F.H. Hill Co.
Parlor Songs
(LoTioN Industries)
reviewed in issue #145, 10/13/97

Linear, yet unsettling, noise rawk. Like if fluf decided to crank up the distortion levels another buttload. The songs unfold like a well-worn highway, but it's still great to take the ride.

Best enjoyed at loud volumes, of course, though the songs are good enough to be appreciated at relatively low levels as well. The sound borders on horrific at times, but even while the vocals are getting lost in a wall of haze, the rhythm section keeps bouncing out and moving the proceedings along nicely.

All attitude and very little skill. Not that I'm complaining, of course. It takes something special to create the controlled chaos in as these songs, and there sure is something to be said for this wild ride.

A wonderful rush, really. F.H. Hill Co. pounds out a glorious racket, and deserves to rake in the consequences.

f.u.z.z.
f.u.z.z.
(Anechoic)
reviewed in issue #195, 2/14/00

If this was just a tasty conglomeration of beats and pieces, f.u.z.z. would still knock me out. But there are these raspy, soulful vocals riding the stinky grooves. Woof, what a combo!

So you got yer hip-hop, yer electronic ramblings, yer fuzzy soul--you got all that and then you've got the even greater whole.

That's where f.u.z.z. truly soars. When all of the parts grind against each other real tight, the friction combusts. The songs simply explode from the speakers with incendiary force. There's no way to get out of the field of fire.

Don't question stuff like this, just enjoy the ride. Yeah, there's a thousand ways to analyze every little bit, but why would you want to do that? Too much fun is waiting to be had.

F.Y.P.
My Man Grumpy
(Recess)
reviewed in issue #148, 11/24/97

Truly snotty punk. Almost by definition, punk means attitude. These guys have gone above and beyond. It's grating and amusing at the same time.

Puerile is another word that comes immediately to mind. How could it not, when presented with songs like "Shitheel", "Motherfucker, Cheap Thumbsucker", "Pork Rinds & Yoohoo" and "I Egged the President." In good measure, this sort of thing can be quite amusing. When it gets out of hand, well, you get F.Y.P.

And if you can get past the lyrics, then there's no missing the "whiny white boy" vocal delivery. Just enough distortion to them to add a nasty nasal twang. Talk about annoying.

All that said, I still had fun. This is the sort of disc that will piss a lot of folks off, for many of the reasons I've already delineated. Those very same characteristics will be seen as virtues by some seriously crazy punk fans. Cool world, ain't it?

FA-Q
Each Hit
(ATP Records)
reviewed in issue #95, 1/15/96

No, ATP doesn't have anything to do with Boris Becker. Geez...

Stuff from Seattle that is addressed to the "metal reviewer". If this sounds like Soundgarden or Alice in Chains I'm gonna puke!

But no. The guitar does have that grungy distortion, and the vocals do evoke a shadow of Chris Cornell, but the cool, sterile sound of the bass and drums keep this from being insipid.

Now, FA-Q has a long ways to go to escape the Northwest ghetto. The lyrics are pretty damned silly (which never stopped anyone before) and the music does get kinda repetitive after a few songs. And as the album progresses, FA-Q regresses more and more into a Seattle poser mode. Bummer.

I can hear some elements of potential, but FA-Q has to get out of town and find its own sound. There are only so many bands like Candlebox that make it big by playing trends. And where will that band be tomorrow? FA-Q should try the originality route.

Fabric
Woolly Mammoth
(Scrimshaw)
reviewed in issue #144 (9/29/97)

Loopy pop played over a completely electronic percussion section. Now, this is ultra lo-tech stuff, so it almost sounds, um, rustic or something. The songs themselves resemble reconstructed Brit-pop, so you can imagine the structural dichotomies involved.

The stuff is inelegantly arranged, adding to the off-kilter feeling. But by playing such strong themes against each other, Fabric achieves some seriously impressive results. This is definitely thinking music, though you can hum along if you want. I doubt the band would mind.

The concept is somewhat involved, but by using simple lines, Fabric makes the near-impossible sound breathlessly easy. Sure, it's rather disconcerting. That's the point.

And past making good music, I can't even fathom a guess as to what Fabric is going for here. But I don't care. I'll simply bathe in the discord.

Fabulous Disaster
Put Out or Get Out
(Pink & Black)
reviewed in issue #213, 3/12/01

Basic fare. Three chords, lots of attitude and some oozin' ahs. The key to this stuff is the attitude. The music is generic, though in a pleasing sense. Fabulous Disaster's character comes from the band's swagger.

And I love the stance. Four women who don't take shit from no one. In fact, they specialize in giving it away. The lyrics are clever enough to find plenty of ways to say "fuck off." I'm impressed.

Every once in a while the gals try to make a more serious point. That works some of the time. It does detract from the attitude factor, though the change of pace helps. I'm kinda ambivalent about those moves.

Musically, Fabulous Disaster trolls in the same waters as plenty of fast, trashy bands, though the tight production from Fat Mike and Ryan Greene does lend a somewhat clean quality to the sound. I do wish the band would spend a little more time picking different chords to abuse. Even so, I had a great time.

What the Go-Go's might have sounded like if they were a pack of butch lesbians produced by Alex Newport. Okay, so I'm just guessing as to the sexual identities of the band members (which are irrelevant in any case), and Fat Mike also twisted the knobs, but I think you get the point.

Beautifully simple melodies played at an almost-breakneck pace. Hooks with grit and just a little grace. And guitars that sound just right (thank you, Mr. Newport).

As for the style of the band members, well, that comes across more in the attitude than the music itself. Sure, this stuff has balls, but it's not pure buzzsaw. There's a sweet side to Fabulous Disaster, and it comes out at all the right moments.

These songs wouldn't have worked if they weren't written so well. All the attitude and great production and all doesn't matter if the songs themselves suck. Fabulous Disaster is anything but. Quite the happy pill for my aching head.

Face to Face
Ignorance Is Bliss
(Ladyluck/Beyond/BMG)
reviewed in issue #186, 8/16/99

Ooh, bouncy, peppy and oh-so-tame. Which is too bad, 'cause these boys can play that power punk-pop thang. Too bad it's way too conformist, straightened out into this kinda dull sheen.

The stuff is tightly written and played, of the sort which is a joy to hear. It's just that all the life has been strangled out of whatever was there in the beginning. I sure don't hear any sparks now.

And I blame almost all of that on the seriously overloaded major-label production job. "We've gotta make these guys sound big", someone seems to be saying. Well, they sounded big before all the excessive nonsense got introduced. It's amazing how a knob job can torch an otherwise cool sound.

Just another reason I sing the major-label blues. Sure, it's fine to sand off a few rough edges. But this is way too extreme. And it makes a potentially interesting band sound boring. That's the real shame.

The same tuneful pop hardcore sound, with just a bit more attitude. Very much a raucous version of the Bad Religion sound. That's not a bad thing at all.

My main complaint about these guys' last album was that is was dull. Tame. Not very interesting. The changes are subtle, but here's the scoop: The guitars are just a little looser, the vocals a bit more ragged and the hooks just a little tighter. I'm not talking about quantum changes. Just small nudges that make all the difference.

Now, I'm not calling this one of the great punk albums of all time. It's merely pretty good. For a major-label punk release, it's damned good. Face to Face found its roots, and my ears are much happier for it.

Like I said, we're not talking about a punk revolution or anything. Just a fine effort by some seasoned vets. Nothing to sneeze at, my friends.

Facepuller
Auditory Surgical Technicians
(BangOn)
reviewed in issue #52, 4/15/94

Take a dose of punk speed and pop sensibility and add a load of metal guitar and industrial filtered vocals.

This is nothing terribly original, though they do mix their influences in a way I can't remember hearing. Kinda like if Soundgarden (who never was a grunge band-get it straight) did a side project with the Supersuckers. And they borrowed an old P.A. for the vocals.

The guys tend to be a little excited about the metal riff conventions, but apart from that this is absolutely enjoyable. Sometimes the sonic assault is damned near inspiring. A pretty cool package overall.

Faction
Collection 1982-1985
(Goldenrod)
reviewed in issue #83, 8/21/95

Sounds like mid-80s hardcore via southern California. Whoa, it is, too.

Twenty-eight tracks and extensive liners that even include the dates and locations of Faction gig during the time specified. Pretty impressive.

Of course, the real test is the music. And while the Faction had a decent knack for writing cool punk songs at a time when it wasn't necessarily cool to be punk (certainly by 1985), I can't say this band has been anonymous for no reason.

The stuff is well-worth listening to, but the songs sound like a lot of other ones coming out from about the same time. Punk can be a maddeningly generic genre, and without unique characteristics (Bad Religion's use of harmony, Jello Biafra's voice, Greg Ginn's riffs) a band can get left by the wayside. I'm not saying the Faction sucked (this disc has ample proof to the contrary), but sometimes writing good songs is not enough.

If you are a serious student or collector of punk music, this disc is pretty damned near essential. Otherwise, it is an interesting anachronistic curiosity.

Fair Verona
Fair Verona EP
(I.V. Records)
reviewed in issue #194, 1/24/00

There's some wonderful lead guitar work here, looping in and out of the ragged, jangly songs. But what really impresses is the impassioned vocal work. I suppose there is a lead singer slot (three women somewhat share those duties), but as the songs build in intensity, the other singers come in for added emphasis.

The result is a wild set of off-kilter harmonies (that's not what they are, but I think that reference conveys the idea best). The vocal work is just stunning. And that's on top of rather inventive music. It's safe to say that Fair Verona owns its sound.

Which is not to say that there are no points of reference. Fair Verona is somewhere in the same land as punk-pop acts like Jawbox and Treepeople. The lines are a bit trippier, though, and the vocals are much more involved. This is some wonderful wailing.

Fairburn Royals
The Sunshine Slowdown
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #229, May 2002

Seems to me that more and more bands these days are finding cool ways to update roots music. Fairburn Royals can play the stuff straight, but generally the folks find one or more ways to dress up the basics.

Lots of experimentation with distortion and studio editing, particularly in the intros to the songs. I'm guessing the genesis of many of these pieces was often a long ways removed from the way they ended up.

What I really like is that the tricks and experimentation serve to complete the songs rather than simply hang as ornaments. Everything on this album was done for a purpose: To make good music.

And that's what we have here. Fairburn Royals have constructed an album with a solid foundation and a ceiling that just keeps rising and rising. Boy, do I like the way these folks think.

The easiest thing to do would be to slot Fairburn Royals into alt. country. This catchall category seems to include anyone with even the slightest hint of folk melodies or slide guitar slinkiness. These boys do have a vague roots feel to their music, but I'm hesitant to constrain the sound here by giving it a label.

As I noted in my review of the band's self-released album (which appeared last May), the songs generally find two or three ways to deviate from a traditional sound of any type. The inventiveness is shown in many ways, from subtleties in the writing to studio sleight of hand. What is apparent is that Fairburn Royals has refined its approach even while increasing its search for cool music.

