a perfect counterpart to the pop revolution of the time. You see, this record has soul.

He cared, about the environment, about labor, about the poor schmucks who have to go in and clean up after the Irish bombers.

Toss in 1980's single "Lord of the Hornets" (with fellow Hawkwind veteran Lemmy helping out), and you have a rather nice package.

Camarosmith
Camarosmith
(Dead Teenager)
reviewed in issue #242, June 2003

The further evolution of Zeke, in a manner of speaking. In any case, these Seattle boys (including a couple of ex-Zekesters) take that nice, fuzzy stoner rock and give it a serious kick in the ass.

The songs run almost three minutes apiece, epic by Zeke standards, but they fly by with all the fury of an April tornado. There's a big whoosh and then everything is blown to bits.

To my ear, Camarosmith gets back to the basic core of rock and roll: loud guitars, bashing drums and kick-ass bass lines. If you've got all that, why do you need anything else?

Got me. Camaosmith certainly qualifies as a guilty pleasure, but I'm gonna indulge myself as much as possible. Dive into the sludge and cavort to your heart's content.

Camber
Hollowed-Out 7"
(Deep Elm)
reviewed in issue #121, 10/21/96

A couple shots of emo-core, with a nice nod to midtempo pop. I've heard it before, but Camber does a nice take on the form.

"Hollowed-Out" is rather pretty, with the usual dreary lyrics. I particularly like the lead guitar line, which had a habit of surprising me.

The flip, "Question Marks", is much more intense, with some of the throbbing rhythm work found with Jawbox and the like. The groove is great, and all the pieces fit together very well. Once again the lead line wends its way all over the map in an impressive way.

Both are good songs, though I give the nod to the b-side. A solid effort all around.

I thought the stuff on the 7-inch was well-constructed and generally nicely performed. There was a question in my head, though, as to whether or not the songs suffered from so much contemplation.

See, it's not supposed to sound like you're trying. At least, that's always been my theory. Still, Camber does such a fine job of crafting the emo-core (and talk about a genre where planning and painstaking effort are key), I can't get too hacked.

The songs are gorgeous, and there is not one hair out of place. This is really a supreme production job by John Agnello. A solid piece of work all the way around. I'm not sure if punksters are ready for this kind of pinpoint precision, but then, that would be their loss.

I liked this more and more as I listened. Patience is a virtue when it comes to this sort of music, and Camber shows more than enough.

Another glistening foray into the emo realms. Camber is one of the more adventurous emo bands around, and this disc shows off many moods and feels. Bone-jarringly raucous, soft and tender, light and poppy, strident and terse. It's all here.

And Camber does it even while maintaining a definite band sound. Sure, the songs range all over the map, but they still stay true to some notion of a true Camber. A rough, and impressive, trick.

Even the production manages to change feels to suit the songs, though once again, there is a vaguely ragged quality that runs throughout. Sorta lo-fi, but it sharpens right up in the power pop moments. There folks know what they're doing.

Simply knocked dead solid stiff once again. It just takes a taste of Camber to get completely knocked out. I'm already there, my friends, and this disc is only further proof.

Hey, I just reviewed the new Camber disc, and I was utterly knocked out. This split is with Kid Brother Collective, a band out of Flint, Mich.

A typical Camber song: Raucous, complex and completely involving. The guys just have a way of drawing folks into their sound. Me, in any case. "The Long Goodbye" is fabulous.

Kid Brother Collective's "Sketches of Spain" (not the jazz song) is somewhat more subdued, leading with a spare guitar line before bringing on the fuzz. In that way, it's a bit more by-the-book, but both the musical and lyrical ideas are intriguing. More than enough to make up for a somewhat generic emo song construction.

Two solid (hell, much better than that) pieces. A most worthy seven-inch.

Further redefining the emo universe (or perhaps proving once and for all that emo isn't a sound, but rather a state of mind), Camber blazes forth with an album that is more catchy art rock (how's that for an oxymoron?) than anything else.

Not so noodly as Radiohead, of course, but this puppy has its proggy moments. The sound retains that comfy punkish fuzz, but what lies behind that scrim is decidedly ambitious and complicated.

And it all sounds so good. Camber still likes to bash out songs, no matter how involved they have become (and let's be fair; the guys never wrote a straight three-chord piece). That attitude extends to the production sound, which is tailored for aggression. Aggressive ideas as well as playing.

Ambition is a great thing in a band, as long as it doesn't lead to pretentiousness. Camber easily stays on the hang-loose side of that divide. These guys don't hit you over the head with their brilliance. They let the music do the talking. And it says volumes, believe me.

One song from Brandtson, three from Camber and two from Seven Storey. Very punchy stuff, though it's interesting that the Brandtson stuff sounds a bit more cerebral than usual, while the (quite similar) Camber pieces sound much more off the cuff. Must be my expectations of the band in question.

I'm not sure if there's really a theme to this set, other than really fine songs by great bands (well, Seven Storey is a one-man affair, but still). While each band did its recording separately, the sound achieved by each is startlingly similar to the others. I don't know if this intentional, but it sure does aid continuity.

A great introduction to these three great acts. Fans will certainly want to hear this stuff, but this is the sort of release that brings in new admirers in exponential numbers. Simply outstanding.

Can
Sacrilege remix double CD
(Mute)
reviewed in issue #134, 5/12/97

I have no idea what the originals sound like, but these remixes are more than impressive. Sure, with names like Brian Eno, A Guy Called Gerald, Sonic Youth, Pete Shelley and the Orb bounding about, there's bound to be some good stuff.

And that there is, from noise to electronica to ambient to the utterly indescribable. Like I said, I can't compare these with Can's original versions, but what I hear is rather astonishing.

The sheer diversity of the moods and sounds on these two discs is strong enough to impress just about anyone. Add in some inspired sampling and creative editing, and you get this very tasty treat.

Don't expect anything ordinary, and you'll be rewarded. There is a large amount of experimentation on these discs, and most it pays off in wondrous ways. Now I've got to dig up the Can albums and figure out just what the hell I missed.

Cancer
Sins of Mankind
(Restless)
reviewed in issue #36, 6/30/93

The playing is by far their best. But I must say the spark of excitement is not there for me. Much like the Disincarnate album, I just can't get into it.

And that's probably too bad for me. There is nothing wrong with the music (and like I said, the playing is great). It just seems a little calculated, a little dull.

A lot of you like this, and that's perfectly fine by me. I simply cannot get emotionally involved, and to be honest, music that doesn't move me cannot get my support.

The Cancer Conspiracy
The Audio Medium
(Big Wheel Recreation)
reviewed in issue #232, August 2002

Three guys. Drums, bass, guitars (oh, and a little sax and keys thrown in when necessary). Compositions. Not songs. Compositions.

I like it when people push the limits of music like this. And it's not that the Cancer Conspiracy is going where no band has gone before. Plenty of musicians have fused rock, jazz and classical ideas into something cool. These boys take that tradition and run freely.

And so there are prog moments, noise moments, grunge moments, cool moments, bop moments, symphonic moments. You name it, it's probably here.

Oh, yeah, this is a rock album. Let's not make any bones about that. The Cancer Conspiracy is a rock band, after all. There's just a whole lotta stuff goin' on within that whole "rock" thing. That's what the greats do, after all.

Candidate
Nuada
(Snowstorm)
reviewed in issue #245, September 2003

Candidate play that peculiarly British sort of neo-folk, stuff that rolls with the roots and still manages to drop in the occasional modern pop convention as well. The fusion is seamless; the songs are intricately-crafted gems.

The songs here are inspired by The Wicker Man, a movie I've heard of but have never seen. This album makes me want to drop what I'm doing (writing reviews is hard work, folks) and go rent the puppy. Inspired? I sure am.

