R.U.O.K.?
R.U.O.K?
(Quantum Loop)
reviewed in issue #153, 2/23/98

Performance art, in the very best way. The music that accompanies the spoken word pieces reflects the theme of that piece, and thus bounds about a bit. The cover sticker calls it "modern ambient techno", which doesn't even begin to explain.

The star of the songs is what is said, but the music behind it is a wonderful mix of guitar and keyboards, with plenty of experimental touches. Sometimes the words don't make sense, and sometimes the music gets just as confused.

A match, in other words. Oh, this is strange stuff, but then what do you expect from a guy (Jim Harris is his name) who thanks Laurie Anderson "for making me realize I don't have to learn to sing". The final exhortation is to "Listen with headphones!"

He's right. This is music that can envelop, but only if it is presented at high volume in a setting where there are no distractions. Lights off with headphones works damned well. Spooky and adventurous, R.U.O.K.? is a great experience.

Race Car Riot
split EP with Appleseed Cast and Planes Mistaken for Stars
(Deep Elm)
reviewed in issue #185, 7/26/99

I listed the bands alphabetically, but the actual order is Planes Mistaken for Stars (one song), Race Car Riot (three songs) and Appleseed Cast (two songs).So I'll go in that order here.

"Staggerswallowswell" is the PMS song (an unfortunate abbreviation, I agree), and it pretty much follows the title. A rip-roaring emo piece, quite possibly the best of the set. Certainly one of the best songs I've heard this year.

Race Car Riot uses two instrumentals to bracket "Raincheck", and to be honest I prefer the instrumentals. Generally more pedestrian fare, though with a nice subtle touch in the guitar licks. Maybe this band is a bit under the radar for me. In any case, these songs don't sound entirely finished, though not bad the way they are.

Appleseed Cast is a fine band, meandering all about in the two songs here. These two songs sound just like the stuff on the full-length, proving that these guys have a flair for somewhat unconnected logic, both musically and lyrically. The disc as a whole is quite solid, two great bands and a good one coming together nicely.

Race!!!
Travels
(Prescott Recordings)
reviewed in issue #271, December 2005

A nice modern jazz quintet. Very modern, in fact. Ross Hammond on guitar, Tony Passarell on sax and trumpet, Tom Monson on drums, Erik Kleven on bass and Scott Anderson on tenor sax. The instrumentation alone is intriguing.

The songs themselves don't so much begin and end as simply fade into one another. These are improvisations that wander through a variety of styles and feels, but the players feel free to use whatever tools are available at any moment. And so this is that rarity, an improvisational jazz album that feels tight.

Tight in a good way. These songs don't follow any particular construction mode, but they sound like songs nonetheless--even though the actual brackets of a given "piece" are exceptionally loose.

That Hammond and friends manage to make all of those statements true is something close to miraculous. This one just feels right.

Racer X
Live Extreme Volume II
(Shrapnel)
reviewed in issue #18, 8/15/92

It's interesting to sit back and listen to the vitality of Racer X when compared to the relative flaccid sounds of the bands its members are in now: Mr. Big, Badlands, Judas Priest (and there is a Priest cover here) and the Scream. While not really harsh, there was a definite edge to Racer X.

Of course, four of the ten tunes are covers, which seems to indicate this may some sort of cash-in kinda thing. But who cares? This is fun listening. Why worry about ulterior motives, and the originals are the best part of the album anyway.

Paul Gilbert gets the guys back together for another trip. All original members, and well, the boys are back to their old tricks.

The main reason Racer X never quite achieved mainstream success is that the technical prowess often overshadowed the songwriting efforts. Brilliant guitar runs and stylish interplay are great, but if they don't connect to the song there's just not as much excitement.

So while professional musicians and other folks who really dig skills have always been in Racer X's corner, the stuff often seemed just a little out of reach of the regular fan. But now that the guys have reformed after gigs in Mr. Big, Judas Priest and Badlands (not to mention countless session jobs), they seem to have picked up a some hints in the commercial sound arena.

Not to say this is a sellout. The astonishing prowess is as pronounced as ever. But there's more expression, more emotion and certainly tighter songwriting than I've ever heard from the boys. This disc is more accessible, but it's still quite solid and shouldn't overly disappoint old fans. All told, this might well be the best Racer X record yet.

Rachel's
Selenography
(Quarterstick-Touch and Go)
reviewed in issue #183, 6/7/99

Back in the June of 44 review, I mentioned something about the best bands in the world? Well, Rachel's (I don't get the punctuation, either) isn't so much a band as an orchestra. And this definitely isn't rock music.

Lots of strings, played in unusual ways. A good amount of what the classical people might call retro neo-avant garde. Or something. I never can understand what those critics whine about. The deal is, these are lengthy, contemplative pieces, performed with something resembling a large ensemble or small orchestra (very small, nine folks). Imagine if Dirty Three (I know I reference those guys a lot, but it's 'cause I love them) was prettied up and taken to a more complex setting.

The power of the music here is its delicate subtlety. Now, the music itself can pack a punch, but it's the full array of sound (often quietly expressed) which provides the wallop. Devastation often follows.

Pretty isn't the word. This isn't pretty music. It's not exactly "easy" music. Takes a little time and effort to work into the brain. But once all of the possibilities are in place, the totality of the vision overwhelms. Yes, indeed, one of the world's best bands. And a pretty fine album, too.

So you're a little bored, and you decide to rework one of your old chestnuts. Then you ask some friends to do the same. Sounds like something someone like, say, Chicago might do. Ah, but this is Rachel's, the only band in the world I know of in the possessive without an object.

Right off, then, this isn't yer ordinary hack remix. Not at all. Rachel's simply plays a new arrangement of the piece. That this arrangement and recording are three years old means nothing. Listen to the story told by this gorgeous music and it will seem like not a day has passed since these sounds hit tape.

Matmos, on the other hand, is playing editing games, using the original recording and two live performances of the song. These boys take a full 18 minutes to explore the song, and the results are as unRachel's as can be. Or rather, this vision of the song (retitled "The Precise temperature of Darkness") sounds nothing like the original.

But then, that's what's required with projects like this. The Matmos take is as jumpy and jarring as the Rachel's is smooth and flowing. Eighteen minutes is a long time to take, but trust me, it's enthralling. The whole package is, really. Sometimes, hitting up the past can be a good thing.

Radiant Darling
Cryptomnesia
(Tense Forms)
reviewed in issue #272, March 2006

Further proof that Chicago is the center of the musical universe, Radiant Darling blazes forth with an album that's one part gothic Americana (y'know, Trailer Bride), one part gypsy jazz (they even do a Django Reinhardt piece), one part art rock and, well, lots of other things thrown in.

It all makes for an invigorating blend that is impossible to turn off. These songs spin spells that can't be broken. Radiant Darling has created an alternate universe that is exceedingly enticing. I might, indeed, want to live here all the time, if I wasn't scared out of my mind at the prospect of doing so.

The minimalist production really helps here, leaving plenty of space between the mostly acoustic instruments and raucous percussion. I could be wrong, but it sounds like much of the music was recorded in one take. I hear a little bleedover between some of the instruments. If that's merely a studio trick (or unintended result) I'm just that much more impressed.

It's old. It's new. It's indescribably delicious. And I just can't say enough.

Radio Free America
Killjulie
(31337 Records)
reviewed in issue #176, 2/8/99

Plenty of the techno-industrial complex, but with a serious new wave jones (as evidenced by a Duran Duran cover). For someone like me, who grew up on music that sounded vaguely like this, the sound is utterly addictive.

That's not to say all is peaches and cream. The guitars are a bit sloppy (or maybe just overfuzzed) at times. And more than a few of the songs could use some editing (pop songs don't need to be 10 minutes long, y'know?). But really, I'm quibbling here over style points. In general, I'm a big fan.

Particularly when the band gets in a groove, the guitars cutting through the beats, and that oh-so-familiar vocal style sending me back 15 years. Really, a thoroughly modern take on a classic sound. Exactly how an influence is supposed to be honored.

There's a lot here to love, particularly for us rapidly-aging Gen Xers (remember, that's being born from 1964-1972, so we're not confused here). Immersion only provides more pleasure.

Radiobaghdad
665: Neighbor of the Beast
(Onefoot)
reviewed in issue #169, 10/12/98

Tight but loopy pop punk, produced at the Blasting Room by Bill Stevenson and Stephen Egerton. I suppose the album title might tip you off: These guys are out for fun.

Ragged vocals and guitar playing, but with that trademark ALL-style punch. Stevenson and Egerton know how to keep songs to the straight and narrow, in perfect pop form. It's all in there.

And so Radiobaghdad's unusual song subjects (and playing style) don't get too annoying. After all, these are some tight, tight, tight arrangements. I can only imagine what the band is like live, but on this disc the results are loads of smiles.

What I expected when I saw the Blasting Room credits. Radiobaghdad kept its quirks restrained, and so a great disc ensued. I'm still bouncing around.

Radioinactive
Pyramidi
(Mush)
reviewed in issue #221, 9/3/01

There are hip-hop acts who innovate musically, tearing apart the beats and reassembling them into something wondrous. Then there are the rhymers who take apart words and ideas, splicing them into true poetry. Radioinactive does both.

I don't think you understand just how rare this is. Especially in the how. Radioinactive adheres--on the surface--to contemporary rap styles, dropping melodic choruses over heavily rhythmic verses. Just below the surface, however, the rules don't exist.

Beats fly willy nilly, melodies are deconstructed, ideas are dissected. Full-on creative ferment aided by some actual heavy thought. Okay, so some of the stuff is silly. The chaff blows away, revealing a most intelligent core.

Radioinactive is that most rare of collectives, a group of folks who are able to push the boundaries of both music and rhyming thought. Few challenging works are as accessible and enjoyable as this. This is the real deal.

Radiopuhelimet
Hygiene 7"
(Alternative Tentacles)
reviewed in issue #70, 2/14/95

Five tracks from four Finnish albums. The word is Jello loves the band, and wanted the U.S. to get a taste. Fine by me.

Sounding somewhat like a mix of D.O.A.'s bombast and DK's speed, Radiopuhelimet (whatever that means) pulls a mean sled. This is great raw punk. Period.

Maybe A.T. would like to license some of the albums for the U.S.

Please?

Raging Slab
Dynamite Monster Boogie Concert
(Def American)
reviewed in issue #33, 4/30/93

Always far too metal for the blues, and just too weird for metal, Raging Slab have been releasing albums for six years, and an amazingly few number of people have figured out how cool they are.

Where I liked their previous efforts because they were rather understated, this fucker is so overcranked I could stone half of Austin with it.

But apart from a production that seems determined to make them into another Led Zeppelin (perish the thought), the songs still kick ass. And most of the time all the glitter can be missed if you turn the volume up high enough, to the point where the candle on top of your speaker starts to crack.

That's the only way anyone should listen to Raging Slab.

One of those bands that just keeps on keeping on. Raging Slab has kicking a hole in the blues for a hell of a long time.

