La Secta
Memories Pt. 1
(Munster-Hell Yeah)
reviewed in issue #149, 12/8/97

Something like the Spanish version of the Ramones (if you want to call Die Toten Hosen the German version of the Ramones). Basic punk rawk stuff that doesn't vary from the basic sound much at all.

This disc is a compilation of various singles and tracks from a couple albums. The band actually claims the Stooges as one of its main influences, and to be honest, that's probably better than my choice. The music is thickly produced, the chords extremely simple and the lyrics even more basic. Raw power, indeed.

The stuff doesn't hold up particularly well, though it does have a kind of ragged charm. Enjoyable enough, though probably not as much so after a few run-throughs.

Certainly steeped in the punk spirit. Past that, well, I'd rather not say.

Lab Report
Unhealthy
(Invisible)
reviewed in issue #53, 4/30/94

I first saw this act as an opener for Pigface. We had just sat through a garishly awful Stick set, and were not ready or willing for what happened next.

The problem with experimental music live (and if this isn't experimental...) is that it's damned hard to connect with an audience. If I had happened to be on some sort of hallucinogenic or something, then maybe things would have been different.

But I prefer to see my shows relatively straight. Also, when you only have two guys running around manically simply trying to keep all the appropriate levels of feedback whining all the time, the music loses its effect a little.

On disc, however, Schultz and Pounder are able to control their surroundings and do more than one thing at once. This is music for a psychotic romantic evening. I like to dim the lights, pick up a cool book and put discs like this and Scorn and the like on.

Like any experimental act, Lab Report don't connect all the time. But by pushing the limits of time, space and music, these folk have done everyone a great service. Because, after all, life is not a series of ordered events but a shower of chaos that descends upon us. Mutate or die.

Labb
Driving Your Shadow
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #234, October 2002

Ultra-shiny power pop, complete with crunchy riffage and swaggering hooks. Labb isn't delicate, and it doesn't believe in subtlety. These songs pack a massive punch, and they sound much better with the volume cranked.

Which is not to say that this stuff is simple or mundane. Labb isn't afraid to ratchet back the sound now and again, but eventually every piece blooms into full fuzz.

The kinda stuff that either works well or not at all. Labb expended so much effort putting this together that there's the distinct possibility of staleness. Power pop is best crafted, but sometimes too much work can leave the tunes stilted. No problems with that here. The requisite energy and attitude is present.

Leaving me with an utterly satisfying disc in the stereo. Nothing more than that, but as any reader knows, good tight power pop does straight into my veins and flies right to my pleasure center. Big smiles.

James LaBrie's MullMuzzler
2
(Magna Carta)
reviewed in issue #221, 9/3/01

Prog for the pop fan. James LaBrie (the singer for Dream Theater, if you didn't recognize the name) has put together a solid band, and he and the band have written some fine tunes. Drenched in keyboards and featuring technical guitar, drum and vocal runs, this stuff is still approachable by folks who appreciate the far edge of Rush or Styx.

I'm not dropping those references as a slag. Not at all. Both bands have put out some fine prog-tinged stuff, and LaBrie and company take that pop edge and just run a little further on.

What saves this from getting too excessive (and makes it accessible) is the relatively light hand on the production knobs. Yes, the keyboards do predominate now and again. But what really comes through is the solid songwriting.

And the fact that this stuff might appeal to a broader audience in no way takes away from its power. Nothing has been sacrificed to achieve this. Just worked out that way. Hardcore prog fans might note be so sanguine, but what the hell.

Labtekwon
Song of the Sovereign
(Mush)
reviewed in issue #224, 11/5/01

The rhymes may flow in a cool and mellow fashion, but Labtekwon is anything but shy and restrained. The thought (behind the music as well as the lyrics) is strong and well-considered.

Slow, dirty grooves populate the beatwork. Lots of funk expressed in a meditative and restrained style. More than scratching, sampling and looping, there's some nice bass work going on as well.

Nothing shiny about these songs. Even the distortion has been refined to a dull roar. All that contributes to the cool feel of this album, and it's a perfect compliment to the rhymes.

Labtekwon sets the table and then piles the plates full of knowledge. Not a thing stands in the way of a proper feast. Dig in.

The Laces
Thankyou and Goodbye
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #167, 9/14/98

Tortured pop music which brings to mind the excesses of June Panic or the Brian Jonestown Massacre. Stuff that I listen to an awful lot.

Vocals which don't really find the melody lines, meandering lyric thoughts and slightly-off kilter tuneage. This is a recipe for disaster, but in the hands of someone truly insane it works out. Much of the time, anyway.

And near as I can tell, the Laces is mostly Doug Kabourek, recorded at home to four track. Obsessive, yes, and not particularly detail oriented. Some really wild music. Mainline emotion, with not much lost in translation.

I'm simply a sucker for idiosyncratic pop stuff. It's not commercially viable and most folks might compare the Laces to a dog howling in pain (well, maybe not something that severe). But no matter. I happen to like the sound of a soul being bared.

This sort of album is the future of the music anti-industry. CD mixed on computer and written on a CD-ROM. Liners printed out on a color printer. Distributed by the band (or some close personal friends)

Same Laces, too, somewhat silly songs sung in a devil-may-care fashion (though not quite so recklessly as the last disc I heard). Pleasant pop songs with just a hint of a bite.

But you've got to get below the surface to find that little nugget of sarcasm. I like such slogging myself, and once again I find myself really liking a Laces disc. This does sound somewhat like a one-man project (and it is, kind of), but the earnest obsessiveness is quite appealing.

Nothing epochal or earth-shaking. Just cool music wandering out to me from the midwest. I'm happy to sit back with a smile, even if it gets a little snarky from time to time.

Lacto-Ovo
Shoes & You
(Smokeylung)
reviewed in issue #219, 7/16/01

The first song is a tres-June of 44 instrumental. I began to wonder what might lie beyond. Turns out that Lacto-Ovo is a minimalist pop band (complete with retro keyboard). That first track wasn't exactly an anomaly, but it isn't representative, either.

Ah, but what am I bitching about? Lacto-Ovo doesn't like to stay in the same place. There is quite the VU feel to many of these songs (the lengthy "Your Sweet Shoe" in particular), and that's not unwelcome. These folks know how to set a mood.

And have a little fun while hard at work. Not just on obviously playful songs like "Smurf," but in general. Lacto-Ovo lopes along, roping whatever it wants from the saddle of its mottled steed.

And that's cool. This stuff fits right in the middle of what a friend of mine calls "indie-hipster pop," and so you've gotta be in a receptive mood. If you are, though, settle in for a fine ride.

Mike Ladd
Vernacular Homicide EP
(Ozone)
What a great album title. I'm surprised no one has used it yet. It kinda brings back memories of the early days of hip-hop. And so does Mike Ladd's work in general.

Like I noted in the 12" review, Ladd has a real commitment to tight, rhythmic enunciation and the playful elements of those pioneering days. What I couldn't hear as clearly on that small sample was Ladd's interest in experimental beat work and more esoteric sorts of rhyming.

And so this album veers from the light and jaunty toward the introspective and spacey. And then back again. And again. On this album, the beats predominate. There are a number of cool instrumentals, closing up with a poem (call it freestyle if you like). All done with style and grace. Ladd has an original ear, and he knows how to serve it.

Harkening back to real old school days, Mike Ladd populates his beats with the sounds of the 70s and 80s and raps with a smooth and assured rhythm.

The title track incorporates a lot of tinny keys and a goofy story. "The Worst Elements of Hip Hop" brings in vocoder and more Parliament-style funk. "Foxwood's" is simply a simple rhyme draped over bubbling bass.

All done with style, panache and wit. I know, the kids today will just think it's weak and has no bite. Perhaps these aren't gangsta tales of the hard life. But they are finely-crafted little gems. Nothing wrong with that.

Laddio Bolocko
Strange Warmings of Laddio Bolocko
(Hungarian)
reviewed in issue #150, 12/29/97

Rumbling through what sounds like wildly distorted and sometimes quite lengthy tape loops, Laddio Bolocko actually plays a series of mechanical-sounding vamps, eventually assembling generally incoherent pieces into a fairly pleasing whole.

Man, that description is obtuse. But then, Laddio Bolocko probably faces two reactions to its music. The first (and probably most prevalent) would go something like "What the fuck is that shit?" The second, more reasoned approach would consider the fairly complex sound, mull over the variety of noises presented and conclude that Laddio Bolocko is somewhere off the edge of the ledge, though it hasn't quite hit the ground yet.

A train wreck in progress, the sound of a dying civilization, whatever. Laddio Bolocko is a noise band in almost every sense, from the keen appreciation of sonic discord to the wide spectrum of distortion employed at various points. The best way to dig into this kinda thing is simply to burrow into the mess and see where you end up. Lose yourself, and take the chance that you won't be coming back any time soon.

Chaos breeds order. Laddio Bolocko understands this better than almost any other band I've encountered. A brave and unsettling disc, one that brooks no cowards.

I don't correct my reviews very often. Most of the time, the complaints that arise are over opinion ("All my friends say this is a great album" and that sorta thing). The Laddio Bolocko guys were a bit cheesed when I said they used tape loops in the first version of my review of their Strange Warmings... disc. They don't. I changed the review to read "what sounds like... tape loops". And I did so happily.

This album throws all the messiness of that first disc right out the damned window. The songs are still based around some mechanical-sounding rhythm grooves, but there is much less ambient noise. More attention to melody (however contorted the melody might be). A stronger sound altogether.

Right in the vein of the Shipping News or June of '44. Regular readers know how much I love them (interrelated) bands. Well, Laddio Bolocko impresses me just as much. This is really wonderful stuff.

Would seg well with the Don Cab, too. Instrumental lovelies, thriving on the lush interaction of instruments cranked to the edge of distortion overload. This harnessing of energy is most impressive, and while I liked the caterwauling primal scream of Strange Warmings..., this disc is ever so much more impressive. The sound of a band growing into its genius.

Lady Bianca
Rollin'
(Rooster Blues)
reviewed in issue #218, 6/25/01

Lady Bianca Thornton sings the blues with a gospel bounce. In fact, these songs have a lot more churchified soul going for them than the blues. Not a bad thing; you've just gotta know what you're getting into.

Once I settled into the groove (the album title should've prepared me for the bright, bounding style of the blues I found here), I had a much better time. Lady Bianca doesn't wallow, even when she gets down. There's an uplifting feel to her voice, that sorta "ev'rything's gonna be alright" sound. Like that.

Which doesn't exactly fit in with songs like "Sexy Bones." I'm sure she's sincere, but Lady Bianca can't quite sell anything earthy. Maybe it's the gospel influence; I don't know. I'm just saying she didn't convince me.

Still, I like the way she mixes things up. Lady Bianca sure knows how to make the blues roll. And when she does, there are few better. Them's the parts I liked best.

