SP111
SP111
(demo)
reviewed in issue #44, 11/15/93

Mostly Michael Gibbons, who was last heard with the band Leeway. He's still playing a very technical, classical guitar, and it sounds like a lot of other good guitar players.

This is that classic metal sound of the mid-to-late eighties, just like Leeway played. Not much here to distinguish from a large pack of such bands. Gibbons is a capable singer, but the music just sounds too familiar.

Space Explosion
Space Explosion
(Purple Pyramid-Cleopatra)
reviewed in issue #149, 12/8/97

Some well-known German industrial types crank out five spacescapes. Included are Dieter Moebius of Cluster, Jurgen Engler of Die Krupps, Mani Neumeier of Guru Guru, Chris Karrer of Amon Duul and Zappi Diermaier and Jean Herve Peron of Faust (alright, so they're not all Germans).

I don't know what else to say. This is spacey industrial stuff, bordering on the ambient at times, but never quite crossing over. I like it, even the excessively long Krakatau, but I'm not overwhelmed.

Space Explosion is entertaining, though kinda lightweight. I think that might even be the intent, as there are plenty of playful passages. Amusing, not life-changing.

Oh well, who has to change the world, anyway? Enjoyment is good enough.

Space March
Without This You Can Never Change
(Ninth Wave/Death By Karaoke)
reviewed in issue #292, December 2007

Electronic pop, rock and roll in full force. Not strictly new wave or laptop or that sort of thing--though there are similarities, of course.

The main similarity is that Space March is one Craig Simmons, and this album is seriously assembled. Not unlike the Elliot Carlson Botero album I reviewed earlier, the electronics serve their master and don't wag the dog.

Yeah, there are Erasure or even Abba-esque moments. And there are some serious kick-ass rock bits. Sometimes in the same song. Simmons is a master of assimilation, which probably will put off a few people. That's okay. He appears to be serving the interests of good music, and I'll vote on that party line every time.

Fun and engaging. Simmons has a sense of melody and lyric that reminds me a bit of Stephin Merritt (Magnetic Fields, etc.). Simmons lives in a much brighter universe, but his occasional wry asides (in both music and lyrics) tell me that his eyes are wide open. He simply prefers to walk on the brighter path. Works for me.

Space Streakings
7-Toku
(Skin Graft-Touch and Go)
reviewed in issue #63, 9/30/94

Everything about this band is highly entertaining. Start with the music. A heady mix of horns, over-amped electric instruments, drum machine and wild sampling, you simply cannot comprehend what is going on immediately. You must listen over and over to get the subtle nuances, just like your favorite movies. Only after completely immersing yourself can you even begin to understand.

Then there is the plain wackiness of the band. If you can get a press kit, read it! any interviews are worth their weight in laughs. Space Streakings just might be the height of inspired lunacy in industrial music. Strike that. They are at the peak.

So at times you think you're listening to a Nintendo or Sega set suffering terminal breakdown. And at times it sounds like the Duke Ellington Orchestra on PCP. And sometimes the music is just merely loud and fast. Are you gonna complain?

I didn't think so.

Two shots of pure adrenaline from Japan's foremost authority on the subject. Space Streakings, if you don't know, crank out keyboard-driven mayhem like no one else I've heard.

Some call this video game music. Apparently kids (like 10-year-olds) love it, mostly because it moves at about the same speed they do, I guess. I like to tap into that source, and I love the mess left in the wake of the attack.

Honestly, it's pretty futile to try and explain the differences between the sides, except to say that the flip ("Life Up 65000") is a bit more experimental and also a bit more aggro. You can make out more of the vocals, though as they're in Japanese, it doesn't help me much.

Um, yeah, I loved it. Can't you tell?

Spaceboy
A Force that Holds Together a Heart Torn to Pieces
(Howlingbull America)
reviewed in issue #210, 1/8/01

Taking prog to the extreme. Literally. Spaceboy combines the extended jams and technically demanding guitar and keyboard lines of prog and interpolates them into a death metal stew. That's an interesting idea.

And it works, if only at times. The problem Spaceboy has is that it plays both prog and death metal, and the fusion comes only in the transitions. That fusion is truly exciting. The opposite ends are merely average.

So, too, is the production quality, which seems to change even as the songs lurch from one side to another. The prog production is thick and reverb-laden, while the death metal sections are sharper and tinnier.

I'd rather hear the two sounds in a solution rather than a mixture, if my chemistry reference makes any sense. Spaceboy has something here, but it hasn't quite figured out what to do with it. Keep trying, guys.

SpaceStation
"There's nothing routine about space travel."
(Fusi Pumper)
reviewed in issue #213, 3/12/01

Breezy, spacey (duh) pop tunes that benefit from the Pfilbryte production touch. So there's quite the sense of fun beaming out from this disc.

Hey, there's nothing wrong with trippy party music. And if SpaceStation decides to toss in a message or two, well, that's okay. Nothing can bring this stuff back to earth. It's light, but hardly lightweight.

The list of players (and instruments) is lengthy, and all of those pieces find their proper place. SpaceStation's grooves are simple, and the complex decorations simply fill out the picture. The sound is resplendent.

Need something to get in that early 70s soul-rock-party mood? SpaceStation lays down more than enough wax here to satisfy any jones. There are even covers of "Summer in the City" and "Sunshine Superman," though these versions are drenched in flyaway funk. Don't underestimate the power of this stuff make your booty move.

Spahn Ranch
Collateral Damage
(Cleopatra)
reviewed in issue #56, 6/15/94

Athan Maroulis, also of Tubalcain, provides the vocals, and R. Morton and Matt Green provide the strident industrial soundtrack.

Spahn Ranch is as lean and vicious as Tubalcain is catchy. Spahn Ranch merely cuts through all pretense and serves up 10 tracks of pure vitriol. Rather damned impressive stuff, too.

I know this is a little late, but certainly better than never. If you never got this or simply haven't picked it up, then now is the time. Essential.

There are no drums or guitars or anything other than electronic equipment going on. And yet Spahn Ranch is rougher and tougher than most bands who flail their hair along with their axes.

Mixing elements of heavy industrial, goth and just plain meanness, Spahn Ranch creates a picture of the world that is sparse and unyielding. A departure somewhat from their recent full-length, this release sees them really descend into an electronic hell.

Technically stunning, there is a vibe here that cannot be ignored. It may be painful to experience, but you cannot turn away.

The first Spahn Ranch outings were quite sparsely produced, which lent the band a cool techno industrial sound that was rather unique.

I don't think it sold too well, though, and so those ideas are updated on The Coiled One. The sound is much fuller and the beats omnipresent. Artsy this isn't.

But the first track, "Locusts" is a perfect example of how truly talented people can sell out without getting dull. There is a neat goth feel mixed in with the techno beats and industrial guitars. Indeed, the added goth influence throughout the album adds just the right amount of sheen to that patented Spahn Ranch feel.

But this is much more a dance album than anything that band has done before. Every tune here is revved up and club-ready. As I noted before, the full production really gives a more commercial feel to the stuff, but I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. How anyone could overlook this disc is beyond me. One of the best industrial dance discs in years.