The sound is lush and full, giving the acoustic guitars plenty of room to round out, and enveloping everything else in an organic blanket. This music is connected to the earth in ways that I can't begin to explain. And I'm guessing that's intentional.

Simply a breathtaking experience. I wasn't familiar with Candidate before hearing this disc, but now I am similarly inspired to haul in the band's earlier works. You'd be surprised how rarely that happens to me. This album is simply unforgettable.

Candiru
Unloved and Weeded Out
(Release-Relapse)
reviewed in issue #32, 4/15/93

At once really catchy and grotesquely offensive. I don't think I've heard anything this cool in some time. Matt from Relapse warned me I might like this...

Okay, okay, so he was right. And a few of you progressive types out there in radioland have picked up on this as well. Which is good, because the godfathers of industrial have all descended from the mountaintop and entered major-label (and mediocre release) hell. Time for nee blood to kick some life into the genre.

Great music for an S & M session. You could watch the welts grow as you writhe to the beat. Not many people dare record (or release) intense efforts like this. The world would be a much better place if folks did.

Truly an act of extreme depravity. And I love it.

David Candy
Play Power
(Jetset)
reviewed in issue #216, 5/14/01

The liners say, "Ian Svenonious plays David Candy." And the album comes off as some kind of performance art, an intensely earnest interpretation of 60s psychedelic party pop sung by a smarmy singer.

I'll say this: The disc never gets boring. Weird? Often. Especially when "David Candy" goes off on spoken-word rambles. There's a 19-minute piece called "Diary of a Genius" that seems to take this whole concept to the edge.

I admire the artistic purity of the vision behind this album. Full-bore creativity focused like a laser on some of the more self-indulgent music of the century. I'm not sure people are supposed to "like" this.

More like "dig" it, man. And I don't. Not exactly. While I think Svenonious succeeds in bringing David Candy to life, I'm not sure why he did it in the first place. Maybe I'm looking for something that's just not here. Maybe I should just be happy with what I can hear. I dunno.

Candy Planet
Blisskrieg
(Oblivion)
reviewed in issue #109, 5/20/96

Alt pop in the later Camper Van style, with Laura Arias' vocals kinda oozing about. Pleasant, without any guilt.

Nothing stunning or jarring, just simple pop music with the odd jangly guitar break. Like earlier Transvision Vamp, I guess. Though not as pretentious or silly.

I'm really struggling here. I like the disc well enough, and I can't find any real problems. But I also can't get into rave mode. Something's missing, and I can't place it. This isn't overly generic or dull, and some of the hooks are really great. But still...

I can think of many better albums, but popheads will probably bliss out over this one. Wish I could explain myself better. That would really help.

The Candy Snatchers
Human Zoo!
(Go-Kart)
reviewed in issue #179, 3/29/99

Whiskey-soaked punks a-blazin', right in the middle of that awesome Humpers/New Bomb Turks territory. Always one step from being out-of-control, but always, always a wonderful blaze of color. Punk rock is all about letting loose, and the Candy Snatchers haven't seen their restraints in ages.

Simple, bar-ready tunes, distortion on max, vocals set to full howl and tempo kicked through the roof. Oof. An utterly addictive adrenaline rush, with hooks. Impossible to resist.

Recorded with a great live sound. Very few overdubs, I'm guessing. If they're there, I'm even more impressed. This disc sounds thrown-together, in the best sense. Loosey-goosey tunes ripped off like chunks of meat, swallowed whole.

Naw, I didn't absolutely love this or anything. I mean, fookin' hell (way too many Irish novels recently). Does it make sense? Does it have to? All you've got to do is turn this up to get the proper dosage. And I promise it will do you well.

The Candyskins
Death of a Minor TV Celebrity
(Velvel/BMG)
reviewed in issue #167, 9/14/98

Dreamy power pop from across the sea. With the advent of Semisonic and the full-fledged popular acceptance of pop music (at least for the moment), the Candyskins sound like they're ready for the big time.

Thoroughly punchy production kicks the tunes out one right after another, though this power is somewhat offset by languid pacing within even the uptempo songs. You know, like the Posies without sounding much like the Posies. I've got a feeling I'm just not making myself clear at all...

What this does sound like is Semisonic, without cribbing excessively (can you really steal anything when it comes to power pop?). And since Semisonic does its best to sound like a Britpop band, I guess it's only fitting that a Brit band comes along to lay proper claim to the sound.

One of a million doing it, I know, but the Candyskins do it well. The songs are delicately written and then bashed out with a certain fury. A number of sonic paradoxes, all of which makes for good music. Which is what anyone will find on this disc.

Canister
Blame
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #156, 4/6/98

Dark, mechanical fare. Growling vocals rasping over edgy guitars and gothic rhythm tracks. A gloaming, pulsating mass of goo from the netherworlds.

Perhaps I'm overstating, but I think not. The music is very simple, and it works very well. The creepy effect comes from the sparse arrangements as well as the doomy lyrics. Many folks get too excited and wrap music like this up into an overorchestrated mess, but Canister is right on track.

Less is often more, as in evidence here. The lean songs are strengthened by a rather organic production sound. While this is drum machine industrial fare, Canister manages to sound very much like a live act. This music is a living beast.

An excellent production, particularly for a self-released disc. These folks know what they're doing.

Canned Heat
Boogie 2000
(Ruf/Platinum)
reviewed in issue #188, 9/20/99

The producer's notes say that Canned Heat never got enough credit for bringing real blooze 'n' boogie to the white masses. That's probably true, and despite a sometimes heavy hand in the engineer's booth, this disc is a decent case in point.

This disc kicks off with two great songs, "Wait and See" and "Last Man," two tunes which cause spontaneous blistering. In particular, "Last Man" sizzles. It's fiery boogie and angry lyrics exemplify the sound.

After that, Canned Heat kicks back. The album really begins to drag, and while the songs are competent, they are not inspired. Not like the first two tunes, in any case. Hell, it's amazing enough that something called Canned Heat (no original members are left, though a couple members have been with the band for more than 30 years) put out an album with a couple good songs.

Which is what this is. Yeah, the rest of the disc is perfectly fine, certainly better than filler, but not particularly memorable. Still, "Last Man" is up on my list of good songs of the year. That counts for something.

There's a guy in Belgium named Walter de Paduwa who likes to collect all sorts of boogie recordings. Tapes, vinyl and probably even CDs these days. Folks call him Dr. Boogie. Anyway, the good doctor has a cache of Canned Heat live tapes, radio and TV appearances and studio outtakes from the time when the band was fairly well-known, and this collection culls some of the better performances from those tapes.

Listening to this stuff, I'm just amazed that Canned Heat earned any mainstream acclaim at all. It's not that the playing is horrible. Just the opposite: These white boys sure know how to play the blues. But they arrived at the one time in American pop history that blues proficiency could translate to mass appeal, even if only for a couple of years.

The energy levels and sound quality do jump around as the collection jumps from tape to tape. In that way, consistency is lacking. On the other hand, this is the time when the band had the ability and confidence to really give the blues their due. There are too many amazing moments here to mention.

If you ever wondered how it was that Canned Heat achieved legendary status, these tapes oughta help. Not so much a document as a personal mix tape, this set does Canned Heat right.

Cannibal Corpse
Tomb of the Mutilated
(Metal Blade-Relativity)
reviewed in issue #20, 9/15/92

Music: out of control

Vocals: completely unrecognizable

Verdict: must be the new Cannibal Corpse

Yes, one of the most popular death metal bands in the world has returned with another album. The cover is almost tasteful compared to their previous efforts, and the music is slowed down a bit. I recognize the vocals as such, but enunciation is not a CC priority.

I have never really grooved on these guys, but ay fool can recognize popularity. CC have gotten better (by my standards, anyway) and that should be recognized. You're gonna play this no matter what I say, so go on ahead.