All that stuff about nonconformist views? It's true. But it's also quite possible to listen to this album and bask in the simple pleasures of pretty melodies and satisfying hooks. It's all in how you approach it. Me, I like to think about my music. And Fairburn Royals gives me plenty to ponder.

Fairmount Girls
Fairmount Girls EP
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #182, 5/17/99

Imagine tight harmonies blended into tight pop, with a dusting of distortion in the guitars. A little looser than that description implies, I think. There is an inherent off-hand feel to these songs, and it is precisely that almost-indescribably feel which makes this disc so cool.

Fairmount Girls don't stick to pure pop sounds, either. "Nash" has more than a few Breeders and grunge influences (though it is still, technically, pop) and "Underwater" has a guitar line which would be right at home in a Johnny Cash song (though the rest of the song is a bit more straightforward).

See, it's not the style that makes this sound so good. Yes, these "girls" (they are female, and it is the name of the band, but I'm still a bit uncomfortable using that term; sorry) play pop as well as I've heard in a while (with some ace production), but it is the undercurrent that marks this disc as a winner.

They make this sound easy. That's the trick. And maybe it is for the Fairmount Girls, but I doubt it. This is highly-crafted, well-performed pop. Almost impossible to set down. Just gorgeous.

Fairweather
Lusitania
(Equal Vision)
reviewed in issue #244, August 2003

Some very clever Brit-pop types who happen to hail from somewhere in the DC area. J. Robbins produces, and he's barely able to contain the exuberance.

The first track, a dead-ringer for something off Loveless, is called "Derivative Opening." The songs then fly through a wide range of sounds, all somewhat loosely centered around the whole post-hardcore pop sound perfected by Robbins's old band.

But why the fake British accent? And why only sometimes? Is that part of the joke? I don't know. These boys can be awfully earnest when they want to be, though when one of the featured links on your website is to the Manowar web home, well, that is a sign of a certain deranged sense of humor.

Thing is, I don't have to analyze the music to know it's good. This stuff is amazing. My reaction is both intellectual and visceral. Very few bands can attract on so many levels. Fairweather is probably a bit too much (of lots of things) to make the big time, but great music is always its best reward. Awe-inspiring, to say the least.

Faithless
Sunday 8 PM
(Arist)
reviewed in issue #170, 10/26/98

Electronic acts on major labels tend to bum me out. Not because of any real excess influence on the part of the moneymen. No, it's more that a band has to be pretty unspectacular to get picked up by a biggie. Faithless does some nice things on the mellow side of the electronic movement, but it's all kinda, well, there. Not here. Not affecting me.

My main complaint is that the songs aren't really songs. They're bits and pieces of rather disparate musical ideas. Incoherent, really. Is that revolutionary or just lazy? Have to think on that one a while.

The pieces, many of them anyway, are good enough. The mellow dancehall vocals by Maxi Jazz are reasonably good, but it's all the other parts which don't always match up. Again, I know it's intentional. Is it some sort of innovation?

I don't know, really. The fractured music is not particularly innovative, though it does some nice things with found sound. I'd probably dig this if I was drunk or tripping or not having to pay close attention to it. Ah, so I guess I answered my question, after all.

Fake Brain
Department of Our Ways
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #197, 3/27/00

The kind of fuzzy, eccentric rock that I've found my mind wandering toward at the strangest times. Fake Brain usually sticks close to pop conventions, except for one or two small parts in each song, which creates this othrworldly feel to many of the pieces.

And the fuzz... You know, it seems like an easy thing, just add a little disortion to the guitar and everything sounds more intimate. It's not, though. A lot of band don't quite have the right touch. Fake Brain does.

My only real suggestion (if the band is really interested in big success rather than kudos from idiots like me) would be to shave the idiosyncratic moments down and tighten up a nothc.

Of course, if Fake Brain did that, then I wouldn't like the band any more. It's a risk many have taken without looking back. Anyway, adventurous popsters really ought to give this a scoping. There's a lot to love.

Fall from Grace
Fall from Grace
(Mayhem/Fierce-Futurist)
reviewed in issue #137, 6/23/97

When I started A&A six years ago, this was a very prevalent sound: hardcore metal ramblings, with a serious Black Sabbath fixation.

Times have changed, tastes have changed, and yet here is Fall from Grace resurrecting images of Non-Fiction and that whole sound. And while a good number of years have passed, I can't hear anything exceptional in Fall from Grace's sound. Nothing to indicate the passage of time. Almost like a time capsule.

Nothing terrible, just somewhat dull. I still like this guitar sound (it's a version of that "clean grunge" thing, kinda like what Downstroke was trying), but I've heard all these songs before, even if they have new lyrics.

You can't go home again. For better or worse, that's what Fall from Grace is attempting to do. There is no success without growth.

Fall Out Boy
Take This to Your Grave
(Fueled by Ramen)
reviewed in issue #241, May 2003

These folks are a wee bit too clever for their own good. Take the label name (Fueled by Ramen) or the title of the first track ("Tell that Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today"). Okay, so I 'm sure the boys didn't name their label. It sure is appropriate, anyway.

These songs aren't all jokes, but there are a few that venture into Nerf Herder territory. The music itself is tight punk pop with just a hint of an aggressive edge on the guitar. The pieces do come together nicely.

And much of the reason for that is the production, which doesn't overdo anything. Rather, the band's natural exuberance is preserved without allowing the proceedings to get out of hand. There's a nice live-to-tape feel here--though I don't think that's how this was recorded. No matter. The final product is quite nice.

Solid songwriting and plenty of energy to pull off these well-crafted pieces. Fall Out Boy isn't the most distinctive band around, but these songs are more than worth a listen or few. Give the boys some time and they just might come up with something better than very good.

Fall Silent
Six Years in the Desert
(Revelation)
reviewed in issue #217, 6/4/01

Some 10 or 11 years ago a lot of folks took great pains to separate the genres of "grindcore" and "death metal." Never mind that grindcore stalwarts Napalm Death and Carcass ended up solidly in the death metal camp by the time they hung up their axes. Fall Silent pushes the extreme hardcore (which is, I guess, today's term for "grindcore") sound to the edge of the metal envelope. To the point where I'm not sure how or even why you'd make a distinction.

'Cause see, it's good. Good is good, and bad is bad. Doesn't matter what else you call it. Fall Silent can rage with the best of 'em (pun intended). Seventeen songs of unmitigated fury. Not short songs, either. There's more than an hour of vitriol on this disc.

Quantity and quality. An irresistible combination, to be sure. The guitars flash and scream, producing some wondrous riffage. A frenetic rhythm section keeps churning the songs to speedier and more frenetic heights. Lyrics? Um, I can hear vocals. Sometimes I can make out a phrase. There is a lyric sheet. The stuff is fairly standard antisocial fare. These guys are serious, and so are their songs.

Mostly, though, Fall Silent doesn't. The sonic disturbances produced by this disc are flat-out amazing. Straight ahead full throttle. Don't look back. Don't even look to the side. Peer straight ahead and view your rapidly-approaching demise.

Falling Wallendas
Falling Wallendas
(IMI Records)
reviewed in issue #77, 5/31/95

Monster fans of pop music as practiced by Big Star, the Posies and such, the Falling Wallendas replicate the sound quite faithfully, but don't quite have the songwriting spark to quite join the ranks of the hallowed.

Which is not to denigrate the album whatsoever. This is fun, earnest pop music that at times threatens to become exquisite. But just when the knockout blow should be delivered, the windmill misses.

The production is great, giving the music a full voice. I just wish the songs had a little more to say. I can hear a good amount of potential, but a little spark is needed to really kick this band into gear. Something to move these folks from retro band to current sensation. Some sort of inspiration, I guess.

False Front
Dude
(Shimmy Disc)
reviewed in issue #15, 6/15/92

Atypical Shimmy-pop, with driving riffs and heavy guitars, verging on the grunge at times. Right now this one riff is just crunching my head straight into the screen. All pop sensibilities lost. For the moment.

I like bands that can shift gears. It's kinda nice to wander in and out of musical styles. Makes the brain very happy. And False Front can whiz from a heavy tune to a slightly jazzy one to a straight pop kinda thing. And it all remains coherent. Rather amazing when you think about it. Rather cool, too.

If you have always passed off Shimmy stuff as too weird for a loud music show, then you are a musical bigot. And if there is such a disc that would fit perfectly into your format, this is it.

Family of God
We Are the World
(Sugar Free)
reviewed in issue #175, 1/25/99

Two guys, Adam Peters (he once of Echo and the Bunnymen) and Chris Brick (among other things, owner of trendy clothing stores), who simply make music. Categorizing these sounds is a futile enterprise. As this is two guys who make full-sounding music, though, there are plenty of overdubs and manipulations. But wandering from vague new wave to ponderous distortion assaults to sparsely arranged moody bits to some kind of strange western flamenco riffage, Family of God doesn't stop in the same place for long.

What it is is great. A complete journey through the minds of the creators. Each song has its own charms, and while they don't share a whole lot in the way of overt characteristics, the album flows together quite nicely.

Like I noted, there are plenty of little studio tricks and the like all through. Not clumsy, but wonderfully subtle . Try on the lengthy (12 1/2 minutes) track "The Observer Is Observed" for size. Ambient, Kraftwerk-influenced to be sure. But astonishingly creative in its use of everyday noodlings and beats.

By the way, this is not Christian rock. I didn't figure anyone reading anything on my site would get confused that way, but what the hell. I just looked at the press, which calls this cosmic disco for the millennium. Um, no. But it is a truly inventive and creative album, one which impresses and inspires. Well worth a thousand spins.

The Family Tree
Planting Seeds
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #213, 3/12/01

Something of an off-shoot (no pun intended) of the All Natural collective, this disc collects a number of different DJs and MCs under the Family Tree moniker.

The beats are often buried behind distortion or reverb (or simply muffled), which reminds me of some Wordsound fare. The rhyming is all over the map, some sloppy and some carefully crafted.

Certainly, the best fare on the album comes from the All Natural crew itself, though the instrumental beat explorations from G(riot) are also first rate. Indeed, the one common thread throughout the disc is a commitment to good beat work.

Just a sampler, I guess, but one that provides a fine picture of artistic ferment. The somewhat haphazard sequencing (not all songs flow particularly well into each other) is forgivable given the diversity of the set. Most enjoyable.

Fancy Hair Dragon
On Golden Sand
(Scary Garden)
reviewed in issue #218, 6/25/01

The kinda loopy punk pop that Lookout! has specializing for years. Fancy Hair Dragon is more pop and less punk (even going with electronic drums some of the time, I think), but the soaring hooks and clunky chords fit right into the formula.

And this is nothing if not formula. Doesn't make it bad, of course, but the stuff never quite breaks into greatness. The songs are wry and the hooks do, indeed, stick to the wall. There's just this element of generic three-chord monte going on.

Maybe it's the fairly dull production that's leading me down this path. All of the edges have been sanded off, leaving Fancy Hair Dragon with a flat sound. There's not much in the way of dynamic range. All of these songs come on at about the same level and speed.