Six remixes of tracks from The Coiled One, and four live versions from the same.

The only remix that outdoes the original is the first track, the Birmingham 6 take on "Heretic's Fork" (which is one of the better songs of the past year). The album was one of my favorites from last year (we even played "Locusts" at our wedding-not pleasant lyrically, but a great dance tune), and many of the takes simple elongate and emphasize for no good reason.

The live tracks prove that Spahn Ranch can play live, I guess, but they are completely redundant. No use, as far as I'm concerned. Still, that first track is an amazing rendition. Worth the price of admission.

The word I got on this was simply "not good". After listening, I understand. I don't agree with that assessment, but I understand.

Spahn Ranch has wandered all over the electronic music frontier, from old school techno to a more gothic feel on the last album to the new electronic (Chemical Brothers, etc.) that's featured here. Yeah, it's really different, particularly if you're expecting more stuff like "Locusts". On the other hand, The guys know how to make good music, no matter what sort.

Not quite as adventurous or highly textured as the top Brit electronic bands, Architecture actually adds an interesting gothic layer to this sound. This works better at some times than others, but it's never dull.

Spahn Ranch has always tried to be one step ahead of the trends. The Coiled One anticipated the big gothic surge, and so Architecture is poised to cash in on the big electronic wave that is just now reaching shore. And if you want more of the older days, you'll have to be content with tracks like "Futurist Limited".

I'm never going to bitch about a band that likes to take chances. Some of the stuff here sounds just a bit contrived, but you've gotta try stuff to see what works. Spahn Ranch is simply doing what comes naturally.

Following established form, Spahn Ranch follows up its Architecture album with a set of remixes. Folks like Astralasia and David Harrow, as well as band members Matt Green (who does three) and Athan Maroulis take aim. Unlike many remix projects, however, this one works.

The songs generally are completely reworked, which I feel is all-important. If you're gonna do it, do it, y'know? And, indeed, the deed has been done here.

Five songs are given the treatment (many have more than one, for ten tracks in total), but each mix creates a new song. Some of the elements are still around, but these mixes are new creative grounds. Remix albums can be hairy. This one provides a great bang.

See also Tubalcain.

Spanish for 100
Metric EP
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #274, May 2006

Spanish for 100 claims all the right Americana influences. But these boys don't play Americana. There is something of a roots flavor here, but we're talking about contemplative indie rock. Put it all together, and you've got a fine combination.

Reminds me a bit of Eleventh Dream Day, a band whose myriad sounds confounded any attempt to become popular. Spanish for 100 has a bit of luck, as the last 15 years have proven EDD prophetic.

Only five songs here, but each is well worth hearing over and over again. This is the sort of date that must lead to another.

Back in the glorious '90s, there was something called modern rock. Not exactly "alternative," not really punk, not anything in particular. Most of the time, though, most "modern rock" bands sounded a lot like U2--pick whatever album you like.

Spanish for 100 sounds nothing like U2, but it seems to me that this is what "modern rock" ought to be. Vaguely melodic songs played with vigor and intensity without a commitment to any particular sound.

At times mathy, at others simply nice and stridently anthemic, Spanish for 100 merely plays good music. Stuff that is most definitely rock, not pop. Serious fare for folks who don't mind thinking about what they're hearing. Like I said, good music.

I'm still not able to pick out anything particularly distinctive about these guys, but that should come with time. And I think I'll be spending plenty of time with this disc.

Spankin' Rufus
Spankin' Rufus
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #28, 2/14/93

A real Columbia (Mo.) institution. These guys were at it when I first started school, and they just get around to releasing their first disc.

Horn-flavored frat-boy funk with enough of a kick to get you going. Oddly, I find this a lot better than their live performances. It's more focused, better orchestrated. Those of you with more commercial formats should check this out. It can be a fun ride.

Sparechange00
...At First Sight
(Grilled Cheese-Cargo)
reviewed in issue #200, 6/5/00

A three-piece from Canton, Ohio, home of the pro football hall of fame, Sparechange00 cranks out one tuneful anthem after another, the sound just dirty enough to keep the boys honest.

'Cause the truth is, this stuff is awful infectious, and a sharp production job would have made these songs sound much too commercial. Sometimes it is something that simple that saves an album.

The other thing that keeps these boys from getting too slick is the seeming necessity to cram each song full of heavy riffage. See, once again, an impulse that I wholly applaud. These songs are like trains, chugging forward relentlessly and arriving at the station in full glory.

A nice amalgamation of recent punk trends, from pop to emo to hardcore and back again. Sparechange00 mixes and matches, assembling some of the better punk anthems I've heard in a couple years. Wholly addictive.

As this EP rapidly approached its end, I was just sitting on my butt enjoying it, rather than actually writing anything. So I figured I'd look up my review of last year's album, just to see if I liked it as much.

Um, yeah. Sticky, ragged hooks and blistering riffage. Eternally uptempo, the kind of stuff that makes the heart sing. You know, really good and all.

Five songs are not enough. Sparechange00 has shown an astonishing propensity for cranking out utterly blissful tunes. I'm getting the idea that there's no way to stop it. And, you know, I have no idea why anyone would even want to try.

Sparkmarker
500wattburneratseven
(Crisis-Revelation)
reviewed in issue #130, 3/17/97

Some nice Vancouver boys who sound nothing like the regular local exports. Sparkmarker has a cool emo-core feel filtered through the Trance Syndicate rhythm machine. Something like Texas Is The Reason mixed with Johnboy. Um, well, that is something, now.

A sludgy pop sound with punchy bass and drums. Everything is in motion, and yet the feeling is somewhat laid back. As the songs roll on, they simply continue to kick my ass.

Another touchstone would be Kepone, that fine band which records for Touch and Go (and a recent recipient of a AAAAA review). Sparkmarker is still a little inconsistent, but the raw feed here is most impressive. If this sort of thing is the sound of the future, I'm all set to get on board.

Of course, the average mallrat wouldn't get anywhere near music of this quality. Sparkmarker has a wonderful sound and an incisive feel for songwriting. An astonishing debut; an album worth searching out. The power is immense.

Speak 714
Knee Deep in Guilt
(Revelation)
reviewed in issue #155, 3/23/98

Much the same influences as the Battery release I got in the same package. Mid-80s hardcore, with an emphasis on personal beliefs and rolling riffage. Speak 714 generally makes its point in two minutes or less (another connection to the past), so it doesn't shift around so much. The base, however, sounds very familiar.

The vocals are hidden a bit in the mix, which is very guitar heavy. The riffs themselves aren't particularly impressive, though I do like the way they're slashed out. Intuitively, with little care for technical perfection. Not sloppy so much as impassioned. Always better, in my book.

A wonderful aggro attack. This puppy flies past in a spot more than 20 minutes, but the rush lasts longer. These slices of philosophy aren't terribly sophisticated, but they get the job done. Well.

I had to warm up to this one a bit, but once there, I was in the spell. Speak 714 doesn't truck much with subtlety. And, well, that's perfectly okey-dokey.