I'd really hate to accuse the guys of it, but Cannibal Corpse exhibits real musical growth and sophistication here.

I know, all of you are used to death metal as fast and slurpy as it comes, but I detect real signs of a little doom influence coming in, and until the end of "Hammer", I didn't hear that alto scream I thought only a steer becoming that way could make.

Due to ignorance and a bad memory (I was told before this came out), I don't know who did "The Exorcist" first, so I can't compare it to the original. But this version is nice. Ditto the Sabbath cover.

While I don't think we'll be hearing any keyboards soon, this EP does bode well for Cannibal Corpse's (dare I say it?) creative future.

Sure, there's a good deal of double-bass drum work, but the vocals remain subdued, with very little of the CC "yap-yap-yap, yap-yap-yap-yap-yap" trademark style.

Actually, I hear a bunch of later-day Slayer in this record. And while I like that more than earlier Cannibal Corpse, I wish the guys had stuck to their guns, or at least tried to "mature" in a unique way. Feeding your old sound Seconal usually will not attract more listeners, and old fans just might get turned off. Oh well.

See also Six Feet Under.

Cannibal Ox
F Word 12"
(Definitive Jux)
reviewed in issue #221, 9/3/01

Remixed by RJD2, this single from The Cold Vein contains clean, dirty and instrumental versions. Cannibal Ox streams his rhymes out as they fall from consciousness, but he still flows with the grooves.

This remix gives the song a cool feel (I haven't heard the original, so I can't compare the two), though still decidedly insistent. The song slowly creeps up on you, finally laying on the full trip after a suitable buildup.

Even so, there's nothing bombastic here. Just a smooth ride. And a most invigorating one at that.

Joey Cape
(and Tony Sly)
Acoustic
(Fat Wreck Chords)
reviewed in issue #254, June 2004

The frontmen for No Use for a Name (Tony Sly) and Lagwagon (Joey Cape) strip away the electric guitars and plunk down simpler versions of their songs. Well, sort of.

Sly's six pieces (each guy recorded five old songs and one new one) are just him and his guitar, with a little keyboard and percussion here and there. Not stripped down, though. The guitar has an astonishing amount of echo to it, and ubiquitous producer Ryan Greene multitracked both the guitar parts and the vocals. All that's missing is the rest of the band. I'm not sure this stuff is better than NUFAN, but it is still interesting.

Cape's tracks are even more adventurous. For starters, he's brought in a number of his Bad Astronaut cohorts to play strings, banjo, piano and whatever else needed to be done. And while the five "old" songs here were originally done by Lagwagon, these tracks are steeped in that proggy, art-punk Bad Astronaut vibe. Which is just fine by me.

Acoustic? Well... let's just say two talented guys decided to goof around. And they goofed in most excellent ways. This isn't punk music, but it's good music. In the end, nothing else matters.

Capillary Action
Fragments
(Pangaea Recordings)
reviewed in issue #261, February 2005

If the Fucking Champs are the, um, champs of instrumental geek hard rock, then Capillary Action is the champ of instrumental geek rock. Incorporating elements of math and all sorts of other abstract post-rock movements, these songs trip merrily along, their lines intersecting where they can have the largest impact.

What's somewhat unusual here is the use of organ. Most bands of this sort want to keep their sound clean and clear, and an organ certainly does muddy up the works. But that's exactly what gives these songs their humanity. They are geeky, but with a certain charm as well.

And unlike some plyers of these waters, Capillary Action makes sure that its lines incorporate a modicum of melody and structure. These songs aren't all about a wild field trip to the frontal lobes--though you may pack your bags, if you wish.

A gentle take on a sound I truly adore. I'm a big fan of music that makes me think, and these boys have enough ideas to keep me occupied for months. A solid set.

Capitol Eye
Mood Swingz
(77 Records)
reviewed in issue #203, 8/7/00

Alright, so the rap/metal/hardcore sound has been around for a while. And there are plenty of popular players out there. Indeed, even mainstream hip-hop is beginning to trend heavier. But Capitol Eye brings the goods from both the riffage and the rhymin' sides.

The themes are familiar: Gangsta bangin', rollin' for action, life on the streets, and some garden variety misogyny (though not nearly as severe as most). The thing is, this mix of styles has the potential for extreme catchiness. And Capitol Eye has plugged into that, creating irrepressible choruses and flamin' riffola.

There's a level of complexity here that puts the boys above the rest. Instead of taking small pieces of different styles and melding them to a fairly redundant core, Capitol Eye has instead fused the best elements of hip-hop, hardcore rage, latin grooves and more. The songs aren't one dumb trip after another, but instead come across as revelation after revelation.

A blistering shot into the sides of the big boys. Bands like Capitol Eye are the future. These guys may be too good for mainstream acceptance, but those in the know will appreciate the fine work heard here.

Capitol K
Island Row
(XL-Beggars Banquet)
reviewed in issue #230, June 2002

Yet another of the Beggars Banquet UK special imports, Capitol K plies its pop seas with a collage rudder. These songs are meticulously assembled piece by piece, and yet the final sound is anything but mechanical.

Rather, there are joyous grooves in these bouncy songs. No, the band (well, Kristian Craig Robinson, who is Capitol K) is careful to make sure that the songs come together, no matter how goofy or warped the elements may be.

And trust me, there are plenty of strange moments. Robinson is a fan of minor keys and blue notes, and he uses his samples and loops to further those interests. There's a wide range of emotion within this album, and Robinson is a master of controlling the mood.

Now, it's impossible to get past the fact that this is an album of craft. Robinson doesn't hide his seams, but rather revels in them. He uses dissonance and uneven segues to complete his thoughts. Not the easiest thing to do, but a task that seems to have been achieved effortlessly. A most impressive set.

The Capitol Years
Meet Yr Acres
(Full Frame-Poor Poor)
reviewed in issue #217, 6/4/01

This disc has that obsessive "one-man" sound to it. All of the playing credits go to someone called "Shai, son of Eli," so I'm thinking my instincts are pretty solid.

Basically, The Capitol Years channels that thick, anthemic rock of the mid-to-late 60s. Stonesey, Whoish kinda stuff. And there's just not the give-and-take of a band. One hand seems to be controlling these songs, and that hand doesn't know when to ease off the pedal.

For better and worse. The idiosyncrasies (particularly in the use of strummed guitar) pile up quickly, and the way I hear this, either you're gonna dig it or just run away screaming. There's no middle ground. I like such bold statements. I like them better when they really hit home.

And the Capitol Years strikes me right between the eyes. Must be my kinda madness. I'll let this throttle my ears any day.

Yes, these boys do have a bit of the garage basher in them, but what we have here is more finely-crafted pop, replete with sculpted harmonies and tight, yet wandering, hooks. Something like the Beatles meets the Who, with some distortion on the side.

No, this album isn't that good. I've never heard the band that could live up to that description. I was just trying to give an idea of feel. And the Capitol Years truly do evoke the melancholy spirit of the late 60s. I somehow doubt that this ennui is pharmaceutical in nature, but it's there nonetheless.

And damn, does it sound good. There are moments right out of Sgt. Peppers or Abbey Road, especially when a lead guitar line echoes out across an electric piano chord. The Capitol Years have been working this material for some time. Despite their occasional whipsaw approach to songwriting (entire songs within songs at times), the transitions are flawless.

This is the sort of album that would give my dad a serious case of deja vu. You can decide if that's a good thing or not. Me, I like it. Quite an accomplishment in sound.

Capsize 7
Cudge 7"
(Pig Zen's Pace)
reviewed in issue #45, 11/30/93

Yeah, there are semblances to other NC pop acts like Superchunk and Polvo, but this is a little heavier than those folk usually get.