A little variety would really help. The songwriting chops are solid, if unspectacular. The stuff is good, but not good enough to get me going. Some oomph is definitely in order.

Fang
American Nightmare
(Wingnut)
reviewed in issue #161, 6/15/98

Yet another resuscitated punk band attempting to cash in on the latest punk wave, Fang does have a few good excuses for its absence. Chief among them the six years in the can served by frontman Sam McBride.

And the music is, well, oddly ordinary. For such a vile past, this incarnation of Fang (McBride being the only original member around) sounds positively civilized. The music is straight three-chords, and rather slow at that. The lyrics, for all the claims of streetwise ferocity, are bland, angry shouts.

It's not that this is so bad. In fact, I kinda like a few of the songs. But they're basic, regular punk stuff. Where the old Fang had a few bones to pick with the music of its time, this Fang has been worn down by the sands of time.

I had hoped for more. I got okay. That's the way it goes.

Fantastic Plastic Machine
The Fantastic Plastic Machine
(Emperor Norton)
reviewed in issue #165, 8/17/98

I'm not sure if this music is meant for five year olds or if it's supposed to sound like music played for five year olds but really meant for twenty-five year olds that want to think they're still five.

And maybe this is the quintessential question. Do we listen to music escape the past or escape to the past. Maybe it's a question of when we listen to it. This reminds me of Disney records on acid -- but not a bad trip. No no no.

This is the trip where the clouds are your friends and a 7-11 is like entering a multi-colored syrupy wonderland. Yes, take me back. Oh yeah, it sounds like it was made on one of those cheap Casios with Japanese vocals in English. Hence the slushy feeling.

-- Matt Worley

Fantcha
Criolinha
(Tinder)
reviewed in issue #157, 4/20/98

Songs a la Cape Verde, a former Portuguese colony of islands off the west coast of Africa. Fantcha's luxurious voice is at home on torch-style songs and dance numbers. And with all the African, Brazilian (another former Portuguese colony) and Portuguese influences, there's always a reason to dance.

Even when the music kicks in fast and furious, Fantcha's voice is always at the forefront. She is in control of the song, and her producer made that possible. The arrangements are full, but not overwhelming. The instrumentation is mostly traditional, with only the occasional hint of keyboard.

And so the result is a pop album that radiates the joys of many musical heritages. And, of course, Fantcha's astonishing voice. A wonder that should never cease. Obviously aimed at a mass audience, this disc has more than enough depth to attract the attention of more demanding listeners as well.

Far
In the Aisle, Yelling 7"
(Pazzafist)
reviewed in issue #73, 3/31/95

Punchy pop punctuated by some ripping riffs. The a-side concerns personal problems and burning theaters and the flip is a fun little tale about killing a "boring guy". Or maybe the positions are switched. Hard to say.

I really dig the music. It's poppy and discordant at the same time (a neat trick). The vocals and vocal lines are completely out of sync with the music, and that adds to the tension.

Not an easy listen, but pretty interesting and effective nonetheless.

Farces Wanna Mo
Recording @ Home Plus Seven
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #197, 3/27/00

Some very strange ideas in pop music, as fronted by a Jello Biafra wannabe. The title track (as such) is a fairly straightforward song, traditional in structure if not in performance. The rest of the pieces get weird very fast.

Structure kinda takes a holiday and what sounded like mere odd thoughts at first rush to the fore. At times, the music sorta peters out, replaced by the occasional chord or beat and an assortment of vocals.

I'm not kidding. This is warped material. Which, as faithful readers know, means I really like it. It's horribly incomplete at times, and that sort of thing does have an almost unimaginable appeal to me.

While not on the outer fringe, Farces Wanna Mo (does the band name tell you anything?) certainly is nowhere near staid reality. Dip your toes in, the water is mauve.

More wigged-out musings from these fine folks. While sticking to the pop universe (in a very vague way), the tunes quickly fly into all sorts of strange territory.

This has the feel of kids playing around on new instruments. Intuitive kids, kids who instinctively know which direction to turn at every crossroads. There's a whimsical rejection of the "normal" world and an embracing of heretofore unimagined sonic pairings.

This sort of thing will never have mainstream appeal, except as a sort of novelty act. But that doesn't do the band justice. These songs are well-conceived. Often goofy, but still put together with skill and care. I just hope the folks don't cheese out.

Self-consciously clever lyrics and music. Farces Wanna Mo reminds me of nothing less than non-snarky Zappa without the genius. Which is to say that everything is a bit conventional in its whacked-out way, but it still is a lot of fun to hear. It's nice to hear people have fun with what they're doing.

Geoff Farina
Reverse Eclipse
(Southern)
reviewed in issue #211, 1/29/01

Geoff Farina wrote and performed everything on this disc, except for three songs where Josh Larue sat in. Farina speak-sings in the style of a tired lounge singer. He plays guitar (with a very flat tone) in a vaguely jazzy style. Not the easiest approach to assimilate.

Really, he's a beat poet without bongos. It's not like he's singing anthems, or even really singing much at all. He's reading poetry with a lilt, adding in some guitar and bass.

And that's cool. I'm not being snide, either. Farina has crafted a sound all his own, and once I got used to it, the stuff started to grow on me. Few people write lyrics the way Farina does. This isn't cheap poetry; it's the real thing. Good poetry, I mean.

Farina does have grand ambitions. You don't make music like this unless you want to create something big. I think he's done it. Anyway, I like the way the notes bend.

Farm Dogs
Last Stand in the Open Country
(Discovery)
reviewed in Money Whore issue #7, 7/29/96

Bernie Taupin is easily best-known for writing the lyrics to Elton John's best songs (everything released up to 1978, with a few "reunion" collaborations since then). I'm sure it helps pay the rent.

Taupin recruited sides for a band, called it the Farm Dogs, and then the four of them wrote and recorded this album. The production is generally sparse, which helps accentuate the laid-back, folksy feel. Taupin's lyrics are up to his usual standard, and the playing is immaculate.

Reminds me a bunch of the Notting Hillbillies (Mark Knopfler's Brit-country outfit) that way. Americans have never made country music this way, but I can't complain too much about that. A bit antiseptic, perhaps, but affecting nonetheless.

The other nagging doubt is what sheen the production left. This is quite obviously a seriously commercial outing, despite the protestations to the contrary. Taupin's lyrics are rarely unpretentious. He reaches a bit far at times here, but I appreciate the effort. Once all the little things quit bugging me, I can sit back and enjoy a fun album.

Annette Farrington
Azure Wonder & Lust
(Castle von Buhler)
reviewed in issue #224, 11/5/01

Imagine if Kate Bush decided to go post-industrial. Annette Farrington combines densely-populated music and lyrics to create a stirring set of almost orchestral pieces.

Everything builds from the electronic drum and bass-driven rhythms. Whether it's her strong-yet-ethereal vocals or the wide variety of sounds that are gathered together, each element ties itself to the low end.

And the overall production sound is lush yet sharp. Full, but with enough space to allow a wide variety of sounds to color the songs. A real nice balance, if you ask me. The engineering is just as well thought out as every other element.

What I'm really trying to say is that Farrington and producer Anthony J. Resta have created a truly fine album. It's really hard to properly represent a wide variety of ideas (both musical and lyrical), but that's exactly what happened here. First class.

Farside
Rigged
(Revelation)
reviewed in issue #58, 7/15/94

If you weren't already familiar with Farside's take on pop-punk, gather 'round and take a listen.

Popeye's low and slightly scuffed vocals sound much like Mr. O's of fluf. Farside aren't quite so bombastic as that San Diego crew, though.

With a fine sense of melody and subtle lyrics (a real unusual find in punk), Farside build on the roar that began with Rochambeau. Yes, there is an anthem or two, but I don't think the guys are full of themselves or anything. They just know when to catch a particularly catchy wave in their songwriting.

Fascia
Fascia
(Clock Wise) reviewed in issue #192, 12/6/99

Epochal, atmospheric rock. There is an ambient, trancey feel to much of this, but the main instrument of torture seems to be a guitar. Apparently the live shows are more visual in nature (the liners don't list instruments; they list "music" or "visuals"). I can see how this would translate well to that.

Bubbling out of an alternate consciousness, Fascia's music quite often takes on the form of a brook. The lines cascade down a hill, catching rocks and bits of debris, finally depositing them in a languid pool.

The three-dimensional sound really helps to illustrate the music, perhaps even better than overt constructions might. Fascia often uses something of a drone construct, picking one melodic or rhythmic line and repeating it infinitely, finding meaning in the minor variations as it develops.

Sounds complicated? Well, it's not, really. That's why the stuff really connects. This is music that is easily accessed by the mind. It just slips in before the defenses are ready. Sneaky bastards, that.

Fat Jon the Ample Soul Physician
Wave Motion
(Mush)
reviewed in issue #225, January 2002

The description on the back reads "American made instrumental hip-hop." Couldn't have said it better myself. Fat Jon the Ample Soul Physician deals in beats smooth and funky, always laying down a most gracious table assortment.

I've always felt that the more creative the beatwork, the more innovative the rhymes are likely to be. And if more DJs had the creativity and skill of Fat Jon, well, the radio might sound a whole better.

Maybe not. Maybe the masses don't want complexity. Their loss. Complex music can be accessible, and this disc is proof. There are plenty of rhythmic byways for my mind to wander, but the basic grooves are simple and solid. Open access for all comers.

This is soul music in the deepest sense. In that this music actually has a soul and isn't afraid to show it. These beats have a depth and clarity that few achieve.

Fat Tuesday
Califuneral
(Red Decibel)
reviewed in issue #13, 5/15/92

The latest Red Deci-band does not disappoint. As I noted a while back in the advance review, there is at times a rather obvious Jane's influence. It gets a little hairy on "Latest Lover", but for the most part Fat Tuesday heads out into their own sound. Bass-heavy, funky even at times, the one thing that keeps this all together is a heavy emphasis on rhythm.

That's right. If you have a little imagination, you can dance to this. No machines or anything silly like that. Just grooves. Heavy ones, at that. Do the clubs in your town think all alternative music sounds like Nine Inch Nails or Nirvana? Well, help their asses out. I know, there is only so much you can do. But every little bit helps. And I have a few techno-loving friends who would eat this album up whole, even though it sounds nothing like anything else they listen to. It just has those, well, grooves.

Coming in somewhere between the Sabbs and the Chilis. Just further out than either. No Top 40 ballad-izing going on here. Just real rock and roll. Somewhere on a funkier plane.

While the first release of the album Califuneral caught most of you heading off onto summer vacation, the folks at Sony heard this. After a couple months of negotiations, a distribution deal was worked out between the Columbia label and those fine Minnesotans (currently, anyway) at Red Decibel. Thus the album sees a new light of day, and you get this promo single.

Not the strongest track on the album (one of the worst, actually, which says something), the tune is kinda overly Jane's-ey for me, but the two bonus tracks are not to be ignored. And you get a second chance to play these guys in a couple of weeks. Enjoy.