Species Being
Yonilicious
(Grauspace Music-Jamaelot)
reviewed in issue #156, 4/6/98

Spacey jazz-fusion stuff, completely improvised on the fly. And still, the songs are surprisingly coherent. I'm figuring some editing went on, but the spirit of experimentation comes through loud and clear.

Like the milder moments of Naked City, I suppose. Which, of course, is still way out there. The playing is quite good, which is not generally the case with jam albums. These folks certainly can play, and they got a ton of good ideas, too.

A joyous rush. Driving music which rarely lets up for more than a moment or two. The songs are linked together, so as to sound like one long piece, though that's definitely an editing gimmick. I'm not complaining, though. This stuff sounds good in any order and with any linkage.

Intense and invigorating. Music for the strong-of-heart, folks who are not afraid of what lies beyond the veil. Lesser souls couldn't even begin to approach this. I'm just happy to make the climb.

Spectre
The Second Coming
(Wordsound)
reviewed in issue #151, 1/19/98

Thick, thick, thick in the bass. These grooves are slow, they are funky and they just might take your life. Hip-hop grooves reformulated and slowed down to near incomprehensible levels, and then mixed with some wacky religious and vampiric messages.

I'm not exactly sure how seriously to take what lyrical content that exists here. In any case, the focus here is on the killer grooves, the sorts of rhythms that infect your brain and warp your soul. Perhaps that's why Spectre goes by the name of The Ill Saint.

A typically engrossing Wordsound release. Spectre is at home with basic beats or complicated compositions, even when he lays on rap or club-style vocals over his "normal" distorted bass vocal musings. But no matter how the ideas are expressed, the bottom always drops out. A slow rumbling that is murder on the mind.

The Spectre ideal is fat, heavy bass grooves, period. What gets piled on top varies wildly, it's impossible to miss the real reason for this music. Take the trip, and enjoy the ride.

Speed Duster
Last Stop, Motor City 7"
(Thick)
reviewed in issue #92, 11/20/95

Basic, straight-ahead punk rawk with all the trappings: silly lyrics, real fuzzy guitars and a real fast beat. We've heard this formula a thousand times before just this year, and many times better.

The point of this music is to suck (at least at some level), so a harsh critique is pointless. Speed Duster doesn't really have the fun quotient of other bands who have employed this sound, and I guess that's where the failure lies. There are a few nice musical references, but those bits don't help the whole package.

Speed McQueen
Speed McQueen
(Necessary)
reviewed in issue #128, 2/17/97

Slick packaging, slick music. Too slick for me.

This has the feel of a band that wants to be cool and trendy, and is willing to subvert whatever its personal artistic motives might have been to score a few more sales.

The songs are decent enough, as rock songs go. The production is way too punchy and plastic. At times this sounds like fucking Journey, for God's sake. That's getting a little silly.

What might have been a nice pop album became this BIG MONSTER ALBUM concept. Maybe that's what it takes to make it these days. I don't know. What I do know is that this puppy is way too steroid-heavy to get me going. Rock by numbers never lasts very long.

Speedball
Do Unto Others, Then Split
(Energy)
reviewed in issue #77, 5/31/95

Rising from that hole that is called Detroit comes a band that has more than a little in common with a certain pre-punk band that blasted off from the same city over 25 years ago.

Blistering old-time rock riffs explode from a wall of feedback and attitude, which is where Speedball does draw a few (favorable) comparison with the MC5.

Of course, the extreme years ago is passe today, and Speedball is mostly a riff-spewing machine fueled on mid-tempo rockers. And nothing wrong with that in the slightest.

Sure, you can call this punk, but it really is following the tradition laid down by 50's and 60's garage bands, plastered with 90's delivery and attitude. Simple, to-the-point and a load of fun to boot. Lean back and enjoy.

Fuzzy old style punk rawk. Like the album of a year ago, Speedball rides through the familiar territory of Motown inspiration the MC5. The aim isn't anything fancy, just killer riffs and stance, stance, stance.

Throwaway, but nice and crunchy on the way down. Four new tracks, all quality, and three live versions of songs from the album. The studio tunes are sharply produced and have that slightly metallic feel that seems to make everything alright. The live tracks are a bit muddled, but if you missed the album, you get a taste of the best tunes from that opus.

Not sure if even the members of Speedball know where this train is headed, but the bumpy ride is awfully fun. A cheap and easy drunk with no hangover.

Speedbuggy USA
Cowboys and Aliens
(Headhunter-Cargo)
reviewed in issue #199, 5/8/00

Polished punk (which means the boys aren't afraid to whip a little jangle 12-string or pedal steel into the sound), almost rock. Well, almost country punk rock, that's what this is.

In fact, the stuff works the best when it's soft. Or, more correctly, when it is carefully plotted out. Speedbuggy is that odd punk band that doesn't quite work when it kicks out the jams. I don't know if it's a comfort thing or what, but the midtempo pieces suit the boys better.

And that's most of the album, really. Oh, there are those who would call this some sort of sellout sound, and it sure is unusual. But the fact is the most radical elements of the sound are the parts that work the best.

It's good, particularly when the boys reach into the bag of roots. Strange? Only if you're doctrinaire. There's a certain part of me that thinks this sound is quite natural. Maybe it's just because Uncle Tupelo was the house band where I went to school.

Six songs from the outlaw side of country music. Speedbuggy USA prefers to call its sound "cowpunk," but there's a lot more cow than punk. And just enough rock and roll and folk to drop this smack dab in the middle of the dread "alt. country" morass.

Actually, the closest reference point I can find are the Mermaid Avenue projects, where Billy Bragg and Wilco wrote music to accompany a number of unfinished Woody Guthrie songs. The loose arrangements and spirited playing would fit in well there.

Just a fun set, even if it's way too short. Six songs? Sixteen would have been much more welcome. Speedbuggy USA's laid back style is most welcome in these here parts.

Speedway
Pedigree Scum 7"
(Fantasy Ashtray)
reviewed in issue #130, 3/17/97

Brit-pop with just enough of a glam feel to glaze me over. The a-side is a rip on a wayward member of England's House of Lords; mean, nasty and oh-so-much fun. Damned short, which is a shame.

The flip, "26 Years" is even shorter, but much the same. Peppy stuff. This is an import-only 7" that is intended to prime the pump for a full-length on Lava/Atlantic later this year.

Well, with some serious cash and effort behind it, I'm sure Speedway will do fairly well. Nice to get an early sighting.

Speedwell
My Life Is a Series of Vacations EP
(Ignition)
reviewed in issue #239, March 2003

Basic rock and roll in the modern sense. Speedwell utilizes liquid bass, pop hooks and strident guitar riffage. Great harmonies, too. There are times that I'm tempted to call this the Britpop version of emo, but Speedwell really goes for a lot more than that.

What I mean is that each of the four songs on this frustratingly short disc is quite different. I get a sense of adventure from the pieces here, like Speedwell is just beginning to discover what it might be able to do with its collective talent.

Good songwriting, polished performances and a nicely thick production sound. I like the way Speedwell ranges over its territory like a lion stalking its prey. If you don't watch out you'll be the next meal.