Lady J
Music for the Soul
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #202, 7/17/00

I'm not sure where this disc is aimed. Lady J sings rock and pop songs, backed mostly by a synthesizer or electric piano. Even when other instruments come in, the sound is kinda tinny.

The style is a more rootsy version of the early 80s cheese pop epitomized by Irene Cara. Lady J is something of a belter, and so maybe you'd do well imagining Pat Benatar singing "Flashdance" (with Neil Gerardo on guitar, produced by Michael Sembello).

This just doesn't make sense to me. I'm not getting any connection. The songs themselves are rather pedestrian. Heartfelt, but rather cliche-ridden without much to say.

I hate dissing stuff that's so damned earnest, but just don't hear anything. Is this totally without merit? No, but I'm definitely not the right person for Lady J.

Lagwagon
Let's Talk About Feelings
(Fat Wreck)
reviewed in issue #172, 11/23/98

Thick and chunky punk rawk anthems. With plenty of musical and verbal humor. Kinda like...

Well, you read my take on the Ataris. Same deal. There is more than a passing NOFX influence, though I can also hear bits and snatches of Pennywise and (obviously, then) Bad Religion. And like the Ataris, Lagwagon does its heroes proud. Tight tunes with muscular hooks and scads of wit.

Oh, more bliss. The sorta punk I crave. Sweet and chewy, but with enough substance to satisfy. Kinda like if eating a Snickers left you feeling like you just ate a big ol' sub instead.

Well done, well done. Big wads of smiles from my corner. I'm still singing along in my head. And hitting repeat.

Laibach
Jesus Christ Superstars
(Mute)
reviewed in issue #122, 11/4/96

Perhaps the preeminent experimental electronic band of the 80s, Laibach has laid low much of the 90s. Many of the band's albums have been rather conceptual, and this one examines religion and the people who follow them.

So you get a rather melodramatic romp through "Jesus Christ Superstar", a strangely stiff interpretation of the underappreciated Prince song "The Cross", a version of "God Is God" (the original of which will appear on the new Juno Reactor album) and plenty of Laibach originals.

Much of the time Laibach toys with that whole Enigma-style dance groove, merging those beats with the dull electronic throbbing that is a band trademark. You know what you're going to get, and Laibach delivers.

Not so much an update as a postcard from a wandering friend, Laibach has returned with an album as uncommercial as any other in its history. Now that Laibach has a rep as an early industrial influence, we'll see how the kiddies accept this offering.

Laidlaw
First Big Picnic
(Americoma-Beyond/BMG) reviewed in issue #191, 11/15/99

The first band on Nikki Sixx's Americoma label (he produces as well), Laidlaw cranks out a big-ass chunk of southern-fried rock. Overamped and underconsidered, there's just not a lot here to get excited about.

Some members of the band have worked behind the scenes in the music industry (guitar tech, roadie, etc.). And these songs have some of the trappings of big rock, without any soul to fill in the holes. Sixx is actually a competent producer (though having Steve Perry sing backup vocals is certainly a questionable decision), but he tries too hard to dress up what is so obviously a shell.

Rock by numbers is an ugly description, but Laidlaw deserves it. Yes, the playing is good. Can't argue with that. But the lyrics are insipid at best and mind-grating at worst. And the country-rock cum glam metal sound just never really works.

Just an example of the bad ideas on this disc: An over-the-top version of "Rock and Roll Hootchie Koo." If ever there was a song that didn't need the anthem treatment... Oh well. I'll be quite happy to forget about this puppy. As soon as the shakes stop.

Laika
Good Looking Blues
(Too Pure-Beggars Banquet)
reviewed in issue #202, 7/17/00

I've always held that the best way to utilize modern recording technology is to record "real" instruments and then splice them together in whatever way you see fit. Laika seems to have hit upon this idea as well.

Incorporating a basic band format (with a man on Minimoog) and then dropping samples here and there, Laika creates a lustrous, textured sound that leaves my senses reeling. Margaret Murphy Fiedler drops half-sung, half-spoken on top of this gorgeous, pulsating cloud, releasing all of the pent-up energy.

Each small piece can easily be explained. But what Laika does in slotting these ideas together is nothing short of revolutionary. It's like multiplying the Bomb Squad circa 1990 and the Chemical Brothers, and then adding the Minimoog. Yeah, I know, those first two references are rather interlinked (sound-wise), but I think you might get my point. This album really moves.

Entrancing doesn't begin to describe the power of Laika. Some might put this in the trip-hop category, but this album is impossibly complex compared with most other acts in that sound. Few albums truly move a sound forward as this one does. I'm just blown away.

Lake of Dracula
Lake of Dracula
(Skin Graft)
reviewed in issue #135, 5/26/97

An ungodly racket. Electric guitar, drums and mostly incoherent vocals. Occasionally the parts work together nicely. Nice, however, isn't what Lake of Dracula had in mind.

Hey, there's no way you can ask me to prove intent. I have no idea, either. When this stuff works, the guitar and drums are operating just off-sync from each other, creating a third, overpowering rhythm. The vocals are just an afterthought, though they do provide yet another rhythmic counterpoint.

The sort of thing even I have problems appreciating. Oh, there are cool moments ("Plague of Frogs" and "Blues Fantastique", for starters), but Lake of Dracula needs to figure out just what the hell it really wants to do. Noise for noise's sake is fine and all, but it generally doesn't make for great music.

A big wad of potential disguised as a distortion overload. Nice for the adrenochrome rush. And maybe just a little burnt sienna afterglow. But nothing more.

Lake of Tears
Greater Art
(Black Mark-Cargo)
reviewed in issue #64, 10/15/94

Highly accessible doom-death musings. Lake of Tears sounds a lot like Tiamat without all the keyboards.

At times, things get awfully close to particular Tiamat songs (not to mention the album cover), which I found a little disconcerting. But in the moments that were truly original, I enjoyed LOT a lot. I think this is a perfectly natural way for death metal to hit the mainstream, and I wish these boys the best of luck.

But next time, don't write your songs ten seconds after listening to Clouds, okay?

Lakeside Project
Animal Logic
(Matchpale)
reviewed in issue #229, May 2002

The whole noise rock/jazz fusion thing really lights up my brain. There's something about not-quite abstract lines weaving patterns in the air that just undoes the fetters on my mind. The Lakeside Project specializes in this sort of music.

The lead guitars plays often atonal melodies, allowing the bass and electronic elements space in which to express themselves. And when I say electronic, I mean keyboards and drum machines and the like.

The result is an oddly orchestral manifestation of this sound. Unlike, say, June of 44, which would often take a minimalist approach. These songs remind me more of Iceburn and other more "full-figured" kinds of bands. Even when the sound gets gritty, there's a certain fullness that can't be missed.

Only five (long) songs, but they're more than enough to knock me out. There's enough experimentation and musical thought to reward the demanding listener, and yet the complete nature of the arrangements ensure that everyday folks will find plenty to enjoy as well.

Michael Lally
What You Find There
(New Alliance)
reviewed in issue #57, 6/30/94

The liners note the story of a man who has passed from the days of "good young poet with potential" to "fifty-year-old poet". The poems on this spoken word set (no music included) reflect the passage of time, though not necessarily in a linear sense.

Lally celebrates the ordinary, combining some poetry conventions with conversation. Completely lacking in pretense, Lally relates everyday events. The everyday includes racism and other -isms, the general roads of life, family and how that can warp you.

The best thing about Lally's poetry is the way he makes you reconsider your surroundings using events that seem superficial at first. He doesn't sound deep, but moments after hearing Lally, a new meaning will hit you. And then your awareness is expanded.

That's the true test of poetry. Lally succeeds.

Lambchop
I Hope You're Sitting Down (advance cassette)
(Merge-Touch and Go)
reviewed in issue #61, 8/31/94

Widely-instrumented pop. This sounds like the perfect Merge band: Songs with a reason, wondrous playing and an off-kilter pop sound.

As part of an ever-expanding effort to create "the new Nashville sound", Lambchop has added string arrangements to its orchestral take on the country crooners of the late 50s and early sixties.

Except that Kurt Wagner (who wrote all the songs on this disc‹one song co-written) doesn't croon. He speak-sings the stuff, while these lush arrangements swirl about him. Lambchop may be trying to improve upon the legends of Chet Atkins and Jim Reeves and such, but the result is more a quaalude-laden My Bloody Valentine mixed with the odd poetic musings of the Palace Brothers.

Which is not the worst thing in the world. I can't imagine sitting through a Lambchop show without utterly crashing, but as mood music, this album covers the situation pretty well. I think Lambchop knows damned well that twangy karaoke versions of Elton John songs are more likely to be "the new Nashville sound" (and judging by a recent trip to that city, such musings may already have taken that title) than this stuff, and the folks in the band just don't care. Keep on keepin' on is all that can be done.

Eric Lambert
(& the Laughing Gnomes)
Year of the Gnome
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #155, 3/23/98

I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but lean blues 'n' boogie was not it. Lambert and the Gnomes (what a great name!) kick out some tight and smooth boogie shuffles, bringing to mind early Robert Cray or the Fab T-Birds before they hit the big time.

For the most part, Lambert keeps the sound simple and doesn't succumb to the temptation of taking his music where it doesn't want to go. Even on a song like "Dirt Brown Pillow", which starts off in an almost glam metal ballad style, he pulls back and settles into a nice folk-gospel groove.

The key to the blues, as far as I'm concerned, is always how well the music connects. Technical virtuosity is nice, but not required. Insightful lyrics are a plus, but don't tell that to John Lee Hooker, whose greatest songs are the sparest. The power is in the delivery.

And Lambert knows how to deliver the goods. The light touch helps the music mainline that much quicker. One of the best blues albums I've heard in quite a while.

Lambert is a master of the feel-good blues. He doesn't cheese out his sound with studio excess, but instead prefers to infuse his songs with a soulful rawness. And whether he's taking inspiration from the Dead or Muddy Waters, the guitar work is pure Lambert.

The music here is based on the blues, but Lambert doesn't feel the need to be a traditionalist. I noted the Dead earlier, and Lambert is also influenced by a number of bands who merely dabbled in the blues. It's this willingness to play with all sorts of song constructions that keeps his songs sounding so vital.

By not adhering to any hidebound definition of what music "should" sound like, Lambert creates something new and unique. This guy works his ass off, playing 10-20 shows a month in Illinois, Indiana and Michigan. All that live work can be heard in the assured hand on his guitar. He knows what works and what doesn't.

Because, really, this is music that is best appreciated live. I only wish I lived up that way to catch a show. The discs are going to have to do for now. And boy, they do alright.

Jim Lampos
Innuendos of Lafayette
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #132, 4/14/97

Roots rock with a classic feel, an acoustic version of Lynyrd Skynyrd meets Southern Culture on the Skids and R.E.M. And the guy is based in New York. Of course.

Lampos is best on slow-burn anthems like "All Saints Day, Paris" and "Book of Mystery", where he simply lets the songs come to him and allows his voice full flower. Plus, I really like the violin (not fiddle; I'm no idiot) accompaniment.