The main problem is that the band doesn't take the blues anywhere. Mired somewhere between ZZ Top and Hendrix, the folks just haven't been able to move forward musically. This is no different.

The production is nicely punchy, and the songs are catchier than usual, though that old "metal blues stomp" sound cranks out a bit more than I'd like. I know exactly why Rick Rubin is so enamored of the folks, but I think the results need to be better to warrant their contract.

Good drinking music, I guess, if you usually crank the Sabs when you're downing the Jack. This is better than I expected, but not by much.

Rahowa
Cult of the Holy War
(Resistance)
reviewed in issue #93, 12/4/95

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

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

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

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

Rain Fell Within
Believe
(Dark Symphonies)
reviewed in issue #208, 11/20/00

Willowy female vocals, a light take on the doom metal sound and long songs sculpted along classical lines. Altogether, Rain Fell Within has a rather unusual feel.

Basically, this might be too metal for goth fans and too goth for metal fans. There isn't the power at the bottom of the sound to really drive home the grinding doom. And the vocals are much more operatic than the rest of the band.

The thing is, I think that Rain Fell Within has really found something by sticking between the extremes. The sound isn't thin or underdeveloped; it merely doesn't conform to type. And that is hardly a sin.

Other nice touches include some great Eurometal-style lead guitar work and a generally unhurried approach to the songs. For those who like their music just a bit off normal, Rain Fell Within delivers. Fine work.

Blake Rainey
Appetizer Sickness
(Two Sheds)
reviewed in issue #254, June 2004

There are some folks (though not me) that think Uncle Tupelo's third album, the mostly-acoustic one recorded by Peter Buck, is that band's master work. On it, Tweedy and Farrar played a lot of old folk songs and added a few modern chestnuts of their own composition. This album has the same spare, agonizing feel of March 16-20, 1992. Rainey's voice even sounds like an odd amalgam of the two.

What's really strange (and cool) is that Rainey's voice also has something of a 1960s Neil Diamond feel. He has that certain assured self-awareness that doesn't quite cross over into the flat-out cocky smarm of Neil in the 70s and beyond. It's a great voice, and no matter how fine these songs may be (and they're quite good), it's that voice that carries this album.

Which is why the lean sound works so well. There's Rainey's voice and his guitar. Sometimes a piano or something else drops by, but mostly there's Rainey's voice. I can't think of an album so dominated by a vocal performance since Patty Griffin's Living with Ghosts.

As I rate that album as one of the ten best ever recorded (by anyone, anywhere, any genre, at any time) that's a reasonable jigger of praise. Blake Rainey doesn't go straight for the jugular like Griffin did on Ghosts, but he's got quite a few compelling stories to tell nonetheless. Arresting from beginning to end.

The Rainmakers
Skin
(V&R Records)
reviewed in issue #148, 11/24/97

Many of my finest college memorias have a Rainmakers soundtrack playing behind them. One of the first nights out with my future wife, wild evenings when the pitchers and the music just kept flowing. Whenever the Rainmakers came to Columbia, they played everything they'd ever recorded and then some. Shows that lasted three or four hours. Awe-inspiring stuff.

Then they got dropped from Mercury (in the U.S., anyway), and Rich went off to play with Webb Wilder and others. Steve, Bob and Pat hung around the K.C. area, and I even caught some of the Friday acoustic shows at the now-defunct Shadow and a benefit they did in October 1992. A lifetime ago, if you ask me.

I haven't heard the Flirting with the Universe album that was released in Canada and Norway a couple years ago, so this is my first taste of "new" Rainmakers this decade. Bob is still writing about the failures of our culture, in particular here on society's treatment of women. The music is still clearly descended from the CCR swamp groove, but with much more variation than before.

And as an old fan, I don't like all of that experimentation. While the acoustic ballad "Remember Me By" is quite effective, the next track, "Did You See the Lightening" doesn't. That song combines the rhythm and basic riff from "Thirty Days" (off the third album) and grafts on a rootsy, sing-along chorus. That one falls dreadfully flat for me.

On the whole, though, this is a good album. Comparisons to my well-worn set of three Mercury albums from the eighties are silly. This is eight years down the line, and I've got to be honest: It's great to hear the guys again. The material is a bit more uneven, and the production leaves the sound much more sparse (the function of a limited budget, I assume), but the Rainmakers remain one of the most thoughtful, thought-provoking bands around. Good to hear that fire hasn't been quenched.

Rainshine
Fallen Hero
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #221, 9/3/01

Riff-heavy hard rock punctuated by a technical industrial style and keyboards. In other words, a number of relatively disparate elements tossed in the blender.

It works when there's a good hook. "Anything" is a bit poppier and more uptempo (with some lovely glammy vocals), but that song works. So does "Time," which is grounded a bit more in the band's regular style.

The hook is the thing. And Rainshine's a little hit or miss with those. Here's my test: I listen, and if the chorus makes me feel a little uncomfortable then I know something missing. A piece didn't fall in right. This applies to writing and lots of other artistic endeavors as well. The gut is a good judge.

I like what these guys are trying to do. Generally, the verses are fairly solid. They just need some kick-ass choruses to put them over the top. I mean, if you're gonna play an anthem, play an anthem!

Raison D'Etre
In Sadness, Silence and Solitude
(Cold Meat Industry)
reviewed in issue #146, 10/27/97

Truly gothic soundscapes. The six songs average over eight minutes in length, and they're worth every second. Great care has gone into crafting these exquisite explorations into the potential of sound, and perhaps more importantly, the sonic potential of silence.

Lots of empty spaces. This is a truly three-dimensional sound, occupied by all sorts of thoughts and beings. It doesn't take much impetus to leap past the material world and lurch into this one, searching out nooks and crannies in an attempt to get away from it all.

And even if you don't go that far, this is achingly beautiful stuff. The sort of album that makes morbid people ecstatic. Just the way the sounds emerge from the fog and then retreat sends shivers.

I've always liked sound construction albums, and this is one of the best I've heard. Wonderfully evocative songs. It's way to easy to get lost within. Returning is only one option.

Two discs of odds and ends from one of the more visionary dark music pioneers of the decade. Peter Andersson (also the guy behind the Atomine Elektrine album reviewed earlier) knows how to take basic soundscapes and turn them into flowing, 3-D sounds, pieces which quickly envelop an entire consciousness.

Like a truly fine CD-ROM game, there are so many little spots in the music to run and hide in, to skip and jump through that repeat listens are never the same as the first. Of course it's gloomy; that's the point. But work within, and it's easy to find a wide range of emotions and ideas.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the gorgeously appointed liners. Style in packaging is a Cold Meat Industry trademark, and this set is no different. The liners here are (basically) eight paintings by Alexander Nemkovsky, haunting images which only heighten the impact of the music.

Everyone involved with every step of this project knew how to do things right, and they did. Hey, these aren't throwaway bits. They're just as complete and awe-inspiring as any Raison D'Etre I've heard before. Just another reason to fall under the spell.

No one creates new worlds out of whole cloth like Peter Andersson, the guy behind Raison D'Etre. What separates him from everyone else is the totality of his vision and his execution. The sound is so full, so textured that it takes but a second to be walking within it, experiencing an entirely new way of contemplating consciousness.

This set is somewhat less complicated than previous outings, but still just as involving. What Andersson has done is strip his soundscapes down to the bare bones, and then add just enough color to bring the first hints of dawn to the walls.

Oh yeah, this album lies deep in the dark. Astonishingly pretty at times, at any moment there is always the possibility of impending mortal terror. Not in the shrill, slasher style, but a more meaningful sort of fright. Such as when the world that you thought you knew has changed into something utterly strange and wonderful.

The thrill of meandering through these pieces cannot be overstated. There are so many cheesy ways to play music like this. There are few who can do it even half as well. Raison D'Etre is the real deal.

Ral Partha Vogelbacher
The More Nice Fey Elven Gnomes Are Hiding in My Toilet Again
(Megalon)
reviewed in issue #217, 6/4/01

A band, not a person. The convoluted and somewhat silly title doesn't really give an idea as to the minimalist fare on the disc. Most songs have some vocals, a little guitar and/or banjo and (quietly) squalling electronic noise used for percussive effect.

Contemplative, but not particularly moody. The songs are constructed as much as played; pieces come and go as if they've been assembled. That doesn't detract from the smoothness of the arrangements. Rather, it simply makes the songs sound a bit more thoughtful.

Does that make any sense? I hope so. The songs are generally quiet, but they possess a strength that can't be shaken. Real ideas stand behind these songs, both in the lyrics and music.

And that's what makes this album a winner. Sometimes when the sound is all out in the open, not obscured by heavy-handed production or messy arrangements, it can make the strongest statement. That's what happened here.

Ramallah
But a Whimper EP
(Bridge Nine)
reviewed in issue #238, February 2003

I'm guessing the cover tells you what you need to know about the subject matter. Rob Lind has written a short (14-minute) but intense meditation on the situation in Israel. He does take sides, but his thought is cogent and well-conceived. You can quibble with his conclusions, but not the argument itself. As for the music, this is precisely the sort of rage that extreme hardcore coveys better than anything else.

Simply blistering. Imagine The Decline, only banded (there is some short space between the songs). Lind performed most of the instruments (Neil Dyke played drums and J. Bannon added some vocals on about half the tracks), and that single-minded focus really shoves these songs into overdrive.

An intense experience. No matter your personal feelings on the Palestinian/Israeli conflict (and I must confess sympathy for Lind's point-of-view here), this shattering EP is worth experiencing. Good art can convey so much more than reality. This isn't merely good; it's fucking great.

Rambler 454
Talk Down the Sky EP
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #245, September 2003

One part Stones, one part Big Star, one part T. Rex and another part I can't quite identify, Rambler 454 is an instant time machine back to 1972. And I mean that in a good way.

Okay, so the songs aren't quite as electric or timeless as the bands referenced (no crime there). The feel is still the same. Rambler 454 makes these rootsy pop songs sound off-the-cuff, almost impromptu. And that's quite cool.

Yeah, I do wish the boys would work a little harder to find their own sound. There are a couple of riffs that almost sound straight copped. But this is a fun little set nonetheless. Carefree and highly enjoyable.

The Ramblin' Ambassadors
Avanti
(Mint)
reviewed in issue #246, October 2003

So is it fair to say that most of the best instrumental rock and roll comes from the great white north? Oh, sure, perhaps the finest instrumental band of the last 20 years (Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet) was Canadian, but does that mean Americans don't know how to rock without vocals?

The Fucking Champs aside, I'd have to answer yes. But in any case, Mint seems to find these wacky Canadian instrumental quartets and trios with ease. Which brings me to the latest example: The Ramblin' Ambassadors.

One part surf (there's always one part surf), one part spaghetti western (ditto), one part psychobilly and one part bad attitude, these three guys really have a great feel for the instrumental. These songs say more than most songs with vocals. Well, they say it louder than most songs with vocals, anyway.