A nifty trick of addictive rhythms with the occasional guitar buzz attack at the chorus, so you know to bang your heads at the right time, I suppose.

I must admit I thought this approach was cool when I heard Poster Children for the first time, but it's starting to wear on me. To these guys's credit, however, they wrote two good songs and present them rather nicely on this cool slab.

Combining that odd psychedelic scream movement and the post-punk riffola that bands like Girls Against Boys make so attractive, Capsize 7 are awful accomplished for such a release as this. A good granola fix.

A few years back, this band's "Cudge" 7" really blew me away. I heard their album some time later (Caroline sent it to my brothers--the Lies guys--but not to me) and got a little bummed. I thought it was good, but it didn't blow me away.

And this strikes me the same way. The music seems almost a little too complicated, almost like the band is working too hard to make great music. And the lyrics are not nearly as sharp as on that long-ago single. I will say that I like the instrumental b-side better, and perhaps the band should work a little more on making the words and lyrical melody fit the music a bit better.

As a college-pop band in the style of Archers of Loaf or (what used to be) Treepeople, Capsize 7 fulfills all the technical requirements of competence. The soul is what seems to be lacking. I hope inspiration is just a moment away.

The Capstan Shafts
Ample Tribes for Sullen King Pounder EP
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #257, September 2004

Hey, hey, the levels are pegged. Pegged! Really, man, buy better mikes. Or maybe don't record into an old Walkman. Or simply set the levels correctly.

Okay, that's out of my system. It's actually kinda interesting how badly recorded this is. Clunky roots-inflected rock tunes aren't especially meant to sound this freakin' distorted (even ol' Neil Young would blanch if he heard this), but apart from being distracting, the weird production (I think it might even have been intentional) doesn't destroy the power of the songs. They're purty damned good.

Enough to make me want to hear more, anyway. The Capstan Shafts aren't exactly breaking new ground (except in the sound, perhaps), but the songs are solid and the rollicking feel of the playing is most engaging. Fun, if way too fuzzy.

I think this is a later set of songs than the ones I reviewed last issue. Kinda hard to tell, but that's my guess. The songs are exceptionally short (the seven tracks here can't even make it to 11 minutes total), but the same clunky, charming songwriting is present. The production is still pretty bad (there's no need to peg the levels on acoustic songs), but the talent shines through nonetheless.

Another set of fine jangly songs (six in all) played with skill and verve. The recording is marginally better--only the vocals are seriously distorted this time out. I suppose this lo-fi, pin-the-needles approach is intentional (by now, Dean Wells ought to have heard about it enough to change if he wanted), though I think a slightly less contrast-ridden sound would better flesh out his wonderful songs.

Yet another set of songs from Dean Wells, recorded in the offhanded style described in the title. I suppose it's fair to say he means the stuff to sound like this. Anyway, these songs might well be his best yet--and with his prodigious output, that's hard to believe. It's kind like if Uncle Tupelo had decided to combine country music and Sonic Youth, as opposed to country and the 'Mats. And that's purty durned cool. One of these days, Wells ought to cull the best of these EPs and put out a monster album.

Yet another installment in the progression that is the Capstan Shafts. The levels aren't mashed in the red here, but then, the songs are much more fragmentary. As Dean Wells's work becomes t hat much more conventionally listenable, the songs themselves get stranger. Still, few folks can tap into a primal vein as well as this.

Dean Wells is one prolific guy. I think I've said that before. He crafts scads of these lo-fi gems, and while I still must protest that even a modicum of studio expertise would make all the difference, I can't complain about the writing or the performances. I wonder when he'll run out of gas.

Two full-length efforts from Dean Wells and whoever else might be part of the Capstan Shafts. Wells is a somewhat mysterious figure, cranking out an EP every month or two (you can scour my archives to find any number of reviews in the last year) in handmade envolopes to trolls of the underground like me. The songs are short (generally limited to two minutes or less), but there are many more tracks than usual on these two albums.

Blacklist contains 20 songs, and the sound is very similar to prvious efforts: lo-fi to the extreme. I will say, though, that the levels aren't quite as pegged as usual, so there isn't quite so much distortion around the edges. That lets the songs work a bit more of their charm. I like that, myself.

As for Euridice, well, it only makes sense that if Wells were to associate with a label, it would be one like Kittridge that specializes in artists who have lengthy self-released catalogs. The mastering is much better--this stuff is hardly lo-fi. The songs jump out from the speakers...and they really benefit from the treatment. A lot of folks reference GBV when talking about Capstan Shafts, but the sonic improvement here puts me in more of a Brian Jonestown Massacre mood.

The Kittridge album is superior, if only for the better sound. I've always thought Wells's songs were great, and Euridice proves it. Sometimes you really do have to hear what you're missing to appreciate the difference. And boy, were we missing a lot.

Another month, another 20 songs on yet another record label. Is Dean Wells really recording more than a dozen songs a month, or has he just holed himself up for years and is just now letting loose the floodgates? Anyway, these songs seem to be a bit looser than previous, with slightly better production than most of the self-released stuff--but not quite as sharp as the Kittridge album. The mystifying legend continues.

The Capsules
Someone for Everyone
(Urinine)
reviewed in issue #253, May 2004

At first, I thought the name of this album was Something for Everyone. Which wouldn't be right. The Capsules play a repetitive form of pop music that is a delight to my ears but just might piss off someone with less, shall we say, eclectic taste.

Remember My Bloody Valentine before Loveless? Something like that. The production sticks to the background, allowing Julie Shields's astonishingly voice to ring out and carry the show. I suppose there's a Galaxie 500 feel to this puppy as well, but the Capsules are a bit more varied in their approach.

Still, the slow to mid-tempo songs move along with a light grace, and there is something of a minimalist approach to the arrangements. This is a trio, and it sounds like one. The Capsules make very little effort to disguise their numbers, but that's cool. Let the songs speak for themselves.

Let them sing, I should say. Let Shields sing and sing and sing. These pieces play to her strengths, and she's got a few. Quite an entrancing album.

Captain Bringdown and the Buzzkillers
Feel Good Tunes EP
(Hairball 8)
reviewed in issue #267, August 2005

Solid ska tuneage. Captain Bringdown and company stray from the punk-ska formula every now and again, but every song ends up in power skank mode by the end. And that's fine with me. These folks provide plenty of tasty hooks.

I guess that's the trick with most anything. After all, this formula hasn't been particularly altered since the days of OpIvy--though the production sound has improved 1000 percent, of course. Not that such a thing makes the music any better, of course.

But I digress. These are, indeed, feel good tunes. Six tight, well-constructed punk ska pieces played with skill and aplomb. Could I pick these folks out of a lineup? Maybe, maybe not. Still, solid songwriting is nothing to sneeze at. Plenty of fun.

Captain Jack
Nowhere Fast
(Fall Records)
reviewed in issue #222, 9/24/01

Ooh, sounds like indie rock. You know, the stuff that crashed through from college radio into the mainstream for about two seconds in the late 80s. A reliance on the backbeat and excessively fuzzy lead guitar lines. Oh yeah, and a decidedly atonal singer.

Don't think I'm slaggin'. That's just the style. I'm simply describing. Indie rock had one thing going for it: An almost vicious energy. Even when the songs trend toward midtempo there's a live line somewhere.

Captain Jack carries on well enough. I mean, I've heard this stuff a thousand times before, and this trio is a bit faceless. Even when the guys branch out into a little ska or something, they don't really make much of an impression.

And that's my final take, really. Captain Jack is a pleasant enough band, the sorta thing I wouldn't mind hearing warm up for a national act at the local club. But the songs here just don't rise above that. Nothing wrong with simple aspirations, certainly. Captain Jack needs to find some distinctive qualities if it wants to really move forward.