He kicks up his heels to a bit lesser effect, but keeping the sound mostly acoustic helps to contain the possible pretentiousness. The songs never get overbearing, and Lampos actually has something relevant to reveal.

One of those albums that's just way out of time. An ideal companion to John Cougar Mellencamp's "stripped-down" days (or, more appropriately, James McMurtry's first album), Innuendoes of Lafayette is one of those kinda country, kinda folk, kinda rock albums that manages to satisfy all of those jones. Lampos is a songwriter of unusual power.

Jim Lampos puts a moody, somewhat mystical spin on the roots sound. He does this without getting silly or cheesy or stupid. Perceptive and intelligent lyrics sure do help.

Now, don't take that moody comment to mean that Lampos can't kick it up just a bit. He does, but even as the tempos rise Lampos stays cool. And instead of sounding stagey or contrived, it works.

Which is really the most appropriate thing to say about this stuff. It works. Nothing complicated, though most certainly thoughtful. Restraint can be a most useful tool sometimes.

Still fully intense, of course. These songs burn brightly. Lampos sure knows how to write, and he seems to sell his songs to the listener effortlessly. Sure, it's hard work, but all the better when it sounds so seamless.

Jim Lampos has a pretty simple formula. It's illustrated with his picture in the liners. There's Jim. And there's Jim's guitar. Nothing else is necessary.

Lampos writes songs that celebrate life. The good times, the bad times and even the middling ones in-between. And while this may sound like I'm being vague, actually it is quite unusual to find a person who can express himself so clearly on so many experiences.

Yeah, Lampos has a nice touch on his guitar. But the key here is his singing--and what he's singing about. His lyrics are plainspoken but still quite eloquent. Not exactly poetry, but not ham-handed prose, either. Just like I'm sitting back having a conversation with him.

Which is exactly what the whole singer-songwriter style is all about. The simplest form of musical communication. Person-to-person, with as little interference as possible. Lampos gets his messages across in a most impressive fashion.

On the surface, Jim Lampos sounds like any other nuevo-folk singer-songwriter. There's the half-sung, half-spoken vocals, the walking guitar lines and the spartan arrangements. All that is de rigeur. But what continues to impress me, album after album, is how much Lampos does with so little.

While my reviews are notorious for ignoring lyrics (a valid complaint), Lampos's phrasing is so exquisite that it's impossible for me to miss his. He's a good guitar player, and he isn't willing to allow his vocals overshadow his rolling picking.

Lampos sings about everyday life--most of the time, lives that reside a few miles from the freeway. He doesn't dress up his characters or try to make them more than they are. He just gives them a quiet dignity. There are echoes of Russell Banks and Richard Russo in his people, and that's only fitting. Like them, he celebrates the natives of the unseen parts of the northeast.

Given his previous efforts, I'm always expecting something wonderful. And it seems that I've always forgotten just how amazing Lampos's songs are, because every time I'm knocked out all over again. Sometimes the great just get greater.

Jim Lampos has been sending me his albums for quite a while. He's got that whole understated folk ballad thing down pat...and more importantly, he's good enough to make each song worth hearing. Yet another solid effort from one of my favorite songwriters.

Bert Lams
Nascent
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #268, September 2005

Subtitled "Bach Preludes on the steel string guitar," and that's exactly what's here. I sat listening for a minute and I'm like...I know that guitar. I've heard it somewhere. And then the liners tell me what I already knew (but couldn't remember): Lams is a member of the California Guitar Trio.

That meticulous, yet supple, fingerwork. The way these pieces sound so natural springing from a guitar. Of course.

The sound is incredible. None of that amateurish tin string sound that has become an unfortunate hallmark of acoustic guitar recordings. These strings ring richly true, and the sound is as full and lush as can be imagined. The sound fills the room without crowding, and there's never a false note.

Beautiful. Amazing. Precise, yet always expressive. Lams has some impressive technical ability, but his real talent is in making the material his own. Little touches mean so much. This is one of the the finest classical guitar albums I've heard. Absolutely first rate from beginning to end.

Gene Land
Strangers & Angels
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #208, 11/20/00

Gene Land wants to be a country superstar. At least, that's what this album says. He covers a wide range styles, from pop ballads to traditional ravers and just about everything in between.

Land takes the good part of rock and roll (the energy and vitality) and merges that with the good parts of country (a fine pedal steel and a basic sense of storytelling). He applies those ideas to every song, no matter what style he's working with.

The sound is sharp and rich, and Land and his band are in fine form. The songs sparkle. They're all great examples of the wide variety of modern country music.

Did I mention Land's voice? It's strong, but not overwhelming, instrument. Which fits the stories he tells. While this album doesn't hold together very well because of all the sounds he tries out (imagine 38 Special, George Strait, Hank Williams Jr. and Marty Robbins recording as the same artist), I think he's more than made his case.

Land of Chocolate
Unikorn on the Cob
(Slipt Disc)
reviewed in issue #217, 6/4/01

Land of Chocolate would just like to say, "I'm more prog than you!" Prog to the point jazz fusion. Prog to the point of sounding more like Frank Zappa than King Crimson or Fates Warning. Prog in the extreme, really.

The focus is entirely on the playing. Nothing else. Not a lot of emotion comes through, even in the singing. Rather, a preeminence of musical thought, rationality over sentimentality. I've gotta admire the devotion to an ideal.

And all that energy is channeled into the sound. Land of Chocolate doesn't stint on effort. The sound is sharp, the playing expert and precise. It's very easy to hear exactly what these guys wanted to do.

Quite the abstract statement. This album is for prog fans, and really prog fans only. You've gotta really want to dig into some quality playing and offbeat (if intricate) musical theory to dig this. Luckily, there are plenty of folks like that out there. Land of Chocolate should have no trouble attracting attention.

Land of Thin Dimes
Land of Thin Dimes
(Toadophile) reviewed in issue #191, 11/15/99

Sorta like if Primus wandered into Pink Floyd and moshcore at the same time. The impulse to jump around is tempered by the technical looniness of the playing. Oh, and the bass really wanks out really loudly.

And the point is... to try lots of stuff, stir it around for a while and call it a song. Hey, I'm for breaking the rock paradigm as much as the next guy, but come on. I just don't hear enough coherent thought on the edges here. Never mind the innards, I'm worried about the whole.

There's nothing to it. This is a goulash with no taste. Lots of ingredients, but nothing combining to make a tasty dish. Plenty of wild-ass thoughts buzzing past, though.

Bitchen it ain't. Interesting and intriguing are two words which leap immediately to mind. I kept waiting to hear what would happen next. It's just that the necessary connections were never made.

Landing Gear
Break-up Songs for Relationships that Never Happened
(Catlick)
reviewed in issue #260, December 2004

It's always nice to hear what's going on in the upper Midwest. Landing Gear is from Minneapolis, but has a sort of lush, rambling sound that is much more reminiscent of, say, England.

The moodier side of Britpop, the kinda stuff you often find on Jetset. And regular readers will know that's a pretty fair complement from me. Landing Gear is equally comfortable with delicate melodies and bounding rockers. That it can make such disparate styles cohere within the same album is a testament to the band's confidence.

Honestly, I think the boys are a bit better at the mellower side of the spectrum, but the heavier, more raucous pieces here are quite impressive. What helps is the band's reliance on keyboards--that sort of thing does help to provide a touchstone for all of the songs. The band recorded most of this itself--and it did so very well. This album hardly sounds like some muffled demo. Though I haven't heard a demo like that in years. Technology is an amazing thing.

A solid and nicely varied album. Landing Gear may just be getting started, but it already has set out a nice road map for itself

Lana Lane
Secrets of Astrology
(SPV-DNA)
reviewed in issue #203, 8/7/00

There comes a point where you carve out such a distinctive place for yourself that you are, by default, the best at it. Lana Lane is the self-proclaimed queen of symphonic rock, and I have no reason to doubt her. No other woman is doing anything quite like this.

Think of yer standard melodic Eurometal, add a pile of classical influences played with prog precision and excess and then produce the stew to be as over-the-top as possible.

Not an unattractive sound, mind you. The copious notes that came with this said that this album is heavier than previous Lane outings. I have no means of comparison, but I think I know what they mean. The guitars have a good bite, and the sound is extremely full.

As for the lyrics, well, they're generally meditations on the stars, astrology and the concept of moving through space. Kinda silly sometimes, but not too annoying. Anyway, this sounds too good to really nitpick about the subject matter. Not everyone's favorite sound, I know, but I like it.

Suzanne Langille
(with Loren MazzaCane Connors)
The Enchanted Forest
(Secretly Canadian)
reviewed in issue #186, 9/28/98

Sort of a musical, based on the 1945 film of the same name. Langille wrote the lyrics and the vocal melodies, and Connors took care of the guitars. That's the basic idea.

But the execution is anything but basic. Langille has a strong, but not husky, voice. It is a voice of experience, a voice which conveys much more information than simply words. Which is good, because sometimes the words are clumsily written.

And while Connors's playing doesn't interfere with Langille's voice, it does not really compliment it, either. There isn't a whole lot going on there. Which leaves the remarkable part of the album, Langille's voice. She is able to create a number of characters, each easily distinguishable from the others.

I like the idea, and I like some of the parts. But on the whole, this albums doesn't quite succeed. I was more interested in Langille's voice than what she was saying. And the rest, well, it's just the rest.

Langille's last album, a collaboration with Loren MazzaCane Connors (Langille is joined by Andrew Burnes and David Daniell on this disc), is the only Secretly Canadian album I haven't liked. There might be another one I didn't love, but I remember being bummed for weeks because I did not understand or dig The Enchanted Forest.

So when I got this disc, I resolved to work my butt off to develop an appreciation for Langille. I mean, so many other cool people liked Forest, there must be something wrong with my personal musicometer. But, after a lot of effort, I've gotta say I don't really like this one, either.

My general notion is that music has to work for me, or have a good point or in some other way grab some attention. Langille, instead, sings as though she's constantly on her dying breath. The lyrics are poetic, I suppose, but they don't move me. The music is interesting in the way it, too, sounds like it is about to fall away from the center like some galaxy which has lost touch with gravity. But nothing really happens with that. It's the perfect sonic description of an atom on the edge of entropy.

Alright, that is kinda cool. I don't dislike this disc, but it doesn't excite me, either. I tried, too, I tried damned hard. I'm not gonna apologize for the way I feel. That's just the way it goes.

Another in the series of re-issue compilations of the rather intertwined careers of Suzanne Langille and Loren MazzaCane Connors. These songs are, for the most part, traditional blues done in a rather iconoclastic style.

I've always found it hard to connect with Langille and Connors, perhaps because I have never been able to get my head around their own compositions. But I know most of these songs, and the trembling, almost terror-drenched arrangements happen to bring out the most dramatic elements of the pieces.

The easiest comparison would be a much more avant garde Cowboy Junkies playing the blues. But, like I said, so much further out to the edge as to make such a reference almost useless. I'm not sure that anyone has ever played the blues quite like this.