Easy to love, easy to play over and over again. The Ramblin' Ambassadors have crafted a short, sweet album full of cheesy licks that are very quickly addictive. Quite the confection.

Ramona the Pest
Birds, Bugs, Bones EP
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #224, 11/5/01

Nothing spectacular or unusual here, just solid pop music with all the trimmings. Ramona the Pest doesn't bother with conventions. I mean, one of the four songs here is the old nursery rhyme "Itsy Bitsy Spider."

Each song has a different mood and a different feel. And yet they're all connected sonically by Valerie Esway's strong and supple vocals. Whether the songs burn past or simply float on by, her voice is always right where it should be.

And the band as a whole does a fine job of putting these songs together in such a way as to make sense. Each piece is easily identifiable as a Ramona the Pest song. Which shows that this trio is right where it should be.

Rancid
Rancid (advance tape)
(Epitaph)
reviewed in issue #33, 4/30/93

Great songs to warm the cockles of any punk's heart. To call it wonderful wouldn't be doing it justice.

Yes, there are 23 songs here. And if you have 23 good songs to release...

Well, so maybe only 20 are good. Life goes on. As most of you know, this is a couple of OpIvy hands, Tim Armstrong and Matt Freeman, with Brett Reed on drums. Lars Frederiksen (guitar) was added to fill out the sound.

While this is tightly produced, the band has an almost self-consciously sloppy sound that is a little addictive. It's so easy to imagine the raucous fun of a Rancid show. All you have to do is turn up the volume.

Much stronger than their debut (I think the extra guitar is very helpful), Rancid moves forward with Let's Go. High class all the way.

EVERYONE reported that Rancid signed with a major label (most often mentioned: DGC). Like Newsweek and about a million kids on the Internet. So perhaps what happened was that someone sat down and explained to the boys just how the Offspring made (at least) twice as much cash sticking with Epitaph than the guys would have with major label royalty rates.

Whatever. This third installment in as many years (It was really just a little over two years ago that the first one came out, right?) cleans the music up just a bit more, but the stuff is just as cheap and bouncy as before.

Absolutely forgettable, but admittedly amusing. Rancid has yet to record an album that was as good as OpIvy, but I think if you took the best songs from these three, you'd be doing pretty good. If a song like "Roots Radicals" doesn't burn up MTV like the stuff from the last album, then I've lost my ear for the shit.

Complain all you want (this is so simple, a child could play it; whatever), you aren't the one who did it. Shut up. If Rancid makes a shitload of cash making slutty punk records, great. If you can do better, go on ahead and do it.

I seem to remember MTV announcing the demise of Rancid sometime in late 1996. Maybe I'm crazy. What did happen is all of the members took some time off to focus on other projects. For example, Tim Armstrong got together with Epitaph big guy Brett Gurewitz to start up the Hellcat label, which has kicked out an astonishing number of good ska bands in the last year.

But all that is put aside for the moment. The new Rancid has arrived, and it begins where ...And Out Come the Wolves left off. Highly flavored sloppy pop punk music with a wonderful lack of attention paid to enunciation. You already knew that, of course. What you want to know is does this album measure up?

Um, the easy answer is yes. Branching out into even more sounds and feels than before, Rancid stretches itself nicely. The songs themselves are as tightly written (and loosely performed) as ever, bouncy, catchy and addictive. Just what you demand, and a little bit more.

There's been some serious hype and anticipation for this album, and all I can say is that Rancid exceeded my high expectations. This is a solid piece of work from a band who has nothing left to prove. With a little luck, this could be the album of the summer.

Rancid's second eponymous release, though I think the first one qualifies as an EP and not a full-length (All I got is a tape, so I can't check the time to be sure). As the rather brief press note states, this is by far their fastest and heaviest release.

Not that the boys completely give up on skacore. It's just that there's much more of an emphasis on power, though Rancid's haggard tunefulness hasn't been lost. What has been dropped are the most obvious Clash references.

I get the feeling that the guys finally decided that mainstream success was always going to be one step away, and they should just make music they liked. I'm not saying this was a conscious decision, but I can detect a rejection of some of the more commercial aspects of their last album.

Brett Gurewitz produced, which probably also added to the power element. He can crank out a thick punk sound like few others. This is, by far, the most spirited Rancid album. I'm not sure how it will hold up over time, but boy, is it a rush. I think the guys might stick around for a while.

Rancid plays six NOFX tunes. NOFX plays six Rancid tunes. Fat Mike writes the liners. A winning formula all the way around. Lots of fun, and that's pretty much the whole point.

Random
Too Stoned to Sneeze--Without Regretting It
(Evil Teen)
reviewed in issue #175, 1/25/99

Random is Jon Drukman. And with the Evil Teen label, you have an idea of what you're gonna get. Aggressive beat work, and after that, well, who knows?

The beat work is impressive, heavily syncopated and very stylish. There are some samples and a bit in the way of keyboards behind (of course, bass), but the key here is the rhythms. Personally, this stuff just knocks me out. Full-bore road straight to my core.

So if yer hopin' for some disco diva wailing away or for some grand musical statement, fergit it. Me, I'm happy with the beats. They rile me in all the right ways.

Which is the point, I do believe. Drukman has a handle on what works and what doesn't, and that makes Random an impressive project, indeed.

Random Karma
Coming Down
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #187, 8/30/99

Silly, perhaps inane lyrics tossed off over generic beats, with some nice fuzz guitar meandering along at times. Oh, yeah, this is some strange stuff.

It's a one-man band sorta situation. This is certainly a singular vision. If more than one person worked on these songs, they would have come out so strangely. There would have been a bit more variety, though that probably would have made the sound somewhat more normal.

Intriguing, though I still haven't decided whether or not I really dig it. For all the inherent absurdity, each song does have something interesting flitting through it. Somewhere. Somehow.

But still, Random Karma plows through some of the more surreal territory I've heard in a while. I kept listening, mostly because of the rubbernecking factor (accidents are cool), though I must say I admire the vision. Even if I don't really share it.

Phil Ranelin
The Time Is Now!
(Tribe-Hefty)
reviewed in issue #216, 5/14/01

A re-issue of a 1974 album (the first of two Phil Ranelin re-issues reviewed here), The Time Is Now! is, quite simply, a stunner. Ranelin plays trombone, and he assembled a sizable set of musicians to come together and collaborate.

Those familiar with and entranced by John Coltrane's later deconstructionist work will recognize some similar themes. Also, remember that this album was recorded at the time that fusion was running rampant through the jazz world. There are some fusion elements (particularly in the way the piano is used), though the instrumentation fits in with "traditional" jazz.

The players obviously felt free to express themselves in any way they liked, but there was a solid commitment to the group sound as well. I've got to say that I've never been able to get enough jazz trombone. I love the way that mellow tone (and the similar but higher tone of the flugelhorn) plays off the sharper sax and trumpet sounds.

Ranelin's original notes say, "Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs. Personally, I feel like it was a blessing." Couldn't have said it better myself. Sometimes everything comes together in a cosmic wave of brilliance. Such is the case with this album.

The second of two Hefty re-issues, this album first was released in 1976. Conceived as a call to strengthen the "Afro-American" family, this album shows Ranelin's almost complete progression from the free deconstructionism of Coltrane to the fusion sound so prevalent back in the mid 70s.

Indeed, the sounds of the two albums could hardly be different. Vibes from the Tribe is very sentimental album. Simple melody is preferred to hard bop reworkings, and more often Ranelin uses his wonderful trombone tone as a lush backdrop rather than an instrument of exploration.

I prefer the experimental over the sentimental any day, and so I have to admit that this album comes as a bit of a disappointment after listening to The Times Is Now!. But I can hear that Ranelin took a real artistic chance here, and even if it didn't pay off in a way that I would like, I've got to give him credit for walking off the edge without fear.

The creativity is just as intense and expressive on this album. I just didn't like so much the paths it took. Another side of Phil Ranelin, a man who obviously had (and has) talent to burn.

Anthony Rapp
Look Around
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #222, 9/24/01

Back when Marshall Crenshaw got started, his straight-ahead rock and roll really shook things up. All of a sudden, people started thinking that maybe there would be a place for that sort of music in the middle of disco and punk and new wave and all that.

So it's fitting that Anthony Rapp does a Crenshaw piece here ("Lesson #1") and slings out basic rock and roll with some nice hooks. Of course, these days this sort of music has made a comeback, at least in the out here in the boondocks of the underground.

And Rapp's nicely-textured sound is most welcome. He can write songs pretty well, but he's just as comfortable using someone else's material and making it his own. There is a talent to that, you know.

Just as there's a talent to making good, solid music. Rapp knows how to sell a song, and he does so repeatedly here. This album is a lot of fun, a splash of cold water that cleanses my palate.

Rapscallion
Chameleon Drool
(Red Decibel)
reviewed in issue #5, 1/15/92

They're back!

After a year-long or so absence from the scene, Red Decibel returns with three new releases. Let's not rehash all the fun of the previous year, but rather exult in what has been brought down from the mountaintop.

Rapscallion, who had RdB's first album release a year and a half ago, comes up with a sophomore effort that says "Fuckit" to their production value, and moves forward stylisitcally.

Oh, except for the listings of the song titles. I figured it out after a listen to the album, but really. We still have DJs who are announcing the first song as "Chameleon drools, drool on me." I know, we breed them big and stupid out here, but still.

Right, back to the album. At times the sound is a little close to Jane's Addiction for my taste, but the grooves are heavier and tastier than any Perry and his boys ever brewed. This is one solid disc. No filler, just bitchen music. Tracks? I'll let you figure out the titles for yourself. But "The Holy Shit" is really cool. Not to mention the rest of the album.

It's a bit of nostalgia for me, but my first contact with Jake came after I reported their first album, Gardens of Machinery , #1 to CMJ. I thought it was cool the head of a label would call me up personally. Of course, I had no idea he was the entire label, but that was back in my naive days. Oh, to remember...

Raquy and the Cavemen
Dust
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #250, February 2004

Raqui Danziger plays middle-eastern drums and bowed instruments. Most often she plays the dumbek (which is also known as the tabla, among other names), but she's more than proficient on a bewildering array of pieces.

Her husband, Liron Peled, is her main collaborator (he most often plays guitars or a Moog that is specially set up to play "in-between" western notes). Together, they play traditional songs, stuff from modern masters and their own compositions. It isn't that easy to figure out which is which just by listening--proof that they know what they're doing.

There's a palpable intensity to these songs, but also a delightful playfulness, which keeps everything on an even keel. There's no use playing music if you can't have fun with it. Same goes for listening.

I know jack about this kind of music, but I like what I hear. Raquy has a fine sense of adventure, and these pieces are well-arranged and played. This disc makes it easy to step into another world.

Mitchell Rasor
Waterloo in Reverse
(Big Deal)
reviewed in issue #140, 8/4/97

Mitchell Rasor's got a big bag of tunes, and he won't be satisfied until I hear each and every one of them.