Speer
Sixes & Sevens
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #247, November 2003

It's odd. As I vainly searched the Speer website for snailmail contact info, I came across the "official" description of the band. Something along the lines of pop, rock, alternative and then some. For some reason, no one thought of soul.

Maybe it's just because James Speer's voice is highly reminiscent (in all the good ways) of Seal. And maybe it's because he and his band fill out the sound on this disc to lushly evocative levels. I dunno. Just screams soul to me.

Not that there isn't plenty of rock and pop and all that. And I suppose it is alternative, in that people seem to forget that rock and soul used to be the same damned thing. It's not like many people are trying to make music like this these days.

Few are making it this well, in any case. Speer has an almost perfect ear for writing songs, and the production here presents them in full glory. The sort of "alternative" that could break big quite easily.

Jessica Speltz
Bare--
(self-released) reviewed in issue #191, 11/15/99

Speltz lives in Nashville, but this really isn't typical fare for that territory. There is a vague Rosanne Cash feel, but that's a sound that country music hasn't acknowledged in more than a decade. Speltz spins tales of joy and loss, power and insecurity, wandering all around all sorts of emotional pitfalls.

The music is generally moody pop, and whether you want to place individual songs near Lisa Loeb or 10,000 Maniacs, early Mary Chapin Carpenter or anyone else, the fact is that Speltz has carved out a nice sound of her own here. Folky pop with the vaguest of country lilts.

The emotions do hang heavy, but they never become overwrought or excessive. This is the sound of a woman baring her soul with tender grace. Speltz's alto voice isn't a perefect instrument, but those flaws are what inject the most feeling into the songs. Speltz knows how to sell the lines, some hard and some very softly, in such a way as to produce the greatest effect.

A rather assured album. Speltz's music may fall somewhere in the cracks between "acceptable" women's music trends, but I'm guessing there's got to be someone out there willing to take a chance on a singer/songwriter like this. There's just too much talent here to ignore.

Sperm
Happy
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #135, 5/26/97

Rather crunchy, disjointed pop. I'm not sure if Sperm is trying to sound like Pearl Jam playing Squeeze, but that's the impression I get.

It might work better if the songs had a flow of any sort. Instead, the sometimes insightful lyrics are kinda flung out over woefully inept music. No hooks, no grooves, just rather painful-sounding notes.

Nothing works. Pop gone bad can be a seriously distressing listening experience, and that's what I had here. These guys are obviously working very hard, and they play well. But the songwriting machine needs an overhaul.

Sphere Lazza
The Enemy Within
(Hard-Cleopatra)
reviewed in issue #83, 8/21/95

Hard techno with those industrial club beats ringing into your brain. The vocals come through nice and distorted, lyric topics include despair and the loneliness of cyberspace.

Kinda like a New Order for the 90's, really. Sphere Lazza write catchy songs with just the right amount of bouncy bass to keep things moving along. The vocals have that goth restrained tendency, and most of the music consists of drum machines and synthesized bass and guitar. The keyboard synth overlays are few but effective.

About five years ago I would have dismissed this sort of album as electro-pabulum. Now I like such stuff, I guess. Nothing earthshaking, mind you; just rather amusing and affecting music. And, of course, you can dance your ass off.

Sphinx
Test
(Heart & Soul)
reviewed in issue #50, 3/15/94

Rather commercial metal from Chicago. And the odd thing is, I like it.

I know I usually rail against this sort of thing, but for some reason Sphinx really appeal to me. Maybe it's because they have everything down.

Reminds me a little of the first Saigon Kick album, which I also really liked. Good harmonies, but not too cheesy, cool riffs that don't rip off anyone in particular and coherent, thoughtful lyrics.

I can't remember the last time I really got into something that sounds like this. It's been a long time. Don't skip over Sphinx. This is good shit.

Spider Rockets
Spider Rockets EP
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #185, 7/26/99

Ahh, yes. Back to the late 80s, some groove-laden glam metal (remember Bang Tango? Cross that with Queensryche). The complexities are in the relation of the vocals to the tunes (the music itself is relatively normal). The songs themselves are, well, addictive.

Simple enough to attract immediate attention and intricate enough to handle some scrutiny. Spider Rockets have a cool sound. I don't know how it will fly these days, but that's merely a commercial comment, not an artistic one.

'Cause I'm having blast listening to these four songs. This sort of sound can go wrong in so many ways, and instead, it's done so right here. Quite well, indeed. This is the level so many bands failed to reach.

I hope times are turning right for Spider Rockets. Because stuff this good deserves to be heard. I'm not just riding a nostalgia wave here. This sound is quite grand even years past the trend.

Apparently Spider Rockets realized that Euro glam metal wasn't the wave of the future. This disc is much heavier than the EP I heard last year, and that kinda bums me out.

Because this is a much more generic sound. The only real unusual feature is that it's a woman (Helena Cos) doing the growling.

There are still a few glam references, and Spider Rockets don't quite lurch into the Pantallica or metal-core areas. On a song like "Fortune," this heavier attitude works pretty well.

Still, even on that song, there just isn't much in the way of an original band sound. It's not so much that the band is ripping anyone off; it's just that this sound is a little tired. Maybe the folks just need a little more time to figure out where they're going. This disc just doesn't get me all that excited.

Spiders & Snakes
London Daze
(Deadline-Cleopatra)
reviewed in issue #200, 6/5/00

In case you're a true geek and you've always been wondering who the "L. Grey" was that co-wrote "Public Enemy #1" with Nikki Sixx, wonder no further. It's Lizzie Grey, who fronts Spiders & Snakes some 20 years after recording a demo (band name: London) with Sixx and Nigel Benjamin.

The style is quite similar to that first Crue outing, a mix of punk and glam sensibilities, though much heavier on the Mott than the Clash. It's a fun little trip, though it does sound more than a bit like a retread.

And Spiders & Snakes decided to record "Public Enemy #1." It's not that the song is worse than the Crue version, but Grey just doesn't quite have the inept audacity of Vince Neil needed to carry off such a silly song.

Probably most interesting to Crue fans is the inclusion of three songs from the demo that Grey, Sixx and Benjamin recorded back in 1980. The stuff is appallingly bad (and I'm not talking about the horrid condition of the recordings), but those overblown songs perfectly presage all of the dreck that Motley Crue would wander into some five years down the road. I'm now pretty sure that Sixx just got lucky back in 1982 and 1983. Everything since is right up his alley. Pretty sad.

The Spies
Toy Surprise Inside!
(Fig Records)
reviewed in issue #166, 8/31/98

Heavy-duty pop. Lots and lots of sugary verses punctuated by choruses which are fairly well hollered. All balanced out with a serious wall-of-sound production job.

Yes, yes, songs of love and disappointment, some genuinely affecting ("Tired of Being Alone" has a heartbreaking lyric), some simply treacly. I the guys haven't quite figured out the meaning of "too much". A hint: 12-string guitar is generally a bad idea, and the only good pop band who ever successfully pulled off power ballads is Cheap Trick.