Captives' Dance
When I Walk CD5
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #214, 4/2/01

Cheap 'n' sleazy metal. Very much Crue-influenced, though the female vocals do add a twist. There's a cool energy running through the stuff, I just wish the songs themselves matched the effort.

The riffage is derivative, and the songs themselves just aren't inspired. They're fast and loud, but there's nothing here to really latch onto. These songs almost sound like parodies.

I know they're not meant that way. But like Heshie on "the Sopranos" said, "There's a hit, and there's not a hit. This is not a hit." I can't even begin to suggest where to begin. I'd be more inclined to start over.

Car 44
Platinum Holes
(Thirsty Ear)
reviewed in issue #202, 7/17/00

I was just talking about Hammerbox with the Carrie Akre review, and now here's Car 44, which continues in the same tradition. The sound is poppier and somewhat less heavy, but boy, does this stuff move.

There's something about this style of uptempo rock fronted by an alto-voiced woman that just screams "rock and roll!" Of course, the assembled parts are just one piece. The songs have to work as well.

These do. I did want a bit of a rougher edge on the sound (sometimes the guitars seem to shy away from the forefront), but Dahna Rowe's vocals are always front and center. Right where they should be.

Okay, there are moments where Car 44 tries to "make a statement," a couple of overwritten songs that try to prove that this great music isn't an accident. Hey guys, this stuff has to remain simple to work. Start layering too much stuff on top and you lose the fire that drives the engine. For the most part, Car 44 is revving high.

Carbon
Becoming
(Stonegarden)
reviewed in issue #170, 10/26/98

Lilting, hesitant pop music. Reminiscent of Dave Matthews Band. David Flick's vocals are a dead ringer (he even gets the Eddie Vedder references down pat), and the band is pretty much the same sort of thing.

Which leads to the obvious question. Why? Sure, Dave Matthews Band is monstrously huge, but can you really score big by copiously copying a style like that?

Well, yeah. Ask Candlebox. Ask Stone Temple Pilots. Ask Alanis Morissette. Of course straight out theft is profitable. But the music, the music just has no life. It's well-played, and generally enthusiastically so, but this is far too close to the real thing. We've not talking about an influence here. That was back up the road a ways.

Sure, bands learn how to play by imitating others. Cover band work, etc., is great for building up chops. But not for recording. Not for posterity. Not here.

Carcass
Heartwork
(Earache-Columbia)
reviewed in issue #47, 1/31/94

There are those who refer to Reek of Putrefaction and Symphonies of Sickness as the most brutal things they have ever heard.

Heartwork cannot be confused with those discs (actually, in the U.S. they wee originally released on one disc). Because Jeff Walker and pals have decided to try and take death metal to the masses and still stick to some of the roots.

This is the most vicious thing I've ever heard distributed by a major label. And when compared to other folk who are trying to do this sort of death metal, Carcass blows them away.

A few folk have told me they think this album sucks. Obviously not too many, because Carcass almost passed over Sepultura to debut at #1 (#2 ain't bad). But to those of you who don't like the new direction (and it's not that new), compare this to the last Napalm Death album, or even the new Entombed. And tell me what you think.

Still masters of their domain.

The final output (excluding the forthcoming rarities album) from this new-legendary band, which sees Jeff Walker's final evolution into a new-age Lemmy.

Anyone who has seen the band live knows exactly what I'm talking about. Nothing wrong with emulating one of the more influential bassists in loud music history. And this album finds more melodic guitar lines and bouncy bass licks than any previous Carcass album.

The songs trend shorter again (finally), and the construction is definitely more in the punk/metal vein of the NWOBHM in general (and Motorhead in particular). Hey, ever think you'd be listening to a catchy Carcass album? Whoa, man...

Old fans will not be amused, I'm sure. This is light years away from Reek of Putrefaction, and the production is at once dirtier and far more commercial than on Heartwork. Kinda weird that Carcass may actually enjoy widespread success in the US after it has broken up. Not completely unheard of, of course, but still.

I'm still not sure I like this as a Carcass album. Like many old fans, I'm locked in to an idea of the band as a real innovator, with vicious guitars licks that keep going and going and that thrashing bass attack that doesn't let up. On the other hand, I can't deny that this is one of the more powerful albums I've heard this year. Every song has that indescribable "it" that makes tunes catchy and irresistible.

fine. This is the album Motorhead has been trying to record for the last ten years. If Walker, Steer and company can handle that, then so can I.

Cardia
Cardia
(Silverthree)
reviewed in issue #241, May 2003

Hoo boy, these Cardia boys are sure their songs are damned important. This album is just drenched in that dramatic "you are now listening to the greatest band in the world" sound. And, well, Cardia isn't quite up to that billing.

But the boys are pretty good. Good enough to pique my interest despite my general aversion to such over-the-top pretentiousness. There are plenty of layers to peel, and as I get closer and closer to the core sound, the more impressed I get. Underneath the late 80s U2 vibe lies a vibrant heart.

One which is willing to take chances. More chances than the producer here allowed to creep out, but hey, there's hope for the future. These songs are quite well-written--witty as well as finely tunesmithed.

Like I said, good enough for me to overlook that glitzy, excessively overbearing finish. I'd advise the boys to strip off a couple layers and allow the brilliance of their songs to shine. As it is, though, they just might get the attention they so obviously desire.

Cardinal Woolsey
Paralyzed with Happiness
(Puddle)
reviewed in issue #109, 5/20/96

Big fans of the dbs, Chris Stamey (yes, I know...) and all that. Pop licks that rev between acid and joyous, but always dripping with emotion.

For an album that was obviously produced on a shoestring budget, Cardinal Woolsey (Kris Woolsey and friends) managed to create a wildly lush sound. Strings and horns in the right spots, playing point-counterpoint with the melodic ideas. This is even more difficult than it sounds.

Not to stereotype or anything, but this is not the sound of a band from the greater NYC area. Cardinal Woolsey sounds like an Athens (Ga.) pop band (Matthew Sweet and Uncle Green also come to mind). These are hardly bad influences, I might note.

Nerves stripped bare, emotions laid flat on the table. All with simply awesome pop songwriting surrounding the whole mess. I don't know if these folk have been doing this consistently or if this is a lucky shot in the dark. That wouldn't make much difference, anyway.

Easily one of the best pop albums I've heard since Secaucus. In a completely different style, of course. I can't imagine a future without this disc getting played a lot. Simple as that.

Caribbean Jazz Project
Caribbean Jazz Project
(Heads Up)
reviewed in issue #85, 9/4/95

When putting together a band of this name, the urge to break out the cheez factor and make an album for silly tourists to buy might have been pretty big.

But the Caribbean Jazz Project does a nice job of walking the line between and amongst the various musical legacies its name implies. And while most of the rhythms (samba and others) are more South American than Caribbean in origin (to be really technical), quibbling gets you nowhere. Yeah, this is something your mom might like, but then, you might just dig it, too. The playing is great (particularly the sax and clarinet of Paquito D'Rivera) and while not terribly adventurous, the band still rips out quite a few nice moments.

Easy listening that's not annoying. I can dig that.

Frank Carillo and the Bandoleros
Bad Out There
(Jezebel)
reviewed in issue #266, July 2005

If you've been listening to recent Bob Dylan, you know the man has been steeping his sound in the blues, even while retaining his own remarkable feel for American music. Frank Carillo does much the same thing here. He's a bit more Tom Petty than Dylan, perhaps, but he sure knows how to rock out the blues.

And not in that dreadful, ponderous white-boy blues style that is just far too tiresome. Most folks would probably through Carillo in Americana, that alt.alt.country catchall category. And while I wouldn't argue--these songs use rock and roots rather than blue conventions--I still say Carillo's heart is in the blues.

