Sianspheric
Somnium
(Sonic Unyon)
reviewed in issue #105, 4/8/96

Heavily-crafted mood-crashing pop. Not quite so affected as the pop psychedelia movement of a few years back, Sianspheric relies mostly on basic rock instruments (with occasional distortion and noise elements) to create its mellow feel.

The synth sounds a lot like the sort of thing you'd find on an ambient disc, but the music is merely lolligagging about, slowly shifting from cloud to cloud. And not nearly so boring as Codeine and all that, though I'd need some serious crank to get through a live show.

For what the band is obviously trying to do, Sianspheric accomplishes a lot. And compared to, say, the last 10 years of Pink Floyd, well, there is no comparison. Sianspheric isn't trying to be dull and "arty".

Not what I'd have on the stereo as I head down the road, but not bad for an evening of kicking back. Ambient folks looking for a rock equivalent might also be very pleased.

"Hey guys, let's be really cool and start our new album off with three minutes of manipulated white noise." If I were in a band, this is a thought that just might occur to me. The folks in Sianspheric said, "Okey-dokey."

And went from there. The noise never quite kicks out, or maybe it's just that the distortion is lowered just enough to understand what's being played. In any case, there are plenty of references to the pop psychedelia movement which passed by a few years back.

And this appreciation for pure noise (I think it's laid on top; my instrument distortion theory doesn't seem to hold water) is quite cool and forward thinking. Pop in a noise context just might be a coming trend.

But I don't think Sianspheric is playing the trend game. This album shows an evolution from earlier work, but it's in the same continuum. Just keep moving, and someday someone will figure out that you're cool.

Not exactly an odd and ends release, but pretty durn close. There's three remixes of "Where the Planets Revolve" from Somnium, three live tracks and something called "10/3/79." No, I don't know, either.

But that's alright. The remixes do go a number of ways, from electronic to full-on atmospheric. Which, actually, isn't too far from the regular range of the band. This disc doesn't really take Sianspheric anywhere it hasn't already traveled, but the voyage is pretty cool.

Not necessary, really, but still fairly entrancing all the same. For standing in place, this is a fairly fun set.

Siberian
With Me
(Sonic Boom)
reviewed in issue #289, September 2007

I've said it a thousand times (though it feels like a million): If you're gonna play far-reaching, pretentious music, you've got to follow through with quality. Siberian heads out to the edge with the first note of this album, and by and large it fulfills its ambition.

I'd like to hear a bit more quiet and loud here. Siberian sticks mostly to the middle sonic dynamics, though it does shift through intensities nicely. Still, you can't compare this to The Bends (as the sticker on the cover does) when these guys don't go from a whisper to a scream in .5 seconds.

It all sounds so pretty, though. Siberian does create some lovely pictures, and it fleshes out its ideas with admirable clarity. Highly crafted, but not entirely obvious about it.

A little more abandon, and Siberian would really have blown me away. As it is, I'm rather impressed. I'll be keeping an ear out for these boys.

Sibling Rivalry
In a Family Way CD5
(Alternative Tentacles)
reviewed in issue #65, 10/31/94

Joey Ramone and little brother Mickey Leigh trade off on vocals, singing two of Mickey's tunes (one co-written) and a Mick Abramson song.

Well, they sound an awful lot alike. And while there is nothing particularly bad about the songs, none of them are particularly sparkling, either. "Don't Be So Strange" is the best, but it's still stuck in the middling lane.

The Ramones have made a career of trafficking in this kind of stuff, but there is a little spark much of the time that makes you overlook the problems. This is average, and there is no way around it.

Sick of It All
Call to Arms
(Fat Wreck) reviewed in issue #178, 3/15/99

Calling Sick of It All stalwarts of the scene is easy. After all, these guys have been cranking out albums for ten years now. More tuneful than your average hardcore band, but certainly miles away from the more aggressive pop punk bands. A recipe for some sort of success, as SOIA has massed a sizable following throughout the years.

Not enough to justify a major-label deal, but who needs one? This album sounds just as good, and now the boys can start regaining whatever scene creds they lost when they signed the (relatively) big deal.

This disc? It's a SOIA disc, perhaps a bit more frenzied than recent fare, but nothing compared to the olden days. I've never been a huge fan, but I dig the vaguely melodic gang vocal choruses just like everyone else. Like I said, this is a SOIA disc. Period.

And that can hardly be a bad thing. Welcome back to the fold, guys. Back to folks who appreciate what you do. That's important, you know.

Sick on the Bus
Punk Police/Suck on Sick on the Bus 2xCD
(Go-Kart)
reviewed in issue #217, 6/4/01

I think it's admirable to pop out a double-disc re-issue from a fine band like Sick on the Bus. Just one question: These two discs are short. Very short. You coulda almost fit them both twice on one disc. So why two?"

A couple reasons, I guess. For starters, one album, one disc makes people take each album on its own terms. The songs don't run all together, and so idiots like me have to pop in two discs to write a good review. Makes me think more, I'll tell you that.

And what I can tell you is that Sick on the Bus is one of those sloppy, haggard-sounding punk bands that somehow manages to wrap its less-than-tight songs up with enough attitude and energy to sell them effectively. There's no good reason to like these songs except that they'll probably make you feel like getting up and bouncing around for a couple of hours.

That's enough of a recommendation for me. Simplicity would've called for a single disc, but I think the double does serve a purpose. As for the music, well, it speaks for itself. Can't wipe the smile off my face.

I guess I ended up reviewing the Sick on the Bus albums in reverse order. This is the first album. It opens up with a crying jag and then breaks full speed into the raw fury of "You Lie."

Right. Subtlety isn't a virtue here. SOTB plays fast, loud and often out of control. Not that any of that is a bad thing. Hardly. Sometimes you've gotta make a mess to get your point across.

And anyway, if this stuff wasn't so messy, it just wouldn't be any fun. There's hardly any craft to the writing, and the performance focuses more on attitude than consistent riffage. What I'm saying is, you gotta take what you can get.

What you get here is a quality punk album. Nothing less. Have I heard better? Probably. But this sure does get the ol' nads in a bunch. Ride hard.

Todd Sickafoose Group
Dogs Outside
(Evander Music)
reviewed in issue #205, 9/18/00

Free-flowing, if not actually free, jazz. Todd Sickafoose plays bass, and like most bassist composers, he's careful to make the bass a more integral part of the group sound without dominating. After all, no matter how hard you try, the bass cannot sustain a melody part for very long without sounding rather out of place.

But what the bass can do is create counter rhythms and play off the guitar, sax and trombone. Oh, yeah, by the way, the instrumentation is basic ska, though these guys don't come anywhere near a skankin' groove.

No, Sickafoose has crafted a sound somewhere in that early 60s Miles Davis/John Coltrane axis. Cool, with some flights of fancy. Nothing particularly harsh or grating. Even the technical runs are presented with style, though not slurred and blurred into "smooth jazz" territory.

An engaging and exciting album. The surface may be calm, but there are plenty of sly undercurrents to ride. Don't underestimate these pieces; when the big man is on the bass there's always something going on down there.

Sickboy
Stripwalk CD5
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #213, 3/12/01

I've not quite heard something like this before. Sickboy plays emo with a folky edge. There's a definite country-rock dimension to the sound, but then again, the guitar lines are pretty much in the strident emo sound.

Took me a minute to really understand what I was hearing, but once I was there I enjoyed myself immensely. Sickboy takes a number of chances with unusual melodic lines and other tricks. Most of the time, the ideas work out.

A most creative way to take this sound. Sickboy's sound is most unique, and the guys do it well. An interesting way to fly emo airlines.

The Sidemen
Rattlebag
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #221, 9/3/01

Paul Reddick leads the Sidemen with a harp in hand. The growls, then makes that little piece of metal wail. There's nothing nice or easy about the way the Sidemen play the blues. Strictly for those who crave pain.

Or, as the liners say, "hard blues for modern times." Slinky guitar work, a rhythm section that's tighter than Laura Bush and that most expressive harp. All originals, too, save for "Blind River Bound."

These guys sure know how to dip into the blues and stay in the bag. There's nothing fake or phony about the way these songs rock. Rock, by the way, in a blues sense. These aren't blues rockers; the Sidemen are blues men, pure and simple.

I fell into the music and had to claw my way out. Otherwise I woulda just played this thing all day and never got any more reviewing done. The blues rarely sound so good.

Siege
Drop Dead
(Relapse)
reviewed in issue #54, 5/15/94

So you wish Napalm Death would go back to the grind? Try this instead.

Siege still retainS a few hard core conventions, but the glory hole here is when it kicks into a true grindcore blitz.

Nine songs in 17 minutes, every one a serious blast. Siege manages to find the groove in the grind and also competently manage the adrenaline rush.

A more than pleasant surprise lurks in this disc.

Rodrigo Sigal
Manifiesto
(CIEM)
reviewed in issue #170, 10/26/98

Not what most folks would think of when the term "classical music" comes up. Sigal likes to keep his compositions simple (usually based around one instrument, be it piano, guitar, flute or whatever), but hardly conventional. He dribbles in sampled and taped sound as he sees fit, and his melodies are not easily described, either.

While unusual, Sigal's music is rather inviting. He easily draws in the listener with a simple entrance, and then proceeds to slowly, but completely, shatter reality and craft a new world. There are elements of the noise and ambient movements in his pieces, but he uses those ideas in wholly new ways.

And while he sets a pretty opening, he never fails to challenge thoughts, ideas and perspectives. Sigal is certainly a modern composer, and he uses every tool at his fingertips to create his music.

Music which never fails to dazzle. Most impressive composition. Worth searching out and cherishing.

Signal Aout 42
Immortal Collection 1983-1995
(Fifth Colvmn)
reviewed in issue #123, 11/18/96

Seriously overdramatic techno collection, of which a third are new tracks. The most compelling feature is how little the band has changed its sound over time.

With obvious goth overtones melded into a hard techno groove (like a moodier FLA at times), Signal Aout 42 does much better when it focuses on music and doesn't whip out vocals. When the singing comes in, the music drops off to a generic level. But the instrumental tracks and breaks within the songs are great.

There's a couple rare 12" remixes from the 80s, but most of the retrospective tracks are straight from the three LPs, albums I wouldn't mind hearing in full. And a new set of songs would also be cool, as much of the best here is the most recently-recorded material.

I'd never heard of the band, but this set makes me want to do a little scouring for previous output. A good starting point, certainly.

Signal Hill Transmission
An Empty Space
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #283, March 2007

When you're something of a basher band, it might be a mistake to open up with a subtle (if still quite active) soft burner like "Pipe Dream." Not for these guys. Rather, it simply prepares a listener for the coming wonderment.

And Signal Hill Transmission is, in point of fact, much more than a basher band. The songs here do share a certain sense of urgency, that kinetic feel that almost always pricks up my ears, but the band is almost always under control.