The 90210 poster boys (their last album cover has been in many shots at the radio station, I understand) return (only a few months late) with a much poppier sound.

It seems to work a little better for these guys, however, as they always seemed a little uncomfortable with getting out of control. There are the obligatory punk moments, but no Jane's Addiction references here, and I applaud that excision.

The whole thing still reeks of major label blues at times, but overall Fat Tuesday are enjoyable and even occasionally crankable.

Fatal Blast Whip
Seduction remix EP
(Blacklight)
reviewed in issue #186, 8/16/99

That nicely-bounding gothic electro-industrial whine which is almost exclusively German in origin. This band, then, is from San Diego. Of course. It only makes sense.

The first five tracks are various versions of the title song. Three other songs (b-sides?) follow. While this might seem like light content, the remixes are barely distinguishable as coming from the same song. There isn't a problem with variety.

Nor with a cool sound. I'm quite impressed. Derek Jones (the main guy behind FBW) does a good job of incorporating a variety of sounds and samples into his work. From the techno grind to fairly intricate soundscapes, he's got a handle on what he's doing. And in only four songs, too.

I am impressed. Sure, I'm a general sucker for this sort of sound, but Jones gives an old sound some new shine here. That's always worth hearing.

If you ever wondered where hard techno went, then check out the chilly grooves from Fatal Blast Whip. Oh, these folks do revel in the "band sound" (the individual elements are mixed together into a somewhat muddy solution), but this is a fine example of gothic techno.

And aggressive stuff at that. Not content to wallow in the past, Fatal Blast Whip tosses in plenty of modern beat theory and uses the talents of all its members. I mentioned the "band sound." I really like it. It's nice to hear electronic music that sounds like it could be played on stage.

The usual sterile sound is lost, of course, but I don't miss it. Who says an electronic band has to make music that sounds like it was manufactured by a machine? There's just no need for everyone to hew that line.

A fine effort from some folks who know how to try out new things without sounding pretentious or scatterbrained. There are plenty of club-ready tunes here, the sort of thing I'd like to hear my next time on the floor.

Fates Warning
Parallels
(Metal Blade)
reviewed in issue #5, 1/15/92

I got into Fates Warning a little late (No Exit), but I've been a fan since. I thought Perfect Symmetry was a little soul-less at times, but they have recovered nicely with Parallels.

Lots of people I've talked to see this album as rather Queensryche-ish. Yeah, this has comparisons to Empire, but Ray Alder and Geoff Tate will always sound somewhat alike, no two ways about it.

Another observation is that "We Only Say Goodbye" has definite Top 40 potential. I hope those stations that are cranking Nirvana to death will have room in their formats to include another band with real instruments. Probably not.

But "Goodbye" is an infectious song and damn good writing. So is the rest of the album. Check it out.

About five years ago, Fates Warning was one of my favorite bands (around the time of No Exit). Their two subsequent releases disappointed me, mostly because they music seemed to lose its edge, the musicians more interested in creating linear songs.

That trend continues on Inside Out, with Fates Warning as accessible and easy-listening as ever before. I'm not sure why they haven't ridden a mellow tune to stardom a la Queensryche yet, but my guess is that Metal Blade doesn't have the bucks EMI has.

Despite my slagging, I do like this album. It just doesn't challenge me like early FW, and that continues to bum me out. I think this is a little better than Parallels, but not by much. Old fans are the hardest to satisfy, I know, but maybe there's something to that, after all.

Fatso Jetson
Toasted
(BongLoad)
reviewed in issue #181, 5/3/99

Produced by Chris Goss (once of Masters of Reality), with all the musical mayhem you might expect. A trio (or a quartet--the liners and the press notes do not agree), but these three guys are able to blast some truly impressive fare. Perfunctory playing, punctuated by off-the-wall noodlings and descants.

Kinda like if Black Sabbath was a prog band, but it only remembered that fact every once in a while. The vocals are utterly un-Ozzy-like. Actually, they sound a lot like Goss back in the MoR days. I'm pretty sure he does do a little singing now and again.

One of those albums which lurches and leans toward the impending apocalypse. You can see the end coming, but you can't do a damned thing about it. It is inexorable, you are utterly powerless. The fury and the wonderment pass through you. Not an entirely pleasant feeling.

But mostly. I can say I haven't ever heard anything quite like Fatso Jetson. That's always a good sign. Yes, it's definitely stoner rock (you know, like Sleep or Faith No More or something), but these boys have their own niche. And a fine one it is.

Faux Fox
Cusp of the Precipice
(Quartz Inc.)
reviewed in issue #260, December 2004

Somewhere between, say, Gary Numan and the Cure, lies Faux Fox. Well, there's also this kinda fun modern sheen to the sound, but the songwriting style is definitely grounded in the early 80s, all that sorta punky, gothic, pre-industrial stuff.

Which means that the masses might not exactly embrace this album with open arms. Probably why I like it so much. Faux Fox doesn't so much replicate a now old-fashioned sound as much as wallow in it. There's no reason electronic music needs to sound like this--unless you want it to, of course.

And given that John Congleton (The Paper Chase) is on the boards, it's apparent that this is precisely what Faux Fox wants. The disarmingly simple production highlights the complex songwriting, which then makes all of this that much more inviting. There is a good deal that lies just beneath the surface.

Hell, this is simply a big wad of fun. Yeah, I can think of all sorts of "intellectual" reasons to dig Faux Fox, but I think the most important one is the overwhelming pleasure of the music. Yes, it helps that I was in junior high back in the early 80s, but I think just about any serious music fan will be entranced. First rate.

Fear Factory
Soul of a New Machine
(Roadrunner)
reviewed in issue #20, 9/15/92

Finally. With Godflesh slowly sinking into accessibility (and boredom), another industrial death band approacheth. Like the new Ministry, the music is based on metal (that is to say, bastardized blues) progression, and the beat is fast. So there isn't the sludgy catharsis Godflesh could give; instead, these weird British pop-like vocals wandering in over the chaos. (Think I'm kidding?)

No, I'm not. And the melodies are tastefully scattered throughout, so you won't overdose on them. Actually, they are most prevalent on the "suggested cuts," so if you cruise around the disc like good music people, you will amuse yourself to a great extent.

It is the rare album that really excites me. The advance cassette did that, and the clarity of CD just reinforces my arousal. I could come up with all sorts of cutesy "this album kicked my ass from here to..." sayings, but I won't. The music more than speaks for itself.

For starters, I always thought tracks like "Martyr" would make good club tunes to begin with. But when I heard about this project, I was excited and yet a little worried. All prevous attempts to do this sort of thing (Prong et. al.) ended up sounding really boring. All the guitars turned down, and the vocals mostly lost as well.

Well, I knew with the FLA boys at the helm there would be no fear of volume. And my God, this thing cooks.

Nothing is lost in the techno translation, and a lot is added. Not just those slightly annoying beats, but even more volume to the guitars. And the vocals also seem stronger. A real fusion of dance and death. Techno metal. This is what Godflesh will never be able to accomplish, because they don't have the guts.

To call this brilliant or a must play is just far beneath the reality of this disc. I could really go for this sort of thing on a regular basis. Brutality or death!

Without a doubt the most anticipated album release in the independent label community so far this year. And that goes for alternative MDs as well as loud music directors.

As one of the few bands willing to take every musical risk presented, Fear Factory earns respect just for what the band attempts. And then to follow through...

Merging the industrial-goth flow of Soul of a New Machine with the techno flavor of the FLA-remixed Fear Is the Mind Killer, this album is a fresh breath of mordant musical madness (who says I can't turn a phrase?). To pick favorite tracks is an impossibility.

Eleven tracks of pure pain and suffering, accessible enough to be "cool metal" for alterna-fans who usually turn up their noses at such fare, and heavy enough to keep the fans who have been clamoring for this disc. A miracle? Perhaps. But then, if there is a band that can pull this off, Fear Factory is it.

Song for song, this is the strongest album I've heard from anyone this year. Fear Factory is pretty big, but this could be the big breakthrough. I can't imagine who could possibly resist.

The FLA connection continues with Rhys Fulber taking on about half the remixing duties, the other half going to a variety of DJs who do a fine job of reinterpreting the original tracks.

I remember asking someone at Roadrunner if the special re-issue of Demanufacture meant that this long-awaited project was off the schedule. Sadly, it was said to be true. Now I am happy to report that that prognosis was incorrect.

Like Fear Is the Mindkiller, the DJs had access to actual tape, and the results are sharper than many remix projects. Fear Factory's highly industrial metal sound lends itself well to this sort of thing, anyway, so it's not surprising how good this is.

Indeed, Fear Factory is a band without fear. Some of these splice jobs take the music where it has never been before. Quite a few bands might be worried about what the fans might think. I believe that Fear Factory fans would worry if the band refused to take chances.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Remanufacture may not have the sheer audacity of Fear Is the Mindkiller, mostly because this sort of thing is a bit more accepted nowadays. But the sheer mass of great music is hard to ignore.

Fear Factory is the most imitated, most influential metal band of the past 10 years. When metal fell off its tenuous pedestal at the end of the 1980s, many trends emerged to carry the mantle forward. Grindcore, death metal, the new hardcore (both Biohazard and Fudge Tunnel styles), grunge, industrial and gothic. These are extremely generic labels, and the list is incomplete in any case. What is indisputable is that when Fear Factory's debut, Soul of a New Machine arrived in 1992, any person with ears knew some serious talent had arrived.

I don't kiss ass like this very often, but let's face it, as revolutionary as that first album was, the works that followed are even more impressive. Two electronic remix EPs and a second effort in the past, Fear Factory now emerges with its most audacious and coherent effort yet. A seamless merging of all its influences into a powerhouse sound of incomprehensible proportions.

Once again teaming up with Rhys Fulber (FLA, etc.), the band delves into the electronic bag even more, effortlessly adding a techno/industrial sheen to its strident riffage. Oh, yeah, this stuff is highly engineered, but in such a way that samples meet riffs in a very organic setting. The songs are more ambitious, the production that much more arrogant. Fear Factory is now ready to take over the world.

I spent the first few years of A&A attempting to convince a number of people that metal (in totality) is just as artistically relevant as any other sound. I always used Fear Factory as an example, and this album proves my point without any further explanation. Fear Factory has transcended whatever genre it might inhabit. Obsolete moves the band onto the world stage as one of the finest musical acts, period. I don't think I need to say another word.

I've said it before, but I might as well say it again. If the bulk of heavy metal and hard-core bands had gone the way that Fear Factory takes the music, I might still have my dangling long hair and wear my black rocker T-shirts. Their dark pulsating rhythms and wailing lyrics combine together to make me want to flex, scream, pick up heavy objects, and put them in a totally new place. Yeah, some good angry primal shit.

Demanufacture was the first album I heard from Fear Factory, and it will probably be my favorite just for that reason. Obsolete doesn't back track though, and in many respects, it is a much more mature album. These guys have continually brought in electrical sounds and programming to take the intense music straight to the mind.