Maybe this is the disc I needed to begin to share some head space with Langille and Connors. I've been coming around slowly, but I really like this one. I'll give it a few more spins and then go back and see how much my appreciation has deepened.

Languis
"split" with Meanest Man Contest
(Sneakmove)
reviewed in issue #283, March 2007

Meanest Man Contest performs a mellow blend of electronic collage and hip-hop. Nothing complicated--at least in the rhymes--but the flow simply doesn't stop. The six tracks here are hypnotically good, the kind of stuff that worms its way into the consciousness without remorse.

Languis is a more "traditional" experimental electronic act. Much message, with the emphasis on "mess." But there's a nod or two to conventional pop music on "Maxie Flowers," which sounds like 60s chant pop (my term for those "gang vocal" tres-white songs that were more chanted than sung) imported through a modern electronic filter. The other three tracks are kinda out there, though "Lullaby" does have a sweet heart.

I love splits that don't quite fit together. It's so much fun to compare and contrast, and there's plenty of room for that here. I'm curious what each of these bands would do with more space.

Daniel Lanois
Belladonna
(Anti)
reviewed in issue #267, August 2005

I've always thought of Daniel Lanois as a folkier Brian Eno. His long history with Eno probably has something to do with that, as does his involvement with a couple of the great "modern folk˛ albums of the last decade: Dylan's Time Out of Mind (not to mention his earlier, most excellent Oh, Mercy) and Emmylou Harris's Wrecking Ball. The music on this album is wonderfully conceived stuff that exists somewhere in the world music/roots/folk continuum.

Lanois has long shown a real feel for the use of electronic processing (keyboards, effects, drum machines, etc.) to create a strikingly organic sound. He uses every weapon at his disposal, and in so doing creates canvases that seem denser and richer than is humanly possible.

These impossibly gorgeous tapestries are, nonetheless, often simple affairs consisting of just a few lines at any given time. Sparse riches, I guess. That's the genius of Lanois: Use everything, but never overwhelm.

The soundtrack to one of those indie movies set in some magical backwater. Simple people who aren't so simple. Everyday events that have lasting consequences. A flash in the night; reconciliation by dawn. That sort of thing. Except that Lanois tells the story much better than I ever could.

Larva
Waiting for Daybreak
(Energy)
reviewed in issue #53, 4/30/94

Jangle-pop filtered through a metal/grunge filter. Reminds me a lot of Law and Order, except that the lyrics don't quite have the same bite.

A nice conglomeration of sounds, actually, even though the metal side of things adds a little too much bombast at times.

Cheap and easy thrills, sure, but I can't complain excessively. Catchy as hell at times.

The Lassie Foundation
Pacifico
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #185, 7/26/99

Full-on fuzz pop with dreamy hooks that float like clouds on a hazy sunset. Indeed, if this isn't the music of California, I don't know what is.

The hooks are almost descant in style, anti-climactic falsetto lines that provide a bit of musical irony. The music itself moves along at a relatively slow clip, allowing plenty of time for the glory to accumulate.

I have a feeling I'd be bored to death at a live show, but kicking back with something cold and contemplating my navel, this stuff really does the job. I'm in a trance in five seconds flat. Most impressive that way, and there's plenty to appreciate what lies behind the pendulum.

Wow. I've heard a lot of pop bands in the last couple of years, and the Lassie Foundation is one of the most original around. Yes, there are the High Llamas wandering about in somewhat the same territory, but the LF has a distinctly Californian tinge to the sound. And anyway, this isn't an orchestra of effects, but just a band. Make that a pretty cool band.

Last American Buffalo
Marquis for the Debutante
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #292, December 2007

Imagine a rootsy, rockin' band that plays americana-style stuff with the clipped detachment of New Order. I mean that in a good way, though I'm not sure anyone will believe me.

What I'm trying to say is that Last American Buffalo moves with its lush, organ-laden sound rather than wallow in it. These tightly-crafted songs keep moving and never get lost in the fullness of things.

I think I'm making it worse. But the other connection to New Order is a certain rhythmic style that reminds me a lot of many songs from Get Ready--a modern, clean style of drumming and guitar work, I suppose. And the harmonies are often somewhat dissonant...the country roots do not extend to the ends of the sound.

But the sound is glorious, the songs are wonderful and the playing is top notch. One of those albums that is impressive from start to finish.

Last Days of April
Angel Youth
(Deep Elm)
reviewed in issue #217, 6/4/01

Another Swedish take on emo pop. Last Days of April make no pretense toward playing any particular subgenre, as both emo and lush power pop are expressed in equal amounts. What a gorgeous sound these guys get.

I mean it. There's strings and keyboards and all the sorta stuff that's supposed to ruin a good record. Should cheese things out, soften the sound. But not here. All those little touches are like impressionist brush strokes. So much is going on all they do is add a splash of color.

The density of this recording is amazing. There's so much going on at any given minute that it's just about impossible to pick out each little piece. Rather, the elements clash and blend into a wild melange of sonic brilliance.

It occurs to me that I've liked a lot of the albums I've reviewed in this issue. All I can say is that each one has deserved a rave, as does Last Days of April. This album is simply a stunner. I got floored by each song in succession. As soon as I picked my butt up on the hardwood, another inspirational blast puts me down again. I'm breathless.

Another album from these Swedish emo boys. They like bright, peppy melodies and aren't afraid of using keyboards to assemble songs. In short, there's very little keeping Last Days of April from breaking huge.

It's not just that folks seem to be digging this sort of thing lately. These guys simply know how to craft great pop songs. There is just the slightest hint of distortion, that wee bit of reality creeping into these brilliantly-colored pieces.

I'm not sure how Pelle Gunnerfeldt managed to infuse such power into the light sound he created for this album, but he did it. These songs are grounded; they won't fly away with the smallest breeze. The amplitude is a handy way to throw a little depth into the work, to be sure.

At times, I get the feeling that Last Days of April wants to be the Swedish version of the Flaming Lips. That's not the case, not quite, but there is a similar strain of genius at work. Quite the pretty picture.

Last Days of April have always been one step ahead of the evolution of emo, to the point where this music wouldn't be recognized as such to aficionados of five years back. Instead, most folks would hear this stuff as highly-crafted, expertly-played introspective rock.

Which, of course, it is. And that's where one school of emo is heading, as well. As with previous efforts, the quality of songwriting is astonishing. The "gem" metaphor is overused, but it would fit here. Karl Larsson pens exceptional pieces.

The sound is understated, yet full. You'd never know this was, by and large, a two-man effort. There's plenty going on, but the song is always the focus of the production. And with songs this good, you can't go wrong with that approach.

Yeah, I figured this would be good. I've been knocked out by the band's previous albums. But this satisfied those expectations and even created higher ones for the next album. Transcendent.

Last Days of May
Radiant Black Mind
(Squealer)
reviewed in issue #195, 2/14/00

An "augmented power trio" (which means there are four rather than three members), Last Days of May builds some really astonishing sounds. Each (lengthy) song is a journey, with plenty of peaks and valleys traversed within.

The place is space, I suppose, as the guitars have lots of reverb and echo. The sorta stuff that facilitates frontal lobe motivation. I can dig it.

And, hey, I'm not making fun by saying that. These are meandering pieces, sure, but they have plenty of incisive moments. There's room for introspection and observation within and without the music.

The thing is, you have to think. No two ways about it. Last Days of May does not make background music. This is stimulating fare, the kind of music that encourages critical thinking. No matter how you react, the music wills you to action. Wonderful in that and so many other ways.

The Last Kind
Revelations
(Stray Music)
reviewed in issue #208, 11/20/00

The Last Kind creates its backing tracks through the collage method (a la the Bomb Squad), but the rapping style is more modern. The mix is rather intoxicating

What's also impressive (to me) is the political nature of the lyrics. The Last Kind is not only out to promote its revelations, but to spur a little revolution as well. A revolution of the mind, as opposed to one in the streets, but that approach is innovative and exciting.

But you don't have to pay attention to what's being rhymed if you don't want to. These songs sound great all by themselves. It's pretty rare to find similar levels of musical and lyrical sophistication on the same album, but here both impress.

Not the sort of album that burns up the charts, I guess, but it sure does blister the mind. The Last Kind seems more interested in advancing ideas than increasing personal fame. Hey, I'm all for that sort of sacrifice. I just wish it wasn't necessary.

The Last of the International Playboys
The Last of the International Playboys
(Transcontinental Recording Co.)
reviewed in issue #147, 11/10/97

Subtitled "Vegas jazz and Latin lounge", and I can't really come up with a better description. The odd thing is that while I really can't stand the vast majority of this loungecore thing that's far too popular (and if I have to hear the Squirrel Nut Zippers ever again, I will kill), this stuff is earnest and goofy enough to keep me on my good side.

The playing is generally understated, but still quite good. The band is at its best when being a band and skipping the whole vocal thing, mostly because it's the songs with singing that really drop into the annoying category.

In fact, the cleverness of the "Pussy Galore Meets James Bond" medley and the swinging brilliance "Eso No Es Na" (neither written by the band, obviously) really capture the best of what these guys have to offer.

Originals with titles like "Pass the Cous Cous" give an idea of the band's somewhat whimsical approach, and that's what keeps me reasonably happy. I'm still not a fan of this trend, but at least the Last of the International Playboys are in this for the right reason: to make good music.

Last to Know
with Burns Out Bright and Dade County Resistance
Twelve Step Program
(Three Day)
reviewed in issue #227, March 2002

Who knew that Columbia, S.C., was such a haven for great emo? Well, there have been signs. A while back I was pretty well knocked out by Burns Out Bright, and it's pretty rare that a scene has only one good band. If there's no competition, it can be hard to really be inspired to work on your chops.

And once again, Burns Out Bright blows me away. Without sticking to any one particular emo ideal, the boys do a nice job of hitting the sound just so. The depth of the ideas in the songs is most impressive.

Dade County Resistance is a bit more limited in its approach, sticking to an uptempo, melodic feel (not unlike a rougher-edged Ataris, say), but these guys do have four great songs here. Same goes for Last to Know, who whipsaws from contemplative to blistering (sometimes in the same song).

The production values are a bit limited (particularly with the second two bands), but the songs are great. And isn't punk supposed to be just a little ragged on the edges? I thought so. I wish more bands and labels would put together projects like this. It's always nice to have a snapshot in time of a particular scene.

Bill Laswell meets Style Scott
Dub Meltdown
(Wordsound)
reviewed in issue #143, 9/15/97

Laswell covers the bass, Style Scott takes the drums, and a few friends help fill out this rambling exploration of the dub.

And what a trip. Laswell and Scott provide an ever-evolving rhythm base, and the other folks (including Laswell) overdub lots of creative soundscape materiel. The base of all these songs are real-time instruments, but the flight is provided by some fine electronic tricksters.

The songs are long and drawn out, and in this particular case, that is precisely the way to travel. This way, the musical ideas are given time to fully germinate, providing a full bloom of gorgeous power by the finish.