The sound is very professional. Not quite shiny enough for the majors, but in the same ballpark. It works here. These are songs that manage to be important without sounding exceptionally pretentious.

And the subtle shifting of gears helps to make this something more than a nicely tuneful rock and roll album. More specifically, the shadings on this album help to tell the story of today. I suppose that is pretentious, but Signal Hill Transmission manages to pull it off with style. It ain't bragging if it's true.

Signing Einstein
Signing Einstein
(JNI)
reviewed in issue #220, 8/13/01

Atmospheric prog. Sorta. The main players are on bass and keys, and those are the instruments which dominate. Gina Gonzalez's vocals add a nice, lush touch to the songs.

Indeed, the sound here is so thick you could fall into it for days. I really hesitated calling this prog at all, because the song constructions are fairly basic. But the playing is rather intricate and I think that's what Signing Einstein was going for, anyways.

It's an odd sound, the sort of grandiose operatic style that generally appeals to prog and hard rock fans. But Signing Einstein rarely gets particularly loud, though the guest lead guitars do shred now and again. The songs don't have big ups and downs, but mostly ebb and flow instead.

And I suppose if I have a big complaint that's it. I want to hear less detachment and more intensity. These songs could have more power than they do without sacrificing any of the mood. Still, the feel here is good. There's plenty to like.

Sigur Ros
Untitled #1/Vaka CD/DVD
(Play It Again Sam/MCA)
reviewed in issue #244, August 2003

This is, technically, a single. The CD section contains four songs, though I think wešre talking about one song with three movements and one single-tracked song. Hard to tell, since the CD doesn't tell me a thing. But that's okay, since these Icelandic types make music good enough to take my cares away from mundane issues such as tracking.

Meditative (or moody to the extreme--you make the call), Sigur Ros creates some seriously haunting sounds. This isn't the sort of thing that translates well to club performances, which may be why the guys have done a few shows with string accompaniment.

But hey, any band with a guitarist whose first song was Maiden's "Wrathchild" (the spring trivia question on the band's web site: http://www.sigur-ros.com) can't be all about intellectual noodling and nothing else. The DVD contains three videos which provide a nice overall snapshot of the band. This is a cool little package, the sort of thing that ought to get quite a few more people excited about Sigur Ros.

Paul Silbergleit
Silberglicity
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #141, 8/18/97

Moreso than any other instrument in jazz, the electric guitar seems to be an awesomely inhibiting force. Keeping exceptions like Pat Metheny in the back of my head, most all other jazz guitarists have kept pretty much to the tradition set down by Charlie Christian when he played with Benny Goodman. Keep the sound smooth, with an emphasis on proper technique and established sounds.

Silbergleit has surrounded himself with a fine set of musicians, and they, not he, take most of the musical risks. This isn't happy jazz territory, but the guitar work, while accomplished, isn't groundbreaking.

I'm not sure what it is about the guitar that seems to influence its top practitioners to stick in the same ruts. After all, most instrumental guitar rock albums also sound pretty stilted, passing through the same town over and over again. Yeah, Silbergleit wrote some nice melodies, and he sure can play, but the sound stays the same, and that really inhibits the expression of emotion. He leaves that to his sides.

Plenty of good work, but the road is well-worn. This isn't challenging, but merely entertaining, playing. I ask for more.

Silencer
Stereo CD5
(Earache)
reviewed in issue #84, 8/28/95

The second in Earache's series of "New Chapter" single releases, Silencer merges very linear pop with the best attributes of the Brit hardcore sound we all love.

Yeah, when the band mellows (and hits the pop groove) it tends to sound a little like Primus, but at least the guys emulate the good Primus. That shows taste, not trendiness.

The music is not terribly marketable, but I like it. I'd love to hear a full set. Any time, boys.

The Silent Goodbye
A Ring for Each Finger
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #227, March 2002

Sometimes I get an album and it so piques my curiosity that I just can't quite place where my interest is coming from. The Silent Goodbye plays overly long songs in a somewhat clumsy and ham-handed style. The chord progressions (not to mention to lyrics) are astonishingly pretentious. And yet I'm strangely drawn.

Part of it is the absolute conviction of the band that this music is not just great but world-class. These guys play this decidedly affected material with the energy and style of true rock stars. And while that might make simpler music sound half-baked and overdone, here it simply amplifies the creative energies of the band.

The songs are dreadfully long. They're often turgid. The band plays them with an almost operatic touch, wringing every bit of drama from the wings. And damn if the stuff isn't utterly compelling.

I have a feeling a lot of folks will disagree with my opinion of this stuff. For some reason, the twisted zeal of the band has won me over. There's no good reason for it (and certainly no accounting for my taste), but I find the Silent Goodbye beguiling in the most vulgar of ways.

Silent Kids
Tomorrow Waits
(Cur on a Glider-Two Sheds)
reviewed in issue #239, March 2003

Remember Sister Lovers? You know, the last Big Star album, the one where Alex Chilton and Jody Stephens pretty much deconstructed the pop music they (along with Chris Bell) had perfected on the first two albums? Great hooks stripped down to plaintive wails, fine riffs reduced to out-of-tune rumblings and (on "Downs") a flat basketball used as a drum kit.

Silent Kids remind me of that final burst of warped pop greatness. These songs are much more together, of course (nothing like Sister Lovers would likely get released today, even by the most indie of indies), but there's an anarchic spirit lurking in the heart of these grooves that seems to ache for collapse.

There's also a fine sense of ragged glory. Silent Kids rely on a Moog for a lot of the atmosphere here, but that ancient implement is also what helps me hark back to the olden days. The kicker is that these songs are played extremely loosely. Not sloppily, just loose. Like a bunch of guys who've been doing this forever. And while I know this isn't the case, these songs do sound live to tape.

There are also those moments when everything pulls away from the center and the songs threaten to blow apart. Silent Kids keep things together, but the guys don't force the matter. If something is spinning out of the nucleus, they let it go willingly. Fresh and invigorating. If you're gonna play old school pop, you might as well shoot for the moon. Silent Kids have landed.

Silent Radio
Swimmingly EP
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #165, 8/17/98

A nice three-piece with an astonishingly tinny drum sound. The stuff sounds artificial, except that sometimes the beat doesn't hold. Not many folks would take the time to program inconsistencies, y'know? So I'm guess it has something to do with weird microphones.

As for the songs, this is basic back-beat college rock, the sort of thing I heard when I was in college 10 years ago. Eleventh Dream Day, that type of outfit. Silent Radio doesn't quite have its songwriting chops worked out right (picking the most obvious instrumental break is a telltale sign), and the recording in general leaves the sound very thin.

Still, there's a great deal of enthusiasm. These songs have to sound better live. Silent Radio has to sound better live. I can hear bits and pieces of something good.

This is an EP. The first 20 minutes are regular rock stuff, and the second 20 are a general mess of goofiness and stuff that just might come back to haunt the band. Like the Cretins always say, too much Budweiser.

The Silent Type
Hot and Bothered
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #266, July 2005

So if I happened to mention that the Silent Type and Kingsley (reviewed earlier in this issue) were two sides of the same coin, would you castigate me for fomenting a cliche? Yeah, I guess so. And you should. Nonetheless, there are a lot of similarities in philosophy, even if the execution couldn't be more different.

Basically, the Silent Type crafts some wonderful anthems and borrows a good amount of its sound from the early 90s. But rather than crafting its sound, including deftly-placed keyboards, these boys decided to simply amp up the attitude and the energy.

Strangely enough, though, Brainiac is one of my main touchstones for these boys. And like Kingsley, we're talking about earlier rather than later. There's plenty of GvsB and other fashion punk stars as well--including a surprising dollop of emo here and there--but in no way can these guys get around the fact that they're playing sharp, cerebral rock and roll.

I suppose that sort of compliment is akin to the kiss of death. I'm sure it doesn't matter that this stuff gives me a visceral rush that is at least the equal of the intellectual satisfaction these songs give me. Whatever. Let's just slap a "good music" sticker on the Silent Type and call it a day.

Silkenseed
Spawn
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #132, 4/14/97

College kids (I assume, as the publisher is listed as "Sharp Hall Records") working their way through the various moods of a guitar band.

The mastering is pretty damned low, which doesn't help things. The production itself is fairly sharp, allowing the guitars a little bite. The main problem is the songwriting, which sounds something like Jethro Tull meets Alice in Chains.

And yet a lot mellower than you might guess. These kids are trying their collective ass off, and it pays off on strong songs like the title track. Most of the songs have some good moments, but Silkenseed hasn't quite figured out how to consistently write good stuff. That comes with work and time.

I applaud the adventurous spirit. Perhaps someday Silkenseed will accomplish what it's setting out to do.

Highly crafted roots pop. Sorta like if you took the Posies and grafted a jangle sheen on to the works. The rhythm section is pure power pop, but the lead guitar and vocals kinda waft a bit.

Which is a cool enough way to go. I haven't heard this particular combination before, at least done this way. It's just different enough to prick my ear and make me muse.

Sometimes the extra bits (flute, acoustic guitars) can be a bit oppressive, but when Silkenseed keeps to a fairly basic sound the songs come across very well. No need to get lost in the dressing, these songs are solidly written.

A cool take on a fairly well-tread path. These folks know how to craft some fine music.

Silkworm
...His Absence Is a Blessing
(Stampede)
reviewed in issue #37, 7/31/93

While currently hailing from Seattle, this deserves no backlash. It sounds like nothing I've heard from that area. More of a midwestern college rock band, really.

Semi-amusing stuff at times, but nothing that really makes me sit up and notice.

Regular A&A readers will know that I'm rarely less than effusive when talking about Touch and Go albums. And if you parse the archives carefully, you'll find a tepid review of an early Silkworm release. That review pissed off someone at C/Z records (who has Silkworm under contract at the time), and I got very little from the label after that. I noted the band's subsequent rise to fame on Matador, though honestly I didn't think that much about it.

So when this arrived, I wondered. Had the band really changed? Well, I last heard it five years ago. And anyway, I often change my mind about bands. So I plunked the puppy in and listened.

Still sounds more like a midwestern rock band than a Seattle outfit. There's a definite Archers of Loaf kinda groove overlaying the Replacements base, and that's pretty cool. Oddly, the worst songs seem to be at the beginning of the album. Certainly, the weakest track leads off. Doesn't give a good picture of what follows and it just doesn't quite come together. But what does follow...

Not exceptional or anything, but good. Good enough for me to listen to a couple more times and try and figure out what's up. Not a worldbeater, but better than I expected. There's some meat here.

I was listening to a compilation of 80s guitar rock (of the indie sort) a couple days ago, and it finally struck me where Silkworm fits, and why so many people are fans. This also explains why I've never been knocked out.

There is very little attention paid to melody. Often, the vocals or guitars or anything purposely miss the note they should hit. But see, that's true to the garage tradition, even though Silkworm is so far past that the conceit is getting a little silly.