Much like Americana icon Whiskeytown (when there was such a thing, of course), Carillo infuses his songs with so much feeling and blue atmosphere that it's hard to imagine these songs existing without the likes of Muddy Waters and Leadbelly.

Simply lovely. In a kinda depressing, are-you-sure-it'll-be-alright? kinda way. Carillo makes good music. Call it what you want; I'll be listening to this puppy many more times.

Caroline
Where's My Love? CD5
(Temporary Residence)
reviewed in issue #268, September 2005

Two songs, and a remix of the title track. That's it. And that's more than enough to fall for Caroline.

Rising from the world of homespun laptop pop, this professionally-produced short set artfully transposes the minimalist world of personal electronic music into one that somehow manages to sound sleek, efficient and otherworldly.

And yes, Caroline's voice has a lot to do with that last bit. Her take on ethereal vocals has steel underpinnings. There's no doubt about the strength that lies behind these songs. The future cannot come soon enough for my ears.

And now, the album. My review of Caroline's "Where's My Love" single last year is one of the most accessed files on my site. Apparently lots of people were taken by her deceptively fragile voice and unusual way with words and went to extreme lengths (such as reading A&A) to learn more about her.

The album opens incredibly slowly. Caroline (Lufkin) has put together some really great electronic backing tracks, but those first three songs are languid to the point of somnambulism. The voice is still there, but man, it's easy to drift off. And then I get it: That's what I'm supposed to do.

Not fall asleep, of course, but simply fall into a trance. So by the time we get to "Where's My Love" it's almost like the sun rising. And, indeed, after that Caroline really starts to come on. If you've managed to fall under her spell, the songs that follow slide down the throat like Galliano Jello shots. Ewww, maybe that's not the best simile. Sorry.

Still, as the album kicks into overdrive (as such), it's easy to understand why the album starts so slowly. Without that early introspection, there would be no counterpoint to the "kickin'" side of things. The single was great. This album is even greater. Better than I thought possible.

!Carlos!
Amy Armageddon
(Headhunter-Cargo)
reviewed in issue #95, 1/15/96

A west-coast version of Superchunk, with alternately heavier and peppier takes on the Chapel Hill juggernaut. I know, Superchunk didn't originate these riffs, either, but that's my most recent reference. And, Jesus, this sounds a lot like them folk.

Now, to complete that comparison, !Carlos! also has a nose for awesome gritty pop anthems. Okay, so the sound has most certainly been appropriated (hell, you can hear the Pixies in here, too), I've gotta admit, !Carlos! does the job well. And whenever you hear a young band cranking out stuff like this, you have to be impressed.

A little more experimentation and progression should move the band out of this "sounds like" phase and into it own realm. When that happens, !Carlos! has the talent to go anywhere and do whatever it wants. And I'll be right there, cheering my ass off.

Carlos! (I can't make the upside-down exclamation point work right) is a pretty great band, and these tracks are two of my favorites from Amy Armageddon, the band's album.

But I can't hear a difference between the tracks on the 7" and the album, and I'm kinda mystified. Yeah, this hearkens back to the old days of 7" single releases and the Top 40, but past that I'm not sure why this has been released.

Of course, if you've never heard the band, then this is a fine introduction. If you like heavy pop, I'd suggest you buy the full-length. But if you want a taste before you jump in, then perhaps this is the score for you.

A nice evolution of sound this time out. Sure, !Carlos! is still trafficking in punk pop anthems, but I hear as much here from 7 Seconds and even some of that old-style Big Star stuff. Obviously, there are still some faint echoes of Superchunk, but this sond is much fuller and more complete.

The songs are much more thought-out and crafted than before, but all that attention hasn't stripped the raw greatness from the music. Joy and pain, the ecstasy and the agony, all that is amplified and not hindered by this attention to detail.

A true step forward. Even the production is much more assured. I'll admit that the sounds here are much more in step with current trends than the debut, but I'd like to think it's a happy coincidence. If not, well, then I guess I'm pleased the band moved forward.

A solid pop album that covers the bases and then some. Lots of creative work within the form here, plenty to explore. Tightened up, but still impressive.

Carnival of Shame
Tortured
Happy Alcoholidays 7"
(Burnin' Records)
reviewed in issue #5, 1/15/92

The 7" would been enough, but I also found a copy of their new album, too. I hope you folks burned that Holiday sampler into the ground, 'cause it's a lot of fun.

And so is the album. The neo-Elvine vocal stylings are choice when juxtaposed with the pop-hard core sound generated by the band (and me using pop simply means these boys have a fine sense of melody and song construction - it's no insult. Bad Religion is pop-hard core, too.).

If tunes like "Passionate Evening," "Vigilante Penetration," "Daddy Lives" and "Black Girls" don't give you that lovin' feelin', then you are one cold bastard. Blast this and be happy.

Neko Case & Her Boyfriends
The Virginian
(Mint)
reviewed in issue #141, 8/18/97

The idea of a member of Maow putting out a fairly traditional "old fashioned" country album isn't as weird as some might think. First, Maow's odd mix of rockabilly and punk isn't all that far from this stuff, and Case certainly has the voice to pull off this labor of love.

And, anyway, the songs are much punchier than the Hank Williams and Patsy Cline stuff Case seems to have been aiming at replicating. Sounds a lot like the Flat Duo Jets (who Case identifies in the liners as her favorite band), and that's always a compliment coming from me.

Projects like this always walk a thin line between slavish devotion and parody. Case manages to keep a firm foothold on the wire and make sit across the chasm with everyone still intact. Not many current country fans would dig this, but that's the point, after all.

The unrestrained performances and one-take sound really help keep this album rolling along. Much more coherent than Maow, and in that way perhaps a better album, too. Well done.

See also Maow.

Peter Case
Full Service No Waiting
(Vanguard)
reviewed in issue #157, 4/20/98

As a member of the Plimsouls, Case helped reshape the sound of pop music, even if not many folks noticed at the time. His subsequent career has followed much the same path: intriguing and innovative tuns that a relative few have bothered to hear.

Too bad, because songwriters like Case don't come along very often. Painfully direct lyrics which celebrate or excoriate life, depending on the whim of the moment. The instrumentation is extensive (fiddles, organ, harmonica and more alongside the general acoustic guitar, bass and drums), but the feel folksy. Case spins his voice smooth or raspy dependent on need, and the songs themselves quickly take flight under their own power.

A carefully constructed album by a great craftsman. But even with all the detail, the music is loose and inviting. A soul cry can be a sonnet or a scream. Case may be a creature of craft, but his performance packs an emotional whallop.

There are good albums and there are great albums. This one is at the top of the great list. I'm gonna be listening to this puppy for years to come. As should everyone else.

Why Vanguard didn't ship this disc out to Sugar Hill (a recently-acquired label that houses such folks as James McMurtry, not the erstwhile rap label), I don't know. Since his 80s pop days, Case has increasingly leaned toward the roots singer-songwriter style, and that's a perfect fit for Sugar Hill.

Oh well, at least this album is out there somewhere. The writing here is stronger than on Full Service No Waiting, and that's saying something. The songs rely on Case's acoustic guitar and his voice, but the window dressing is nice as well.

That sound never gets overbearing, nor does it ever threaten to overshadow either Case's voice or his writing. A sparse, loose feel is what is called for, and that's just what he got here.

Top to bottom, these are great songs. The performances are loose and relaxed, and as a result the tunes just roll off the disc. Start anywhere in here; there's no way to go wrong.

Johnny Cash
American Recordings
(American Recordings)
reviewed in issue #55, 5/31/94

Not to say "I told you so," but I've been rather aware of the growing "Johnny Cash is cool" movement for quite a few years now. Why, in the past three years at least six bands have covered old Cash tunes. At my old station, we played a "classic album" every Sunday night. When I suggested Johnny Cash's Greatest Hits, everyone said, "Oh, wow, yeah!"