Eighteen, and not one sounds significantly like another. Rasor bounds about, riffing ethereal pop here, driving funk there and lots of colors of rock in between. He's got an inerring instinct for tight musical grooves, and he feels no need to fuck with a good thing. In fact, many songs consist of one groove, with little or no vocal help. Bravo!

I'm not sure if he's trying to make a statement about anything (more likely, everything, I guess), but this intensely personal album is a wonder and a joy to hear. It sounds like he wrote and recorded whatever was on his mind at the moment, and that off-hand style is precisely what this stuff needs. The album is so natural sounding, it's often hard to believe that this was even recorded.

Pretty damned fine. Rasor has a handle on what he wants to say and how to say it. To call this astonishing is to traffic in understatement.

See also Snares & Kites.

Rasputina
How We Quit The Forest
(Columbia)
reviewed in issue #165, 8/17/98

The 'tina girls' debut was a swirling mass of strings and spooky vocals. This time they crank it up a notch -- a la rock and roll style. Still three cellos and three voices, but with the added production and percussion of Chris Vrenna (ex-Nine Inch Nails & alleged current G N' R skin pounder), it's like these girls have come to take over (old school) Godzilla style.

It sounds like it could be rock. They've certainly got the effects hooked up to their strings. Maybe it is rock, but with a twist -- the twist being the rising and falling voices of sisters in strings three. With funny, wacky lyrics about -- damn I don't know what they hell they're talking about, but it sounds cool. And the way their vibrato wa wa wa's at the end of phrases -- ooh. Just give me a little more girls, I'm almost there.

-- Matt Worley

Years and years ago, a good friend of mine (not my brother, who wrote the above review) tried to turn me on to Rasputina. "You'll dig them, Jon. They...well, I can't tell you what they sound like, but there's these two women singing and then cellos start playing." It's likely my friend didn't use the word "women," but otherwise that's pretty much verbatim. But as I am pretty much overwhelmed by what arrives in my mailbox, I never searched out Rasputina.

Turns out my friend was pretty dead on. It's difficult to describe exactly what Rasputina sounds like, though with the female vocals and cellos, well, there is a certain goth vibe. Goth as in Love and Rockets, I guess. In fact, I think that's about the best touchpoint I can come up with, though the two outfits don't sound a whit like each other.

Except for their willingness to be very loud or very soft at any given moment. The songs themselves are quite conventional in construction, but the requisite cello arrangements (generally augmented by more traditional rock instrumentation) often turn the songs on their heads. And that's what so cool.

Perhaps the centerpiece here is "If Your Kisses Can't Hold the Man You Love," a loopy song filled with asides and non-sequiturs. Somehow it all holds together, until it peters out at the end. This odd sense of anti-climax and general disdain for pandering to the audience has earned Rasputina a devoted (if small) following. This album should more than satisfy the devotees, and might even prick up the ears of a new novices.

Rats of Unusual Size
Yes I Can
(Funky Mushroom)
reviewed in issue #64, 10/15/94

My first encounter with ROUS came about five years ago, when I discovered their mordant and twisted cover of "Summertime Blues" on, well, I think it was their first album. I simply remember some other DJ bringing the forties, it was summer and no authority figures were near the station. That rendition touched a chord in my soul. I do wish I remember the name of the album, though.

Categorizing here is dangerous, because ROUS make it clear there is no intention of sticking to any particular style. I like to think the Rats sound like the Stones off drugs (which would be pretty twisted, indeed). Everything seems to shuffle around a broad base of 60s pop and blues riffs. With enough distortion to make sure your parents don't get nostalgic. Well, the lyrics probably would take care of that little problem, too.

With the Rats, you have to anticipate the unusual. No two songs sound alike (which is nice), and there is this cool feel that does, indeed, make me nostalgic for college summer nights where the only thing that needed to be done was mass consumption of intoxicants. And no hangover the next day, either.

The sign over the Rats of Unusual Size entrance reads "Leave your brain at the door". I'm happy to comply, but even so, this set has a few more clunkers than usual.

The usual guests and malcontents show up in various spots (that John S. Hall track is #17, part of the "official bonus portion" of the CD), and the music is pretty derivative and lame. Of course, I could write that about anywhere. The point with any Rats album is fun.

And I'm afraid some of the tunes (the "Shatner Rap" in particular) sound far too crafted to be taken as goofy humor. Yes, sometimes stupid stuff just can't pass for clever, even in a world ruled by Beavis and Butthead.

Kinda a bummer, really. I generally like what the Rats do, but this effort seems just a bit too forced. Some nice moments ("Aargh!!!" and the weird Sesame Street intro in the bonus parts), but a lot of stuff that sounds suspiciously like filler.

Raw Power
Too Tough to Burn
(Contmepo-Cargo)
reviewed in issue #38, 8/31/93

Italian thrash. Nothing special here, except that I do like the song whose only lyric seems to be "fuck". An interesting concept.

The CD mastering is pretty low, so maybe that had something to do with it. This is so... mundane.

Karl tells me these guys are legendary in Italy. Take that for what it's worth.

My second experience with Raw Power, and I like it about as much as the first time.

Pretty banal hardcore, very strangely recorded. Too Tough to Burn sounded to me like a joke, and I can't exactly say why. Fight is no joke, but it isn't very interesting, either. And the drums sound like, I don't know, something other than drums. The snare sound is so bizarre I can barely explain. Why don't you just listen?

Ten years ago, Raw Power had a few good songs and a decent rep. This is the last prayer of the dying. Best just kick the corpse.

Amy Ray
Prom
(Daemon)
reviewed in issue #263, April 2005

If you recognize Daemon Records as the external expression of Amy Ray's musical interests, then perhaps this album won't surprise you. Hell, if you've picked up her first solo album (Stag), you'd know she doesn't hew to the expected Indigo Girls vibe when she steps out on her own.

Nonetheless, the gentle (yet punchy) pop feel of this album is somewhat surprising. If Stag was something of a dagger, Prom is more of a stiletto--sneakier and even more deadly. Ray's lyric focus is even tighter (once she gets a hold of a subject, she wrings it dry), and often a line or two would strike me a song or two down the line.

The subject of this album, most often, is high school. In particular, how difficult high school can be for anyone who is perceived as different. Ray tends to focus on sexual orientation, of course, but it's not hard to insert any other sort of social distinction into these scenarios and find a mirror of your own experience.

Damn if we aren't all the same, after all. I know, it's a hackneyed and sometimes tiresome message. But Ray makes it sound fresh and new, and these songs are simply joys to hear. I skipped my own prom (one of those "different" things, I guess), so I'm happy to attend this one some 18 years down the line.

James Ray
Best of James Ray's Performance & Gangwar
(Fifth Colvmn)
reviewed in issue #103, 3/18/96

The press and liner notes don't seem to agree on some facts, but here's what I have divined: This disc contains songs from a couple albums released on Merciful Records, which, of course, is the original Sisters of Mercy UK imprint. Andrew Eldritch did some of the producing. Gives you an idea of what's to come.

Gothic-influenced pop industrial stuff. Some really long tunes, too. Apparently there are four more James Ray albums coming out through Fifth Colvmn here in the U.S. I assume they're re-issues.

Ray avoids some of the dreary excesses that later Sisters stuff got bogged down in, and simply cranks out quite a few moody yet catchy tunes. Good enough for me. Sure, he's taking whole pages right out of the Sisters' book, but if Eldritch has signed off on it, I guess he doesn't mind.

Another one of those "if that's your thing" deals, but I know there's a bunch of Sisters fans out there, and Ray replicates that concept pretty well without too much silliness. A fine execution of someone else's original concept.

Razed in Black
Shrieks, Laments and Anguished Cries
(Cleopatra)
reviewed in issue #103, 3/18/96

Hawaii's biggest industrial band. Sez so much, eh?

Of course, getting help from Birmingham 6 (who remixed "Cyberium" and mastered the disc along with Lene Reidel) can't be a bad thing.

Rather techno oriented for such a heavy sound (bringing to mind FLA more than once), Razed in Black does a good job of building the sound in each song to a fever pitch. Using the same song construction can get repetitive and dull, but RiB does a decent job of manipulating the process and switching gears when necessary.

The key to this is the great sound achieved by Reidel and Birmingham 6. The tones are sharp, and the music cuts through space like a razor. No mush allowed. And even with this edgy sound, RiB still conveys a wide range of emotions.

A cool disc to explore. Plenty of good songs; a fun trip through the techno side of the industrial dance sound.

The double CD notation is a bit of a misnomer. There's the album, and then there's another disc of alternate takes. It's cool and all--almost like an instant remix collection--but don't expect a second set of new songs.

That's alright. Razed in Black sets the gothic new wave industrial disco sound on fire. This stuff is certifiably club-ready--wait, are there still dance clubs? Oh yeah. Back in civilized parts of the world.

But enough about me. Razed in Black has an inerrent sense of melody and a knack for finding just the right moment to kick a song into anthem status. There are times when I wish I could get a little bit more from the folks; I think the sound is a wee bit restrained from time to time. But I think that might work better for the dance floor.

I don't know if this stuff was programmed for the parquet. Doesn't really matter. That's where this stuff belongs. The tunes throb with life, and they're impossible to put away. Quite the infectious set.

Re:Cooperation
TransCollaboration
(Uncle Buzz)
reviewed in issue #238, February 2003

David Cooper Orton and James Sidlo have been trading tapes for five years. One of them would start a loop, the other would add a little something, then the first would drop in a little more and so forth. In the end, we get the 15 tracks on this disc.

My description probably tipped you off, but you've gotta want to really listen to get into this album. Sidlo and Orton didn't send tapes back and forth across the Atlantic in order to craft three-minute pop songs, although the songs do average four minutes in length. You've just gotta love listening for the points of intersection, those places where the ideas cross and then pollinate entirely new thoughts.

Yes, this is abstract fare. Often pretty, but decidedly without structure. Each little loop contains its own rules of physics, which is why it's always interesting to hear how the different pieces come together. The clash is rarely cataclysmic, but it's always intriguing.

I know, some of you out there are calling me some kind of artsy-fartsy freaky music critic who only likes unlistenable music. Well, I think I've made the case for listening to this outstanding album. Thinking about music while you listen to it isn't that hard. In fact, it's damned enjoyable. Especially when two talents guys like Orton and Sidlo are purveying their ideas.

Reaching Quiet
In the Shadow of the Living Room
(Mush)
reviewed in issue #228, April 2002

Comprised of the team Odd Nosdam and Why?, Reaching Quiet is a suburban symphony in four parts. If you want to look at it that way. I do, so that's how I'm gonna talk about it.

As the liners say, this puppy was recorded back at the boys' ancestral homes after said artists dropped out of art school. I knew there was a reason for such self-indulgent, meandering stuff. These guys were mooching off their parents and goofing around.

That said, there's a whole lot of cool sounds here. You kinda have to mine for them; the songs are decidedly incoherent, and don't even ask about the album as a whole (there are a few themes, but they're stated and restated so unevenly as to be unrecognizable most of the time). Sometimes that's just how it goes.