Even with all the excess, though, there are plenty of great hooks and cheesy bounce-along songs. Alright, so the stuff can wallow in shallow sentiment from time to time. I'm willing to forgive that. 'Cause songs like "Becka" really work for me. Even if they are dreadfully saccharine.

Whatever, you know? I dig cheese pop as long as it is genuinely felt. And I have no doubt about the intentions of the Spies. Edgy? Hardly. These are three guys with the emotional ages of about 16. So you can see why I identify with them, right?

Spilth
Maximum Pity 7"
(Urban Warfare)
reviewed in issue #69, 1/31/95

Heavy nastiness that would be at home with either Glazed Baby or Buzzov*en. Of course, Spilth is not quite as polished as those bands (if you can imagine).

The two songs are both quite lengthy and mastered to an amazing lo-fi sound. Songs construction as such is nonexistent; the tales (that's what they are) kinda slouch toward Babylon at a slow and rough rate of speed.

This is a 33 7"; if you play it at 45, however, it sounds amazingly like Black Sabbath. That's how slow a lot of this grinds. Sure, it's excruciating at times; I think that's the point. Quite an unholy racket.

Spindle
Henrietta's Mix
(Soliloquey Records)
reviewed in issue #155, 3/23/98

Minimalist grunge tunes, songs which often rely on muted guitar and vocals, at least until the meat kicks in. Anthemic fare which doesn't shy away from artistic arrogance.

The first four songs are titled "Songs we despise". The last four are "Songs we despise less". The formula remains the same: grunge licks employed sparingly, with many dynamic shifts.

Just doesn't turn the trick for me. The only song I dug was "Intermission", which is much more a loopy pop song (with some cool side noise) than anything else. "Fred" provides a nod to Hammerbox, but only a pale one.

Nothing for me. Perhaps I've heard it all too many times before. Perhaps I didn't hear that "spark" I like to hear. I don't know, really. All I can say is that I didn't find my groove.

Spindle Shanks
Spindle Shanks
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #156, 4/6/98

The most basic gothic sound possible: keys and vocals. Sometimes the keyboard simply kicks out simple lines, sometimes it gets busy. Always, Jeanne Fahey presents her voice in a surprisingly unaffected style.

Stark and immediate, Spindle Shanks isn't looking for mass acceptance. This stuff is much too dark for weekend vampires; no, it would take a hardcore fanatic to truly dig this. I know a few, and this is precisely the sort of thing they swear by. Even the most extreme find simplicity to be a tonic now and again.

The songs themselves are haunting and unhurried. Still I'm surprised by how straight both the keyboard and the vocal lines are. There isn't much angst or wailing involved. Simply cool melodies weaving together.

Out there, surely, but fine work nonetheless. With the excess that sloughs off so many dark wave acts these days, Spindle Shanks stands out as a breath of fresh air. Just as effective, perhaps more so.

Spine
Disruptive Influence
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #79, 6/30/95

Formerly known as Puke Weasel (a band that released three quite nice demos from 1992-1994), this outfit hailing from the middle of Kansas sounds much more like a big time hard rock outfit.

Combining classic heavy metal conventions with the more grating industrial style popular with bands such as Helmet and Pantera, Spine has crafted a cool sound for itself. But is this ahead of or behind the curve?

I don't know. The playing is superb and Spine seems expert at trying new things out while sticking to the basic formula. In other words, this band is ripe for plucking. If I had the cash (and a label, perhaps)...

But I've said that before. This stuff is right down my alley, and the guys crank out the tunes with a cheerful fury that would make about anyone blanch. Someone with serious bucks should take notice.

See also Puke Weasel.

Tony Spinner
Saturn Blues
(Blues Bureau-Shrapnel)
reviewed in issue #50, 3/15/94

How can you tell it's white boy blues? Two volumes: loud and louder. But after getting past that minor sticking point, Spinner does put together a decent album. His voice does have a bit of a metal rasp, but then that originally came from blues players, so things are just wandering in their circular way again.

While none of these songs really grab me by the balls and make me go ooh, yeah, none of them make me turn the damn thing off, either. I'll be honest: I've heard worse.

I know that doesn't seem like much of an endorsement, but Spinner needs to do a little roots research and broaden his base before he starts shooting for the stars.

Average blues attack (better when Spinner unleashes his slide) completely let down by Spinner's reedy, glam metal vocal style.

And while the great blues singers can compensate for less than sterling material with great playing or an amazing vocal presence, Spinner has neither. He is a good player, and his slide work is very nice, but the lyrics are dull and as previously mentioned, he does not have a good voice for the blues.

Add to these woes a one-dimensional view of the blues (the rhythms barely seem to change from song to song; where did the idea of many shades of blue go?) and an over-amped guitar and you get a blues album that is not quite up to my standards.

Spinner would be much better off recruiting a new vocalist and slowing things up a bit. Fast and flashy playing is alright (and even appreciated somewhat) in hard rock circles, but the test in blues is to make one 30-second note say everything in the world. Spinner isn't quite there yet.

Spinner has all the right ideas: a little blues, a little soul, a splash of flash and gritty vocals. Nothing over-the-top, just basic music.

But while I can hear all the separate parts, there is no assimilation. Everything remains in suspension; no mixture. The songs themselves are workmanlike in construction and performance. Nothing to complain about, but nothing exciting, either. Spinner is a fine guitar player, but talent can get you only so far.

Few can overcome a lack of inspiration. This music fits together like a perfect puzzle, but doesn't have that extra kick. No faulting the effort, but the results are just not impressive.

Spinvoid
Spinvoid
(demo)
reviewed in issue #199, 5/8/00

I'll admit right up front that there's a family issue here. The guy behind Spinvoid is my wife's cousin. Got to get that out right up front. Just so you know.

That out of the way, I'm free to jump into the music. Basic trance beats, with one or two melodic lines carrying the water. The bass lines do not get terribly involved. In fact, most of the bass sound comes from the beats.

While there are some sampled vocals, they're used more as instruments than as singing. More effective that way, really. A nice way to add some texture to the sound.

Solidly conceived and produced, this somewhat minimal electronic project uses its sounds wisely. There's no need to overwhelm the listener if the lines are this creative. Not mainstream by any stretch of the imagination, Spinvoid's use of heavy beats with ambient structures (trance by one definition) does create some inviting pieces.

Spiral Realms
Trip to G9
(Hypnotic-Cleopatra)
reviewed in issue #66, 11/15/94

AKA Simon House, who has previously manned the 'boards for Hawkwind and David Bowie. House has plotted a deep space course, for all those who dare.

The main tenet of space music is to be lush and understated. Oh, there can be trills and such, but the music is supposed to be relaxing. As little loud stuff as possible.

House violates that idea with a vengeance. His music is dramatic (well, what could you expect with an ex-Hawkwind keyboardist?) and often almost overbearingly loud (even at low volumes). The music is simply overpowering at times.

Yes, an acquired taste. Spiral Realms challenges you to think about music without chords, music without shouted vocals. Music that often enough really has no center. And that's the point: you're supposed to get lost. So let yourself go and enjoy.