Everyone is amazed that Rick Rubin, of all people, should produce such a sparse album. Of course, Rubin would be most familiar with Cash's early sixties work, and while there isn't any boom-chicka-boom drumming, it still carries into his guitar work.

Perhaps the pipes are a little worn, but that makes for some really spooky moments. And while you might laugh at Motley Crue's silly theatrical imagery, when Johnny says he shot her twice and she was dead, you believe him. Because his voice is so earnest and real.

This is perhaps the darkest critics' album celebre since Lou Reed's New York. It seems the national music media need a catharsis every now and then. American Recordings just might work for you, too.

This album hasn't garnered the acclaim of American Recordings, and the difference is obvious from the get-go. Johnny got himself a backing band (whose day job is playing arenas with the name Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers), and there isn't a moment on this outing that gets as down and out as the highest moment on the last album.

Alright, so Johnny's not dredging the deeps, searching for the spirit of redemption. Hey, you don't need to do that all the time. This set samples songwriters as diverse as Beck and Hal David (back to back, coincidentally), with more special guests than a Cannonball Run movie.

Is it wrong for Johnny Cash to record a fairly happy, somewhat bashing album? Hell, this is the man that perfected boom-chicka-boom, and there's plenty of that archetypal backbeat in evidence here. Perhaps not as emotionally wrenching as its predecessor, Unchained still packs a wallop. And is damned fun to boot.

It's nice to hear Johnny let loose and give a few whoops. This album deserves much better than it's gotten. If you have any feeling for old-time country music (when it went by the name of rock and roll), then this puppy is all wrapped up and waiting.

Cash Audio
(released under the name Cash Money) Black Hearts and Broken Wills
(Touch and Go)
reviewed in issue #128, 2/17/97

Anyone who has had any relations with Touch and Go over the past few years knows Scott Giampino. As a label flunky, that is. Oh, he did some of the drumming on last year's Kill Donut outing, but I'm mostly used to "Now, you'll print these tour dates if I send them, right?"

John Humphrey is better known musically, mostly as guitarist for that meanstreak band called God & Texas. His riffage hurts people.

So they get together on a low-budget country grunge thing (and, really, it doesn't sound a damned thing like that, but get off my back) and ply a few songs for the masses. Guitar and drums only, but they don't sound anything like Flat Duo Jets.

Confused? Good. So am I. My head hurts and I'm not sure if it has to do with the music (my #1 theory) or the stuff that I've been drinking (I thought it was Dr. Pepper, but there's been some chewy stuff floating to the surface the last couple of minutes; bad things, I think).

Back to square one. I like this stuff. Not in any sort of outlandish way, but in a "you know, if Johnny Cash can do Soundgarden, I guess it only makes sense for Skin Yard to do Lynyrd Skynyrd." Or something like that.

The cover may say "Hi-Fi Blues", but most every song on this album was recorded live to two-track, with the volume slides pinned to the top. Heavily distorted, throbbing examination of just what it means to dig the blues.

For the uninitiated, the main components are John Humphrey (best known, I guess, for his guitar hacking with God & Texas) and Scott Giampino (best known for sending me lots of cool stuff from Touch and Go, and also a fine drummer in the John Bonham style). You might think that the sound would turn out thin or otherwise not as full as, say, a band with a bass player. Well, for one, Humphrey generally sticks to the lower three strings, and anyway, the fuzz-factor (angry stuff, not any of that pop fizz) is completely overloaded.

Yes, this is the blues, and while Cash Money works its ass off to stay true to the olden days, current recording technology and modern equipment (mikes and the like, not computers, mind you) do help to produce the low, crashing wail that is a Cash Money trademark.

Wild music, pure and simple. The way good ol' rock and roll should be flayed. Yeah, you can hear nods to a couple newer bands (Mule and particularly the Laughing Hyenas), but that comes from a sharing of influences (listed in the liners as Johnny Cash, Freddie King, Led Zeppelin, ZZ Top and Elvis Presley. Inclusive.). Thick, mean and utterly intense, Cash Money embodies rock and roll possessed by the spirit of the blues.

Adding a full-time harmonica player and changing the name (something about a lawsuit from the Cash Money record label), the rechristened Cash Audio lurches back on the scene.

The blues are still ragged, but David Passow's wailing on the harmonica lends a totally new direction to the chaos. I like that, myself. These guys are loose. Real damned loose. That's not to say they can't play; that would be a lie. But the focus is on making the music make sense, no matter how anarchic it might get.

That's really the trick, see, to get off-track just enough to convey some emotion while still making music that's recognizable to the average folks. Cash Audio gets way off track (and nicely so), and doesn't quite get back. I figure that's okay by these guys.

(Warning: Racial stereotyping ahead!) Most white guy blues bands are too focused on either power or technical prowess. Cash Audio certainly doesn't shy away from either, but the most attention is paid to the music itself. Yeah, here it's down and dirty (grimy, really), but hell, where else would you want the guys to be?

Casper Fandango and His Tiny Sick Tears
How's Your Hand?
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #209, 12/11/00

Pretty much the musings of Jason NeSmith (apparently not the Jason Nesmith--the son of Michael Nesmith--from Kill for Thrills and other projects), with a little help from his friends.

Though there are moments when I wonder. This is the sort of loopy and downright strange pop music that I might imagine coming from the offspring of the one talented Monkee. But enough musing on that. Let's get down and dirty.

The songs don't fit together. NeSmith doesn't like to play the same song twice, and there is very little continuity in the album. Even so, the set holds together, if only by the sense of absurdity propagated by most of these songs. They don't always make sense. And so, of course, it is much easier to understand the whole.

There are three covers: "Tenderness" (General Public), "Sport (the Odd Boy)" (The Bonzo Dog Band--a 60s troupe of loonies that included Neil Innes) and "Don't Worry Kyoko (Mummy's Only Looking for the Hand in the Snow)" (Yoko Ono). Do you get the concept yet? There is no concept. Only a desire to take music to places it hasn't been. At least, spots it hasn't visited in a while.

Jorge Castro
Sin Titulo #2
(Public Eyesore)
reviewed in issue #231, July 2002

Public Eyesore sent me a passel of discs. They're all great. I'll be reviewing a couple of them each issue until I finally run out (when you review a limited number of albums a month, you've got to pace yourself).

In any case, I think even the non-Spanish speakers in the audience can translate the title. Castro is an electronic artist who specializes in that somewhat forgotten realm of the ambient. There is but one track here, a long and involved trip through Castro's mind.

Long, but never dull. Castro isn't aggressive with his music, but he sure knows how to light a fire under some great ideas. Within the context he's set up, Castro introduces a multitude of thoughts. He's careful to give each one full expression before adding it to the ether and unveiling the next beauty.

Patience is required, sure, but boy is it rewarded. Castro's hand is steady, and his mind is alive. The trance caused by this disc isn't to be missed.

The Casualties
Die Hards
(SideOneDummy)
reviewed in issue #221, 9/3/01

Old school. And I mean, spiked and colored hair, buzzsaw riffola and hoarsely shouted gang vocals old school. The kinda stuff that stiff-necked parents love to hate.

Except that the kids who grew up on this stuff are parents today. Ah well. The Casualties don't try to go anywhere with this sound. They're most agreeable to the notion of simply continuing a tradition.

They do so very well. The adrenaline never flags, and the blistering lyrics follow in the best traditions. A big cup brimming with vitriol.

Nothing complicated or sophisticated. Just two fingers straight up punk rock (yes, I stole that; sue me). Ride it as far as you dare.