The greatness here isn't in the finished project, but in the pieces. In general, this puppy sounds like it was made by a couple of guys too cool for school. Except... there are so many wonderful beats and sample constructions here that I really have to recommend it. Weird? Incomplete? An utter mess? Yep. And yet, most intriguing.

The Real McKenzies
Loch'd & Loaded
(Honest Don's)
reviewed in issue #221, 9/3/01

Pop punk with bagpipes. Quite the novelty. I have to admit, it does sound cool. Even if the songs themselves are, for the most part utterly silly.

There are a few nods to "real" Scottish and Irish music, but I hear more American country than anything else--all this done up right in the pop punk style, of course.

I can't get past the novelty thing. This is fun music, certainly, but eminently forgettable. Even with the bagpipes. I dunno, maybe I need to listen a lot more or something.

Maybe not. When I got done with the disc, I wasn't quite tired of the stuff. But I didn't feel like playing it over and over, either. If there was a bit more to the music, perhaps the bagpipe element would fit in a bit better. The Real McKenzies aren't bad at all. They just don't inspire me.

Red #9
Red #9 EP
(Johnny on the Spot)
reviewed in issue #220, 8/13/01

Solid, rough riffage punctuated by nasal vocals. Kinda like if June Panic fronted an alt-rock band. Does that make any sense?

It does to me. These songs do not take the expected paths, either in terms of riff construction or key changes. Rather, they ramble around in a most endearing fashion. In other words, they're fun to hear.

There's this odd little post-grunge thing running around, and sometimes it even surfaces. Part of that is the primitive production, but part of it is intentional. I like the way these folks write and play. Red #9 does need to be a bit more consistent (sometimes the rambling falls off the page), but with some live work, a lot of that could be worked out. This is a cool set.

Red Animal War
Breaking in an Angel
(Deep Elm)
reviewed in issue #217, 6/4/01

There's a pretty heavy emphasis on the strident guitar style familiar to longtime emo fans. Red Animal War takes that insistent sound and melds it to a kinda proggy pop vision, creating something new and yet comfortingly familiar.

I get the prog feel from the way these guys play the tunes so precisely. The lead guitar and bass do trip around as well, but my reaction is mostly to the technical approach to the tunes.

The production sound is sharp, but not on edge. There's enough of a dullness, particularly in the rhythm guitar work, to keep the intricate playing from detracting from the humanity of the songs themselves. Which is good, considering the intimate nature of what's going on here.

An involved and demanding set of songs. Red Animal War doesn't make things particularly easy for the listener, but there are some obvious points of access. Like I noted earlier, there's a good mix of the old and the new, spun out into a fine synthesis. Intriguing.

The artwork is a series of photos from 11/22/63. Another one of those "famous" dates. I'm not sure what the Kennedy assassination has to do with the songs here, but whatever. The art sure does look cool.

Red Animal War focuses on the rhythmic side of emo. Indeed, its exceptional focus on a tight center really impresses me. This particular style always seems to invoke passion for me. Slowride, on the other hand, is all about thick riffage, power pop and soaring anthems.

Three songs each in an alternating format, and the sound counterpoint that arises is quite refreshing. I like both bands equally in this context, and the differences point out each act's strengths. This is the sorta disc that gives the split EP a good name.

The third album from these boys. Recorded at the increasingly renowned Red House Studios in Lawrence, Kan., the pieces here are grand is scope and sweeping in nature.

Emo for rock gods. I've liked previous RAW outings--a lot. But this album is simply head and shoulders above the rest. Not unlike labelmates (and Red House vets) Appleseed Cast, these boys are out to play music. Period.

And so while it might seem pretentious to include sax, xylophone or piano, these songs are fully orchestrated in that way. If a song calls for a little extra, the requisite fix is acquired. But this doesn't sound like a series of hodgepodges. Rather, this album is a collection of complete thoughts. Full expression is the key.

Pretty? Sometimes. Frightening? That, too. Utterly awe-inspiring? Yeah. Red Animal War has always been awfully damned good. The boys just put together their first truly great recording. Do not miss.

Red Aunts
#1 Chicken
(Epitaph)
reviewed in issue #72, 3/15/95

Epitaph has always meant good punk with pop overtones. But there have been sloppy exceptions; L7 and early NOFX come to mind. And you know how those stories have come along.

So there may be hope for the Red Aunts. The music is sloppy, the same chords relentlessly pursued, the production a mess. But if you can get past all of the crap, there are decent cores of songs in there. Alright, it takes a little work to clear the brush. Don't blame me.

Maybe the Red Aunts will clean up their act and join the respectable face of pop punk. Or maybe they'll continue to spew venom and vomit with aplomb. Perhaps that's what punk is really about, after all.

The second installment of the legend of the Red Aunts. Four women who don't compromise, period.

My brothers bought them beer at a show in Albuquerque last year, and the boys seem to have really picked up a fascination with the band. I haven't had the luck to see the Aunts live, which may be why I'm not bowled over by the discs.

Where #1Chicken was rough and greasy, though, Saltbox is lean and clean. I like this version better, though there are some spooky Go-Go's moments. Still, no one can deny that the Aunts have the true punk spirit, whatever that means these days.

And that does have its own merits, after all.

The sound has evolved once again. Many times, actually. The Red Aunts still rely on stripped down punk ravers, but these songs are so much more cohesive than what the band has released in the past. Musical anarchy has merged into an uneasy truce between definable structure and the impulse to turn tail and scream "fuckit!"

Playing to the band's strength, the songs feature as little instrumentation as possible, often relying on a single riff or drum line. The melodic ideas are simple, but more importantly, they're easily identified. No more cataleptic romps through the vagaries of "true punk spirit". This stuff is, dare I say it, sophisticated?

Aw, hell, now I've screwed everything up. But then, I wasn't expecting a Red Aunts album that was this commercial. Now, everything's relative. They're not going to head over to the studio and back up Celine Dion any time soon. But then again, the carefree days of random music violence seem to be in the past.

It's always interesting to hear a band find a newfound joy of craft and focus, no matter how greasy the sound remains. Amazing what some serious songwriting work can do. Most impressively, though, the Red Aunts keep alive their appreciation of an unrestrained performance style. Yeah, this is far technically superior to anything that has come before. But the excitement level remains high, thus perpetuating the legend.

Red Card
Red Card
(Useless Chords)
reviewed in issue #245, September 2003

Blistering noisy rock, a screeching buzzsaw of riffage and screams. Sometimes only the best will do.

If these songs lost their focus for even a moment, they would be shapeless squalls of feedback and distortion. But no. The rhythmic center always holds, even as the sound spirals quickly out of control.

The most interesting thing about Red Card is how much acoustic guitar it uses. These aren't throbbing, massive songs, but rather small, tightly-compacted pieces. The craft is well-hidden, but it's there nonetheless.

A lean, mean set of tunes. Red Card never lets up the intensity, and the result is an album of pure adrenaline.

The Red Channels
The Red Channels
(SilverGirl)
reviewed in issue #243, July 2003

The Red Channels are Elaina Azari and Ryan Block. They don't really try to sound like a band; the pieces are quite obviously assembled. This lack of sleight-of-hand actually helps to illustrate their songs quite nicely.

In effect, the production requires listeners to consciously assimilate the songs in their heads. And since the construction can get a wee bit loopy and tangential, it's not a bad idea to give folks a bit of a heads up. "Hey! This is what's coming."

But man, what cool ideas. Azari's voice isn't particularly memorable, but she colors the songs quite well. The rest of the orchestration (a word I don't use lightly) is impeccable as well. The craft worked well in this case.

Just goes to show that there are a million ways to make cool music. The Red Channels shows its cards at every turn, and yet it still manages to surprise just as often. A wonderful little gem.

Red Giant
Ultra Magnetic Glowing Sound
(Cambodia)
reviewed in issue #175, 1/25/99

Another fuzzball from the kind folks at Cambodia. More of a Black Sabbath influence here, though the music does move along at times. Definitely what you might call "good bud" music, in any case.

And it works. Nothing particularly innovative or creative about this approach, but it's good enough to make an impact. Good tuneage for the afterglow.

Alright, alright, so the boys wallow in excess just a bit. Not egregiously, mind you, but just enough to provide that layer of comfortable cheez. Something nice to lie down on after a hard day's work.

Oh, yeah, all that and some seriously apocalyptic riffage. Lots of air guitar moments, if you don't watch yerself. But then, a little hair dancing can be a good thing.

The Red Krayola
The Red Crayola
(Drag City-Touch and Go)
reviewed in issue #61, 8/31/94

If you remember the Mayo Thompson re-issue from earlier in the summer, you should be prepared.

Having been around for over 25 years, The Red Krayola is the main vehicle of Thompson's muse. He gets a few friends together and they play some very odd music. In years past it might have been called "psychedelic pop", I suppose, but that term has mutated over the years, and I don't think that's quite right now.

I think I like "eclectic pop" better. The Red Krayola folks turn traditional rhythms ad melodies on their heads, exposing them as the true opiates of the masses. It can be difficult listening to an album with so many discordant statements, but as you know, I like that sort of thing.

Anything that makes me think this much is certainly fine. And if this music doesn't haunt your mind like a pissed off secret, then you didn't listen hard enough the first time. Like it says, "Play Extremely Loud."

Somewhere, Mayo Thompson is the epitome of cheesy pop. Just not in this universe.

This is the latest installment of Thompson's well off-kilter pop sensibilities, as realized with a plethora of friends. The best known, most likely, is Jim O'Rourke, though the names Tom Watson and Lynn Johnston also jump out (though I doubt the golfer and cartoonist, respectively, are the persons involved).

The thing about the Red Krayola (and Thompson's other work) I like the best is that with a subtle shift, this stuff would be slopped up by the Counting Crowes set. Now, I didn't just compare Hazel to such dreck, but I'm just saying a genius can do wonders with subtlety. And certainly Mayo Thompson qualifies there.

Now, I could compare this easily to Roky Erickson, though Thompson generally sticks to more acoustic and sparse arrangements. The concept of mordant psychedelia, though, is a common thread. Indeed, to fully appreciate this music, you really have to separate yourself from this particular plane and reach out toward the sound. This doesn't require drugs (self-hypnosis works much better), but I suppose they wouldn't necessarily hurt.

Hell, the stuff sounds pretty damned amazing even if you're just passively listening. Of course, this is participatory music and the muse demands no less from you, the listener. Hear and obey, O minions of music.

Not the Red Krayola that we've heard in recent years. Well, yeah, it sorta is, but the sounds are somewhat different. Lately (in the past five years or so), Mayo Thompson's reformed Red Krayola has trafficked in eclectic pop, but for the most part, stuff that is recognizable as pop. This stuff can only be recognized as slightly controlled chaos.