But does it kick ass? Will it go over with the heavy boozing, slam dancing, still long haired crooners that hide in the woodwork until the metal shows come around town? Are we allowed to listen to the darkness pounding upon darkness until our skin spits from its pores because we finally realize that man is obsolete? The answer to all these questions is "Yes motherfucker. Quit being such a sissy and listen to it."

--Aaron Worley

Fear of Commitment
Paper Dolls and Paper Plates
(Dren)
reviewed in issue #209, 12/11/00

A showpiece for the writing talents of Sarah Knab and Niall Hood, Fear of Commitment spins a number of intense, low-key songs. Or, to put it another way, these songs sound simple and inviting, but they have one hell of an undertow.

Which, by the way, is a good thing. Most of the pieces deal with, well, relationships (you might have guessed that from the name of the band), but in a way that manages to escape cliches. All that remains are human emotions.

There is more than that, but not much, really. Which isn't as much of a problem as you might imagine. By shifting perspectives and stripping everything down to the core, Fear of Commitment has put together some stunning songs. Every note feels like a raw nerve.

No matter how pretty the songs are (and many are gorgeous), there's usually something dark lurking. Knab had a relatively plain voice, but she is able to make the sweetest song a harrowing experience and then pull everything back to one at the end. This must be heard to be believed.

Fearless Leader
!#$;!
(Hell Yeah!)
reviewed in issue #29, 2/28/93

Utterly lacking table manners (or even a bedside manner), this sloppy, disgusting (to most, anyway) trip through a psycho-scatophile's chunky dream reeks.

In my vernacular, read RAVE REVIEW. After all, Kiss has been a self-parody for at least ten years, so why not the real thing? The music is more in the New York Dolls vein, but the make-up is dead-on hilarious.

Okay, so the lyrics are retched at times, but that's the point. The liners say something crude and cliched about understanding and appreciating humor, so heed that advice. The innards are as appetizing as the cover.

Feathers
Synchromy EP
(Hometapes)
reviewed in issue #278, September 2006

Speaking of minimalist electronic pop, these folks riff through Tortoise country by way of Sigur Ros and Tangerine Dream (the good 70s stuff, of course). It's a little kitchy, but catchy as well (sorry, I couldn't resist...).

Five bouncy pieces that all seem to time out at around four minutes. A nice little coffee break for the brain. Get some stuff percolating up there and, boom!

This is a short review, and that's a shame, because the depth of musical ideas on this disc is impressive. Some fine jaunty fare that makes me smile just thinking about it.

Feces Pieces
Feces Pieces EP
(Curve of the Earth)
reviewed in issue #143, 9/15/97

These guys were raised on that Beantown sludge, and they give as good as they've heard. This is a nicely metallized version of the same, thick with chunky riffs and nice, driving rhythms. The mixture is stirred at all times.

Pounding, throbbing, heaving excitement. The songs are tightly written and expertly played, with a very cool sound which emphasizes thickness and yet leaves room for sharp moments. This is much harder to accomplish than you might think.

I haven't been sludged this well in quite a while. These guys are pretty damned funny (try "(I Will Survive) Just to Hate You" on for size), and the music is simple, but quite well executed.

It's not brain surgery by any means, but then, these guys don't try to make anything more of what they do, either. The lack of pretentiousness is great, and the music ain't bad, either.

Felt
Desert Center
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #241, May 2003

Felt plays pop rock the way it was meant to be played: All over the map. There's a little power pop, a little faux-funk wank, some scattered hints of ska (hints, mind you, not the real thing), some anthemic roots stuff and even a wee bit of psychedelia just to round out the package.

So whether you like the Spin Doctors or Hootie and the Blowfish--or you're like me and you like neither--there's something to appreciate here. The songs themselves are written quite nicely, and there's very little resorting to old cliches. Rather, the boys seem to have worked very hard to find an original edge to their music.

I do get a sense that these folks play better than they feel. The proficiency of the musicians sometimes overshadows any emotion that might be present, but that tightness also helps to ratchet up the hook quotient. I'm not sure I like that trade off, but I have to admit that it works pretty well for these guys.

Hey, I'm the first to say that this album is a bit too accessible for my tastes. But Felt does one hell of a job crafting its voice, and I never got bored. There are so many shades of sound on this album that it would be impossible to accuse these boys of falling into a rut. Surprisingly enjoyable.

David Fessette
David Fesette EP
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #213, 3/12/01

Here's a lesson for all you unsigned bands out there. David Fesette put his contact info on the spine of his disc, as well as on the back and on his letterhead. I can't tell you how many times I spend way too much time trying to figure out where a disc came from. Bravo to David for learning the first lesson in the art of self-promotion. Lesson two: Have something good to sell.

Damned if he didnšt learn that as well. Fesette specializes in acoustic guitar-driven pop, though the third song here does rely on an electric lead. The sound of his guitar is great (which begs the question why so many major-label producers can't seem to figure it out), and he can really play.

The songs have a soaring, atmospheric feel. I like that a lot. I wasn't as enamored of Fesette's writing style at first, but by the time I got through all three songs I was converted. He know what he wants to do, and here he does it. Latch on to the playing and let it guide you into the songs.

Fetish
Silver
(Adeline)
reviewed in issue #207, 10/30/00

Not afraid to drop pop references into a crunch punk sound, Fetish rambles through a fine set of well-textured tunes. The writing is much more crafted than the usual punk ethos, and the playing is nice and tight.

So is it punk? Well, yeah, kinda. There is a certain energy, and the guitar sound just screams punk. The construction and production? Much more and of a higher quality than expected.

Along with that added sheen is just a touch of glam metal riffage. The slightest hint of trashy fun and outright silliness. These boys don't take themselves too seriously.

Which is the best way to play this kinda tuneage, I'd say. Let the stuff bound about and keep on smilin'. Don't worry about how people categorize it. After, it's your music. Fetish gives this one the hard sell, and that works quite well.

Fetish 69
Antibody
(Release-Nuclear Blast)
reviewed in issue #48, 2/14/94

I've been waiting for this disc so long, I can't remember when I wasn't. No disappointment, either.

Gritty metal-industrial, like the last Optimum Wound Profile, only nastier.

This just keeps rolling in my brain, and I don't know how to stop the bleeding. I want to write accolades, but my reason circuit seems to have been snapped, and all I can put down is drivel.

Awestruck, I suppose.

The Feud
Language Is Technology
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #237, January 2003

Three guys who like to play that whole noise pop fusion sorta thing (when I think of a better name I'll let you know). More Don Cab than June of 44, though this stuff rarely dips into the fuzz.

Rather, these boys let their music do all the talking. Literally. The sound is relatively clean and there are no vocals (that I heard, anyway). The instrumentation is impressive, as harmonica, xylophone (or some similar sort of thing), keyboards and more are played in most inventive ways.

With this kinda stuff, the most important thing is where the various musical lines intersect. The Feud rarely deviates very far from the established path, preferring to indulge in frenetic (though utterly controlled) interplay. The impressive thing is that these pieces sound like songs at all.

They do, though, and the sheer density of these songs is what propels them so completely into my consciousness. Not unlike Dianogah, the Feud takes simple ideas and replicates them so prolifically that the pieces seem always on the verge of collapse. They don't. And I'm just blown away.

Fever
Too Bad But True
(Digital Hardcore)
reviewed in issue #176, 2/8/99

Pretty cool fuzzy dub beats and some dancehall vocals on top. Lots manipulation. Yer generally intriguing little electronic project.

Goofy, too, much of the time. Kind of a strange dichotomy, the heavy, throbbing beats and the loony bits, but not unlike Spectre, it works just fine. With stuff like this, you gotta laugh and enjoy yerself.

And dig into the true creativity of the project, the beat work. Yeah, it's electronic, but with lots of skips and hesitation. Unexpectedly so at times. Like the best hip-hop productions.

Really, this is just an strange offshoot of hip-hop. Somewhere in that world, anyway. Though most folks would crinkle their noses at me if I said that while this was playing. No matter. Quality always wills out.

Fez Dispenser
Fez Dispenser
(Skin and Barrel)
reviewed in issue #230, June 2002

Those of you looking for electronic beat work inside a jazz idiom need search no more. Fez Dispenser blows out its grooves in a full-on fusion attack, waxing smooth and blistering as necessary.

That's smooth in the delivery, not "smooth jazz." These guys turn out one impressive piece after another, never falling into a repetitive rut. Full marks for originality.

Just enough of a hip-hop edge to the beats to keep the joints jumpin'. Fez Dispenser uses everything at its disposal (samples, drum machines, guitars and more) to create complete aural snapshots. The texture within these songs is amazing.

A fine disc for your next party. Cool enough that it won't scare off the less adventurous in your crowd, but stylish enough to impress even the most imperious music snob (like, say, me). Quality and then some.

Ff
We're #1
(Double Deuce)
reviewed in issue #105, 4/8/96

Hyper-aggressive heavy pop music straight outta Brooklyn. I remember truly digging the two tracks Ff had on last year's Double Deuce compilation, and this album is no disappointment.

Veering between the balls-out straight ahead style of fluf and the more askance guitar style propogated by Jawbox and many others, Ff crafts its own wonderful niche. Um, give me a second. I've got to bliss out for a moment...

Okay, I can sit down again. But I'll have to take a break and jam "Collide" again in a second. It's the drummer's favorite song, and it's about the best pop tune I've heard this year. Perfectly amazing.

And the rest of the album is almost that good. I figured this would be a good album. But instead, I get one of my favorites of the young season so far. Some folks just have a knack for plying the pop trade with the appropriate amounts of melody and distortion. Ff joins that august group with aplomb. We're #1 certainly gives plenty of reason for the band to claim just that.

The Fibs
Pisces in Crises
(Watchmen Records)
reviewed in issue #166, 8/31/98

Okay, so I don't read the little notes that come with the albums. Until, of course, I've actually heard the music. So I look at the cover and figured the Fibs were a happy pop punk band or something. Um, not quite.

I also didn't look at the band picture on the back of the disc. The Fibs are an easy-going, rootsy rock band. Enough country and blues to color the proceedings properly, tied together in a nice 4/4 package.

Smooth as 30-year-old whiskey. The songs are subtly humorous (perhaps not so subtle, how about "Pythagoras & the Beanfield" or "Bullets 'N' Beer"?), and they simply roll off one after the other. Oh, man, sometimes a band simply clicks in with my brain and turns on all the right receptors. All my pleasure centers are reeling.

Just some great kick back and smile music. Nothing too serious, nothing overblown. A big fat happy disc.

Fiction Damage
Heathen Stuff
(High Time)
reviewed in issue #131, 3/31/97

I simply sat and listened to this for quite a while, unable to figure it out. Perhaps because in the end, Fiction Damage is really quite simple.

Probably most resembling Gilby Clarke's old band Kill for Thrills (though with some really ugly Journey and Triumph references), Fiction Damage cranks out vintage power rock. Everything is above board and on track. Even a 10-year-old could tell you what the next key change will be.