Precisely the sort of recording I count on from Wordsound. Ever more creative ways to use technology and talent to create sound sculptures that are best appreciated by an open and curious mind. Not just a dub meltdown, but a mutation of the dub in the best sense. Very exciting.

Lateral Tension
Pressure Device
(Catastrophe)
reviewed in issue #186, 9/28/98

I hate to call anything typical, but Lateral Tension has all the hallmarks of the self-produced industrial band. A somewhat slight overall sound, samples from movies, fairly pedestrian beats and half-whispered, half-hissed vocals.

And so while Lateral Tension doesn't do anything remotely original, I will say it does pretty well with what it has. Oh, repeat listening will undoubtedly reveal a number of flaws, but once through, the disc plays well enough.

Doesn't excite me much, though. I can't work up a spark. Not that it is bad; not at all. A lot of hard work went into this disc, and it is very easy to hear the result of all that work. Perhaps that is part of the problem. Music should sound effortless. I can hear every chisel punch that went into these songs.

Typical of so many self-recorded albums. Lateral Tension needs to reach out, find its own sound. And then put that to tape.

Latex Generation
Boysrock
(Onefoot)
reviewed in issue #169, 10/12/98

Just looking at the name of the band and the album title, I figured this was a homocore band. Not a bad thing, not at all. But that's not the story here. More of a basic punk feel, with lyrics tending to the strangeness of everyday life. Not much in the way of sexual habits of any sort.

Which is okay. Latex Generation plys the power pop punk (like, say, 7 Seconds or something) with enough panache to keep my feet tapping. Distinguished? Not really. But not bad. A little above the middle of the road.

The lyrics are often amusing. They're not really the focal point of the band (at least, they've been kicked down a notch in the mix), but what I hear I like. Which is pretty much the story of the disc for me.

Enjoyable without being particularly memorable. Basic punk, with minimal trimmings. Nothing wrong with that. Just no real spark for me, either.

Latimer
Live from Sour City
(World Domination)
reviewed in issue #127, 1/27/97

Decent enough punk, with really monstrously heavy distortion clouds lying low over the proceedings. And a guitar sound that reminds me far too much of Kepone, though I suppose that's my personal problem. Should cleanse my palate between albums.
Not to digress or anything.
As the liners note, this should be played at high volume. It doesn't make any sense if it's not making your ears throb a little. I mean, sloppy music recorded without any concern for the actual playing can be that way sometimes. Still is fun and all.
For the obvious shortcomings, I like Latimer much more than I should. There's a weird line somewhere in here that draws me in. Wish I could tell you what it is, because I have more than a few reasons for dropping this puppy like a Gloria Estefan disc (well, let's not get silly, shall we?).
For being so messy, Latimer sounds damned pretentious. This music isn't nearly as important as the band wants me to believe. Then again, I dig it, so maybe I'm wrong about that. So much goes out the window when you let your emotions rule your taste in music.
But then, is there any other way?

The Latin Jazz Orchestra
Havana Blues
(Palmetto)
released in issue #160, 6/1/98

Orchestras are generally better at propagating dance music than smaller acts, and the Latin Jazz Orchestra is no exception. In fact, that's one of the avowed intents of the band. Live, the orchestra uses six to nine pieces (a little big band, if you will), but on this disc the number occasionally swells to twice that.

The LJO does its best work with the deft handling of Afro-Cuban dance rhythms, merging those sometimes frenetic beats with the smoothness required by an orchestra. Never out of its element, the LJO manages to swing mightily.

Because this is orchestral jazz, there is a much greater emphasis on the overall sound and relatively little attention paid to the individual players. Still, the sound is impressive and the playing first-rate. Four of the songs are arranged and conducted by the Chico O'Farrill, who has been working with this music for more than 40 years.

A fresh blend of old and new permeates this disc. I generally prefer smaller groups, but the LJO has won me over. This is solid work, stuff that easily impresses despite being immediately accessible by almost anyone. Quality fun.

Latz
{Twinnings]
(Angry Fish)
reviewed in issue #231, July 2002

If you take the wonderful distorted sound of digital hardcore and combine it with old-fashioned industrial music (back when Einsturzende Neubauten was the best-known practitioner), you'd come up with something close to Latz.

These two Germans (H.J. Mennicken and M. Bulgrin) warp their way through a trove of material--some borrowed and some original. There's a fairly straight-up run-through of "Ring of Fire," and some twisted reworkings of a couple Lene Lovich songs (complete with Lovich's vocals).

In short, this works. Latz doesn't limit itself to mere sledgehammer attacks. It also has a fine sense of techno chilliness, which is employed at the appropriate moments. The sound is filled out nicely that way.

Something of an acquired taste, I'm sure. For me, Latz is a delicacy to be savored. At high volume, the peak of its power.

Jim Lauderdale
Whisper
(BNA/BMG)
reviewed in issue #155, 3/23/98

Classic country songwriting, produced with all the slickness of today's Nashville. Compromise or inspired collaboration?

Both, really. More of the latter, though a couple songs come off as merely hick pop. Lauderdale's dalliances with rock remind me a bit of Steve Earle, and Lauderdale certainly doesn't shy away from kicking out a pain-stricken song.

More often, though, he simply offers up classic "my girl left me, now-I'm drinkin'--why you kickin' my ass?" country songs. With full digital recording and monster sound that today's boomer country crowd desires. I wish the sound wasn't quite so massive, but Lauderdale's songs are good enough to get past that obstacle.

There a spot in my record collection for folks like Earle, Dwight Yoakam, Foster & Lloyd (etc.), Nanci Griffith, Lyle Lovett and Rosanne Cash. Looks like they'll have to make some room for Jim Lauderdale.

Laughing Hyenas
Crawl EP
(Touch & Go)
reviewed in issue #24, 11/15/92

And I thought this was an album, I got so excited. But I'll accept four songs from these fine folks any day. No indication that an album is forthcoming, so we'd better be satisfied with the goodies contained herein.

For the unfamiliar, this lies somewhere between grunge and heavy punk-pop. With most anything else added in from time to time. So let's just call it a stew of your favorite foods.

No disappointment; simply drooling for more.

Just as the Rolling Stones took traditional r&b and crammed it down the throats of willing youngsters over thirty years ago, the Hyenas have been doing the same for about ten years (with time out for a break or two).

While the first track, "Just Can't Win", is so infectious even the most jaded slacker can't help but jump up and get moving, much of the rest of the album is more contemplative and steeped in the heavier side of the blues.

Okay, so the Hyenas don't want to party all the time. There are many shades of the blues, and as long as John Brannon keeps howling, I will not complain.

More polished and stylized than before, the Laughing Hyenas have nonetheless kept true to their roots and still moved forward. And are still bringing the essence of the blues to kids who truly need the message.

The first CD issue of the Hyenas first EP (with four extra tracks tacked on). That should be enough for some of you.

For those less familiar with the Hyenas maximum blues formula, I'll explain. You take a nice tea ball of blues, add a ton of boiling water and then immerse the band in said concoction.

You get a caterwauling vision of the blues that would probably leave many oldsters frightened but still could have come from Mississippi if the folks weren't from Detroit.

The most amazing thing is that the music has retained its vitality and presence. It's as if 1987 were today, and in a way, it is. The Laughing Hyenas have been ahead of (and behind) their time pretty much since they started. Perhaps now a greater number of folks can reel in this catch.

Laughing Us
Roc en Ingles con Laughing Us!EP
(Risk-Ichiban)
reviewed in issue #142, 9/1/97

German engineering at 200 BPM. Loads of samples and guitars, replayed at breakneck speed. A nice little poppy industrial rush.

Well, "Promise of a Liar" does slow the tempo down significantly, but the other three main tracks are fast and tight. Fun and easy, if not terribly unique.

I guess that's my main beef. Laughing Us is just another of those faceless bands that cranks out amusing dance candy. There is nothing here to distinguish the band from countless others, so that no matter how appealing this is on first listen, I know I'll tire of it in a few days.

A tasty treat, but watch for the calories on the back end.

Laura's Invention
Unclear
(Pope Street)
reviewed in issue #202, 7/17/00

Two guys, Brandon Erdos and Drew Bancroft, who manage to craft a fairly full sound. The vocals are of a desperate quavering quality, and that plays off the somewhat idiosyncratic guitar lines reasonably well.

Part of the time, anyway. When the vocals really start to trip out on that Joe Cocker on heroin sound, well, I kinda tuned out. There's just gotta be a better way to sound sincere.

The songs themselves are fairly loosely constructed, generally following the lead guitar. When all of the pieces keep their focus, the tunes work fairly well. I don't mind tangents (my entire life has been a tangent), but throwing too many apparently unrelated ideas at listeners makes it difficult for folks to walk in the front door.

I would guess that these guys don't play live much. The craftsmanship is impressive, but some live dates would really help to work these songs out a bit better without losing the unique perspective.

Scott Laurent
The Truth Is Lies
(No Alternative)
reviewed in issue #249, January 2004

Scott Laurent has that raspy feel to his voice that at once sounds real and pretentious. His songs are ambitious, rootsy pop songs--more possibilities for pomposity. But to be completely truthful, Laurent never gets overbearing.

Even when his production pulls every trick in the book--shifting sounds in the middle of songs, dropping in somewhat jarring instrumentation, etc.--the songs themselves stay completely true. Real. The first part of what I mentioned. Laurent doesn't make it easy to like his music, but he succeeds nonetheless.

Like I noted, the sound of this disc is all over the place. Mostly, it's a brooding affair, but the pieces might sound tinny one moment and lusciously full the next. All this knob-twisting works, though. The songs do sound better after going through the wringer.

So maybe you were listening to some Small Faces or old, old Rod Stewart and you wonder how someone so impossibly talented could have recorded a song like "Have I Told You Lately?" Well, Scott Laurent has a similar knack for telling stories in his songs, and his songs don't suck. In fact, they're pretty damned good.

Laurels
Grave Digger 7"
(Thick)
reviewed in issue #92, 11/20/95

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

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

Creamy, distortion-laden pop from Rhode Island (but with a definite Chicago feel).

A mostly new set of tunes (as opposed to last year's singles compilation), though this does include "Grave Digger", which was part of the Thick picture disc series. Albini took control the knobs on about half the tunes (most of the others were recorded back in Providence by Jon Williams), with no detrimental effects. The Laurels fit in well with Albini's theory of "cool guitars, fuck the vocals", spinning layers of fury over unusual rhythms and bass lines.

And, anyway, the Laurels are quite unique. No producer could shove songwriter/bandleader Jeff Toste and his revolving cast (currently including Dare Matheson on drums and Ryan Lesser on guitar) into a niche. And I can't imagine why anyone would even try.

Obviously a real treat for fans of Slint, any of the Jim O'Rourke projects and that kinda thing. I can't find the spark that would make this a truly god-like effort, so the Laurels will have to be content with simply a very good album. Ain't life a bitch?