I can't imagine sitting at a festival and listening to this racket. Now, I dig it in my house, when I'm somewhat prepared for the wild , semi-controlled feedback lines emanating from the guitar, but if I was sitting down at a folk festival in 1967, I might have the same reaction as some of the crowd (who can be heard quite clearly often enough) who wailed or hurled insults in response.

Self-indulgent is one easy way to put it. Particularly the first, 26-minute track on the first disc. The other two pieces on that disc, recorded without an audience, are more crafted (relatively, anyway) and do kinda resemble some of the latter-day Krayola work. Of course, the live (in front of an audience) pieces on the second disc are as chaotic as the first piece. Nothing like a few people to encourage "artistic experimentation". Or something like that.

A real trip. Seriously. Sitting around the casa, I like the more adventurous stuff, the self-indulgent exercises in sonic mayhem. But I sure wouldn't have liked it had I been in the audience. Just a temperament thing. These are jams to end all jams, in both the good and the bad senses. Oh, the humanity!

The usual large conglomeration of fine folks backing up Mayo Thompson (though Jim O'Rourke is on holiday), producing the usual twisted Red Krayola fare.

On this disc, Mayo reaches back and takes some songs of his from yesteryear and gives them a new spin. The sound is much more electronically dominated. I know, that was always there, but it's like the issuance of those old Moebius-Conny Plank-Mayo tapes inspired the guy to dig into that side of things more.

Who knows? I've given up trying to guess anything when it comes to the Red Krayola. Much better to just sit there and let the looniness wash over like a comfy blanket. There is method to the madness, but madness it is. Music for the discerning lunatic. I'm happy to count myself among those folks.

This sounds like a work in progress. all Red Krayola discs do, though, and I can handle that. Just another missal to the warped masses. I'm already craving another hit.

See also Brise-Glace, Gastr del Sol, Moebius, Conny Plank and Mayo Thompson, Jim O'Rourke, Mayo Thompson and Yona-Kit.

Red Level Eleven
Fort Seduction
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #225, January 2002

The sticker on the cover connects Red Level Eleven to Sonic Youth (early, I'm guessing) and the Pixies. Not hard to hear. There is a definite Surfer Rosa vibe here. I never complain about such things.

But I hear a sophistication here that rises above those specific influences. While adhering to the "maul and pop" theory, these folks also incorporate a few ideas from the Chicago noise workshop and then drape relatively intricate vocal work over the throb.

The overall concoction is intoxicating, a bare-bones rumble which can't quite hide some cool ideas lurking in the subconscious. Yeah, the stuff is noisy (it sounds great with the levels pinned), but don't let that fool you. There's some serious thought going on.

"Crafted yet unrestrained" is something of a theme of albums I've reviewed this time out. Red Level Eleven does it as well as anyone, and in its own style as well. Most impressive.

Red Lorry Yellow Lorry
Blasting Off
(Release)
reviewed in issue #54, 5/15/94

I've heard some of their earlier stuff, and this pales a bit. General Brit snyth pop (though the real drummer is appreciated) done rather well. But the oddly muted production (the samples are all but completely buried) makes some of the songs come off as mellow Sisters of Mercy stuff.

The saving grace is good songwriting. These folk have always had a head for fine pop, and it has served them well again. The at-times demo quality of the production is a hindrance, but the quality does manage to will out.

This is the second greatest hits package, as Smashed Hits took care of the (real) early years.

Those unfamiliar with RLYL will compare the band to such contemporaries as Depeche Mode or Sisters of Mercy. But the Lorries can legitimately claim first right to the Goth-pop sound.

This collection gets it pretty much right. Mostly singles, a couple b-sides and some nice album tracks. If you heard the recent reissue of Blasting Off (a 1991 release) and thought it rather bland, dig into this set and you'll find the answer. It is a shame that entropy seems to affect musicians and artists just as surely as it does machinery. But you can always keep hold of the finest brilliance.

Red Radio Flyer
Gettin' Somewhere
(Mother West)
reviewed in issue #203, 8/7/00

It's weird, but I've heard a lot of good country-rock bands from New York. Red Radio Flyer is one of them, though it hews more to rock than country. It is always a trip to hear a wistful description of Manhattan delivered with a twang.

Tightly written and loosely performed, the songs here are replete with style and flair. The easy-going delivery simply helps to drive the great songs into my brain.

Also dead-on is the production, which adds a bit of sheen to a fairly sparse sound. None of the instruments are obscured, and plenty of emotion can be heard in the playing. Just the way you want it to be.

There's not a note here that rings false. Every song is solid, and all shine brightly. Like I said, I don't know what it is about New York, but I'm not gonna complain about the music. That would be a sin.

Red Stars Theory
Life in a Bubble Can Be Beautiful
(Touch and Go)
reviewed in issue #187, 8/30/99

Taking what can only be described as a classical approach, Red Stars Theory likes to posit a series of themes and variations in each song, adding some vocals almost as an afterthought. Certainly accessible to fans of bands like Seam or June of 44, but still well outside the mainstream consciousness.

The songs themselves sound like they flirt with abandoning consciousness at times. The pieces exist almost independently of each other, passing close to the center every once in a while and allowing their gravities to influence the song for a few seconds.

Complex and contemplative (Geez, I hope I've gotten that much across), with lots of points for cerebral access. Music like this encourages the mind to work in ways that it is not accustomed to doing. That, of course, is a compliment.

A disc like this puts me in a complimentary mood. There's so much wonderment floating past, I can only grab but a snatch or two. To be honest, I'm pretty happy with that small amount. I know there will be more.

Think of this as simply an extension of last year's full length. The first track, "And Often Off Again," is the unscrambled version of "An Alarm Goes Off." The second track, "Our Nearest Neighbors," was also recorded at the same time as the album. There are also remixes of "Parts Per Million" and "Boring Ghosts."

Red Stars Theory is not only contemplative, it ruminates over even the smallest musical details. This might explain the presence of this EP. Apparently, a few things still needed to be said about the first album. These are, indeed, new thoughts, and they're about as intriguing as the ones that came before.

These guys require rapt attention from a listener. The challenge, at times, can be steep, but the rewards are immense. Get lost, and you just might get found.

Dewey Redman
Dewey Redman in London
(Palmetto)
reviewed in issue #152, 2/9/98

As a member of the Ornette Coleman Orchestra, Charlie Haden's Liberation Orchestra, a Keith Jarrett Quintet and Pat Metheny's band (all at the right times, of course), Dewey Redman should have no fear for his reputation. And on this live set, he plays just that way: Confident and willing to take chances.

And for Redman, taking chances means playing a standard like "The Very Thought of You" in addition to the bop and free jazz pieces that cling to him. And you know what? He plays it all with verve and excitement. Music is still essential.

Which is the trick, of course. Redman is ever intense, ripping a huge chunk out of a gorgeous ballad like "Portrait in Black & White" between a couple of his compositions which lean more to the avant garde. Despite the changes in styles, everything still makes sense.

The key is the challenge, the drive to create music that speaks to the soul. Redman hasn't forgotten about that. After all this time, he's still aching to play, aching to be heard. And that desire is key.

Reel Big Fish
Goldfinger
split 7"
(Mojo Records)
reviewed in issue #125, 12/23/96

An original and a cover each from a couple of new wave ska bands.

Goldfinger's tune, "Superman" is passable ska. Nothing spectacular. And the cover of Squeeze's "Up the Junction" sounds just like the original, with very little ska additions.

Reel Big Fish covers "Take on Me" with some aplomb. Fairly fun, if predictable. "In the Pit" is at least somewhat amusing, if nothing more. At least the horns have some oomph.

Neither band impressed me much, though Reel Big Fish definitely has the edge. Nothing Goldfinger did moved me at all. There's better ska to be had elsewhere.

Reese
Eclectic Soul
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #214, 4/2/01

There was a time a ways back (say, 1968 to 1973 or so) that all soul was eclectic. James Brown doing his thing, Marvin Gaye doing his, Al Green doing his, Sly Stone doing his, etc. Then from 1972 to 1976, Stevie Wonder took all of that and said, "This is soul." Meaning just about the entire rock and blues experience.

Reese incorporates rock, funk, folk and more into his version of "eclectic soul." Most of the songs have a vaguely funky drum machine underpinning, allowing the other elements to float freely above.

And it works. Unlike, say, Lenny Kravitz, Reese doesn't go for overkill. He allows emotion (dare we say, real soul?) to creep into his voice and music. And he doesn't seem to agree with the notion that volume equals power.

More power to him. I'm not sure the mainstream is ready for eclectic soul, but that's what some reviewers said when Music of My Mind first showed (some of the same reviewers revised their estimations when Stevie broke big). In any case, Reese is ready for anything. He's got the chops and the vision to go as far as he wants.

Refused
The Shape of Punk to Come
(Epitaph)
reviewed in issue #170, 10/26/98

Another Swedish import, though certainly nothing like Millencolin. For starters, Refused broke up recently. So no tour. No next album. All there is, is right here. The disc at hand.

There aren't a lot of punk bands I'd call innovative. I mean, musically innovative, not simply creative for the genre. The Ex album I reveiwed in the last issue would certainly fit, and whatever you want to call Iceburn certainly fits as well. Past that? Well...

This just might qualify. Refused isn't so much concerned with its style of music (which vaguely resembles hardcore at times) as much as what the music itself does. This is a punk band with a standup bass player. The songs often wander off into unusual musical territory. Not rock, not jazz, not anything I've really heard before. That's pretty impressive.

Remember Rodan? Well, that's the closest reference I can come up with. A visionary set of songs. Truly, one of the great rock and roll albums. If, of course, it is rock and roll at all.

Sometime last year, I was in a record shop. This really cool, loud music played. I knew the band, but couldn't think of it. Asked the clerk what it was, and he gave me ten minutes of a ran on how pissed off he was that the Refused had broken up.

Of course. No other hardcore band sounded anything like the Refused. Elements of noise, electronic manipulation and tight-wire politics fused together into a seamless sonic attack. Fucking brilliant is what it was.

So anyway, this 1998 EP (which includes a remix of "Refused Are Fucking Dead") must stand as a final will and testament. Needless to say, it performs the job with reckless and stunning abandon. More than appropriate, and more than adequate. Simply put, a must.

See also The (International) Noise Conspiracy.

Reggie "B" & the Jizz Wailin' Y'a' Doggies
Fool's Paradise
(Plan 10)
reviewed in issue #132, 4/14/97

Funk, blues and country-tinged rock that would have fit in real well in the late 70s, when bands like Supertramp and Fleetwood Mac used the same formula to great effect.

Today, it sounds kinda dated. Reggie Bannister has a nice touch for songwriting, though his voice is really too mundane to showcase this sound. It takes that little rasp, squeak or other vocal quirk to make this sort of material. Bannister doesn't have anything of the sort.

Still, the playing is excellent, and while the production leaves the overall sound a bit thin, it's adequate. Yeah, the songs are good, but they need to be punched up a bit by whoever performs them. This is just a bit too innocuous.

Bannister is lost in time, which doesn't help his chances, either. Twenty years ago, a major label might have packaged him with a singer and a band and done something. Probably won't happen today.