Political punk is back with a vengeance, and the Casualties seem to be saying, "Yer damned right!" This album starts off blistering and then just ratchets up the pressure. There's little subtlety to be found, and that's most appropriate. We hardly live in subtle times.

The songs themselves are breakneck mini-apocalypses, with speed and riffage far outweighing melody and structure. That's cool, though. The energy is simply overwhelming.

The production is professional--and that's also a good thing. With songs this fast and loud, it helps to be able to tell the guitar from the bass. But the songs don't come off with some preprocessed shine; they simply sound good.

The Casualties don't play complicated songs. They don't sing about moral quandaries. The vision presented here is black and white, noise or silence. Sometimes, that's exactly what we need.

Cat-A-Tac
Past Lies and Former Lives
(Needlepoint)
reviewed in issue #286, June 2007

If there were such a thing as rock-steady pop, this would be it. Cat-A-Tac rips off one tuneful, rhythmic midtempo popster after another. They're all different. And they're all pretty good.

Reminds me a bit of that Canadian band Pluto, who put out a great album on Mint in 1995 and a so-so major label effort a year later. Some friends compared those folks to Everclear. I didn't hear it then, and I don't hear that comparison here. But I put that in there just for full disclosure.

There's a nice buzz to the guitars and some fine work in the hooks. Vaguely atonal, but that hint of drone just makes these song that much more hypnotic. My head was bobbing from the first beat.

And, yeah, that made all the difference. The sound isn't the most sophisticated in the world, but these folks have a knack for making the ordinary extraordinarily catchy. Pretty isn't the right word. Addictive might be.

Catch 22
Alone in a Crowd
(Victory)
reviewed in issue #206, 10/9/00

The latest Voodoo Glow Skulls album makes fun of the "death" of skacore. Still, it's odd that Victory would pick this time to dig into a bag of Bosstones-style fare.

Catch 22 is pleasant enough. There's nothing wrong with these party anthems (I'm speaking more of the sound than the lyrics, which are generally somewhat serious), but this sound has been done to death. And this album doesn't bring much new life to the table.

Everything is spot on: The playing, the horn arrangements, even the writing is dead solid. But there's no wrinkle here, no new idea to get excited about. Just pretty much the same old same old, even if it is done real well.

I feel kinda bad about this, but I just can't get excited here. It's not that the stuff is bad (no matter how much I say this I can't say it enough), but simply that I've heard it before. Lots. And so I've developed an immunity. Bummer.

Catcher
Blackwater
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #178, 3/15/99

Much like Grief Society (which is my connection for this disc as well), Catcher is a British band that prefers to play a more Americanized sort of rock music. With something amiss, some defect in the genetic code which gives the band a distinctive feel.

'Cause this is fuzz-pop, pure and simple, but just a bit faster than I usually hear. And with the odd chord change (a little Clash-y, perhaps a little Cure-ific at times) that makes all the difference in the world.

Plus, unlike the American ideal (epitomized by the ALL sound propagated endlessly by Bill Stevenson and Stephen Egerton), the bass is way down in the mix here. That's a Britpop trademark, and the hybrid is quite stunning.

The sort of album which will make doctrinaire fans a bit queasy, I'm afraid, but which also excites me endlessly. I'll linger a while longer, thank you.

Catchpenny
Little Shut Up
(demo)
reviewed in issue #135, 5/26/97

These guys are serious. The music has that hardcore "alternative" feel, and the songs tackle heavy emotional targets.

It's all done fairly well, but without much of a spark. There has been some serious work done in the songwriting department, and the playing is immaculate. But in the big effort to sound good, Catchpenny has kept itself from sounding great.

A little calculation has to be sacrificed in order to make an emotional impact. Sludge it up a bit guys, miss a fingering or two. Stop singing like the guys in Devo or Tool. A little humanity would help.

I thought the last stuff I heard from these guys sounded a bit too calculated. Well, consider that problem solved. This album is loose and free, just enhancing the already-solid songwriting.

Now, this complex pop sound may be a bit too dense for some of today's pop heads, but I think the guys have really found a sound here. Sometimes my criticisms aren't founded. But these guys listened to what people much more influential than me said, and this time they obviously made a concerted effort to find a live sound in the studio.

Rough edges suit this sound quite well. And Catchpenny certainly has found a groove here. The guitar lines mesh easily, and the rhythm section drives the truck without grinding the gears.

Wow. This is a real improvement. The potential has really expanded. I'm definitely taking notice.

Cathedral
The Ethereal Mirror
(Earache/Columbia)
reviewed in issue #42, 10/31/93

More of the Earache catch-up; from now on, only the newest from those folk.

I liked Cathedral a long time ago, back when no major label in its right mind would even touch them. Of course, they didn't sound like Black Sabbath back then; they had their own style, closer to the Napalm Death genesis of the band.

I had heard a few things about this that were disconcerting, and most fell true. An awful lot of cheese and very little substance. It is a nice driving record with all those retread riffs, but if I want laughable lyrics, I'll go to the source and pop in the Sabs.

Once upon a time a band called Cathedral was a neat doom-death band. Then someone said if they started to sound completely like Black Sabbath they would make lots of money. Now they're just waiting for the check.

Not that long ago, Cathedral was an interesting band. The songs weren't dreadfully dull and uninspired. The Ethereal Mirror wasn't a masterpiece, but it wasn't anywhere near this awful.

A missal of four songs, each competing for the title of most masterfully mundane. The only thing of minor interest is the fourth track, which reprises Black Sabbath AND Led Zeppelin. Hmmm... will Kingdom Come see a revival soon?

Hopefully the upcoming full-length will make up for this just plain terrible disc. These nasty EPs don't necessarily mean anything.

Oh, so this is the new Black Sabbath album. Forbidden was just a bad joke.

Well, Tony Iommi does guest on "Utopian Blaster", but I don't think anyone would ever mistake Lee Dorian's vocals for Ozzy or Dio or anyone like that. He's kinda hoary. This is not a bad thing.

Let me get this off my chest: this stuff is not even close to being original or terribly creative or anything like that. Just so you understand my next statements.

The Carnival Bizarre is also about the best driving music I've heard in some time (I said the same thing about The Ethereal Mirror, as I remember). Dave Patchett's art is becoming as much a metal icon as Derek Rigg's wonderful visions of 'ead(die). All told, a simply great package that tons of which folks should partake.

I still like the earlier Cathedral better. But this is where the band is now, and The Carnival Bizarre is about as good an album of this sort as I've heard. Period.

An expanded (extra spoken intro) of "Hopkins", a couple covers ("Fire"--not the Doors song-- and an instrumental, "Copper Sunset") that, due to my lack of musical knowledge, I cannot identify and two new tracks.

"Hopkins" is one of the better tracks off the album, but excepting the longer intro, nothing new here. I can't put my finger on "Fire", but I still can't locate it. And "Copper Sunset" is basically an elongated moody guitar solo. Not bad, not great. These two tracks did nothing for me.

The two tracks are "Purple Wonderland" and "The Devil's Summit." "Purple" is a nicely bouncy trip, with just a hint of the Sabs in the chorus. Pretty cool. "Devil's Summit" might best be described as what happens when Cathedral decides it wants to do the JBs. Lee Dorian tries to get on with his own bad self, and the song is so awful (performance and writing), well, it's just damned funny. Nice to know the guys have a sense of humor.

Caural
Stars on My Ceiling
(Chocolate Industries)
reviewed in issue #227, March 2002

It is my firm conviction that the ability of DJs to create full arrays of sound using sampling, sequencers, drum machines, synthesizers and the like has been highly underrated by a lot of folks. It's as if the mere use of technology somehow takes the soul out of art. There's a similar argument going on these days in the (painting) art world concerning the possible use of lenses and other aids by the Dutch Masters, and I stand firmly on the side of the folks who say it's th