Lawnmower Deth
Billy
(Earache)
reviewed in issue #47, 1/31/94

Britain's most prolific punk band has pumped another one through the pipeline. And who would be at the knobs? Just a bloke named Steve Harris.

Tuneful yet heavy punk that has a lot more to say than you might guess. And still, a lot of it is certainly silly.

Why would Earache sign a band that has nothing to do with death metal? Well, maybe because THEY'RE REAL GOOD. Or something like that.

There has been this big fence between the metal and punk worlds. "Real punk rockers" use the phrase "went metal" whenever a band they liked used a little too much guitar on a record. And metal folks have reciprocated by mostly ignoring bands like Bad Religion and ALL that are natural for them.

Lawnmower Deth has done a little better, partly because of their label. But their label has also held them back at "alternative", which has embraced punk and punk derivatives of late.

So who will play this infectious disc? Someone better, damnit!

Eddy Lawrence
Going to Water
(Snow Plow)
reviewed in issue #220, 8/13/01

Every once in a while, I get an album from someone trying to talk about the American Indian (or Native American, whichever you prefer) experience. Often these folks try to incorporate whatever "native" sounds they have come across, and the whole mess generally comes off as sanctimonious and somewhat artificial.

Eddy Lawrence is dead straightforward with his lyrics. He pulls few punches and generally lays his ideas right on the line. He drops these thoughts into regular rock and roll, stuff that pulls in touches of the blues, reggae, country, tejano and just about everything else that rockers have assimilated over the years.

Bit of an irony there, right? Yeah, and I think it's kinda intentional. After all, Eddy Lawrence uses his given name. He's been assimilated himself. And when he sings of times gone by, of deeds done wrong by the leaders of the U.S. (and the Spanish, and ...), he has a wry, observational tone that highlights the hypocrisy without preaching.

Like I said, Lawrence doesn't shy away from tough subjects or simply wash off the past as "done and gone." But he's able to talk about past injustice without indicting the folks he sees today. And he does it while playing some first class rock and roll. Enjoyable and enlightening.

The Lawrence Arms
A Guided Tour of Chicago
(Asian Man) reviewed in issue #191, 11/15/99

You know they're from Chicago; they drink Old Style exclusively. The Lawrence Arms spew out a stream-of-consciousness punk tour of the Windy City. The parts tourists don't get to so often.

Have to be a local to really groove on the tuneage. This is gritty fare, without much in the way of urban renewal, if you know what I mean. The real treat is the vocal fare, which is funny, incisive and pretty much the real attraction here.

Nice to hear a punk band that's really pissed off. There are too many happy punks out there these days. The Lawrence Arms are angry and frustrated and generally hacked off at everyone and everything. They don't see anything to celebrate in the heart of the city. Plenty of sludge, though.

Quite the tour, though. Got to hear ideas I hadn't contemplated before, and I'm always happy for such opportunities. The Lawrence Arms is a punk band in the best traditions of the name: slopy, uncultured and most definitely aggravated. Hard to beat that.

The current kings of Chicago power punk pop, the Lawrence Arms pound out blistering hooks and fuzzy riffage. These boys know that this sound can get too clean, so they make sure to stay just messy enough for bliss.

Lazy
Some Assembly Required
(Roadrunner)
reviewed in issue #64, 10/15/94

When you're a pop three-piece, you really have to work to make your work stand out.

Lazy has the right idea, sounding a lot like many of the moody-at-one-moment/really-angry-at-another bands that populate the Merge.
Aspiring to write songs as well as Superchunk is one thing; being able to pull it off is another. Lazy's songs are pretty good, but their musicianship is a little lacking.

The production doesn't help. It is big and bold and reveals every little flaw. It's like the producer (Brian Paulson, who has, surprise surprise, produced Superchunk, Tsunami, etc.) decided early on to really punch up Lazy. But the music demands an understated approach. These aren't seasoned pros, but youngsters.

The talent is there, but a lot of development is needed. There are quite a few gems to snag out of this collection, but I think even more should come in the future.

A much more aggressive effort than the bands debut, which I thought suffered from a lack of direction. Lazy seems to know exactly where it wants to go, and the sound is markedly improved because of that.

The songwriting is still awfully simplistic and almost self-consciously avoids hooks. An interesting idea for a band that seems to want to be the next big pop thing.

The production leaves everything where it should be. The band takes advantage of the steady hand, ranging all over the landscape. Jarring chords combined with soft vocals, screeches over acoustic guitars, whatever. Lazy likes the dichotomy ideal, and this album certainly tests the theory to the max.

And the folks seem to be working a bit too hard to achieve these results. A little more feel and less crafting is still in order. But Lazy has moved up a notch.

Lazycain
Deaf on Corner 7"
(!Ruido!)
reviewed in issue #132, 4/14/97

I wish the guys would stick to their grooves just a bit more, but for the most part Lazycain has a nice handle on that punk-noise-grunge sound made famous by another Virginia band, Kepone.

Lazycain focuses on the guitar hero poses a bit more, and they get docked for that indiscretion. otherwise, the riffs are solid, the hooks nicely anthemic and the production messy enough to emphasize the band's power.

The musical execution is a bit uneven. While Lazycain finds some nice grooves, there is still a bit too much of the wanking holding pattern (to understand what I mean: imagine a band on stage playing the same repetitive metal riff over and over while making their hair dance). I wish the songs would move of their own accord.

Promising, though. I'd like to hear more.

Tom Leach
Tom Leach
(Slow River-Rykodisc)
reviewed in issue #143, 9/15/97

Recorded to a four-track and barely mixed, Tom Leach has nonetheless managed to create songs of spare sound but overwhelming emotional impact.

The general shoddy quality of the sound probably is a help, in the long run. For starters, Leach's quaky vocals are the perfect compliment to the dense, complicated lyrical webs he spins. And the hiss and pops help to propagate a feeling of authenticity. You know a real man is singing these songs of pain, loss and even newfound joy.

Leach sticks pretty much to the Johnny Cash boom-chicka-boom style of playing (and if there's a backing percussion track, it runs along those lines, as well), and if the man in black is looking for songs for his next album, he would do well to check this disc out.

The songs are short, and the album clocks in at just less than 40 minutes, and yet the effect on my is almost paralyzing. A stunning effort.

Leaether Strip
Double or Nothing
(Cleopatra)
reviewed in issue #71, 2/28/95

Two discs from Claus Larsen, who is Leaether Strip. Four new tracks on the first, and 13 re-mixes, live or old tracks on the second.

But the first disc is worth the price of admission. Goth pop with enough industrial attack to keep me interested. Larsen keeps the music flowing, despite the often morose lyrics.

The real test of this sort music is what else is brought into the mix, and how that is done. Larsen doesn't use many samples, but he obviously listens to a wide range of music, because you can hear all sorts of references throughout his compositions.

My favorites on the first disc are "Torture (A Suicide Note)" (a wonderful mix of Goth and industrial sensibilities) and "Don't Tame Your Soul", a cool spoken word bit.

When you get to the second disc, you'll notice the wide array of sounds Larsen likes to experiment with. Don't be afraid to sample everything. All are satisfying.

Claus Larsen cranks out another set of goth-flavored experimental techno masterpieces. If you thought samples and waves of keyboards (some sharp, some diffuse) were a dull combination, then you'd better give this a listen.

And, as his pseudonym implies, Larsen has an interest in the darker side of life, with nods to master and servant games and other such peccadilloes of human existence.

Well, sure, Leaether Strip is pretty mean sounding. That's the point. Techno with a serious attitude, and lots of naughty bits to boot. Larsen has created another wild ride for the electronic enthusiast.

Claus Larsen, of course, and the first 11 tracks are well-known to his many fans. I've raved about Leaether Strip's accomplished sonic sculpture and industrial production, and I figure that sort of stuff will probably seem a bit overbearing to many.

So I'll focus on the three unreleased tracks that inhabit the end of the disc. Obviously, as Larsen has improved his grasp on technology, he has filled out Leaether Strip's sound accordingly. These tracks are as full (yet haunting) as any that have come before. Leaether Strip has always had plenty of gothic influences, and this has never been more evident than on "Take the Fear Away", a truly stunning song.

The other two "bonus" tracks are just as impressive in their differences. Larsen has always liked to explore rather than rehash, and so this disc is a full testament to his journey. "Lies to Tell" (remixed by Lights of Euphoria) is a fitting end to the collection, a crashing club anthem that exhibits yet another side to Leaether Strip.

Initiates of the order now have their primer. Study well.

Leather Hyman
You Can't Rake Without Arms
(demo)
reviewed in issue #79, 6/30/95

The most distinctive sound on this tape is the smarmy keyboard sound that's right out of 60's lounge music. A nice jazzy feel from the rhythm section keeps the music jerking and jumping, and then the band really gets weird.

Alternately smoothly mellow and harshly strident, Leather Hyman prefers not to stake out a mood as much as an attitude. I guess this lies somewhere in the pop universe, but certainly one of the more creative corners. It takes some work to comprehend, but Leather Hyman is a fine elixir.\

Leatherface
Mush
(Seed)
reviewed in issue #29, 2/28/93

Marketed as Motorhead meets the Ramones, for once the publicity couldn't be more correct.

If you like either of those bands, and don't mind that someone may have appropriated their sonic likenesses, then you should really groove on this. The songwriting is first-rate - lots of catchy ditties.

Like a smooth cream soda, this stuff is gone in a belch. But while it goes down, you can only think happy things, like remembering the last time you broke the state sodomy statute. Going down will get you twenty years out here, so maybe it's just safer to listen to the music.

I reviewed the last Leatherface record to surface over here way back in issue #29 (early 1993). The sound here is a bit more ragged, but still the notion of catchy punk anthems prevails. Like the band never went away.

Hot Water Music is from Richmond, and you can hear it. Avail, (Young) Pioneers, it's all there. Well, not in rip-off style, but just a sort of feel. Somewhat herky-jerky in the execution, but still tuneful enough to sing along with.

The connection for me is the excessively hoarse singing style exhibited by both singers. Oh, and the bands are touring together as well. I think the idea here is to hearken back to a time when this sort of release was more common. Bring bands and people together. Something like that.

And it might even work. At least on this one, since both bands cranked out great songs. A quality set, all the way around.

I got this disc a ways back (like in April), but it got put on a shelf with some computer catalogs (the sort of thing I consult only when I need toner), and so it got lost. Until now.

Leatherface proves that old punkers can still light up the stage. Yeah, this is as much pop as punk, but the ragged edges keep the sound honest. Really, the arrangements are spot on, and there are no complaints about the energy level of the band.

And man, I love the thick sound. Just a swirl of drums guitar and bass, with hoarse shouts wailing out the vocals. You know, one version of punk heaven.

The songs just keep spewing forth. Leatherface's comeback continues apace, with another fine effort. Actually, this is one of the better albums I've heard this year. Way too much fun to put down easily.