The Regrets
New Directions: Results Beat Boasts
(Crank!)
reviewed in issue #135, 5/26/97

Formerly Vitreous Humor (with a change at bass). The reason for the name change is completely obvious. Where Vitreous Humor was a full-blown pop outfit, capable of blowing the roof out of an awesome hook, the Regrets are an eclectic emo band, relying on musical and lyrical subtlety.

This "new direction" isn't bad, but I wasn't expecting it. I really liked Vitreous Humor, and it's gonna take me a few moments to collect myself.

(a few moments pass)

I don't like this style quite so much, but the inerrring ear for fine music remains. Much more indescribable than before, the Regrets are, indeed, just what the fine folks at Crank! purport: an original rock band. I like that.

I shouldn't have doubted. This is fine stuff, if a bit less accessible than before. Then again, perhaps limited access is better, after all.

See also Vitrous Humor.

Jeff Reichman
Human Comedy
(demo)
reviewed in issue #138, 7/7/97

Sweet, simple pop music with a bit of a bite. The sound is timeless, thanks to the occasional overlaid organ, and the three songs are well-written and highly evocative.

Reichman's voice is a bit unsteady at times, but that quavering really helps provide an emotional connection. He really reminds me of one of my favorite bands, the Boorays. The guitar work is simplistic, but otherwise the songwriting style and general midtempo pacing are right in the same groove.

Better production and some lead guitar work would probably help this material, but the basics are already present. Reichman has a good ear for songwriting. He knows when enough is enough and doesn't overreach. A skill that cannot be taught.

Reign
Embrace
(Mausoleum)
reviewed in issue #72, 3/15/95

Boy, have I been waiting for this one.

Out of the box, it leaped up towards the top of my chart. But still no disc. I finally get it, and no disappointment. Lean prog-metal that had a couple nods towards industrial death, but doesn't get hung up on technical jibberish.

In other words, a sound right up-to-date in the 90s. Sure, most of the songs are quite long, but you're shorting yourself and the album if you stick to the two "radio-length" songs. Don't give in to the temptation. Cycle through the whole disc.

Enough soapboxing. This album has impeccable production, every bit cleanly in place, just the right amounts of distortion at times, etc. No complaints.

And the music? Quite inventive and adequately aggressive. Reign knows how to put together great songs, and that's what Embrace has. If you're as late as I am, don't let that stop you.

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

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

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

The Reign of Terror
Sacred Ground
(Leviathan-Limb/SPV)
reviewed in issue #218, 6/25/01

This is something of a first for me. An album by an American band recorded for an American label (Leviathan) but I'm reviewing it as an import for SPV. At least, that's what I think is going on here. Thing is, after listening to the disc, it only makes sense.

The Reign of Terror plays anthemic technical melodic metal, the kinda stuff I like to call, um, Eurometal (though the press page calls it "U.S. power metal"--I wonder if this is one of those terms that changes midway across the Atlantic). It sells better over there. Most bands (American or otherwise) who play this kinda music do best in Europe. Which is too bad. 'Cause I'd like to hear more of it over here.

The Reign of Terror does have a few American flourishes. There's a bit of the ol' glam grind in the rhythm guitars (reminds me a bit of early Dokken--and that doesn't bother me at all), and Michael Vescera does have something of a Yankee howl.

Joe Stump's fluid and expressive guitar work defines the band. When he's on (writing-wise, I mean. His playing is damn near impeccable), the songs soar. And even on a couple of the lesser tracks, the band soldiers through well enough. Well worth the time.

Reigndance
Problem Factory
(Interference)
reviewed in issue #37, 7/31/93

Where to start. Somewhere in here punk, pop, grunge and some southern comfort harmonies merge into an album that seems to get heavier as it rolls along.

Everything is tight as hell. I suspect a live show would certainly be a treat. I'd sure love to see one.

As for where to stick them, I have a feeling they don't care. Most of the tracks are well-suited to a commercial metal show, and the others would fit well into an alternative format. Of course, on my old show I would have just played the whole thing.

Don't judge this by the first tracks. The more this played, the more I got into it. And the first tracks are great; I just had to figure out where all this was coming from (an unfortunate curse).

Get this. Play it. Loud.

I got their first disc, Problem Factory, last year and figured these guys were heading for a big label soon. The disc was a nice chunk of pop-rock, with a few grunge and punk idea flitting around. And the guys seemed made-for-MTV (um, well, literally).

But that didn't happen. This second disc is a little more accessible, but it also tries more. There are a couple of cheesy seventies mellow-type songs ("Slide On" most particularly) that make you wince, but then there are cool rave-ups like "100 times" that make you forget the bad stuff.

The guys still haven't found a coherent musical voice, but they sure wander around in a pleasant way. Andre Comeau has the kind of voice that works best when he belts, so the half-whispered falsetto moments come off sounding really forced. But most of the time he is tearing up the mike, and the band has all the necessary chops to really kick out a song.

I still think these boys are best suited to a big label with lots of lights and cameras, but as long as they are in my neighborhood, they can stay as long as they like.

Relative Ash
Our Time With You...
(Island-Def Jam)
reviewed in issue #204, 8/28/00

If you ever wondered what Earth Crisis would sound like if it decided to begin life as a Limp Bizkit cover band... well, Relative Ash is a bit more creative than that, but you get the idea. A little of the extreme hardcore, a little of the metalcore (not the same thing at all) and a little bit of the rapcore. 'Core all around, I suppose.

It works pretty well. I'm mostly impressed by the slightly off-kilter sound, though Relative Ash certainly throws itself into these songs. The energy is impressive, particularly for a major label release.

And the sound, while somewhat refined, is still quite edgy. No, you're not gonna mistake this for a Victory release, but it's pretty good. There's a nice squall to the guitar sound, and the vocals are a good mix of screams and singing.

Maybe not a world-beater, but pretty damned good. Relative Ash has impressed me. There are some real nice moments here, stuff that would sound impressive anywhere. Be on the lookout.

Release
End of the Light
(Century Media)
reviewed in issue #76, 5/15/95

Folding a grungy industrial sound over slow anthemic hard rock, Release manages to make even the most promising riff grind to a halt at times.

The best moments of End of the Light are pale facsimiles of Streetcleaner. The sound is much cleaner and not threatening in the slightest (which is a problem, of course). Once the tempo gets this slow, the band had better do something interesting, or folks begin to nod off. Release just grinds along, utilizing the dullest parts of industrial metal and grunge.

This is not so much a bad album as a boring one. I think the producer should have found a way to create a more diverse and vicious sound, but then, the band should have helped out with better music. I just fell asleep during this one.

The Remnants
Parts
(Slow Summer)
reviewed in issue #127, 1/27/97

Roots pop with a bit of a punk edge. A cool combination, and one that is always welcome in these here parts.

A big-label producer might have punched these tunes up into something that they're not. I mean, the Remnants wouldn't be out of place opening for Marshall Crenshaw or for Everclear. Sliding easing amongst varied influences, the Remnants merely crank out feel-good pop with an edge.

Summer music all the way, and I could use a little in the middle of the winter (even if it feels like summer down here). Like I noted, the best thing is that the band and the producer didn't feel the need to bulk up the tunes with excess. This is a three-piece, and it sounds like that. The songs are laid bare, and they stand up fairly well to such close scrutiny.

Uncomplicated and easy on the ears. Nothing spectacular, but good enough.

Renfield
Help Is Coming
(demo)
reviewed in issue #153, 2/23/98

A band that simply doesn't want to make sense. The vocals are completely unrestrained and generally out of control, and the band (which consists of bass, drums, viola, trombone and sax) most often plays somewhere around a tune. Some sharp, some flat and generally just off the beat.

Obviously adherents of John Zorn, great musicians who aren't afraid of a little chaos. Is this the music of sane folks? I can't say. But it swoops, swirls and soars above mundane music. The lunatic fringe of jazz-rock (on the acoustic side, as opposed to the amped up fusion version) couldn't have finer members.

Renfield avoid the trap of constant lunacy, which would dilute the effect. Instead, the band vamps about for a while before really kicking in once or twice each song. And what kick it is.

Leaves me breathless in agony and joy. A visceral treat. This is music that demands your very lifeblood. Surrender or face the consequences.

The Renovators
Rhythm & Blueprints
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #190, 11/1/99

If you ever wanted to hear songs about construction, fishing or, um, Crisco, well, here's the Renovators to help out. By the way, this is the blues. Really.

The lyrics generally have a cool sense of humor, but the music is just a bit bland. All the rough edges have been rounded off, sort of an adult contemporary version of the blues. Yeah, Robert Cray has been playing those for years, but he has a great voice and can play a good guitar. The Renovators are passable in both areas, but not blistering.

Like I said, the songs can be funny. But the music just stays too close to the safe side of the street. Too easy-going for my style.

While the Renovators are perfectly competent, there isn't any part that shines. And the fairly restrained run-throughs don't really help to pick up the excitement level. Workmanlike blues just doesn't cut it for me.

This is another of those "thank-you" discs that probably wasn't intended for review, but what the hell. The Renovators put together three new Christmas songs, then strip in "sing-along" (or Karaoke, if you prefer) instrumental versions, add a Christmas message and then finish with four tracks from their previous albums.

The Christmas songs are spirited pieces, generally on the slow boogie side of things. The Karaoke bit is amusing, and since this is intended for the fans, more than appropriate. Why not have a little fun?

And that's all this is: A bit of fluff for the holidays. No grand ambition, just a little goofin' off caught on tape. Nothing wrong with that.

See also Bergers with Mayo.

Reprobation
The Colour of Gore EP
(Forever Underground)
reviewed in issue #220, 8/13/01

Not many bands would add this note to their liners: "If you have our old 'Abort' demo, please send it back." I like that. I don't know if it exhibits a sense of humor, but I found it amusing. As for the tuneage, well ...

Heavy duty grindage, in that mid-career Napalm Death mode. Lots of grunts and growls and some seriously doomy riffage. Not quite the technical precision of Carcass, but tending toward that path from time to time.

A fine set of tunes. Plenty of pain and suffering on this short set, and Reprobation has shown that it can dish out the goods. With aplomb. Maybe a full-length, guys?

Repulsion
Horrified
(Relapse)
reviewed in issue #23, 10/31/92

If the liners are not a misprint, this was originally recorded in 1986. I can't find any release notes lying around my place from Relapse, so I'll just assume that either these guys have moved on to better things (the names are familiar, though I cannot place them), or they have reformed and are getting together to record again.

As a 1986 album, this sounds great. Vintage grindcore. It is dated for today, but six years ago this would have been a real forward-reaching album.

The musicianship is first-rate, with everyone taking care to keep things ultra-fast but still in control. This is an E-ticket to slam heaven.

Resolve
My Stars...
(Born + Over Records)
reviewed in issue #196, 3/6/00

Some folks just seem to have a natural talent for writing vital, vibrant songs. Of course, ascribing such skill to talent alone is bullshit. Takes a lot of work to write a blisteringly great song. The guys in Resolve wrote a bunch of great songs. And then they put them on tape.