On the other hand, even moderately contrived energy has its pleasures. My epiphany has allowed me to like this disc a bit better than I might have otherwise. There are a lot of fun tunes here, the ragged rocker types. Probably serves as a nice bit of nostalgia for a good number of folks.

Because people don't play like this any more. I tried to turn some younger folks on to the Replacements a while back, and their response was "Those dudes suck. They sound horrible." All I could say was, "That's sorta the point." The kids, of course, decided then and there that I must be some sort of musical moron.

Wait a minute, that puts me on the other foot entirely. Whatever. This sounds a lot like the other Silkworm albums I've heard. There's some nice noodling and plenty of strange side trips that fans should dig. And then, of course, there is that whole garage thing I brought up earlier. Did I dig it? Yeah, I guess.

As Silkworm becomes more and more a studio creation and less a traveling outfit, I seem to find a greater affinity with the band's output. In this version of events, Matt Kadane of Bedhead and the New Year fame has been installed as keyboard player, and Kelly Hogan stops by to nail a few vocals.

The trio of Andy Cohen, Tim Midgett and Michael Dahlquist is still at the core of things. In particular, Cohen and Midgett have developed songwriting styles that really work well. I thought early Silkworm was a bit high on concept and low and execution. There are still some noodly moments here, but for the most part these songs sound great from start to finish.

In particular, the addition of Kadane and the contributions of Hogan really add some spice to Silkworm's usual chunky rock paradigms. The pieces are just so much more coherent than what I heard from this band some 10 years ago.

But you can forget all those words of derision (I really wasn't very nice, as I recall). Maybe the music has gotten better (strike that "maybe" and insert "certainly"), but I think as much as anything my tastes have broadened and expanded just as Silkworm's range and skill has. Thinking man's rock never sounded so good.

Silo
10
(Dogfingers/Uncle Buzz)
reviewed in issue #261, February 2005

Just James Sidlo and Warren Rivera playing guitars and messing about with effects and electronics. Of course, when I say just, I am being facetious.

Yes, I am talking about highly abstract improvised fare. But the pictures painted by the sounds on this album are extremely discrete and vivid. Some folks know how to work within this type of construct, and some don't. These boys know what they're doing.

This says it was recorded live at Silo 10. I don't know if we're talking about a real grain silo or simply a studio, but wherever it is, the acoustics are pretty spooky. The choice was a good one.

I'm always at something of a loss reviewing albums like this, as appreciation of this particular style of improvisational music is very much in the ear of the beholder. I liked the contemplative nature of the pieces, and I found myself quickly sucked into the atmosphere of the work. That's good enough for me.

Silo the Huskie
Silo the Huskie
(Headhunter-Cargo)
reviewed in issue #201, 6/26/00

Coming in from the kick-ass side of Neil Young, Silo the Huskie sure does bash it about. Like Eleventh Dream Day (also heavy Young-philes), these guys play in a rather reckless fashion, hoping that will give them a less calculated feel.

It works, of course. And while singer Brian Bariny does sound a lot like Young, the guitars are much more into Replacements territory. Some of you might remember the first Uncle Tupelo album. This sounds a little like that, except that instead of a tight, sparse production, Silo the Huskie has gone the other way.

Heavy distortion and other effects somewhat shadow the band and vocals, leaving a shroud hanging over the songs. That, too, works. Indeed, most of what the band does here is first rate.

Does it quite leap out of the shadow of the obvious influences? Nope. But Silo the Huskie comes close. I'm not sure what would kick this over the edge for me, but maybe one more little shade in the sound, something that would put a definitive stamp on the sound. For now, though, this is pretty damned good.

Silt Fish
Zabaranda
(Public Eyesore)
reviewed in issue #235, November 2002

There's a song on this album called "The House with the Dreadful Nibbling in its Roots." In a way, that says more about Silt Fish's intriguing music than anything I might write.

And yet, I ought to fill in a few spaces. These songs are jaunty with a warped wackiness about them. Imagine if King Kong and XTC were to down some peyote and put the post-puke results on tape. Except, you know, even more so.

The kinda utterly self-absorbed stuff that either completely entrances or utterly disgusts. I can understand how many folks might find Silt Fish tiresome. Tiring, in any case. You've gotta commit completely if yer gonna truly get into this stuff. No half gestures.

I took the plunge. I'm one of those folks who find self-congratulatorily clever music to be one of the few unfettered joys in life. And so I dove so deep into this disc that all that silliness at the top of the stew was nothing more than a shadow on the surface of the sea. Down where the critters reside there are jewels aplenty.

Jimmy Silva's Goat 5
Near the End of the Harvest
(Pop Llama)
reviewed in issue #98, 2/5/96

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

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

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

.

Silver Jews
Starlite Walker
(Drag City)
reviewed in issue #64, 10/15/94

Great pop music that simply keeps rolling down the river. Everything seems so simple at the surface, you get lulled into a false sense of complacency. Oops.

See, like many a Drag City act, the music and the lyrics are both poetic. The whole has a meaning unto itself. If you think you get it the first time, then think again. There's another meaning. Which is right? Listen again and find yet another passageway. That's what good poetry can do to you.

It would be too easy to label Silver Jews' sound as hypnotic pop, but then, it does relax your mind and invite your subconscious to stop by for tea. Of course, Silver Jews claim no responsibility for what you do while under the influence of their music. After all, lawsuits can be nasty.

Much more coherent than the last outing. David Berman's tales of weird people are pretty much as amusing as before, but the music is much more orchestrated, with real lines this time out.

While the sound is fuller, the effect is to make the lyrics even more spooky. Everything sounds almost normal. That's when you notice exactly what the hell Berman is singing about. Yow.

There are four other Silver Jews, by the way. Berman just happens to write and sing and such. The other folks have filled their roles more than admirably, fleshing out the vision that Starlite Walking merely hinted at.

Boy, do I like this album. I'm not sure where the Silver Jews are going next, but they've got me following the whole way. Folks have often compared this band to Pavement (a band I'm not crazy about). Yeah, but the Silver Jews are much better. There is vision here.

Silver Jews doesn't record often, but when an album trickles out, a big ol' load of folks "in the know" get really excited. Comparisons to the Velvet and Pavement (yeah, yeah, I know...) abound, but what is really impressive is that Silver Jews has always been master of its own sound.

Like many Drag City concoctions, the Silver Jews is pretty much the brainchild of one person, in this case David Berman. But instead of obsessively recording each instrument and crafting a wonderful self-crafted album, Berman surrounds himself with talented bandmates (the only repeater has been Steve Malkmus, who appeared on the first album and this one, the band's third) and pounds out song after song.

Berman also doesn't like to stick to any one mood. Well, the first album, Starlite Walker, was pretty melancholy. But this album follows well in the footsteps of The Natural Bridge, which was a much more diverse outing. Silver Jews careens from moody wail (it's impossible to completely avoid that, I'm afraid) to bluesy howl. The band, as ever, has a wonderful consistency, intuitively bringing out the best in the songs.

An immensely powerful album. There is a reason Silver Jews albums attract a load of critical acclaim. They are great. And there's not much more to say than that.

Silver Scooter
Cup and String 7"
(Crank!)
reviewed in issue #121, 10/21/96

Rather understated pop, more emo-core than minimalist. So the pop elements are a bit more pronounced, even if the dynamics stay low.

"Cup and String" sticks mostly to guitar and vocal, though toward the end it picks up into a more fully fleshed-out song. Very nice.

The flip, "Whatever Happened to Me", begins where the a-side left off. The playing begins light, but there are four parts from the start. As the song progresses, so do some heavier elements, including (gasp!) electric guitar. Another cool tune.

It's like the two songs were placed so that as the vinyl is played, more parts get added on. An amusing concept, and it works well.

The strangest thing about this 7" is that a photo of the residences that bear the numbers "1353" and "1355" were also featured (in a somewhat modified format) as the cover art for Boys Life's first album on Crank!. They aren't from the same photo (the Boys Life cover has snow on the stoop, and there's none here), making this likely a very weird coincidence. That or these residences have some significance that is beyond my grasp of trivia.

The band is from Austin, but the music lies in the same realm as Boys Life: sparse, moody pop. The recording levels bounce about a bit, but nothing too annoying.

All three songs are quite good, and the performances are good enough, as part of the charm of this sort of music is the raw feel. Silver Scooter seems to have a solid grasp on what it wants to say.

Silver Sun
Dad's Weird Dream
(Invisible Hands)
reviewed in issue #288, August 2007

Brit popsters who sound positively Canadian--a la New Pornographers, of course. I suppose turnabout is fair play, and these guys play more than fair. Fairly. Whatever. Freakin' grammar, man.

Thing is, Silver Sun pays attention to the little details like that. The songs turn on small ideas that you might miss the first time. Could be a wrinkle in the hook or the lyrics, but these guys are more than willing to shift on a dime. Muscular riffs take flight, manic harmonies disappear without warning...don't try this at home, folks.

The production is pleasantly shiny--again, think New Pornographers or similarly bouncy complex pop fare. That serves these quirky songs quite well; the wacky ideas bound out with abandon.

Summer might be ready to begin its slow fade, but Silver Sun is on the rise. Take the top down and drop the pedal. Your ticket to fun is here.

Silver Sunshine
A Small Pocket of Pure Spirit EP
(Empyrean)
reviewed in issue #269, October 2005

Hard to imagine a band name and title more appropriate. These folks play a brand of psychedelic pop with a winsome shine. Might've been pals with Love or (more likely) the Zombies, but with much better production.

Still, the sun on this album casts long shadows--not unlike this most pleasant time of year. Underneath the pretty exterior lies a pretty rough undertow. These songs are pretty, not happy.

But damn, they sound good. And I like a little bite with my pop, anyway. A most invigorating short set. Next time, bring a full plate.

Silverscene
The Pendulum Demos
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #188, 9/20/99

What might have been just another pop record found something glorious. Silverscene's songs are generally basic fare, with somewhat waifish vocals. But instead of laying some sheen on the guitars and going for the hooky kill, the guitars themselves wig out into dissonant waves of distortion, waving a discordant flag behind the vocals.

A great idea. Now, this isn't to say that Silverscene would have been dull without the guitars, but those make the deal. All of a sudden, it's a lot easier to fly away with the vocals and dive into the lush sounds presented by the band.

Indeed, there's very much a My Bloody Valentine thing going on here. More Glider than Loveless, if you can dig. The songs roll on, just enough echoes to trip the mind into a trance. Something makes most songs sound like they're on a tape that's about to snap (another reference to the guitars, I guess). Quite the effect.

Just understated enough to really kick my ass. Silverscene comes on slowly but locks in tight. I tossed this in without expectation, and I came out a massive fan. This is some really fine stuff. I hope whoever picks these folks up doesn't overdo the studio tricks. No use ruining a good thing.