Leaving Trains
The Lump in My Forehead
(SST)
reviewed in issue #9, 3/15/92

Serious? Right. This is an irreverent look at life through the eyes of some seriously disturbed folk.

And that whine! Well, if you can get used to and appreciate Jello Biafra's voice, then this is no stretch. And like you've never played a Leaving Trains album before.

Better than before? Not really. Worse? Not really. You know what to expect. It's right here. For a trip to the loopy side, jump on the Leaving Trains. (Oh, man, I'm really sorry. I'll never write a stupid pun clincher on a review again. I'll sell my soul before I do that - oops, I already did that to get Ice-T to play Columbia).

The Leaving Trains are probably the least-known legendary punk band around. Those who have been paying attention for the last 15 years or so know not to miss a show, but when it comes to albums, well, things can get spotty.

Some confusion would be understandable on this disc, though, as bassist and producer Chaz Ramirez was killed while trying to put The Big Jinx together. It's a weird story, but mostly sad. Especially since the Trains have come up with some of their catchiest songs ever.

For starters, once you get past the title track, which is an intentional load of samples and assorted odds, the songs are tight and rather accessible. The lyrics are as entertaining as ever, and Ramirez's last project was quite well produced, indeed.

Predicting any sort of major success for the Leaving Trains is like betting on U.S. World Cup chances, but you never know. Maybe enough people will come to their senses and dig in.

Five new ones from the Trains. Falling James has one line-up for this EP, and another for heading out on the road. And the Trains keep a rollin'...

The songs on this EP keep to a more conventional sound than the recent Leaving Trains albums, with a couple pieces that might even be called introspective and somewhat moody. And none of the songs gets wild or out of control, which is certainly a new suit for the band.

I wouldn't call this a new direction or anything, just a momentary speed bump in the road. And for a mellow interlude, this is a pretty good one. I know a god number of folks who have always considered Leaving Trains "too crazy"; they would probably like this.

Odd, but certainly amusing.

Josh Lederman y Los Diablos
The Town's Old Fair
(Coffeestain Music-Nine Mile Records)
reviewed in issue #253, May 2004

Not unlike Firewater, which originally billed itself as "the world's worst Bar Mitzvah band," Josh Lederman y Los Diablos started life playing Irish weddings. Which might explain the occasional reference to a reel that seems to crop up now and a again.

Mostly, though, this is old-fashioned country music--some folk, some rural blues, a healthy dose of western swing and a healthy helping of plain ol' poor white trash wailin'--the kinda stuff that folks like to call "Americana." I suppose that's as good a moniker as anything, though it sure does create a wide-ranging category. If it has room for folks like Lederman and friends, who can combine early-60s Tom Waits with Marty Robbins, the Pogues (see, I told you there was a vague Irish feel), the Jayhawks and Whiskeytown, well, I guess there should be no complaints.

The sound here is, well, non-existent. The producer (who also mixed) did a smashing job of staying out of the way, mixing up the elements that needed a slight boost and making sure that nothing overpowered anything else. It's awfully hard to create such a transparent sound, and Darren Burke deserves full marks.

I remember when I first heard Strangers Almanac. I still haven't recovered. This album has the same sort of powerful presence. I kept waiting for some sort of emotional letdown, a song that couldn't quite stand up with the others. It never came. By the end, I was a total wreck. And that's a very good thing, indeed.

Vincent Lee
Less of the Same
(Aural Adventures)
reviewed in issue #95, 1/15/96

Side one featured cheesy drum machine backing glam-guitar stylings. And Mr. Lee singing, which isn't too bad when he sticks to his range. But when he heads into the upper reaches... look out below!

At times this is positively amusing; "Barbasol" is one of the funnier tunes I've heard in some time. And Lee presents it as a joke, getting credit for a decent sense of humor. But he needs to get a sense of what he can and cannot do. He's not a great singer, and the songs would sound a lot better if backed by a band of people, not a band of overdubs.

Side two is what the press terms "experimental". Poorly recorded samples, tapes run backwards, chaotic guitar noise, etc. I like this a lot better, though Lee is not a great producer or mixer, and that really shows. Still he gets some points for trying to do something different.

If you're interested, you can get the tape from Aural Adventures for $5. The address and e-mail can be found on the label info page.

Lee Harvey Oswald Band
A Taste of Prison
(Touch and Go)
reviewed in issue #47, 1/31/94

As if punk needed another band led by a (just for show?) transvestite.

Well, if all such outfits sounded like this, then it surely does. LHO Band plays sloppily (and maybe even under the influence at times), but it sure is a lot of fun. A couple of odd covers make this a strange set indeed, but it charms nonetheless.

The obvious fun this trio is having while playing is evident even through the sometimes heavy distortion. A Taste of Prison is perfect for partying or just whenever you want to feel better about things in general.

Touch and Go has decided to flame the rumor fans with possible identities of the (supposedly famous) members of this band. Assuming the pictures are actually of members of the band, this isn't that difficult a call. I'll let you play games; just think of "alternative" icons who might have had reasons to be in Texas, Chicago or jail in the last ten years.

And who gives a shit, with cool tunes like these? Kinda a glam-acid-punk powerhouse sorta thing. Enough Slade and Bowie references to keep any such inclined person in stitches. And the lyrics are as cutting and amusing as any other act around. The band that last time came up with "Jesus Never Lived on Mars" has punched up the sound, but otherwise come up pure.

Total fun. We're not talking high art, but simply adrenaline-punching guitar riffs riding on through the night. Sumbitch is right.

This whole superstar trip on the members' identities is unnecessary. Thus music more than carries the day. Perhaps not the most original sound in the world, just some of the most fun tunes around.

Lee Marvin Computer Arm
Lee Marvin Computer Arm EP
(Conspirators in Sound)
reviewed in issue #260, December 2004

Five snappy, ragged bits of Detroit glory. Recalling the MC5 as much as the White Stripes, Lee Marvin Computer Arm has more than enough energy to make its own name shine brightly.

While the blistering pace and raggedy sound are more than enough to keep me occupied, these boys have penned some stylish songs as well. Rather than conforming to any sonic ideal in particular, LMCA continually drags in new lines of thought.

But never lets up on the gas. The main attraction here is the live wire style of playing, and all those other cool things are just added bonuses. Nice to have--especially after a few listens--but I'll take this jolt every time.

The Leeches
Suck
(British Medical Records)
reviewed in issue #236, December 2002

Imagine Blondie reincarnated as a Brit garage band. Lizzie Wood does a whale of a job playing catty sex kitten at the mic, and the boys in the band service her capably.

While plenty of the lyrics are clever, there's very little subtlety to this disc. Wood is into put downs, but her style is more Eddie Izzard than Oscar Wilde. Not necessarily a bad thing, mind you.

You've gotta dig the groove the folks lay down--it's got a veneer of faux sophistication laid over a slowly rotting core. A lot of folks will no doubt find this annoying, but what the hell. I'm a sucker for anything that satirizes continental condescension.

Oh yeah, a lot of this is a joke. I'm sure there are sincere moments, but they are few and far between. Mostly, this is just tasty trash. Just my style.

Leeway
Adult Crash
(Futurist)
reviewed in issue #64, 10/15/94

Leeway claims to be the progenitor of the current wave of metal-core bands. I'd say bands like Gang Green were there first, but Gang Green was also pretty funny. The folks in Leeway go out of their way to be serious.

If Leeway is guilty of the first charge, that in itself is a great argument for the death penalty. I didn't like Leeway when I first heard the band, and I still don't. This is not good cheez, it's rancid cheez. Leeway is a poison that will rot your brain much faster than Ren and Stimpy or even Latoya Jackson's Exotic Club Crawl. It has big signs on it saying "stay away or face sterilization". Need I say more?

Well, to be honest, some of Adult Crash isn't quite that bad. But it's not much better.

One track spins by. Surprise. Two tracks. I border on shock. Three tracks. Amazement.

This album doesn't suck.

For Leeway and me, that's a huge accomplishment. I can't even begin to describe how many Leeway discs I've heard over the years, and the first reaction has always been the same: Yow, this is bad.

Well, their last album had a couple of decent songs, but it was still damned bad. Open Mouth Kiss, however, is definitely in the mediocre range, with some really nice work amongst the rest. Sure, it's the same old metal-core (Cro-Mags school) that the boys have purveying for years, but the lyrics aren't retarded and the music isn't insipid.

Color me amused. A Leeway album I might even listen to again. Will wonders never cease?

Left Hand Solution
Fevered
(Nuclear Blast America)
reviewed in issue #139, 7/21/97

Moody Swedish stuff, sorta like where I imagine Tiamat would be today in a rational progression. The keyboards are excessive, but still used effectively. Mariana Holmberg's alto vocals add to the ethereal qualities of the music.

Interesting, but not intoxicating. My Dying Bride can get away with such simple progressions because of the stark sound and its use of dissonance. Left Hand Solution has a sweet, lush sound which counteracts the potential power of those chord runs.

All the edges smoothed over, and that makes for much less captivating music. Yeah, it sounds pretty, but when things are supposed to get terrifying or at least a little spooky, the heavy instrumentation provides way too much comfort.

These folks have some good ideas. Perhaps a stripped-down version would be much better. Holmberg's voice works very well with this sound, and would sound even better without all the extraneous stuff. A chance missed.

Left in a Dream
Left in a Dream
(demo)
reviewed in issue #148, 11/24/97

Some guys in suburban Seattle who plays music about, well, being guys in suburban Seattle. Emo, even. From Seattle. The bio sheet is pretty amusing, basically recognizing the absurdity of it all.

Now, the stuff has that demo sound (get a better engineer next time out, boys), but that doesn't cause too much of a problem. I mean, this is emo. Lo-fi personified. Musically, the band has the sound down. A little too precisely, really. Most good emo bands have a little something extra they bring to the table. That's not here, but these guys are young.

The lyrics are fairly good. Observations on the ultimate boredom that can only be achieved in the suburbs. That's why I'll never live there. These guys don't have much of a choice right now.

Competent musicianship and fairly inspired lyrics. Left in a Dream needs to write a lot more songs and really discover some way to break out of the "soundalike syndrome" that can be deadly in emo circles. It just takes time and work.

The Leftovers
On the Move
(Rally)
reviewed in issue #288, August 2007

Blissed-out punk pop...just skip the first song, okay? It's not bad, but it just doesn't set the table properly. The second track, "Dance With Me," would be much more appropriate. But I don't need to get into a sequencing digression or anything...

Ben Weasel had his hands all over this (including, specifically, the sequencing--ouch!), and this does fall into his territory. Ephemeral, perhaps, but when the chords are this muscular and the hooks this sweet, ephemeral can last a lifetime.

There's just enough oomph in the production to kick these songs into pop heaven. Not Mass Giorgini style by any means (though his punk wall of sound would probably suit these songs as well), there's plenty of room to breathe here. Makes the songs sound like old friends.