And it doesn't matter if the material is jocular pop or midwestern-style roots rock (or any number of other jangly forms). Resolve knocks the stuff flat. Dead solid perfect. This is one of those albums that takes hold of your throat and then squeezes. For forty minutes.

There just isn't a bad song here. I know. I listened long and hard for the guys to screw up, throw something less-than-worthy into the mix. I waited in vain. And I'll tell ya, Resolve takes a bunch of chances. They just roll sevens every time.

Natural talent? Probably. But a lot of hard work goes into a disc like this. It's eve more impressive when the songs sound like they just tripped off the tongue two seconds before I heard them. I'm completely breathless. This is one chokehold I can't break.

Retina.it
Semeion
(Hefty)
reviewed in issue #286, June 2007

A collection of odds and ends from this Italian outfit. Most of the tracks here appeared on earlier EPs or digital-only albums, so this is their first "wide" availability. The sound is strikingly minimalist electronic fare, with an emphasis on playful rhythms.

Austere, to be sure, but somehow still warm to the ear. If there's a way for this kinda stuff to sound jaunty, this does.

If you're still trying to place the sound, think somewhere between 70s krautronica (Like that? I'm not sure I do) and late 80s techno. Never overbearing...hell, this stuff is so unassuming that it could serve as background music. Of course, if you didn't actually listen to it, you'd be missing everything.

And there is a lot to hear. Given the genesis of the tracks, this isn't really a particularly cohesive album. But the songs within are as intriguing as anything you'll hear this year.

Retsin
Sweet Luck of Amaryllis
(Carrot Top)
reviewed in issue #171, 11/9/98

Another one of them Louisville combos. Loopy song constructions, an emphasis on the eclectic. More acoustic than electric. Haunting and powerful all at once.

Whenever pundits like me decide to give up on Louisville as a prime music location, an album like this shows up. Something that reinforces the strong tradition of iconoclastic rock bands from the city. And the core members, Tara Jane O'Neil and Cynthia Nelson, are authentic local luminaies. O'Neil is a member of the Sonora Pine, was in Rodan, and worked with Sebadoh, Come and Danielle Howle. Nelson is best known as part of the outstanding Ruby Falls.

Retsin isn't immediately grabbing, but more subversive, getting me where it counts, in the back of the head. I can't really classify this stuff much more. The guitar work is tortured, yet affecting. Lines don't always match up, but that doesn't matter. Not at the base of things, anyway.

So let this one rumble on past your conscious barriers, and after a few minutes you should tune into the real wavelengths of the music. Like those Magic Eye posters, except with music.

The Reunion Show
Kill Your Television
(Victory)
reviewed in issue #235, November 2002

There's no way to put this gently. The Reunion Show isn't hardcore. It isn't punk in any way whatsoever. This shouldn't surprise me. After all, years ago Victory put out albums by the likes of Iceburn and Hi-Fi and the Roadburners. And there have been other Victory bands that employ a good amount of power pop.

But still. The Reunion Show is power pop, major-label style. This album is thickly produced, complete with wonderfully fuzzy keyboards and hooks that ooze honey. Shoot yerself back 20 years and imagine AOR-style anthemic choruses draped over guitar-heavy new wave pop. Except that no one did this 20 years ago. In fact, I've never heard anyone attempt quite this sound.

There is a definite Joe Jackson (in his blisterpop phase) feel to the rhythms and harmonies. The muscular guitars feed right into the crunchy and addictive choruses, and the overall manic energy of the band is astonishing. Like I said, this is power pop that the majors could actually sell to the kiddies.

But Victory gets the spoils instead. That's more than cool. The Reunion Show deserves to explode all over the damn place. Pop is often sweet, but rarely is it this incendiary. I simply cannot turn this album off. Gotta hit repeat again. And again. And...

Rev.99
Turn a Deaf Ear
(Pax Recordings)
reviewed in issue #220, 8/13/01

A duo of duos, if you will, with some help from studio man Ross Bonadonna as well. Ernesto Diaz-Infante and Chris Forsyth cover the musical performance end, Akio Mokuno and 99 Hooker provide vocals, some warped sax and computer enhancements. Bonadonna covers the post-production re-assembly part.

I'm guessing that the Mokuno and 99 Hooker, Diaz-Infante and Forsyth contributions were somewhat improvised. The studio manipulations are, by definition, not exactly improvisations, but they leave the pieces sounding fresh and vital.

Now, defining a "piece" is a little tricky. There seem to be two main selections, though the first one is divided into six sections. The stuff does all run together unbanded, so I guess there are truly two "songs." You can decide for yourself.

That's not what's important here. What's much more intriguing is the "interplay" between the different elements of the group. While this thing is assembled, it sounds like all the folks were sitting in the same room at the same time, riffing off each other. The creative juices flowed freely here.

Revenant
Prophecy of a Dying World
(Nuclear Blast)
reviewed in issue #7, 2/14/92

Epic doom death metal. Like combining Solitude AEturnus and, oh, Morgoth. Almost discernible lyrics and environmental themes, among others. These guys give a damn about something, and they're not embarrassed to say so.

Plus, they can play. The up-and-down thrash gets a little tedious at times, but overall this is a good album. One certainly to check out.

Reverb Sleep
Fish Dream
(Ment Media Group)
reviewed in issue #90, 10/23/95

Dancey ambient or ambient dance? Somewhere between those two lies the truth.

Reverb Sleep cranks out cool sound sculptures and then turns up the bpm. Not house enough to be trance, but the more industrial rhythms are still rather addictive.

Not spacey enough to be terribly trippy, the disc still comes off as some sort of strange field trip to the frontal lobe. I might use this as my Halloween music to scare off the kiddies.

Anyone interested in experimental electronic music will really dig this, and lots of more commercial types will find agreeable parts as well. Reverb Sleep don't follow any formulas, but the folks may have accidentally created one with this album. A real stunner.

Reverse
The Jersey Switch
(Curve of the Earth)
reviewed in issue #231, July 2002

Reverse might well have been at home in the late 80s and early 90s, when glam metal acts were branching out and trying to find new ways to make melodic loud music. Stuff like Law and Order, Warrior Soul and the Kings of the Sun took different paths, and none really succeeded commercially.

The hooks and riffs here are certainly informed by grunge (which is what the kids decided they liked the most out of the "new" melodic metal), but Reverse isn't afraid to drop the heavy guitars and drop a pretty, introspective pop piece like "Overhead" every once in a while.

There are elements of garage rock and other more obvious pop references in this sound as well. Reverse is a hard rock band the same way Foo Fighters is a hard rock band. Not to make too close a comparison--these boys have worked very hard to craft their own sound--but these days it's okay to drape big fuzzy guitars and other pieces of sonic chaos over a pop frame. Just as long as the hooks are solid.

And are they ever. The harmonies in the choruses are tight and impressive. I like what I hear, and that's really the ultimate test for me. Sure, there are plenty of ways to categorize what these guys do. I prefer the simple term "good music."

rex
rex
(Southern)
reviewed in issue #75, 4/30/95

Pop from an extremely minimalist camp. The melodies are delicate and yet dissonant as well.

Traveling the same highway as Silver Jews and Pavement, rex is even more leisurely than most, spending most of the time stomping on the flowers (in slow motion). It sure is amazing how much effort had to have gone into making such an effortless-sounding disc.

This is not the sort of disc on which I can make a real quality judgement. I really don't get this stuff. It's kinda nice for chilling out, I suppose. I'm just not a stoner and I don't dose.

A nicely arranged disc, with lots of morose moments. Perfect for field trips to the frontal lobes.

Rex Daisy
Guys and Dolls
(Pravda)
reviewed in issue #125, 12/23/96

Very sweet pop music that verges on the sickly. But Rex Daisy always manages to squeeze some out-of-tune guitar lick or sour vocal note to keep the stuff down.

Still, folks who like their pop on the edgy side shouldn't be stopping here. Rex Daisy won't be accused of alternative attitude any time soon, though this stuff is probably just a bit too "strange" for MTV. What's a band to do?

I dunno. I liked the album, though the production really is too bright. There are very few variances from the norm, and the peppy knob job just emphasizes how banal Rex Daisy could get.

Nice enough, but far too light to stick around for very long. Just a few more chances, though, and Rex Daisy could be right back in the ring.

Gary Reynolds and the Brides of Obscurity
Santiago's Vest
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #291, November 2007

Another cool band that tends to build its songs around piano (or electric piano) and guitar. Reynolds and the Brides get plenty heavy, too, which is a welcome addition to this increasingly popular sound.

Dramatic songs played and sung with dramatic flair. Almost a little too heavy in the histrionics, but almost every time the band pulls back just enough to reveal a delicate point or two.

I get the sense that these folks could throttle just about anyone who stood in their way, but that they have the sense to avoid such confrontations. Rather, they spin their ideas in loud, but intricate, mixes. There's a combination that always warms my heart.

This one starts good and keeps getting better. I was on the fence after a couple songs, but by the middle of the disc I couldn't wait to get to the next song. Good sequencing is always appreciated in these quarters. Just another sign that these folks know exactly what they're doing. And doing it well.

Gaz Reynolds
Spiritual Nation
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #205, 9/18/00

Club fare, with all that implies. Basic dance anthems, with more than a little Indian influence creeping in. Gaz Reynolds knows how to flavor his sound well.

This is on the lighter side, in the same realm as the Pet Shop Boys. Reynolds, too, knows to how to spin nice pop hooks, but instead of using his musical versatility to pump up the vocals, he allows the opposite to happen. When he sings, the music trends generic.

Which is too bad, because Reynolds has a great feel for this sound. Most folks in this area start off with some dull beats and stale keyboard riffs. Reynolds does much better, but when he starts singing, he loses some of his advantage.

Still, this is an engaging album. Folks in clubs aren't terribly concerned with anything past beats and hooks, and Reynolds provides those. To escape the clubs, he's gonna have to work to fill out his sound. He's done all the hard stuff; this last bit should be a breeze.

Rhapsody
Midnight Tales
(SPV)
reviewed in issue #197, 3/27/00

A sticker on the front proclaims Rhapsody "The new hope of symphonic epic power metal." Wow. That sounds pretty cool.

And you know what? It is. Yeah, I'm an utter sucker for overlaid, throaty vocals and dramatic guitar and keyboard music. The bastardization of classical music doesn't bother me so much.

Rhapsody is so keyboard centered, though, that at times the power level drops. Yeah, it always comes back, but for a few seconds there I wonder where the tuneage went. Some keyboard magic is always necessary, but not always this much.

As long as you accept that this is the music that Spinal Tap skewered so beautifully, then feel free to groove on through. Yeah, it's over the top and almost comically excessive. So what? This is one of those guy things. We love the fast guitars and guys that sing high and loud. Must be in the genes.

Disc #2 from this now defunct act. This album continues