Silverstein
Discovering the Waterfront
(Victory)
reviewed in issue #268, September 2005

I love Victory's lineup, everything from peppy pop tunesters to some of the most extreme hardcore around. Silverstein does a nice job of bridging the gap.

By and large, this is melodic--and rather complex--math-y emo stuff. And then these hoarse, almost vomited vocals blast through for a few bars. Not just a nice counterpoint, either. Every piece of these songs seems to have been calculated for its fullest effect. I'm not slagging with that comment, either. Silverstein is exceptionally efficient with its work.

And so, yes, there's the occasional feeling that these songs have been manufactured rather than written. But I think critics hear more of that than most folks, and in any case the energy in these songs burns away any misgivings in no time at all.

Most impressive. Few bands would try to accomplish as much as Silverstein actually does. Highly enjoyable, and wonderfully complicated as well. Well done.

SIM_01
Radiophonic Oddity
(Cyclotron)
reviewed in issue #219, 7/16/01

Some cool collage-style electronic music, with SIM_01 functioning as the conductor of the mosaic. The compositional style is very much like Chemical Brothers, though the sound trends toward lush techno and away from an organic feel. There's no mistaking that just about everything here is electronically-produced.

Which isn't a problem at all. The ideas expressed on this disc are complex. They require a large canvas to explore, and SIM_01 takes up every inch. The sound is full and inviting.

And ever-changing, to boot. Even individual songs are thoughts in constant evolution. There's always a new angle to consider, another corner to turn. Kinda like what people say about the weather (just about anywhere): Wait five minutes and it will change. Well, here it's more like 30 seconds.

Those changes fit; they're not simply jammed up against one another without any coherent transition. This is an immaculately crafted disc. Few sounds were left to chance, and that attention to detail raised the quality bar significantly. Lots and lots to explore here. Get lost.

Simon
The Harlequin
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #180, 4/12/99

Bands often write and ask if they can send me something to review. They describe what they do in their own words, and with few exceptions (say, if a band were to say "We want to be as much like Alnis Morrisette as is humanly possible) I simply say, send it in, I'll give my thoughts.

So then I feel bad if it turns out that the band plays a style I really don't dig. Simon is on the borderline there. There is a definite Dead-again, Blues Traveler sorta riff working, but rather than cheesing out, Simon keeps tightening the grooves. I like that part, and while there are elements of the sound that annoy me, on the whole, this is a strangely appealing set as well.

It's the tightness of the lazy grooves that works, a nice dichotomy which keeps the songs spinning from one point to another. And these songs are certainly in motion at all times.

This puppy surprised me. I really didn't dig the way it started, and I ended up impressed. It's always nice when that happens.

Alina Simone
Prettier in the Dark EP
(Fractured Discs)
reviewed in issue #264, May 2005

It is something of a cliche to take a woman's raw voice and leave it out front, accompanying it with the barest of essentials--or at the very least, leaving the music well down in the mix. Think Edith Frost or Shannon Wright or PJ Harvey (at times) or plenty others. This technique does raise the emotional quotient, but it can come off as a cheap studio trick if the song doesn't actually have the necessary punch.

Not here. Simone's open, direct voice is perfectly suited for this treatment. And while the music on this EP does take a back seat, there's plenty of interesting stuff in there as well.

Sometimes cliches are true. Simone's talent is very real, and this six-song set proves it. A harrowing ride direct to the soul. Hang on at your own risk.

Alina Simone has a bit of that Ani DiFranco affectation to her delivery. I'm not a fan of that. Her songwriting, though, is another story completely.

The songs themselves are more along the lines of Joni Mitchell or (particularly) Alice Despard, perfectly encapsulated episodes with fully fleshed-out characters and story arcs. Simone's occasional wailing actually helps, making these songs seem a bit more unformed than they really are, which lends a greater emotional impact to the pieces.

By and large, the instrumentation is sparse. Guitar (electric, most often), percussion (sometimes electronic, sometimes not), bass and maybe a little piano or other keyboards. Simone's voice is always front and center, and even though I'm not in love with her singing style, that's the sort of arrangement these songs need.

Perhaps this album sounds a little more important than it is. I don't think so, though. Simone demands attention from the very start, and most of the time she earns it. A most solid first full-length.

Simple Aggression
Gravity
(Leviathan)
reviewed in issue #101, 3/4/96

The main problem with this album is that I reviewed it after the Sepultura album. No chance.

Simple Aggression harkens back to the days when "metal" meant guys playing reasonably catchy songs at high volume. Hair optional.

There are a few concessions to the present: a greater emphasis on rhythm, topical songwriting (as opposed to historical epics) and a grungy bass. The last one gets a "bleah" from me.

Decent enough. The playing is good, and the sound is a fairly decent one. The songs are passable, if rather uninteresting at times. Nothing is dreadful, just dull. And that's a big mistake, because when this sort of music loses its punch, all the shortcomings inherent in traditional metal (silliness chief among them) come to the fore.

Simple Aggression needs to make its songs meaner, nastier and catchier. Everything else is pretty much in place. It's not like the guys have pretensions of high art or anything.

Frankie Lee Sims
Walking with Frankie
(AIM)
reviewed in issue #282, February 2007

AIM's re-issues tend toward classic rock or 60s r&b types (I've liked the latter much better, in general), but this one goes much deeper into the roots of rock and roll.

Frankie Lee Sims was a one-time sideman of Lightning Hopkins who recorded for a variety of labels in the 1950s. This album was recorded for Bobby Robinson, who ran a group of labels. The songs encompass much of Sims's career, and as such comprise something of a final document. After these sessions, Sims went back to Texas and faded out, dying in 1970.

The liners here say these sessions have never been released, and if that's true it's a real shame. Sims has a rugged feel for his songs (the notes say these renditions are significantly more rough-hewn than most of his 1950s recordings), and he sings and plays with the grit and fire of the great bluesmen.

Johnny "Guitar" Watson, Albert Collins and many others popularized the Texas blues, and I'd say Sims deserves a spot on the list as well. Quite a nice set.

Sin Ropas
Trickboxes on the Pony Line
(Sad Robot)
reviewed in issue #240, April 2003

A duo which did most of its recording in Germany--but some in Chicago. I'm guessing there's some sort of military connection, though the music is hardly martial in any sense. I'm just going on the addresses.

Maybe one of the guys just likes Germany. That's cool, too. Anyway, these dark little songs rumble on about plenty of personal subjects, often using sweets as metaphors in the titles ("Butter on Cane," "Syrup Coat," "Candy Cobra" and "Crumbs"). I like the thematic consistency.

I also like the way Timothy Hurley and Danni Iosello populate their songs with all sorts of distended sonic objects. The odd clunk or squawk here and there, and sometimes the noises even constitute a twisted sort of descant. Sometimes the best melodies are only hinted at by the musicians themselves.

There is an element of connect the dots to these songs. I like that. When an album forces me to think it requires that I get personally involved. Sin Ropas isn't for everyone, but anyone who takes it on will not forget the experience. Let the songs crawl into your ears and rearrange your brain. As you pick up the pieces, you'll discover even more things you never thought you heard in the first place.

Since by Man
We Sing the Body Electric
(Revelation)
reviewed in issue #239, March 2003

You've gotta figure that any band clever enough to proclaim "Helvetica is the typeface of bourgeois consumption" (using Helvetica, of course) on the back cover of its album has to have something interesting to say. Lucky for me, Since by Man also insists on creating interesting music.

Think of a more musical (at least, more reliance on music) Refused. Since by Man is a fine extreme hardcore band, but these boys are also most willing to experiment with drum machines and other sonic disruptions. No samples (so the liners say), but electronic disturbances abound on this album.

The riffage is stellar (these boys know how to find a groove--in the most basic sense of the concept--and stick to it), and the songs leave enough room for the vocals to make their points. The politics are more internal than external; the lyrics are much more likely to challenge the thoughts of the listener than provide a call to arms. I'm always happy to ponder some cohesive thought.

This disc fits together extremely well. Since by Man isn't afraid to test the limits, and the results are uniformly impressive. If you like your extreme hardcore tempered in subtle ways, well, this squall of anger ought to do just fine. Important noise, indeed.

Four songs from one of the more engaging extreme acts around. Since By Man never stints on the aggression, but the band is also sweet enough to include the slightest hints of grooves in each piece.

I'm not saying you're gonna be dancing yer ass off or anything, but the riffage does have a certain swing to it. It's the difference between loud and dull and loud and magnificent.

I know, this is just a spacemarker, a little something for the fans between albums. But shit, man, it's still incendiary as all get out. No slacking off here for these boys. This EP is short, sweet and enthralling.

John Sinclair & Ed Moss with the Society Jazz Orchestra
If I Could Be with You
(Schoolkids)
reviewed in issue #113, 7/1/96

No-bullshit big band music (composed by Ed Moss) accompanying the poetry and prose of John Sinclair. A good combination.

This isn't silly "get up and dance like a moron" music, but stuff more along the lines of Thelonious Monk or Duke Ellington. And Sinclair's work is bright and exuberant, covering all facets of existence.

Contemplative stuff, and all very fulfilling. The poetry fits in well with the music (they did rehearse before this was recorded live), and the live music sounds as good as stuff relentlessly overdubbed in a studio.

The music is good enough to be more than enough on its own, but Sinclair's addition makes this an even more attractive package. Easily the best music and spoken word album I've heard.

Sinclaire
Sinclaire EP
(Sonic Unyon)
reviewed in issue #195, 2/14/00

As if you were wondering, emo is an international phenomenon. Sinclaire is from Toronto, which isn't as exotic as, say, Zimbabwe, but it's still outside of the U.S.

Sinclaire approaches the sound from the pop side, not afraid to use piano or fairly emotive guitar lines to craft a song. The emo feel kicks in with the hoarse-yet-expressive vocals and some really fine strident rhythm riffage.

I do get the feel that this has been "groomed" somewhat. The edges are refined, and Sinclaire generally errs on the conventional side. Still, there's plenty of fine moments here. I'd be interested to hear if the band heads more in the basher or contemplative direction, or if it continues to straddle the yellow line.

Fuzzy, almost to the point of grunge. But these are heartfelt garage pop songs, just with a little extra distortion in the guitars. The hooks? Solid, if a little flat. That probably comes from the emo wash the guys give the sound.

And so, what is Sinclaire trying to do? Take emo to the masses or present a stripped-down, fuzzy version of alt. pop? I still can't tell, and I've heard a bunch of songs from these guys by now.

The problem I'm having is that the stuff is pretty good. Not great, not horrible and not mediocre. Better-than-average, but still a little milquetoast. As if the title of the album wasn't so much sarcasm as subconscious intent.

What I'd really like to hear from Sinclaire is a focuses effort. I think the playing gets a little lost at times, and the songwriting certainly could be sharper. Like I said, these guys are pretty good. They could be much better than that.