Not so much bad as merely uninteresting. Fiction Damage pounds out song after song, some prettier than others, without breaking any new ground. Anyone could have done this, and what I want to know is why Fiction Damage did.

Listening became painful by the end. And while I think I figured it out, I still can't understand why.

Fiel Garvie
Leave Me Out of This
(Words on Music)
reviewed in issue #246, October 2003

Dreamy, lush, Britpop that reminds me a lot of Mazzy Star or Elysian Fields or stuff like that, except that Fiel Garvie is never lethargic.

Which is not to say these songs are quick or in any way fast-paced. Nope. Fiel Garvie navel-gazes as much as anyone, and the songs can pretty much all be lumped into the languid category. But there's just too much going on to fall asleep when this stuff is playing.

Part of it is the tasteful distortion and echo-filled sound achieved by the producer. These songs are interesting on their own, but the vaguely mysterious feel caused by the sound made me bite almost immediately. Just a bit of a skin crawl combined with nervous curiosity.

One of those albums that took a while to really prick up my ears. Cool stuff, to be sure, but how cool? I'm beginning to think that this album is much better than I first imagined. I keep coming back for another hit.

Breathy, dreamy Britpop that always manages to keep the ball rolling. These songs rarely get bouncy, but they're always kinetic. Nothing dawdling or dull here.

Not bouncy, but often bright and shiny. The underlying rhythms to the songs are quite playful, and the melodies often shimmer with grace. Simple they may be, but that simplicity translates into something most wonderful.

These is nothing complicated about the arrangements or the production. Fiel Garvie plays things straight up, and that serves the songs quite well. No need to pancake a pretty face, and there's no need to gussy up gorgeous songs with studio bombast. Add just enough adornment to emphasize the strong cheekbones and let the rest go.

I've liked everything I've heard from these folks, and this album doesn't change that. Quite impressive.

Fiendz Cole
Fiendz Cole
(Black Pumpkin)
reviewed in issue #167, 9/14/98

Sounds a lot like Chemical People, except for the odd ska undercurrent. Not quite a full skank, mind you, but enough of the horns and back beat to add some flavor. A good way to use the feel, if you ask me.

And the rest is power punk pop. Thick in the harmonies and tight in the hooks. Real enjoyable, nice kick back and smile music. Or, if you're so inclined, nice party tuneage. It's adaptable that way.

At times the slow intros are a bit pretentious, but once the songs shift into gear, I'm not complaining. Good stuff, the sort of thing no one need apologize for. Ever.

Hey, basic works. for me just fine. Fiendz Cole don't do anything particularly innovative, but the fundamentals are solid. Good work, indeed.

Fiesel
Fiesel EP
(The Losing Blueprint)
reviewed in issue #226, February 2002

Some folks won't let the Jesus Lizard rest in peace. Thank God. Every once in a while I crave some serious intensely rhythmic noise. And about that time is when something like Fiesel comes along.

Much like Kepone, Fiesel doesn't much care whether or not vocals are part of the mix. When used, they serve merely as another conduit by which the general cacophony is spread. You know, as particularly enthralling screeches and shouts and such.

Every song revolves around a rhythmic core. Oh, there are tangents to be followed (after all, this sound is a descendant of Slint, among many others), but even the byways are rigidly controlled. Spontaneous sounding, surely, but still welded tightly to the fuselage. This short taste simply makes me ravenous for more.

Fifteen
Surprise!
(Grass)
reviewed in issue #109, 5/20/96

Gosh, another pop-punk trio with stuff that tries like hell to be hooky. And one of those fake British accents, too.

Well, to be nice, Fifteen finds a hook now and again. Once in a while. But not close to enough to keep me interested. This has the feel of guys who cheesed out to make money, and they couldn't quite do that right, either. Writing hooky pop songs is one of the harder things in the world. Like physical comedy, you might think it's damned easy. Sorry to burst the balloon.

The guys get credit for trying. And they're earnestly trying to be cool and write good music. It just didn't work. Time for plan B.

Whatever that might be. Burger King. Stockbroker. President. I dunno. Just something other than punk rock superheroes.

I didn't like the Grass record, and this EP doesn't get me much more excited, though here Fifteen does show signs of working for more than more pop supremacy.

The bad musical jokes are still in evidence, and in general, Fifteen is a bit too discombobulated to really bring any sort of thought to complete fruition. You can see where the band is headed, but it never seems to get there.

This appears to be some sort of swan song, or maybe it's just that the liners are rather morbid and focus on nice friends of the band who have died. I don't know (well, actually, I finally found the enclosed press info saying that this is, indeed the last Fifteen release).

And yet this isn't a horrid disc by any stretch of the imagination. It just doesn't seem to be saying much (particularly with the inexplicable rendition of "Hey Joe"). But then, sometimes that's what the odds and ends comprise, after all is said and done.

Obviously, Fifteen is still around making music. This one is a bit heavier-sounding than the other two discs I heard. More mainstream rock, less punk. Though the general construction is that pop-punk three chord ideal. And the vocals are still quavering and wavering.

The lyrics are much more overtly political than before. The roots were always there, but here, everything is out on the surface. Which makes the whole set hang together is bit better.

The heavy guitar sound is a bit disconcerting at times, though I guess that's just how the album came out. And, like I said, this disc holds together much better than the other Fifteen sets I've heard, so maybe the sound has something to do with that.

The best Fifteen album I've heard. Given what I've said before, well, that's not saying a lot, but honestly, I kinda liked this disc. Nothing earthshaking, but it sounds like the band has finally come together. Who knows?

Fiftylashes
Harder
(PMRC-Doctor Dream)
reviewed in issue #66, 11/15/94

Rhythmic metal hardcore, much like the sort Biohazard has made popular (though not nearly as cheesy). Still, I think I've heard it before.

The boys are energetic and have a few nice licks. In particular, Eric Hansen's bass is pretty much amazing. And they play the game pretty well.

But it's still a sound that is far too trendy these days, and Fiftylashes doesn't improve the formula. Perhaps this is a little closer to the hardcore purity that some seem far too concerned about these days, but originality still makes a difference in my book.

58
Diet for a New America
(Americoma-Beyond/BMG)
reviewed in issue #201, 6/26/00

Not to be confused with Five Eight (reviewed below). This is 58. To add to the confusion, last issue I dismissed Nikki Sixx as a has been. This is his side project. And it's one hell of a lot more interesting than anything the Crue has done in 15 years.

Sixx and David Darling (best known as Meredith Brooks' producer) split the bass and singing duties, Steve Gibb (son of Barry) plays guitar and Bucket Baker kicks in on drums. Basically, there's no reason this should be any good. And sometimes it's not. But every song is interesting.

There is a bit too much of that "modern rock" sheen to the stuff. I'm not talking about mechanical beats and samples; those are usually used to fine effect. Nope, I'm more concerned with the guitars and vocals, which are a bit too processed. This effect is multiplied when the song in question starts to lag.

The sound? Well, the press sez somewhere between Zooropa and Diamond Dogs. I'd say somewhere between On the Record (The Sweet) and Tin Machine (the first one). Both somewhat failed attempts to reenergize flagging careers, but engaging nonetheless.

Fifty Tons of Black Terror
Demeter 2xCD
(World Domination-Beggars Banquet)
reviewed in issue #171, 11/9/98

Disc one is the album, disc two contains a few remixes. Not the sort of sound you hear remixed very often. Fifty Tons of Black Terror specializes in the down home squall blues, heavy on the hollering and the distortion. And, also, horribly, horribly addictive.

Perhaps the meanest sort of music on the planet. Depressing, abusive and generally rude. The sky has been blacked out, iron cinders falling like rain. The world ended a couple months ago, and these guys are still plugging away, forestalling fate with every weapon at their disposal.

A gawdawful racket, but it was planned that way. These are not songs of tenderness and devotion. They are paeans to pain, suffering and the most foul ways of life known to mankind. Puking as an aphrodisiac. That sort of thing.

So, you know, it runs right down my alley. Gruesome music to be sure, but brutally sane. Sometimes, life has to be faced without any interference from makeup.

50 Feet Tall
Superhighway 7"
(Deep Elm)
reviewed in issue #114, 7/15/96

Pretty cool post-punk pop (or what some folks call emo-core, I suppose), with an odd lounge twist to the chorus of "Superhighway".

That tune is a nicely catchy ditty reflecting on the apparent pointlessness of some people's existences. The lyrics are rather oblique, and I kinda like that. Not overly pretentious, not overly cynical.

The flip, "It's Not Funny", is also fairly reflective. And a sing-song chorus. I get the feeling 50 Feet Tall doesn't really care much more traditional song structure, but merely uses it to make fun of the convention. Fine by me.

Didn't completely knock me out (it did come close), but I hear plenty of potential. If these folk can crank out an album of material that can stand up to this single, then I'd be mighty impressed, indeed.

Fighter Pilot
Atomic Anthem
(Bankroll)
reviewed in issue #262, March 2005

Just another power pop trio that plays lots of great songs, more than one starting with the word "You." That last bit is just something funny I noticed. A bit distracting, but mostly just amusing.

I think these guys want the big deal. The songs have that sort of heavy pretentiousness to them. Unlike most bands, though, Fighter Pilot carries it off. These songs are not only intended to have additional heft--they actually have it. So I can forgive a bit of the preciousness.

Indeed, I think a lot of the power comes from the boys's obvious desperation to whack a big one here. I don't blame them one bit. You might as well swing for the fences each time. Give it all you got. And all those other dreadful sports cliches. I've never understood slacking off in an artistic endeavor. If you don't exhaust yourself, you haven't finished the job.

I'm thinking this album wiped these boys out. It sure is something impressive. A most enjoyable endeavor.

Filthy Thieving Bastards
Our Fathers Sent Us EP
(TKO)
reviewed in issue #209, 12/11/00

Long EP or short album, you decide (nine songs in 22 minutes). At times, the Filthy Thieving Bastards are happy to play amped-up garage punk. But then, the boys are just as likely to break into a little Irish jig. There's also the wide territory in between as well.

This willingness to play whatever seems right makes the Bastards a right refreshing blast. It also helps that the songs are sharply written and played with a loving intensity. These guys sure are having a lot of fun.

Which is probably the most important thing, in the end. After all, there are a million punk bands and almost as many "Irish" bands. If you're simply rehashing old ideas, well, it's pretty hard to get anywhere. The Filthy Thieving Bastards don't exactly break new ground, but they're enjoying themselves so much it's hard not to go along.

Alright, so there is a bit of a Pogues feel to this. I mean, most any Irish-inflected punk band (particularly one with a vaguely political agenda) is pretty well cursed with that association.

Filthy Thieving Bastards don't quite break free from those chains, but the guys are pretty damned impressive nonetheless. The songs are tuneful and punchy, with just the right lyrical kick.

Lighter and more melodic than the Pogues. These guys actually like to carry a tune. They aren't really Irish, either (near as a I can tell, the band hails from California), but no worries.

No, it's more important to enjoy the good times. And this album has the power cause an infectious outbreak of smiles. Can't complain about that one bit.