Spirit Caravan
Jug Fulla Sun
(Tolotta)
reviewed in issue #181, 5/3/99

Just yer basic deep in the Sabs power trio. Early Black Sabbath, that is, based on lean guitar lines and a relatively sparse sound. Perhaps not quite so polished (and when you consider what I'm talking about...), but what the hell.

Alright, this IS getting close to what I'd call a rip-off. Spirit Caravan doesn't really do anything but wallow in the sound. Hey, the songwriting is convincing (any of these songs could've been on Paranoid), but it's really not original.

The guys don't steal any riffs, but still, if there was a copyright on a particular sound, well, they'd be nailed. On the other hand, they do this so well, Black Sabbath might think about hiring them to do the actual playing at Ozzfest this summer.

Heh. Heh. Whatever. I'm entertained, but for no particularly good reason. If you really want to hear a band that channels the Sabs, this is as good as yer gonna get. Past that, well, yer gonna get a band that channels the Sabs.

Spirit of the West
Two Headed
(Discovery)
reviewed in Money Whore issue #4, 5/27/96

Spirit of the West has been around long enough to understand and master the contemplative pop form. The band has mutated its sound over the years (indeed, an album recorded with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra has recently been released in Canada), and finds itself in comfy territory on Two Headed.

The songs are well-crafted and orchestrated with a wide variety of instruments. The use of accordion, flute and a whole array of other instruments really textures the album well.

And just because this is a well put together album, don't think for a moment it's dull. The songs are mostly bright, with lyrics alternately whimsical and brooding. A nice kaleidoscope of life experiences, which you might expect for a band that's been performing for over 13 years.

Spirit of the West knows what it's doing, and Two Headed is a natural result. If you like pop music, particularly stuff with thought provoking lyrics, then go no further.

Spiritualized
Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space
(Dedicated-Arista)
reviewed in issue #139, 7/21/97

Spiritualized has one of those "Love 'em or hate 'em" slots in the music world. I know a few folks who think that this sort of over-the-top, heavily-processed moody pop is the stuff of life itself. And I know a few folks who find Spiritualized at least as annoying as U2.

I think both of those camps speaks worlds about themselves. Personally, I"m more in the second camp. Yeah, I can somewhat appreciate all the hard work that went into crafting the lush and gorgeous sound. Boy, laid the overdubs on with a trowel, eh?

And to what effect, I ask? Not much, except to be there. Spiritualized never got over Sgt. Peppers, much less Pink Floyd. Sure, there are some thrashy moments in tunes like "I Think I'm in Love" that recall the duller bits of Love and Rockets ('nuff sed, really), but Spiritualized is in the business of eradicating rational thought and the general world of reality.

The cover and liners are present in the form of a medication wrapper. A bit obvious, aren't we, folks? And that's the whole problem here: Anything good was done to the ultimate excess. No consideration of subtlety or nuance, just smash it over the head. No thanks, man.

Spite
Heavy Whipping Cream
(Opulence)
reviewed in issue #172, 11/23/98

The guys at Opulence sent me "the whole enchilada". Which included a thrift store blouse, an Archie-series TMNT comic, a couple Topps cards from the 1978 season and other assorted junk. Oh yeah, and this disc.

I'll bite on the humor, but let's get to the music, okay? Spite plays a brand of hardcore which can only be described as "southern-fried". You know, like Buzzov*en, Eyehategod and other bands based in the vast American Sun Belt. Apocalyptic riffage, nearly incoherent vocals (not that you really want to know what's being said, anyway), pile-driving drumming.

Spite doesn't quite have the power of the other bands I mentioned, though. Some of that is definitely a studio problem (I would have mixed the extremes a bit higher; this puppy is mired in the middle), but some of it is simply the way the band arranges its songs. There isn't the commitment to chaos and pain. Spite doesn't quite make it to the edge.

And so, it's a bit more of a generic offering. Oh, still amusing, certainly, but just not enough "oomph" to really move me. Up the amperage, boys.

The new album, which means the disc I reviewed a few months back qualifies as "the old album". Spite is still trolling the angry noise-sludge-pain grooves as best it can, and here, the band does it better.

Some of that can certainly be traced to better production, but more than that, the songwriting is paying much more attention to rhythmic coherence (no matter what the guitars are doing), which invariably leads to a tighter, more harsh sound.

The stuff has come together. Spite has found its sound, and the noise qualifies as glorious. Not so raw, but much more effective. I can feel the pain behind the riffage.

An altogether better album. Yes, some of that comes from general clean-up, but I'd say these guys just got a better handle on what they wanted to do. This time, the execution was impeccable.

Spitkiss
Violence is Golden
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #185, 7/26/99

A vaguely (and I mean really vague) version of the Boston sludge sound. The guitars are thick and bruising, and the bass simply rumbles underfoot. There are elements of grunge, but I really hear is Tool trying to play Seka. Youknowutimean?

Ah, hell, that may not have fired the right synapses. Anyway, there's the sludge, and then there's this keyboard and sequencing stuff almost coexisting with it. Sounds very cool, really. Adds a nice, introspective feel to the carnage.

Which is probably helpful, because the songs themselves are fairly crudely written. Well, the basic songs. The backing stuff is rather more crafted (that's where the vague prog sound comes in), but it's generally in the background. Just enough for flavor.

What a cool sound. Take away any piece, and Spitkiss would sound rather ordinary. But these guys have gone the extra mile, and the results are impressive. Turn it up, but don't forget to listen.

The Spits
The Spits
(Dirtnap)
reviewed in issue #252, April 2004

Exceedingly lo-fi renderings of tres-Ramonesy pop punk. To be completely honest, the Spits sound like a drunken tribute band. And see, there's a certain charm to that.

For starters, these boys are anything but pretentious. This is silly, throwaway fare, recorded on a fraying shoestring budget. And it might be more accurate to call this an EP (nine songs, 17 minutes...I dunno).

Fast, furious and noisy as hell. Utterly toe-tapping and generally appealing. Yeah, plenty of folks will dismiss this as some sort of wannabe stuff. But I can't. The Spits do have that certain something that screams "charisma."

Don't know why. Can't put my finger on it. But this album managed to worm its way into my brain. I somehow doubt it will be leaving any time soon.

Spitters
Give
(Funky Mushroom)
reviewed in issue #70, 2/14/95

Crashing through with a wonderfully atonal attack, the Spitters have all sorts of nasty things to talk to us about.

The production leaves everything sounding rather flat, which is fine, since there is just about no attention to melody anywhere. Well, maybe an occasional coherent bass line. The drums and guitars seem to be merely weapons in a sonic assault on the world.

But like any good fighting machine, the Spitters have a few feints before the final attack. So don't expect the wall-of-noise or any such thing. Much of the disc merely grinds into your subconscious, supplanting your aversion to horror.

Certainly not easy taskmasters, the Spitters make things difficult for the listener. But if you persevere, you just might find the light.

Spiv
Everybody's a Rock Star Tonight EP
(Pop Sweatshop)
reviewed in issue #211, 1/29/01

The "rock star" in the band is Ken Stringfellow (he once of the Posies), but the real star is Chris Barber, who sings and wrote the songs. Stringfellow produced and played bass (and added a few keys). And not to leave out the third member, Sean Sippel plays drums and throws in a little sax for good measure.