David Singer
The Cost of Living
(Deep Elm)
reviewed in issue #217, 6/4/01

The first Deep Elm release in some time that really has nothing to do with emo. David Singer plays "straight" trip pop. You know, stuff that lies somewhere in the continuum between the Beatles and the Flaming Lips.

Gorgeous songs, the kinda stuff that can melt snow when it's below zero outside. And not only is Singer adept at finding the absolute prettiest way of kicking out a melody, he knows how to fill in the rest of the parts. There's a fine balance between simple execution and complexity overload. This disc walks the line.

Indeed, just when I thought Singer might be heading into overkill territory, he pulls back, seemingly aware of the problem himself. The production is cluttered at times, but on the whole I'm impressed with the cleanness of the sound. Even when the sound gets dirty, the parts never obscure the whole.

Just about glorious, I think. The songs soar, swoop and glide in for a gentle landing. Hey, anyone who's not afraid to make a tough melody pretty is a winner in my book. David Singer not writes a good game; he puts his thoughts down on tape as well as anyone. This one'll make you laugh, scream and cry. It's impossible to listen to this album impassively.

Idiosyncratic (mostly) acoustic pop musings. Dramatic as hell and just as affecting. Reminds me a lot of Gerald Collier, though Collier tends to get really loud when he makes a point, and Singer is more likely to be quiet. Also, Singer is rarely overtly mean. Still and all, there's a definite resemblance.

And that's a high compliment from me. I loved his last album, and this one runs down the same alley. Songs that immediately entrance and then continue to seduce until the final devastating chord.

One improvement is an acceptance that less is more. Singer makes sure that his arrangements don't get in the way of his writing. He lets his ideas float freely, without restraints, on a cloud of utterly gorgeous melodies.

It's funny. When I reviewed his last album, I said that Singer didn't really fit in well with the rest of the Deep Elm roster. But this album and the Red Animal War I reviewed in this issue compliment each other nicely. They're similar in the almost suffocating craft of their creators. And in both cases, that craft has resulted in a work of stunning brilliance. Breathtaking.

Liam Singer
Our Secret Lies Beneath the Creek
(Tell-All)
reviewed in issue #277, August 2006

Singer isn't afraid to whip out a classically-inspired piano bash to start his album. And that's as good a way to introduce himself as any. He's got a real showy piano style, and his songs reflect that. Which is cool. Might as well aim high, right?

Thing is, the songs are more than just art school trips. Yes, there's a lot of weirdness going on here; the songs do not always follow traditional pop construction--at times, they seem like pure formless drama. I can do that.

Scott Solter, who does know his way around this sort of thing, does a great job of bringing out all the important elements and leaving the window dressing where it belongs. He's done a fine job of shaping the sound here, ensuring that what might have been maddening is instead inspiring.

Out on a limb? Absolutely. But the chances pay off. Singer has created a wonderful set of pieces here. I'm not sure I want to live in his world, but I sure enjoyed the visit.

Sinister
Cross the Styx
(Nuclear Blast)
reviewed in issue #15, 6/15/92

Pure adrenaline rush. Just jump in the stream and be carried away. Forget Calgon. This will remove any sense of your true surroundings.

Following tradition for European bands, Sinister is more experimental in its songwriting than most American death metal bands. I"m not sure if it's all that business about a unified Europe or what. While nowhere near the wackiness of Disharmonic Orchestra, it is nice to hear a truly distinctive riff now and again.

And the speed. You can't miss it, nor would you want to. Goodness gracious, works better than mini-thins (trucker speed, still legal in Missouri).

While the cliches show like well-worn artificial turf seams, at least they pick the good ones.

And they keep the manic energy of Cross the Styx going all through this one as well. Sinister must wear themselves out at their shows, because this more activity than humans should have to endure.

Not that it's all so fast, but just everything that's going on is pretty amazing. This is another winner from these guys.

If you like your death metal full of crashing riffs, pounding double bass drum work and just plain pain, then Sinister is the band for you.

And this time out things have taken a vaguely industrial feel, which is a real improvement in my book. Sinister still has no idea how to craft a fine death metal opus like Gorefest, but then, almost no other band can live up to that standard. Most songs here has the same formula, and the music crashes along until the inevitable smash-mouth finish (though, actually, "Art of the Damned" shows some real nice songwriting work).

For what Sinister does, which is pure death metal (no apologies asked or accepted), this is a good album. The new touches put Hate a notch above the band's previous output. Certainly worth a look-see.

Five tracks, just enough to get the blood flowing and make me forget that Sinister still hasn't changed much over the course of three albums and this EP.

Not al a bad thing, as Sinister does crank out basic death metal (which hardly anyone is doing these days). The songs follow the familiar form (dirge, midtempo mosh, high-speed thrash and back again), and if that's your idea of a good time, well, Sinister is still providing the goods.

I'm always amazed, though, by my visceral reaction to Sinister. I know the music is, at best, pedantic and a rehash of much better stuff. And yet the guys know just how to move my corpuscles and heat up my brain. If they could bottle the stuff, I'd be hooked.

Aggression, pure and simple. Works for me, though I'm not exactly sure why.

Sinister Luck Ensemble
Anniversary
(Perishable)
reviewed in issue #226, February 2002

When they say "ensemble" ... Right, so the regular sounds include accordion, upright bass, vibes (and other melodic percussion) cello and pedal steel. The songs are dramatic and dark. Imagine an artier sort of Dirty Three.

Arty, but not ostentatious. Brilliantly played (as would be expected when you've got pals like Ken Vandermark stopping by), both technically and in terms of emotional impact. Most of the pieces evolve slowly, but they immediately draw in a listener. The haunted, yet strong, nature of the melodies just can't be resisted.

And such a full sound to things as well. This album sounds more like a jazz recording--the dynamic range is astonishing. Sure, a lot of that comes from the writing and arranging, but even the smallest sound is captured by the mikes and put in its proper place in the mix. That comes from skill in the booth.

This album sets a mood and then explores it. There are no vocals, but a story is told nonetheless. With a little imagination it's very easy to fall into the world described by Anniversary. Getting out is a little more difficult.

Sinkhole
Core Sample
(Ringing Ear)
reviewed in issue #106, 4/15/96

Ripping into that whole punk-pop thing, Sinkhole keeps the speed up and the melodies nicely twisted. For me, little could be more glorious.

Oh, man, this just totally gets me off. You know how sometimes a band just seems to click into your head? I'd keep getting this thought, "It would be so cool if the next song would sound like this..." and then it did. Yow! Call the psychic hotline!

A little too loose to make the Five A rating, Sinkhole nonetheless has cranked out one of the fine albums of the year. The disc rolls on, the great songs keep arriving, and the attitude and tuneage just gets better. Thirteen songs, almost 28 minutes. True punk glory in a fuzzy pop setting.

Not much more to say. Sinkhole simply knocks me out. There's no reason this band can't be fucking huge. Completely over-the-top fucking huge.

Sinks of Gandy
Trust=Damage
(Tiberius)
reviewed in issue #276, July 2006

Jaunty pop with plenty of edge. Edge by way of distortion, attitude and raggedy riffage. Good edge, in other words.

Not unlike the Klee I reviewed earlier in this issue, I had a strong feeling I'd like this album about two seconds after the first song started. There's just something about hanging loosely--all the while keeping everything in order--that makes me happy. Just enough toss off, in other words, to make the music utterly human.

Sinks of Gandy have spent plenty of time listening to bands like Superchunk and Eleventh Dream Day. There's an insistence to the performances here that demands attention. And that attention is repaid in full.

Quite a wonderful album. It probably helps that I'm 36 years old and spent my college years listening to, well, Superchunk and Eleventh Dream Day. The fuzzy visage of this disc, though, ought to attract folks from other, um, eras. One can only hope.

Sister Machine Gun
The Torture Technique
(Wax Trax!-TVT)
reviewed in issue #50, 3/15/94

With a veritable industrial who's who helping out, you figure this might have a little more punch.

The vocals are strangely buried at times, but this booming bass just keeps emanating from some subterranean source.

And, at times, things really get kicking. In all, a very stripped down sound that makes more sense after a while. And by the time the final track rolled around, things started to make more sense.

Experimental enough to get me hard, bouncy enough to make me dance, Sister Machine Gun is rather good.

Sister 7
This Is the Trip
(Arista Austin)
reviewed in issue #142, 9/1/97

So you take a band that has made its reputation through live shows, and you get Danny Kortchmar to produce them? Oh, my.

The music is something like Melissa Etheridge meets Trip Shakespeare (or, more correctly, Janis Joplin meets the Grateful Dead) filtered through that noxious techie sheen that Kortchmar seems to love throwing over his charges. Imagine, if you will, what Don Henley's albums might have sounded like if they had been produced in the style of the early Eagles albums.

But while a producer can fuck up good material, it takes a songwriter to craft bad stuff. Perhaps these songs work live, but it just sounds way overblown. I can imagine settings in which some of these songs might sound good, but they're nowhere near where they are now.

Like a big clank. The playing is nice enough, and Patrice Pike certainly seems to have the ability and appearance to be a major star. Not with this album, though.

Sister Sonny
Love Songs
(Jet Set)
reviewed in issue #188, 9/20/99

Is it moody or is it ponderous? Does it really mean something or is it just morose? Well, here's there's no contest. Sister Sonny does draw out a phrase (and a musical line) to its fullest extent, but these songs do move. They go somewhere. They're not wallowing in anything.

So, see, the Nick Cave references might begin to flow. But no, we're not in that territory. Not quite. There's a kinda retro 60s-90s feel to the sound. Maybe channeling a bit of the Syd Barrett. Though not that warped.

And not terribly excessive. These are slow songs, sure, but they're still intense as hell. There's a feeling of impending doom, and sometimes it never arrives (lending to an increasing paranoia as the songs bloom--nice trick). All I can say is that the songs themselves do fully flower. And whether it's into beauty or horror, well, it's still one hell of a display.

Mesmerizing is a word that gets overused. But it fits here. Judging just by the stuff I've reviewed this issue, I'd say that psuedo-psychedelic pop is on the rise again, and while I didn't like it the first time out, I've warmed to the stuff now. Indeed, I'm happy to embrace albums like this.

Sisters Grimm
Grimm by Birth, Sisters by the Grace of God
(Wagon Train)
reviewed in issue #101, 3/4/96

Twins in hooker outfits playing silly, stupid music and singing about chicks, dudes and how stupid the music industry is. Whoa, not a Cycle Sluts from Hell spinoff!!

Probably not, since none of the Cycle Sluts actually played an instrument. And the guitar work on this album is so simple even I could play it (something I don't think I've ever said before.

With enough beers this might be funny. Maybe. Like a case of Milwaukee's Best or something. Long-haired chicks in hot pants may make a nice stage show, but the album is a completely different story. I usually try to give some constructive criticism, but in this case that would be: quit. Don't make me listen to shit like this any more.