Sarah Fimm
Cocooned
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #226, February 2002

There are people who know how to make music that appeals to a wide audience. This stuff is usually loud and dull (this can refer to pop, country, hip hop, hard rock, whatever; it's all loud and dull). There are those who make music that appeals to folks who like anything they've never heard before. This stuff is usually so weird that it appeals to an audience of about 50 (generally me among them). Then there are those who can make commercial-sounding music in utterly creative ways. These are folks who have the potential to create change in the great rock and roll canon. Sarah Fimm has that chance.

She sticks close enough to that whole Alanis "intense young woman" sound that regular folks won't be turned off. But Fimm is more intense and her music is much more complex than yer average angst-ridden waif. She weaves her tricky tales in such a way that her experiments sound mainstream. There's a word for this, and it begins with a "g."

Fimm's sound isn't revolutionary, but the way she drops in so many ideas and references into (generally) the sort of sound that a ton of people can handle is amazing. Average listeners will think that her genius is just in the ideas. That's just half. The other is the way she makes those ideas palatable for the masses. And that second part is what impresses me most.

Oh yeah, the music is gorgeously appointed and professionally produced. This disc is ready for the world. And Fimm is likely someone you're going to be hearing a lot from in the near future. There's just too much talent here to ignore.

Final Cut
Atonement
(Fifth Colvmn)
reviewed in issue #120, 10/7/96

Vancouver industrial legends: Skinny Puppy, FLA, the Final Cut...

The way it should have been, anyway. Back in 1992 the band released Consumed, which is about as good an industrial album as that year saw. I saw these folk open up for Chris Connolly, and they blew their co-conspirator away.

Finally a new album, and it's everything I hoped for. Nothing has been lost. The Final Cut has kept up with the times and even added a bit to the industrial pantheon with this album.

Special guests a plenty, from Martin Atkins to Taime Downe (Faster Pussycat). All crafted with precision and care for maximum sonic impact. The Final Cut takes the best ideas of the world's finest industrial purveyors, adding a few new ideas just for the hell of it. Damned impressive, as I anticipated.

Okay, so we had to wait four years. The Final Cut has come through with a vengeance. No complaints about tardiness.

Final Fantasy
He Poos Clouds
(Tomlab)
reviewed in issue #275, June 2006

The solo side of Arcade Fire's Owen Pallett, Final Fantasy stands with feet planted firmly in the realms of art and pop. And while it would be tempting to say the "art" side of the equation is borne out by the reliance on a string quartet (as part of a fully-stocked chamber music ensemble), the truth of the matter is that Pallett is more adventurous in the way he writes rather than the way he arranges his songs.

The strings give an immediacy to the sound. Each of these songs has an urgency demanded by the insistent strings and classical percussion. They're hard to ignore, even as Pallett's melodic flights range farther and farther afield.

I like the sound, and I love the way Pallett takes risks. These are not simple little songs for the masses. These songs sound the way they do because that's how Pallett wants them to sound. You might think that every artist works that way. But only the most naive would subscribe to that notion.

A curiosity with steel underpinnings. Final Fantasy (I'm not even going to venture a guess as to the copyright questions involved with the name) is a most worthy endeavor. Pallett proves with this second album that he's got the chops to make music his way.

Finger Eleven
Tip
(Wind-Up/BMG)
reviewed in issue #167, 9/14/98

Metalcore grooves with the edges shaved off. Sounds kinda like Living Colour at times. And that's a sound I don't expect to hear every day.

Yeah, so it's arty loud stuff. Finger Eleven likes to crank up the noise often enough, but there are lots of strange little bits dancing around the edges. The slightest hint of a Bowie influence (that would be late 70s) in the quieter moments. Perhaps. I can't quite put my finger on what I'm hearing.

In any case, the band manages to craft some nice songs. And despite the volume and intent, these songs are highly planned. Lots of hard work, and not all of it erased. I can hear the band trying every once in a while. Maybe it's a slipped fret or the slight shift of the groove from tight to deliberate. I never like to lose the illusion.

Still, fairly good stuff. Not exactly my sort of thing, but Finger Eleven is in the right ballpark. Lots of good ideas and a good work ethic should only lead to greater things.

Finisterre
Storybook
(Moonjune)
reviewed in issue #222, 9/24/01

Finisterre is an Italian prog band (complete with flute player), and just like the DFA album, this one was recorded live. Just down the road from me, in fact, at the ProgDay Festival in Chapel Hill, N.C., back in 1997.

And just like the DFA album, the sound is excellent. There weren't any crowd mikes, so whatever response that was recorded comes through the band's PA. Doesn't take away from the performance, though. That part is solid.

Finisterre (I'm guessing that means something akin to "End of the World" in Italian, but I'm getting there by way of French and Spanish, so maybe I'm way off) references some of the 70s heavyweights, particularly Yes and (duh) Jethro Tull, but it also takes from a variety of other sources. There's a delicate feel to many of these songs that is most engaging.

I have to say, live prog has a lot more emotion and character than most studio prog. Finisterre not only plays well, it performs well. The distinction is key. This distinctly subtle prog album is most intriguing.

Finn
Finn
(Smokeylung)
reviewed in issue #202, 7/17/00

Pretty much just Finn Swingley, with a few special guests on spot songs. The sound is lush, as it often is with these one-man bands. Gorgeous pop music, the sorta stuff that rings with the scent of truth.

Finn has a delicate touch, and he doesn't take up much of a cudgel. These are gossamer songs, pieces that float around and must be caught. Trust me; you'll want to catch them. No doubt about that.

A sort of melancholy beauty drifts through most of the pieces. Life isn't perfect, disillusionment is constant, and yet the sun is shining. A message most folks can easily appreciate.

References? Well, the lighter side of the Flaming Lips, but without the distortion. There is a 70s cheese vibe that pops in now and again, but it doesn't get rancid. After all, these are songs of a crafted beauty. Easy to appreciate and hard to ignore.

Finn Brothers
Finn Brothers
(Discovery)
reviewed in Money Whore issue #6, 7/1/96

I remember the hype for the Crowded House reunion of Neil and Tim Finn (famous, of course, for their earlier work together in Split Enz). The label thought such a ploy might resurrect interest in the band, which hadn't sold well since the rather commercial debut. Unfortunately, Woodface was a dreadful disappointment, both commercially and artistically, and the band kinda drifted into oblivion.

This album has been roaming the earth for a few months now, with the expected interest in Australia but not a whole lot elsewhere. And it deserves better than that.

Really moody pop, with plenty of Beatles references to keep any World Party fan happy. "Last Day of June" not only sounds Lennon-penned, but the vocals (I don't which brother, I'm afraid) highly emulate the dearly departed. Very pretty and depressing.

Much better than that Crowded House thing, Finn Brothers still doesn't really ever crash over into "great" territory. It's not for lack of pretension or anything, but more than a few of these songs sound, well, unfinished. The production is nice and strong, but all the parts don't seem to show up. Of course, that's what folks used to say about R.E.M.

An irrelevant tangent. This puppy won't win over any new converts, though members of the Pavement crowd who never picked up on early Split Enz might be surprised to like this stuff. I do, well enough, anyway. I wish it was more, but this will suffice for now.

The Fire Show
The Fire Show
(Perishable)
reviewed in issue #206, 10/9/00

Tightly-woven songs that rely as much on strings as they do on guitars. There is a fair amount of noise as well, and the vocals certainly have a certain squall to them, but the strings hold the key to the sound, even though they exist on only three of nine songs.

Bands that like strings write song in certain ways, even reconstructed punk outfits like the Fire Show. How far from punk are we? Quite a ways. But there's an anarchic bent behind the songs here, a notion that music doesn't have to sound like anything in particular.

The pieces kinda bubble along, sometimes snarling and sometimes cooing. Ah, it's come to me! This reminds me of Jane's Addiction, circa Nothing Shocking. Vocal style (though not exactly sound) and the general need to really fuck with song construction are the main connections.

This album comes together about as well, too. The more songs I hear, the more the whole comes into focus. A cool idiosyncratic romp through whatever it means to be a band these days.

It's kinda weird. The Fire Show reminds me of some of the stranger experimental new wave bands of the early 80s. So vaguely, however, that I really can't find a true reference point. And anyway, these folks are playing regular instruments (augmented by various electronic gear, but that's not the focus). This is a "rock" band, after all.

Oh, hell, did I just tar these guys or what? I dunno. Thing is, the songs themselves are constructed in basic verse-chorus form. It's just that the musical lines within those segments often sound a lot more like noise pop or experimental electronic goo. All this with vocals that will probably annoy as much as excite.

There is a tinny, whiny quality to much of what the Fire Show does. I think that's where the retro feel comes from. The center is actually much more solid and coherent. It's just that sometimes the manic level really takes off.

I like that, myself. I like to hear bands reach a little out of their range and let the mood of the moment take over. It's even more interesting when it comes from a band that's as meticulously experimental as the Fire Show. I like the way these guys work. There's plenty to think about, but always plenty of pure enjoyment as well.

I've been trying to figure out the Fire Show for years now. The only thing I can tell you with certainty is that these folks are damn near geniuses (if they aren't in actuality). Past that, well, little ol' me is a wee bit stumped.

While not direct descendents of Slint, the members of the Fire Show have quite obviously listened to Spiderland hundreds of times between them. Personally, I believe such a regimen is necessary to be a truly functioning member of society. Which may be why I have such contempt for most of the world.

All that aside, the Fire Show tells stories with its songs. Sometimes funny stories, sometimes stories with coherent music. Sometimes with both and sometimes with neither. This is where my confusion enters. I know where these guys are coming from. I just can never piece together where they're going.

That's why I dig this band so much. Every album--hell, every song--is utterly unpredictable. Just when I'm sure I can pin the boys down to one little thing, that notion is dispelled with extreme prejudice by what I'm hearing. Man, do I love bands that keep blazing trails. Even if the trails lead to nowhere in particular.

Fireball Ministry
FMEP
(Small Stone)
reviewed in issue #218, 6/25/01

Three originals and five covers, though three of the covers come under the "bonus tracks" appellation. Fireball Ministry is one of them great hard rock power trios. Got a nice grind going, reminds me of Circus of Power.

The three originals are pretty damned good. They show a lot of potential. The covers are of Alice Cooper, Judas Priest, Blue Cheer, Misfits and Aerosmith. Generally competent, though they don't always make sense.

Which also applies to the way this disc was put together. It's almost an oddities set, what with all the covers from a variety of compilations. The first three songs make a nice introduction to the band. I guess I'll stick with that.

The Firebird Band
The Setting Sun and Its Satellites
(Headhunter-Cargo)
reviewed in issue #207, 10/30/00

Chris Broach of Braid and some pals finally make this "side project" the main event. Stark yet energetic guitar lines draw thin musical pictures, images that change just about every second.

Imagine a sparsely-populated emo sound, built up from a drum machine. Not quite ... anything in particular. Many things at once, and sometimes nothing at all. The holes in the sound hold the secrets.