As you might guess, though, this is shimmering pop music with a dark edge. Immaculately crafted fare, Barber never fails to also draw out more than enough emotion to keep interest high. This isn't some mere exhibition of hooks.

Though the hooks are pretty nice. Really nice, truth be told. Still, there's a lot more to Spiv than a vacant smile. The gears are spinning behind the wall of pop. And that's always a good thing.

Spiv is mostly Chris Barber, with some serious help from producer Ken Stringfellow (he once of the Posies, etc.) and some friends. Barber prefers jaunty pop tunes, the kind that sound like old-timey rock and roll. Cleaned-up garage fare, I suppose.

And man, does he write some catchy tunes. Each of these songs is bound up in a rock-solid hook, and they're just as toe-tappingly refreshing as they are hummable. Purty nice.

Stringfellow keeps a light hand on the knobs, allowing plenty of space in the sound. There's not much fuzz, but rather plenty of room for the songs to make a good impression. I get the feeling that I can really hear inside Barber's mind. That's a nice job from the booth, folks.

But the star is Barber's writing. He's got a real knack for writing fluffy stuff, and he has a right to flaunt it. This disc is an effervescent piece of candy, but boy it sure goes down nice.

Splitsville
Ultrasound
(Big Deal)
reviewed in issue #134, 5/12/97

Power punk-pop, and guys have a fairly high opinion of themselves from the sound of things. Snotty and catchy? What a combo!

At times the anthemic temptation takes over, and that's where Splitsville gets a bit tiring. Most of the stuff is cool and bouncy, though, so that complaint gets lodged only once in a while.

They sure like the Posies, though Splitsville's sound is lighter, and the lyrical content isn't nearly as deep. Just a nice sundae for a sunny afternoon. I haven't an album like this in at least a month, so it makes me happy.

There's something missing, though I can't identify the problem. The hooks are nice, and the band knows how to shuffle this stuff on out of town. But I want to hear just a little more of... something. Perhaps I'll keep listening until I find it.

Spock's Beard
Kindness of Strangers
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #152, 2/9/98

A more accessible side of prog rock, with folk-rock breaks and a generally watered-down approach to the technical ideal.

What got watered down is the devotion to pyrotechnics. Sure, there's plenty of fast guitar licks and classical melody lines. But Spock's Beard infuses this base with more traditional rock vocals and a definite passion. These guys feel this music. And that translates into a more satisfying sound.

Of course, this is still prog rock. Grandiose, excessive and generally over-the-top. There are some songs of monster length, and on the last track (which clocks in at just under 16 minutes) there's an intro which plays a bit much with the whole stereo recording thing. I mean, the Beatles got over that 30 years ago, y'know?

Still, this disc displays a confident band playing music it loves. Music with purpose and passion. And for all the problems, Spock's Beard knows how to sell a song.

Spo-Its
Handgun 7"
(Standard)
reviewed in issue #74, 4/15/95

While the live performance is where Spo-Its is at, this 7" does a decent job of showing all the possibilities the band can offer.

The sound is vaguely industrial, with all sorts of noises lurking in the shadows. But the a-side is warm and alive, not the sterile clanking of most industrial acts.

The flip consists of a warped torch 'n' twang song and a song called "Dead Girls Don't Say No" (their jangle pop tune). Rather loopy.

One note: the 7" says 45, but at that speed everyone sounds like chipmunks, and it sounds (relatively) normal at 33, so I'd go with that speed. Putting this music together with the power tools and roving s&m show that is Spo-Its would be rather interesting, indeed.

One of the worst production jobs I've heard in ages. But then, when your live show consists of grinding metal and (not always) simulated sexual gratification, maybe other things are important.

Like the general mordant nature of the songs. Spo-It's (no, I don't know what the name means or even if it is grammatically correct) makes every attempt to offend most any person inhabiting the U.S. of A. With an astonishingly high success rate, I'd imagine.

A description? Sample-driven, with lots of crap going on in the muffled background and generally ranted vocals. And the aforementioned nasty lyric content. Amusing, but are we dealing with an awesome talent or just a royal mess?

Well, the music isn't coherent in any proper sense of the word, but it does move, and I can only imagine the live accompaniment. And the lyrics are quite amusing, even if they don't necessarily make sense, either.

Far too "out there" for mainstream humanity, Spo-It's just might have found a nice niche amongst the educated lunatic fringe.

Spokane
Leisure and Other Songs
(Jagjaguwar)
reviewed in issue #204, 8/28/00

Another outing from a former Drunk member. Rick Alverson wrote a lot of Drunk songs, and so it's not surprising that this sounds a bit more like the old band than Bevel.

There are points of departure. For starters, this is much more personal and muted than most Drunk fare. Alverson wasn't exactly feeling on top of the world when he recorded this, and you can hear his quest to regain self-confidence.

I should be clear that the confidence in question doesn't involve music. Alverson never lost his feel for that. Indeed, as these songs twist and turn (they're written in sort of a road-novel construction, if that makes any sense) it becomes quite apparent that the writing is sharper than ever.

Oh, and the pieces are achingly beautiful. Simply gorgeous at times. It's all I can do to listen and not simply bask in the splendor. Life changes can sometimes result in great art. Spokane is such a project.

Sponge
New Pop Sunday
(Beyond/BMG)
reviewed in issue #181, 5/3/99

Um, basic overproduced pop music. Moments remind me of Britpop bands like China Drum, though the glare is just a bit too much for my poor scorched retinas.

And then come songs like "Live Here Without You", which sound like Made-for MTV infomercials. Pop is best when it undercuts its inherent pretentiousness. Sponge amps it up, instead. Anthemitis everywhere.

Add to it the ultra-sharp, dreadfully effect-laden production. All the vocals are either overdubbed or echoed or something else. Where is the real voice? Good question. I can't find the band for the sound.

And it's too bad, because about half of these songs are quite good. I just can't stand everything that happens after the tune kicks in. I know, I know, that's what "the industry" is all about, and always has been, but I'm tired of it. And the songs aren't great enough to overcome the window dressing.

Spooge
Nice and Warm
(demo)
reviewed in issue #114, 7/15/96

Six songs, all exhibiting wild creativity and manic musical tastes. The sort of thing Thought Industry and Faith No More crank out successfully from time to time.

Spooge tries very hard to make all the disparate elements work together. At times, it works. In particular, the first track, "Ewe Are in My Dreams", starts off completely disjointedly, but by the end it really whips itself into a crazily cool song.

You also gotta love a song that ties the suicides of porn star Savannah and Kurt Cobain (in a really shameless Temple of the Dog rip-off sound). The song itself is a little less then successful (as are many parts of the tape), but there are enough laughs to keep going.

When a young band is this ambitious, I hate to be discouraging. But Spooge needs a lot more work to make the chaos approachable. Oh, the potential...

Spookie Daly Pride
Marshmallow Pride
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #227, March 2002

Imagine you are David Lee Roth. You've just left Van Halen. And instead of veering into 50s and 60s rock, you decide to kick start the kitsch groove rock sound.