Careful readers will note this is my first single-A review ever. It deserves every last bit of that derision. This makes the Cycle Sluts sound talented.

Sit n' Spin
Enjoy the Ride
(Headhunter-Cargo)
reviewed in issue #200, 6/5/00

Unlike most girl groups these days, Sit n' Spin isn't grounded entirely in punk. This is straight-up rock and roll, complete with guitar god licks and plenty of pretty snarls.

There are the requisite pop-punk moments, but even those are somewhat obscured by more traditional rock stylings. Songs like "Jaded" sound like Cub as played by a Rolling Stones (specializing in the early 70s period) cover band.

But Sit n' Spin is all Stones attitude, even when the music is not quite deep enough to warrant such posing. I applaud the intuition; these women have a very clear notion of where they want to be. It's just that this disc doesn't quite reach that point.

Even so, the stuff is enjoyable, if often not much more than piffle. Sit n' Spin should remove all of its pop-punk impulses; then it just might crank out a great batch of tuneage that would make the rock gods jizz.

Six and Violence
Petty Staycheck
(Giant Explosion-Striving for Togetherness)
reviewed in issue #148, 11/24/97

Nicely sludgy hardcore with some sampling on the edges. The singer is Kurt Stenzel, who also plays keyboards for Beyond-O-Matic. But there isn't much that these two bands share.

Sloppy to the extreme, Six and Violence hacks its way through songs that satirize everything from television to suburbia to the general fact that everyone grows older every day. Neither the music or the lyrics have much in the way of subtlety, but I'm generally satisfied with what I hear.

Think of a heavier version of Scatterbrain, with humor and general intellect a bit higher. I also hear musical echoes of Gwar, but again, the subject matter differentiates well enough. Six and Violence may not be venturing into any new territory, but at least something useful is being said.

A little too randomly chaotic to get everything across, Six and Violence does manage a decent turn as merry pranksters. Amusing, if nothing else.

Six by Seven
Six by Seven EP
(Mantra-Beggars Banquet)
reviewed in issue #165, 8/17/98

Like the Truxters, three songs. And in another bit of resemblance, Six by Seven relies on some severe self-indulgence to craft its somewhat derivative sound.

My Bloody Valentine, dead up. Ultra-processed sound, lots of echo and reverb and long songs which seem to wander off into nowhere. Well, except for the third one, which is more conventional in every way.

Pretty cool, though. We haven't had a nice psychedelic revival in at least five years, so the trend is something that's overdue. There's not enough here for me to make a real judgement about the band, but I like what I hear. I'd like to hear some more. That's enough for now.

Imagine a Britpop band that embraced the entire noise and rhythm revolutions that have swept up the U.S. the past five years or so. These ARE traditional pop songs. They're just dressed up in some amazingly complex and discordant clothes.

Goddamn if it doesn't work. I mentioned My Bloody Valentine when I reviewed the band's three-song EP a while back, but that only conveys one part of the sound. There's so much more to this than simple distortion overload.

The trigger for the music is the band's manic energy. Even when the songs slow down to midtempo, they swirl and whoosh like dervishes. There's so much going on it is almost impossible to catch all of it in one or two glances.

And that's the mark of great music. The kind of sounds that demand repeat listens. At times like this, I've just gotta obey my instincts. Hit repeat and get slammed all over again.

If you like yer Britpop with more of a rock edge, Six by Seven might turn the trick. This album finds the boys a bit more contemplative and laid-back than previous efforts, but that hasn't slackened the overall focus of the work. Well-crafted and gorgeous, as usual.

Not many bands can flit from a Smiths-style ode to a Fall-ish rant to a Weddoes-type strummer without sounding absolutely daft. Six by Seven shifts gears effortlessly, and because the band's context has been so deftly presented, climbing up and down the ladder makes perfect sense.

Methinks calling this album more laid-back was a mistake. It's more like the sounds are more diverse. The band has matured, and it is now capable of playing a wider range of songs with confidence. Every piece here is a little gem, and while perhaps some might have sounded out of place before, on this album all of the bits fit just right.

Pastiche is a well-worn Britpop staple. Six by Seven uses the technique more in putting together an entire album, rather than just a single song. All of the different songs here click when heard as a piece. They're great separately, of course, but together they really make a statement.

Six Feet Deep
Struggle
(R.E.X.)
reviewed in issue #63, 9/30/94

Infusing a basic hardcore mentality and sound with splotches of cheez and grind here and there, Six Feet Deep have crafted a cool and accessible hard rock sound.

Sure, there are similarities to Biohazard and that ilk, but those are mostly superficial. Six Feet Deep is a lot heavier and more metallic than most of the New York-style new hardcore wave.

There is little straying from the path, which is the only real drawback. I suppose that's a plus as far as programming goes, but I would like to hear these guys let up for a moment and try something different. Oh well. Sometimes you have to settle for merely liking an album for being quite good. Ain't that a shame?

Six Feet Under
Haunted
(Metal Blade)
reviewed in issue #91, 11/6/95

A Tampa all-star team, headed by Chris Barnes of Cannibal Corpse and Allen West of Obituary. Not exactly promising, in my eyes.

But Scott Burns, Scott Slagel and the boys kept the sound tight, and West wrote some really fine industrial guitar licks that Sepultura would love to get a hold of. Yeah, there's only so much you can do with Barnes' vocals, but even those are toned down and not nearly as silly as usual.

The obvious limitations are still around, but in general Six Feet Under cranks out a fun, if not terribly accomplished album. The riffs just keep grooving along (and groove is a really good term here). Six Feet Under almost challenges Cathedral for cool driving record of the year. The fact these boys came close shocks me. But I'm not afraid to admit it.

See also Cannibal Corpse and Obituary.

Six Fing Thing
Self-Portrait As a Venerable Shrub
(Dogfingers)
reviewed in issue #251, March 2004

Six Fing Thing is mostly James Cobb, with plenty of assistance from the likes of James Sidlo, Gabe Herrera and other folks who have done something or other for Dogfingers in the past. At least, I think that's where I know their names.

Cobb handles reeds (saxes of all sizes, clarinets and a few exotic-sounding things) and percussion. He grounds his pieces in a bass groove or a particular beat pattern and then goes off. This isn't free jazz. Not exactly, anyway. But the structure is often more imagined than real.

Often, Cobb's compositions approach the ambient, which is kinda cool. He does use keyboards and other electronic gear at times, but the sound is always organic at the base. Cobb borrows from all sorts of musical traditions, but mostly he invents his own.

Which is more than fine by me. Every piece is different. Different in substance and in personnel. Everything bounces back to Cobb, of course, but that free-spirited approach has served this album well. The unexpected arrives almost every minute and is almost always welcome. Most impressive.

Six Foot Six
Six Foot Six EP
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #221, 9/3/01

Workmanlike extreme hardcore. Six Foot Six obviously did this on a small budget, and the sound is a little thin. But that does give me a pretty good feel for the writing behind the songs.

And each of the four songs has at least one piece that clicks. The problem is that the band subscribes to the shifting gears theory of songwriting, which only works well if you've got a handle on how to make solid transitions. These guys don't.

I hear potential, but my suggestion would be to work on the songs some more. Changing things up can be a way of keeping the material fresh. Too many stops and starts without context just makes a mess of things.

Six More Miles
Veldt
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #235, November 2002

So you've gotta wonder how an emo band from Newark, Del., couldn't manage to get a deal. I mean, it's not like the area doesn't have a track record or labels or anything. After listening to this album, I can only ask the question more insistently.

It's not that these boys reinvent the wheel or anything. This is standard emo of, say, 1996 vintage. Tres-strident, atonal guitar work and slow, meandering verses that culminate in loud, if not apocalyptic, choruses.

The structure of that last sentence was an attempt to illustrate how these songs are put together. The syntax sucks, but it makes sense in an elliptical way. Same with this stuff. You've gotta hang in there a while and figure out what's going on, but every piece is in place.

The kinda album that sneaks up on the listener. With a vengeance. Not a grabber by any means, this puppy is still chock full of charms. Just takes a while for them to appear.

Sixer
Busted Knuckes & Heartbreak EP
(TKO)
reviewed in issue #207, 10/30/00

Ragged, anthemic punk that's rather reminiscent of Rancid when the latter band gets into sing-along mode. The hooks are solid, though the songs are on the lightweight side.

They're just kinda throwaway. Decent enough for a listen or two, but not particularly memorable. The energy level is only middling (Sixer never really kicks the sound into overdrive), which really spells doom for me.

I just couldn't get excited. And that's the whole point of music like this. If there's no good kick in it for me, then the throwaway tunes just get thrown away. This is average, and Sixer's got a ways to go to break out of the pack.

Thick, melodic riffage and gravely hooks. The sorta thing that makes punk music a big wad of fun.

Sixer keeps the songs moving along at a mid-tempo or faster. There's not even a hint of turgidity here. The pedal has been pushed all the way to the floor.

The sing-along choruses are like crunchy candy, and the slightly refined sound gives Sixer a modicum of sophistication. Not a whale load mind you, just enough to make the boys distinctive.

Just enough to break Sixer out of the pack. These guys aren't trying to change the world. They just want to play a few good songs. On that scale, they succeed admirably.

6L6
Not Even Warm
(Summit-Cherry Disc)
reviewed in issue #65, 10/31/94

I really thought this was some reincarnation of Bullet LaVolta. It sounds just like their first Taang! EP.

But no, merely another Boston-area band that applies a scattershot hardcore attack to anthemic wandering and nearly screeching vocals. In short, I think it's great.

I don't know why the masses never seemed to pick up on BLV, but perhaps 6L6 will be more fortunate. Every song is chock full o' tasty riffs. The rhythm section keeps things moving at a furious pace, and Ted Condo (also bassist) screams like he knows his vocal chords will be gone tomorrow.

Quite a find. 6L6 rocks me up, down, sideways and on a staircase. I just can't stop hitting repeat.

Another shot of Beantown hardcore from the 6L6 boys.

The songs are a little more polished and less strident than on Not Even Warm, but the same sense of urgency and vicious attack wander through nonetheless.

Every once in a while I can hear the band struggling with pop song construction (within the regular raucous surroundings, of course), and that's not a bad thing. Much of the time, however, the boys are playing around with whatever cool noises they can introduce into the sound.

6L6 still reminds me of another (long gone) Boston band by the name of Bullet LaVolta. I liked that band a ton as well, and this album keeps 6L6 on a path toward greater accessibility and success without compromising any principles.

Another for the "don't miss" pile.

Take a traditional Boston sludge attack and add a serious case of uptempo grooves. Make sure each song is as addictive as frozen blueberries on a summer day and turn it loose on an unsuspecting public. Come on, folks, this is 6L6's third album, and I'm getting the idea you're not listening to me.