This does sound incomplete, as if the Firebird Band laid down the first pieces of a few demos. The songs rarely express coherent, full thoughts, preferring to just slash away with shards of ideas.

Making this a challenging listen. Getting inside the holes is the thing, and if you can do that, you just might figure out what the Firebird band is trying to say in the first place. I'm not quite there, but damned if I'm not gonna keep trying.

Really hard to place. The Firebird Band doesn't stick to any one sound or idea, other than something that might be described (badly) as mechanized emo. There's a drum machine, see, and the song construction generally falls somewhere in the realms of emo.

But, see, that's a most general of statements. The simple fact is that these guys don't sound anything like anyone else. Often enough, they don't sound like themselves. There's a whole lotta experimentation going on, particularly on the electronic side of things. It doesn't work all the time, but I like it when bands take chances.

This review reminds me a lot of my first take on the band last fall. I still can't quite get a handle on what's going on. More than worth a listen, though. Music this challenging should never be overlooked.

Firebug
Fragile
(Buddha Belt)
reviewed in issue #225, January 2002

Vaguely arty rock and roll. Juliette Tworsey has a set of thick, powerful pipes. And she wields them as many would play a guitar. Strong and yet limber. That description fits the songs as well.

Something of a throb and boogie, with Tworsey adding a wail at appropriate moments. In its heavier moments, Firefly does indeed remind me of Hammerbox.

And that's high praise coming from me. Firefly isn't quite as forceful, not all the time, but the songwriting is certainly just as sharp and cutting. The band wanders down a few side roads (I did mention the arty thing, right?), but all loose ends get tied up.

Quite the package. And whether the songs ride the rails or soar into the heavens, Firefly has a handle on what it's doing. Versatile and talented. A deadly combination.

Fireclown
Junkie/Big Disease 7"
(New Rage)
reviewed in issue #5, 1/15/92

Boy, is it nice to see Seattle bands are finally picking up the tempo. I mean, compared to the Melvins or Unearth (see review), these boys are positively thrash. Now, in the real world, they are merely mid-tempo, but still.

I hope this is a trend. The two songs here are both very good, but I must say I prefer "Big Disease" by a hair. I think it must be the guitar solo. Real lead guitar!! If only the rest of Seattle would wake up to the realities the Accused and others are putting forth. Fireclown is definitely worthy to be mentioned with other "new wave" Seattle bands.

Fireside
Do Not Tailgate
(American)
reviewed in Money Whore issue #8, 8/26/96

I always like to see how folks overseas interpret the various American musical trends. No self-respecting U.S. band would take elements of grunge, hardcore and pop music and merge it into a whole different sound. But then, Fireside is from Sweden.

And it doesn't work all of the time. Indeed, often the result is a plodding mess. But Fireside has the right idea: come up with something new and different. The main problem here is in the execution. Often, the original song constructions bog down into a traditional grunge bounce, and as Skin Yard showed, once you're there, there aren't many ways out.

Still, a band that is this daring deserves to be watched. With better-honed songwriting and playing skills, you never know what might pop out next. I like the concept; all Fireside needs is the finishing skills.

The band's last album (released in the U.S. on American) was a bit too bombastic. In the production, I mean. Too over-the-top, and not enough grunge in the grunge. Not that Fireside is a grunge band, not really. There are plenty of other cool references. But the sheen was a bit too much for me.

This disc is more stripped down. All the power without the annoying excess. And you know what? I was right in my last review. This sounds a hell of a lot better. Also, Fireside has done a better job of melding its conflicting musical intentions into a coherent whole.

Still anthemic, but in a cool way. The music is more subtle, even as it bashes. Altogether better, in almost every way. Greatness realized.

Well, color me impressed. Fireside has recorded the album I thought it was capable of. And Crank has the good sense to foist it upon an unsuspecting American public. Well, okay then.

Firewater
Get off the Cross... We Need the Wood for the Fire
(Jetset-Big Cat)
reviewed in issue #120, 10/7/96

Take a few names you might recognize: Tod A., Jim Kimball, Duane Denison and Dave Ouimet. Add in Hahn Rowe, Kurt Hoffman and Yuval Gabay and you get what the press refers to as the greatest Bar Mitzvah band in the world.

And as much as I'd like to call that merely silliness, there's a definite Jewish lilt to the musical madness here. Not unlike what it might sound like if Mule played the Hora. Silly but strangely compelling. There's definite MTV anthem potential in far too many of these songs to make me comfortable.

Too bad the playing is exquisite and the production letter-perfect. I'd love to find a way to criticize such an obvious ploy for mass-acceptance, but, of course, I'm screwed. The bastards have cranked out an astonishing album that only the tone-deaf can dislike. Don't know if this will hit Peel or Dr. Demento first, but hell, airplay is certain.

By the way, until recently the band went by the name the Organ Grinders. They apologize profusely for any inconvenience the change might have caused. Damn, another bone down the drain...

After such a brilliant debut as Get Off the Cross... We Need the Wood for the Fire (that particular album is one of the 10 best ever recorded, IMHO), I wondered if the band could even come close to such brilliance the second time out. Adding to my trepidation is the fact that more than half the band is new for this effort. But still, when I got a call a week ago saying this puppy was on the way, I kept an eye on the mail slot just the same.

The highly orchestrated sound (replete with piano, saxohpone and strings) has remained (though there isn't quite such a reliance on klezmer melodies and rhythms), and Tod A.'s sneering, sarcastic spiels are as biting as ever. The songs crash on top of each other in apocalyptic fashion, each struggling to build up from the rubble left behind. This is mean, nasty music, and yet it has all the trappings of "big rock" ( a term I'm borrowing from Sam at Jetset, thankyouverymuch). Over the top anthems with gorgeous sound and real, actual things to say.

So the only thing to ask is, does this disc beat the first one? No, but just because this album isn't such a revelation. I have heard it before, from this band. The fact that these 12 songs are as strong as the dozen on the first notwithstanding, Firewater is still in danger of being hailed as one of the greatest bands around, period. I won't do that, because it's something like the cover jinx. No band that I have excessively praised has ever sold many records.

Brilliance, again. Sure, this album proves that the visionary behind the band is Tod A., and I guess it doesn't matter so much who's playing behind him. All that's left to say is that I've already played this thing three times, while attempting to write this review. My mind is devastated, but my heart is soaring. Throbbing, bursting, exploding with joy. This music speaks directly to my soul, shining a new slick of oil on the darkness.

The klezmer is gone. Dead. Buried. On this, his third Firewater expedition, Tod A digs deeply into his bag of hipster 60s lounge pop, rummaging through some Beach Boys, a little Donovan and a lot of the sorta stuff that's been getting released on Jetset lately and then revving all that up Firewater style. And while the first two outings could possibly be termed "loose" concept albums, Psychopharmacology sticks to its topic tighter than the Alan Parsons Project ever did.

Some of the meanest, most clever lyrics in music today are still the norm. Tod A likes contradiction (witness song titles like "Woke Up Down") and playing with contextuality. Unlike the off-kilter poetic perspective generally presented in the past, some songs here are astonishingly straight. The title track is a blistering attack on psychiatrists who prescribe pills without even considering talking to patients. There's no subterfuge and very little art to the lyrics. Just rage.

As usual, he's put together an ace band. The core of the group is much the same as it was for the Ponzi Scheme tour (my copy of that album is a promo that doesn't actually tell me who played on it), with the usual guest appearances. In particular, Jennifer Charles of Elysian Fields drops by for "Bad, Bad World." Bliss. Dark bliss, but still.

Not exactly the album Firewater fans may have been expecting. All the trademarks are here (except for the klezmer), but there's a feeling of manic desperation about many of these songs. Tod A doesn't play the cocksure cynic on this disc. Rather, he seems to recognize that the world is just as fucked up as he thought, but he can't do a damned thing about it. Fatalism is creeping in on the usual sneering misanthropy. Fit the concept, I guess. Still shimmeringly brilliant. But consider this: Five years ago, a song like "She's the Mistake" would have sounded utterly out of place on a Firewater album. Here, it's the perfect capper. In fact, I doubt I'll hear a better song all year. Same goes for the entire album. I had high hopes; Firewater is one of my favorite bands, if not my favorite. Psychopharmacology leaves that anticipation in the dust. There is a glow of greatness here.

Anyone who has been reading A&A for a while knows I love Firewater. I'm not the most objective person when it comes to judging the muse of Tod A and company. So it shouldn't surprise anyone that I adore this album as well.

This disc finds Tod A in full roar. Unlike last year's Psychopharmacology, whose dreariness was necessary to properly address the subject, this puppy is ringed with a dark light. The lyrics are as blistering as ever, and the circus theme (which isn't omnipresent, but does crop up from time to time) seem to have inspired the band to truly twisted heights.

There are 16 songs here, a definite expansion from the 10 we received last time out. The album isn't that much longer, but it feels more complete. Once again, Tod A stretches himself musically and lyrically--a couple songs go places where I've never heard Firewater before.

Some surprises and some (as it were) comfy "traditional" Firewater songs. There are bands that run out of steam. And then there's Firewater, which always seems to know how to keep its juices potent. Another great album.

Exactly what it claims to be: Firewater performing songs written by other folks. Not unlike the recent side outing by Britta Phillips and Dean Wareham, where the Luna frontpeople decided to dabble (mostly) in the works of others. And as it happens, Tod A invites the divine Ms. Phillips along for the ride here (to provide the sometimes necessary female vocals), and he does have fine taste in song. But really, is this a good idea? I mean, Firewater is known for some of the best songsmithing around. An album of covers? That would be like Bob Dylan doing an album of Tin Pan Alley tunes, right?

Maybe. The choice of songs here is impeccable. Weird, sure. After all, there are songs made famous by the likes of Sonny and Cher, Frank and Nancy Sinatra (one of each) and Peggy Lee. Plus "Hey Bulldog," "Paint It Black" and, truly inexplicably, a mental-breakdown version of "This Little Light of Mine." I suppose you can tell where he's coming from.

Oh, yeah, there are songs by Tom Waits and Robyn Hitchcock, and a version of "Folsom Prison Blues" that sounds more Copshootcop than Firewater, though I suppose the distinction is minimal at this point. There then is the question: Is this really necessary?

Of course not. But it is a lot of fun. And in so many ways, it opens a door on the songwriting mind of Tod A. Not a pretty place, not at all, but an interesting spot to visit now and again. I have but one request: Get to work on the new album soon, okay?

Michael Lee Firkins
Chapter Eleven
(Shrapnel)
reviewed in issue #92, 11/20/95

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

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

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

An instrumental version of what the Meat Puppets might sound like with a few lessons from Yngwie Malmsteen, but without a couple bongloads to help them on their way.

Squeaky-clean guitar music that has a definite "hoe-down" feel, but not the inspired wackiness of the Puppets. And I wish it was here.

Firkins has a nice grasp on his sound, and he's managed to find another musical area to explore with a solo guitar. The sidemen are good, but the tunes need a bit more color.

The cover of the "Sanford and Son" theme is fun, but