And if my enthusiasm doesn't flag, they might well be lifelong buds. The Leftovers don't do anything but play exceptional punk pop. The kinda stuff that makes one happy to be alive.

Left Undone
The Uptown Soultel
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #171, 11/9/98

The band styles itself as a new sort of soul act, claiming influences like Sly and the Family Stone, Parliament, Blind Melon (um...) and more. Very much a rock soul band, as the funk is always played straight.

I can think of worse things. And any band who chooses "Thank You (falletinme be mice elf again)" as the Sly cover isn't all bad. But doing a song like that brings on all sorts of unfortunate comparisons. Like...

The Sly version is a dynamic, flowing wonder, tossing off groove after groove as if such things were in unlimited supply. Left Undone, on the other hand, sticks to one beat and one groove throughout the whole song. Their cover sounds something like a funeral dirge.

The playing is fine, but I don't hear the soul. A prime example of white boy funk. Something's missing. It's not pigmentation, but the spirit of innovation and exploration just isn't present. Rote, but not much more.

Lefty's Deceiver
Process Junior EP
(My Pal God)
reviewed in issue #224, 11/5/01

One of the longer EPs I've come across. I mean, even though Lefty's Deceiver has only seven songs here, thirty minutes of music is almost always considered an album. But, well, the band calls this an EP. Ambitious boys, I guess.

I'll say. These jaunty songs are crafted with precision, landing the overall sound somewhere between noise pop and the emo side of minimalist pop. There's a lot of space between the sounds here, but the band's near manic fervor leads to an incongruously full feel nonetheless.

The disc babbles on a like brook, always finding a new rock to trip over and spill past. The motion never ceases. Not quite like clockwork; the rhythms are more organic than that. Pretty fine, all the way around.

Th' Legendary Shack Shakers
Believe
(Yep Roc)
reviewed in issue #264, May 2005

I think Firewater was the last band to combine gospel and klezmer in a song, and while the sonic results were different, the quality was similarly high. Th' Legendary Shack Shakers riff through all sorts of "classic" American music (gospel, rockabilly, folk, blues, bluegrass, James Brown-style r&b, etc.) and shove it through a grinder, filtering the result through a reducing filter.

In other words, you ain't never heard nothin' quite like this. Electric all the way, but in the spirit of acoustic anarchists. There are so many different sounds and ideas that I was afraid the Shack Shakers would lose their way. They don't.

A lot of that is due to the leadership of Col. J.D. Wilkes. He wrote the songs (except for the blues standard "Help Me") and kept a firm eye on the production. His singular notion of what a mish-mash of American music ought to sound like seems to have kept this album along a recognizable path. Indeed, no matter what the band is playing, the songs retain a certain Shack Shakers feel.

So when the sun goes down and the bourbon has melted the ice, put this disc in. Holler, dance, do what comes naturally. Just don't blame these boys in the morning.

Lemming Project
Hate and Despise
(Century Media)
reviewed in issue #34, 5/15/93

Everything about this is ugly. The cover, the layout of the back side, the spelling... and of course, the music.

And what music. A real relief from some of the almost sparse sounding stuff I've been hearing lately. The production here, much like the Incantation album last year, makes sure every pore of your skin is inundated (especially at the volume I had this on) with heavy death metal. And heavy is the proper term.

This reminds me of Morgoth (who have a new once soon - finally) in the way they crank out riffs and then switch to doom licks now and again.

Ugly. And damned proud of it.

The Lemonheads
Car Button Cloth
(Tag-Atlantic)
reviewed in issue #127, 1/27/97

The last time I paid attention to the Lemonheads was way back on Lick, whereupon the band (which it was at the time, more or less) covered "Luka". I kinda liked that. The rest seemed kinda cheesy, but what the hell. Of course, when that NKOTB cover came out a year later, it was all over for me.
And somewhere between then and now, Evan Dando (who still uses the name "The Lemonheads, kinda like Chrissie Hynde does with "the Pretenders") got popular. I understand there was a cover of "Mrs. Robinson" somewhat involved, which would mean that most of Dando's notoriety comes from song recycling.
To be fair, his stuff here (and most of it is original) isn't bad. Of course, it's not terribly interesting, and I'm surprised at how little things have changed in eight years. I guess if you've got something people like, then keep on the money train.
Momentarily amusing at best, trite much of the time, Dando has cranked out another set of tunes that yuppies can call "alternative". He, of course, has better sense than to claim that title himself. And so I won't excoriate him. I simply urge you to find more interesting pop music to slap in your discer.

The Lemons
Just Happy to Be Here 7"
(C/Z)
reviewed in issue #35, 5/31/93

Certainly the most commercial thing C/Z has ever put out. This is pop-punk (I'm not going to use the term pop-core again because I understand it was used in Rolling Stone last month) at about its finest. Like the Goo-Goo Dolls with a little extra sludge and distortion.

From C/Z? Yep. And I like it a bunch. Sure it's catchy as all hell, but there is no law against a band writing a couple of songs with real hooks. Absolutely no apologies necessary here. This is plain 'ol kick ass punk rock 'n' roll (with the occasional guitar solo). Just like blueberry blintzes.

Lemur Voice
Insights
(Magna Carta)
reviewed in issue #117, 8/26/96

Taking a somewhat keyboard-heavy, yet grungier, approach to the whole prog thing, Lemur Voice at once manages to sound wimpy and aggressive. An interesting idea that doesn't quite take off.

The main problem is that the band refuses to advance prog theory past the established masters. I hear way too much Rush and Yes in here. Sure, it's alright to borrow from influences, but the goal is to create your own sound. Lemur Voice occasionally does get past those two influences, and then it starts sounding just like Fates Warning.

The playing is adequate, though a bit sloppy at times. The production is stock prog work, lending atmosphere and a bit of spaciness to the surroundings. Adequate and appropriate. Just wish the music had something original to say.

An old saw, but I keep wailing away. Lemur Voice needs time to work past its influences and craft an original sound. Until then, it will be merely a decent act that could get better paid as a Yes tribute band.

Lemuria
(Kind of Like Spitting/Lemuria)
Your Living Room's All Over Me split LP
(Art of the Underground)
reviewed in issue #279, October 2006

Two trios who hail from opposite sides of the continent. They decide to throw down a split. Thank goodness.

Lemuria has seven songs, and the construction is pop. The sound turns from raucous to introspective to shiny and back to raucous without losing the central vibe of the band. I really like these folks. But I'm a sucker for energetic music with great hooks.

Sounds like Spitting is much less refined. These guys make a lot of noise, and they hide a fair amount of it in the slightly muddy mix. That would usually be a complain coming from me, but here it simply gives the songs that extra bit of character. These boys are from Portland, and they remind me of Treepeople and Built to Spill and other PacNW outfits. Completely unsophisticated, and rather charming that way.

Splits work best when the bands aren't a perfect match. These two acts complement each other quite well without getting in the way of the other. Just the way it should be.

Sean Lennon
Into the Sun
(Grand Royal/Capitol)
reviewed in issue #162, 6/29/98

No angst here. This is mellow music for the after hours set.

Maybe you've been a little bit aggressive and mad all day and want to get on the down low tip. This is definitely down low. Pretty singing and polite strumming that blends a half dozen genres into homogonized blah for good times.

It's not offensive or even bad, but it's not anything relevant or great either. Not that I should want something more from anyone wading in this sea of appropriation and wetness, but it's hard not to compare the voice to The Voice. The original had something to say over his bands sometimes simple and benign songs. The next generation seems to be content to wallow in "my girlfriend sure is cool" and space age theories of bygone eras.

I kept trying to find something with substance and at the end realized there was nothing in my hands but empty air.

--Matt Worley

Frank Lenz
The Hot Stuff
(Northern Records)
reviewed in issue #225, January 2002

An acid-tinged 70s flashback. Frank Lenz turns Bacharachian lounge pop on its head, burning in beats of all flavors (disco, hip-hop, electronic and more) and then really taking off.

To the point where those 70s underpinnings are almost (but not quite) irrelevant. Lenz has a wonderfully complicated and inventive sense of musicality, and he's not afraid to unleash potentially dissonant forces into his tunes.

But even the most caustic of additions can't take away the blisteringly gorgeous sounds of this disc. Just when it seems Lenz is losing his grip, the songs snap together with an audible pop. He knows just how far to push the envelope without alienating the listener.

The definition of an artist at the top of his game. Lenz owns his medium. It bows to his will. And this album manifests his glory.

Leon Milmore
Under a Green Sun
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #171, 11/9/98

Nicely fuzzy earnest roots rock. Just enough hooks to shake off the wanky guitar bits. The vocals are bit too affected for my taste, but they fit the style just fine.

A band, by the way, and not a man. I made the same mistake before checking out the liners. Don't know what it means, but hell, I generally don't worry about that stuff. I prefer to focus on the music.

And for the sort of involved, backbeat-laden fuzz rock the band plays, they do it well. I have noted on many occasions my general distaste for the stuff, but I can groove with Leon Milmore. There's enough soul here to keep my heart moving.

A nice car album. Turn up the volume and take down the roof. Well, maybe wait until spring. I'll leave that choice up to you.

Leopold
Quebradita #4 7"
(LoTioN Industries)
reviewed in issue #142, 9/1/97

Cool noise rock that gets even better when the band finds a nice, tight rhythm groove.

Okay, so it takes a minute or so for "Quebradita #4" to find the feel, but once there, Leopold latches on and doesn't let go for any reason. The two songs on the flip flow along in the same linear, yet painful, fashion.

The sound is pretty bad, leaving the vocals way back in the mix. For something like this, though, that is almost a benefit. This way there's no way to ignore the awe-inspiring groove apparatus, nothing to take your mind off the throbbing ecstasy that keeps building.

If you need a comparison, think of an exceptionally dirty version of Kepone. I don't think cleaning the mix up a bit would hurt, but that's obviously not necessary for Leopold to impress.

Les Savy Fav
Inches
(French Kiss)
reviewed in issue #252, April 2004

Over the last nine years, Les Savy Fav has been releasing a series of 7"s as part of a greater project called "Inches." Each slab of vinyl came out on a different label, which meant that at least one of the things might have arrived at the cool record store in your area (if you have one), but the chances of collecting all nine were slim for all but the most devoted fans.

So all 18 songs (A and B sides, of course) are on this disc, together for the first time. And while I do think they probably work better as two-song bursts (there's really not much continuity between each 7" other than the late 80s Fall-esque BritPop rantings often favored by Les Savy Fav), this disc is a generous helping of scalding rock.

Kinda like the first Rocket from the Crypt 7" compilation (which is still my favorite "album" from the boys), and I think that the 7" may be the best way to experience Les Savy Fav. Short doses of highly energetic rock and roll, supercharged with attitude.

Exciting and impossible to shut down. It wouldn't be advisable to create such a long string of live-wire songs for an album--there's gotta be a respite somewhere. Then again, sometimes it's fun to grab the wire and bite down. Bite down hard.

The Leslies
The Leslies 7" EP
(American Pop Project)
review