This disc combines the raw appeal of the band's first offering with the surer songwriting shown on the second disc. Yes, comparisons may be made to Kepone, as those Virginians also hit their stride on their third album. And musically, they're speaking dialects of the same language.

Somewhere where the hardcore pop, noise and sludge universes collide. 6L6 just keeps the great songs coming, and the trick is the amazing rhythm work. This kinda music sounds better when played at a fast (but not too fast) tempo. The grooves become that much tighter and the natural anthemic tendencies of the songs dissipate just enough.

Think an album full of fuzz chords and general discordance can't have monster hooks? Try "Nothing Special" on for size, and you'll be convinced. Hell, any song here will do. And there's plenty of stuff to enjoy, 14 regular songs and three demos, just in case you're not satiated. Even that wasn't enough for me, but I'll have to accept it.

In case you missed the message, this is one of the great bands of our time, so quit fucking off and buy this disc! Now, motherfucker!

Sixteen Horsepower
Folklore
(Jetset)
reviewed in issue #233, September 2002

Somewhere between Wil Oldham and Billy Bragg and Uncle Tupelo's March 16-20, 1992 falls Sixteen Horsepower. I would've guessed these guys were from Montreal, but in fact they're based in England. Which makes sense, given that they're on Jetset.

And once again, that fine record label has identified a coming musical trend and then picked an outstanding representative for its roster. Sixteen Horsepower specializes in dramatic folk readings, with plenty of deft musical touches driving the sound.

Very crafted, and yet still quite emotionally satisfying. This isn't drama for drama's sake. This is music that delves into the deepest human emotions and examines what people do when driven to extremes.

Not nice music. Beautiful, but not nice. I've heard plenty of bands try to do this whole folk noir (a term I stole from a Molasses poster) thing, and these boys have as good a handle on it as anyone. Quite the ride.

16 Volt
Wisdom
(Reconstriction-Cargo)
reviewed in issue #36, 6/30/93

It's been a while since Wax Trax! was the head of the industrial universe. That ended sometime before Chapter 11. While Third Mind has a pretty good lineup, they are a little more diverse. I think the best pure industrial label around is Reconstriction.

Lately, the Numb (last issue), Clay People (this one) and these folk just kicked my ass.

Sure, there are bpm for the club types, but just because you can dance to something doesn't mean it's boring or bland. 16 Volt combine great beats with a vicious intensity that crawls under your skin and proceed to eat out your soul.

Like it or not, metal radio is diversifying, and for God's sake, you should take advantage of something different AND good when you can. Steal this from your dance dj and jam.

Where Wisdom showed off the technological prowess of the band, this disc proves the boys can play live. The sound is so full and real (as opposed to a synthesized lushness) it just grabs you.

And 16 Volt also refuses to stay put in one mode. Take the first four songs. "Skin" is almost a metal anthem, "Perfectly Fake" would be right at home on Pretty Hate Machine, "Uplift" has a Land of Rape and Honey feel and "Slow Wreck" kinda reminds me of a Pigface grind.

This industrial diversity is refreshing. And 16 Volt doesn't rip off NIN or Ministry; the guys merely approach their different songs in ways that kinda remind you of others. In fact, the only band that tries more things on one album is Pigface, and that's not a fair comparison. Pigface is a collaborative effort with a multitude of members; 16 Volt is three guys, with the occasional guest.

In all, a stunning display of musical and creative power. Industrial outings can sometimes get monotonous, but Skin has so many divergent sounds, it would take years to get boring. There's something for everyone, and every song is something special. Sometimes I can't say enough.

The last album was very dirty and live-sounding. Plenty of diverse moods and feels. This edition is even more diverse, and while obviously not a live-to-tape session, more immediate-sounding.

All the usual influences can be heard: NIN, KMFDM, Ministry, EN, whatever. 16 Volt manages to meld all the different ideas into its most seamless sound yet. The songs are tight and vicious, with a definite 16 Volt style permeating the mass.

I'd like to hear the guys get a little more "out there". This stiff is still a bit too ordinary to send me into orbit. Yeah, great jack beats and some awesome club tunes make for a very good album, but 16 Volt still hasn't found that last piece to really burst out into the open. Everything necessary is here. I'm just waiting for the payoff.

Until then, I'll just amuse myself with this very good piece of work.

Sixty Acres
Banjos and Sunshine re-issue
(Dren)
reviewed in issue #267, August 2005

I rarely give full reviews to re-issues, but I wasn't familiar with this album, and it really knocked me out. So there.

How's this for a line-up: Matt Felch, Niall Hood, Dana Kelly, Brian Seith and Mark McKay? Not bad. Flech and Hood are still plugging away today with the band--Hood, of course, is also the person behind Dren Records--and Mark McKay has a number of outstanding solo works (which feature some of his old bandmates) out on Dren.

Sixty Acres obviously listened to a lot of Uncle Tupelo (and even contributed a version of "Gun" to a UT tribute album), but these boys softened the punk edges and added some serious technical chops. These songs are wonderfully-crafted pieces, with every ringing guitar line and raggedly-sweet harmony falling almost casually into place.

I dunno, this just speaks to me. Maybe it's because Uncle Tupelo was the house band for my college years at Missouri, but I prefer to think it's simply because the music is awfully good. Six years haven't taken the luster off this album. It still shines--and with six new tracks, it might glow that much brighter.

63 Crayons
Good People
(Happy Happy Birthday to Me)
reviewed in issue #254, June 2004

There aren't many bands that could sincerely claim both the Carpenters and Frank Zappa as primary influences. If 63 Crayons doesn't, then they ought to. The album is dedicated to Carl Sagan, which kinda proves my point.

Jason NeSmith helmed the production, and he's a perfect choice for the warped pop music of 63 Crayons. He seems to have a real feel for how to ensure a loopy--but not lunatic--sound. There's no need to add a bunch of extraneous noise to these songs; the band has already crafted some wonderfully twisted arrangements.

I think I'm pretty much dead on with my initial assessment, though if you like, substitute Jan and Dean and Captain Beefheart. Not the same, but close enough. I haven't heard sincere pop music this crazed--yet controlled--since I got a Wallmen disc six years ago. This stuff is just normal enough to keep most people in the room.

But there's so much just beneath the veneer. I'm not sure how deep all this is in the end, but it's so pretty and weird and wonderful that I really don't care. I'll be in the corner wearing headphones and a whacked-out grin.

6X
Kung-Pow!
(Daemon)
reviewed in issue #177, 2/22/99

Pop music for pop heds. Power guitars and semi-atonal vocals with lots of pop culture references. And while the album starts a bit slowly, the songs keep getting better as the album rolls on. Or perhaps I'm just getting used to the scheme.

Enough jangle to jingle the pleasure centers, and enough cleverness to stimulate the brain. Not quite straightforward (there always seems to be a hint of, well, something odd), but that simply increases the charm factor.

Plenty of bounce, and the hooks sink in. The sound is great, just understated enough to really let the tuneage shine through. There's really no need to overly clean up power pop. It's better when it's a bit dingy.

A well-made set of tunes. Forgotten tomorrow? Probably not. I had too much fun on the ride.

Full-throttle, thick-throated punk pop tunes. Lara Kiang has a great voice for these tunes, just think enough to hint at the melodies contained within the music. Did I mention that this stuff really moves?

That's really the key here. 6X doesn't try to dress up these three chord gems. Instead, it revels in the beauty of simplistic power. Without sounding like any other particular band. These folks have style.

Not to mention an impeccable ear. The MC5 cover is of "High School," a song which fits the 6X band sound perfectly. Let everyone else kick out the jams. 6X is gonna be original. Without sounding forced or stilted, of course.

A simple joy, to put this album in the plainest terms. 6X doesn't try to reinvent punk rock or even take it into strange waters. The band just finds a nice niche for itself and bashes away. Keep on bashing this way, won't you please?

Size 14
Size 14
(Volcano/BMG)
reviewed in issue #147, 11/10/97

Much like Nerf Herder, these guys are much more cultural commentators than a pop band. They're competent (if somewhat uninspired) as far as the music goes. The lyrics are amusing but rather clunky. The end effect is a car wreck that's still damned funny. Kinda like NASCAR, I guess.

On the other hand, I simply can't get too mad at a band that leads off an album with a song called "Claire Danes Poster". The lyrics never seem to fit into the rather pedantic music, but hell, at least the stuff is legitimately funny.

An album that kids in 20 years might listen to and try and figure out just what the fuck the guys are talking about. Not unlike anything Dennis Miller has ever said.

It's just a shame that whenever Size 14 finally figures out how to write a decent hook, as with "Shane", the corresponding lyrics are so weak. The whole thing is maddening. Still, I gotta go find a Claire Danes poster now.

Rob Skane and His Guitar
Nowheresville
(Montague Records)
reviewed in issue #136, 6/9/97

He's already got a catchphrase: Garagefolkrocknroll. I like that. While all you hear on this disc are Rob Skane and his guitar (imagine that!), the sound is pleasantly dirty (this almost had to have been recorded live to two-track or some other simply scratched up a bit), which lends a pleasant fullness to the sound.

Skane sings about whatever seems to pop into his head. Mostly personal tales, it seems, with a few little bits of observation thrown in for good measure. He's got more attitude than your usual "guy with a guitar", and that gives his songs a nice bite.

He gives a special shout out to the original Gotham fearsome foursome, Kiss, and there's a bit of a kinship I can hear. While Skane is a bit more subtle than the greasepaint boys and doesn't crank out tune like "Love Gun" and "Lick It Up", his music is acoustic rock, not folk. electrify him and give him a band, and he would probably sound a lot more like Ace Frehley than Paul Simon.

Am I getting weird already? Sorry. I like the way Skane punches out his songs, not worrying about how he is supposed to sound. His style, attitude and intriguing songwriting make this album a nice breath of poisoned air.

Montague Records:
P.O. Box 8844
Albany, NY 12208
e-mail: robhisgtr@aol.com

Skatenigs
Stupid People Shouldn't Breed
(Megaforce-PLG)
reviewed in issue #21, 9/30/92

As you may have surmised from my thoughts on the cassette advance, I loved this album. Now, don't get me wrong; this isn't a new sound or even terribly original. It's just damn fun. If clubs around here would play this album, I would dance for a long. I would probably destroy what is left of my knees.

Sure, "Chemical Imbalance" is positively infectious, but as that is an old song, the rest of the album contains the test. And it passes. While it is currently PC to hate racism and not be sexist, I also agree with these sentiments.

One weird thing: I get a real Gwar kinda vibe off this. Sorta like the Go-Go's thing with the Offspring. No good reason, but it's there. Thought I should mention that.

Returning to a Chicago home, Skatenigs come out a little more like a glossy Black Sabbath. Same crunchy guitar sound and fun lyrics.

I personally think these folk are highly addictive. If the new album sounds anything like this, then I'll jack in for another long fix.

After a short sojourn with Megaforce, the Skatenigs return to another Chicago label. The music stays consistent.

Cheeze-metal riffs and industrial beats power these folk as always. Phil(do) Owen spits out the pissed off/often puerile lyrics with reckless abandon.

In other words, highly addictive. While "Chemical Imbalance" is the ultimate Skatenig song, this set is just as fun as Stupid People. If you have never acquainted yourself with the Skatenigs, get it together and throw this in the discer. You'll come away a fan.

Skeptical Cats
Record Record
(Skeptical Cat Recordings)
reviewed in issue #129, 3/3/97

Um, prog-pop anyone? The Skeptical Cats have a weird kinda Yes-lite sound. And come to think of it, perhaps the more loopy take on this stuff is the right way to go. I mean, just imagine Squeeze playing "Yours Is No Disgrace", and you might get the idea.

I mean, I like the musical diversity and the willingness to take lots of chances. And the Cats are consummate musicians and songwriters. Each tune is meticulously performed, with sharp production to boot. And while there is a huge amount of crafting involved, the stuff still sound fresh.

Perhaps that's because the songs are so self-consciously wacky. Of course, once you get past the looniness on the surface, there are a few serious points to be taken. And with the complexity of the music, a few takes are recommended, anyway.

These guys should hook up with Plastic Mikey (reviewed above). The Skeptical Cats rely on a fuller sound and somewhat more complicated arrangements, but otherwise the two bands have a lot in common. I give the Cats a slight edge, just because everything is just a bit... moreso, I guess.

A fine disc and a band with a great sound. Not much more to ask for, is there?

www: http://www.erinet.com/musnick/cat.html

Skin Chamber
Wound
(Roadracer)
reviewed in issue #4, 12/15/91

What Godflesh wishes it could be. For a real taste of the industrial madness, Skin Chamber is as good as it gets. Not that this is in any way intended for the timid. After all, this duo was known as Fat Hacker until someone got them to change it.

In any case, the name change hasn't changed the music. This is nastiness incarnate, and the noise is terrific. Start out with "Carved in Skin (Apt. 213)" and "Mind Grinder" and eventually you can progress to "Swallowing Scrap Metal (Pt. 2)," which is nothing less than a chainsaw turned inside out.

Don't turn your back; Skin Chamber is gonna get you.

The festering dark overtones of Controlled Bleeding have released their second Skin Chamber album, this one as harsh as the first.

There is no continuity, nothing to make a real good dance track here. And it sure isn't easy to keep in the discer. True evil distilled into one piece of plastic and silicon.

For the uninitiated, Skin Chamber present their view of the world, which is completely unfettered by idealism and hope. One of my uncles, in a vain attempt to pull me from the "morass of my music" (I kinda like that), said that heavy metal (oh, how the terminology has changed) focuses on the negative too much. And he was talking about Bon Jovi. I think this album would probably drive him to suicide.

But for those of us equipped to handle such visions, we simply plod along and say, "Life's a bowl of shit, and we have to slurp it down." So perhaps we aren't Bill Clinton's happy campers. We know no one will butter our toast but us, and we call those black chunks "sprinkles".

See also Controlled Bleeding.

Skin Yard
Undertow CD5
(Cruz)
reviewed in issue #35, 5/31/93

A truly seminal band who called it quits over a year ago. This is their farewell, even though Cruz doesn't exactly admit that (though they are a little more forthcoming than previously).

While rather entertaining, I think it makes sense that SY quit before they became a cliche. Ben and Barrett are now in Gruntruck and Screaming Trees, respectively, pursuing careers in bank account stuffing. Jack Endino is, well, Jack Endino, and I'm sure Pat Pedersen is making good use of himself. (Sorry, I sure as hell don't know everything)

While an era is over (and Skin Yard has been for some time), we might as well celebrate what was, because this is pretty decent stuff.

Many great performances on this, the last Skin Yard album. As most of the universe knows, this consists of songs recorded in the last two years before Ben McMillan formed up Gruntruck and Barrett Martin joined Screaming Trees.

Not universally overpowering as 1000 Smiling Knuckles, Inside the Eye is still more than enough to show why the Seattle sound is so popular. It also points out how the original noise was watered down for the masses.

This band is not legendary just because Jack Endino has become the "architect" of the Seattle sound. It is legendary because, as a band, they laid the blueprints that folk like Alice in Chains and Stone Temple Pilot mellowed.

A worthy end note to an amazing run.

See also Endino's Earthworm and Gruntruck.

Skinny Puppy
The Process
(American Recordings)
reviewed in Money Whore issue #2, 3/11/96

I've heard more stories concerning this release than I can process. I'll outline the extremes. One side is that American rejected these tapes, and then shrewdly accepted them after Dwayne Goettel died, so as to cash in on his death. The other is that the remaining members and the folks at Cleopatra made all that stuff up so that the Download release could be the one to cash in on Goettel's demise.

The truth is obviously somewhere in-between. My take is that American rejected the first version of this album (much like DGC rejected the first version of Nevermind) and asked the guys to remix it. That did happen last September, after Goettel died, so I'm sticking to my take. You can judge as you like.

All that crap doesn't change events. Skinny Puppy is no more, and the remnants are now performing as Download (you can check out the A&A archives for a review of that disc). And so I have this disc to review.

A big buttload more commercial than the Download set, though I can certainly hear many similarities. The Process is aimed at a mainstream audience, with accessible melodies and experimentalism kept to a minimum. And obviously, a song as simple and catchy as "The Candle" would not find its way into the Download concept. But it sounds pretty cool here. A good club track, for those who want to remix.

Sure, the rough edges have been smoothed over. Skinny Puppy historically has been all over the map as that sort of thing goes. No bitching from me. There's still plenty of interesting bits, and lots of cool industrial dance jams. A worthy postscript to a legendary collaboration.

Skrew
Dusted
(Metal Blade)
reviewed in issue #54, 5/15/94

I know, I'm not supposed to mention it, but this band is a descendant of Angkor Wat, one of the most prescient metal bands of five years (and beyond) ago. If you have those albums, dig them up and appreciate the genius.

Skrew retains that core and adds even more excellence to the mix. The first album was just a hint at the power possessed by this band. Dusted puts Skrew at the head of the industrial class.

At once more commercial and more aggressive than the current industrial poster boys, Skrew eschews the artsy feedback for a straightforward balls-out sound. Simply put, the guys want to pulverize your soul.

And it works, to great effect. This is more addictive than crack. And a better high.

One of the better metal-industrial complexes around. Skrew winds back with its usual mix of commercial guitar flailings and pounding production. A combo well-appreciated in these parts.

Especially since the recent Ministry sucked so badly. So it's nice to see Skrew can be counted on for consistency. Fans of old will like the new. Maybe not love it, but certainly be pleased, nonetheless.

My main gripe is that many of these songs are about a minute (or a minute-and-a-half) too long. There are nice ideas that work for a three or four-minute song. But not the five-and-a-half minute average that sits here. It's just excess, and some editing would be nice.

Still, the sound is great, and I like the way many of the songs get going. Skrew has always been a fairly inventive band (as far as this stuff goes), and that continues nicely. I detect just a bit of silly pretentiousness sidling in, and that doesn't make me happy. But that will have to be addressed next time out, when trends become clearer. For now, just turn it up.

Skull Fuck Reality
Wall to Wall Fuck All
(demo)
reviewed in issue #8, 2/29/92

Psycho-delic. Real tasty. And I wish they had included an address. But alas, the only hint I have is Rubber Room Records, somewhere in Philadelphia. I wish I could direct you to the house of pain this came from. Sorry.

Members of Substance D (including two drummers!) and a former member of Mr. Softie (if this info means anything to you) combine with a guy named Scott Stuart and two vocalists, Eddie Love and Mark Wiles. Why am I giving you the names? So you might be able to figure out how to get a hold of these folk.

So if the good guys who sent me this somehow read this rag, please send me your address and I will be glad to print it. And a hint to everyone else out there: no one can write you if you don't enclose an address.

A lot of aggression, some of it misguided but mostly fun. Hitch a ride, if you can.

Skull Kontrol
Deviate Beyond All Means of Capture
(Touch and Go)
reviewed in issue #185, 7/26/99

The second album in this batch with a seriously mismatched cover. I mean, this is about what you'd expect from former members of the Monorchid and the Delta 72. Abrasive rock without much in the way of social graces. Razor blades and gorilla heads? Not really.

Aw, whatever. My main complain here is that the songs are so deconstructed, at times almost utterly disjointed, that the music kinda falls apart. Knowing the pedigree, I'd say that's kinda the point. So, it worked. But not always for me.

There is an interesting British sneer to some of the tunes (I'm using that to describe "sneer", not the members of the band). That, more than the music, really lends a punk feel to parts of this disc. The utterly unique guitar work (which sometimes disconnects from everything else) is interesting. I'm not converted, mind you, but I'm listening.

The album, with all of its contrarian impulses, did grow on me. I was reasonably happy with it when it finished. Still, this isn't smooth drinking. There's sparks as it goes down.

Eddie Skuller
The Soul of Eddie Skuller (Greatest Hits)
(Breath of the Earth Records)
reviewed in issue #210, 1/8/01

A fine collection of songs recorded in the last decade (or so). Eddie Skuller has more than a hint of the Smiths in his songwriting style, but his songs are more punchy and confrontational. That new wave-meets-modern rock sound works quite well for him.

And at the center of it all are his songs. There are a few covers, and Skuller does well with them, but he really shines brightest delivering his own uniquely-styled material. That's the meat of this meal.

What saves these pieces from getting too morose or maudlin are both the bright sound and Skuller's keen sense of wit. Not so much as in humor, but just in using words to cleverly make a point. Skuller knows how to turn a casual phrase.

A fine set. Skuller has done a lot of quality work, and here's hoping more is on the way. Songs with grace such as these are uncommonly rare.

Skunk Anansie
Post Orgasmic Chill
(Virgin)
reviewed in issue #183, 6/7/99

So I see Andy Wallace is the producer, and I'm expecting some seriously thick sounds. And I get that, but the overall feel is a sparse one. What instruments that do appear are heavy, but there isn't an overwhelming amount of overdubs.

Let's see if I can make sense. Skunk Anansie is a metal band that incorporates hip hop, electronic and Indian (as in the subcontinent) influences. But not in a Rage style, but just the opposite. The sound is extraordinarily tight, each instrument appearing only when needed. Often enough, the songs consist of one guitar line, some drums and singing. Oh, the choruses can get a bit cluttered, but the verses are very clean.

Reminds me of the first Warrior Soul album (you know, the really damned good one) in the way it takes the genre and forces it to change for the better. Constraining Skunk Anansie to one genre isn't really fair, but there it is.

This would fit in quite well with the Drown album I reviewed earlier this year. Twisting around notions of what metal is going to sound like in the next century. And making some really fine music along the way.

Skunkbudz
Free the Weed