Well, Spookie (that would be the singer) doesn't have Roth's pipes, but he does have that low rumble, and he speak-sings his lyrics (just like Diamond Dave when he was playing the hipster). The music lies somewhere between Smashmouth and the Spin Doctors, though it usually has a ton of extra junk tossed on top. Piano, horns, you name it.

And the band isn't afraid to completely change moods, slipping in a Latin feel here and some trip-hop there. It's all in good fun, though Spookie doesn't seem to have the self-awareness to wink at his audience. This is silly-sounding music, and that's a compliment.

Deep? Naw. Introspective? Come on. But as party jams go, Spookie Daly Pride has what it takes to impress. Just ride along with the goofs, and you'll have a good time.

Spool
Spool
(New Dog-World Domination)
reviewed in issue #165, 8/17/98

Spool is Jhno and John Ridenhour, with some friends popping by now and again. What this means is long explorations of time, space and the mind.

Ambient in all the important ways. Trips through rhythms, found sound samples and a slowly pulsating universe. A consciousness that is very much alive and inviting. A nice warm place for contemplation and rejuvenation.

Spool never repeats itself, but simply slowly evolves into a variety of soundscapes. Nothing too harsh, nothing at all that is dull. Just an evenly maintained ride, with lots of side shows.

Exciting? Well, not in a blood rushing to the head sorta way. But in an intellectually stimulation fashion, sure. This is music which encourages the listener to find a new way of thinking. Nothing forced, just an easy path to the subconscious mind.

Jason Spooner
The Flame You Follow
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #288, August 2007

I put a note on this one after doing my first listens: "Keep listening. It gets better." So I didn't start writing this review until I hit the fourth song. It does get better, I think, but I also think that Spooner's well-polished version of latter-days Dylan-meets-mid 70's Paul Simon is a bit out of my comfort zone. I needed to meet him halfway.

It's not that these songs are bad. They're cool, sophisticated and sublimely crafted. And I like Dylan and Simon (no matter the era). But something in his manner didn't sit well with me. I spent a long time thinking about it, and then I realized that I liked this stuff an awful lot. So I didn't worry about whatever reservations I had.

Part of it is that the songs in the middle of the album are more complete and interesting than the ones on the edges. It's almost like the first three songs are warm-ups--good ones, but still. Then everything takes off before it fades a bit at the end. Ah, well. Those five songs in the middle are great, and that's better than most albums. Sometimes Spooner finds the groove, and sometimes it's obvious that he's working hard. If he can find that extra gear, that way of getting into the zone on all his songs, he's got a great future.

Spoozys
Astral Astronauts
(Jetset)
reviewed in issue #202, 7/17/00

So like, these Japanese folks got together and spliced three-chord pop, industrial metal and other electronic thoughts together into a frantic soda. Not on the weirdness order of a Space Streakings, but almost as manic.

Joyous, bounding and impossibly hooky. There's a streak of silliness that abounds, like when the folks drop a surf riff into the mix. No reason, really. Just for kicks.

That's all this disc is. One big electric kick. There's not a lot beneath the surface really, but I don't want anything deep here. Sometimes ear candy can be enjoyed just for the sheer fun of it.

Loony, wacky, zany, whatever. It's the other side, the side that's just a bit out of control. Spoozys (I mean, just look at the name!) deliver a blistering shot of distilled decadence. Suck it down. As fast as you can.

Spore
Spore
(Taang!)
reviewed in issue #44, 11/15/93

You folks have been reporting this for quite a while, but I get my first taste through the CMJ bag.

I understand the appeal. Wall-of-noise screams interspersed with slightly mellower moments. This is where grunge and hard core meet head to head.

There is this odd, almost unconscious feeling I get listening to this. I like it, but for no good reason. It just resonates with my bones. Wish I could do better than that, but I'm afraid my lexicon is all tapped out for now.

Jam this, please.

Spottiswoode
Ugly Love
(self-released) reviewed in issue #178, 3/15/99

Amazingly dark songs about love and other pains of life. Spottiswoode utilizes all sorts of cheesy pop cliches, but he invariably strips then down to their cores and inverts them, leaving behind some truly spooky stuff.

An obvious, easy reference point is Leonard Cohen. Spottiswood doesn't quite have that bass rasp down, but he's close. His minimalist approach to music and instrumentation also bears some resemblance.

As for the musings themselves (kinda the point of the whole affair, really), they aren't light. Not angry, but certainly disappointed with the way life has turned out. That the songs are written in character only makes them that much more poignant.

Not yer everyday album, but those of us with a dark side will partake with gusto. Some really amazing work here.

Truly warped love songs and other observations. Spottiswoode (and plenty of enemies, if that's what he wants to call them) create a wonderfully textured album of dark pop songs.

Which isn't too surprising. This disc picks up where he left on his last album and just expands his wicked worldview on concentric circles. The eclectic arrangements and busy instrumentation ensure a sonic depth that illustrates the lyrics quite beautifully.

And while the themes may be on the mean side, the sound is gorgeous. Lilting, rambling, gamboling, as if on the pillowtops of clouds. This is one of the most sophisticated sounds I've heard on any album, particularly one independently produced. Though I think I said the same thing of the last Spottiswoode disc.

Well, see, it wasn't a fluke. This is amazing music, the kinda stuff that sticks in the mind long after the sound waves have moved on through the air. Intelligent songs played with style and care. A beautiful sound. What else do you want?

Jonathan Spottiswoode has a pleasant rasp that is moderately reminiscent of Tom Waits. He's also got a way of traversing genres (with truly twisted results) that might remind a listener of Mr. Waits. Of course, if you listen to just one song, you'll realize that Spottiswoode is completely and utterly his own man.

Yes, the mood is dark--sometimes spooky, sometimes quirky--but these aren't songs steeped in depression and disappointment. They're just windows into the deeper recesses of humanity.

Spottiswoode likes to write about flawed characters. Many of these songs revel in dysfunction, encouraging the listener to embrace his or her own inner turmoil. After all, everyone has to face the demons someday.

I guess the most astonishing thing about these songs is their delicate nature. Even when steeped in the blues and backed by a gospel-style choir, the writing is precise and direct, with each song progressing at its own pace until fully unfurled. The sort of music that is immediately unforgettable.

Jonathan Spottiswoode is something of a modern-day Leonard Cohen. He's got that baritone-bass voice and a wryly bleak way of looking at the universe. I've been digging his stuff for years. Here, his "band" has been pared down to longtime collaborator Riley McMahon--though there are plenty of friends who help out as well.

These guys have worked together for a long time, and together they create some truly amazing settings for Spottiswoode's songs. Earlier recordings were rough in spots, though listening to them it's pretty easy to hear the progression that led to this set. Spottiswoode jettisoned just enough of his eccentricities to allow him to make a truly great album.

Which isn't to say the other stuff is mediocre. It's fabulous. But this album is something else altogether. There is an emotional depth past mere melancholy, and the music is sparsely sumptuous (where did that vague bossa nova feel come from? I love it!). What was done quite well in the past has been stroked perfectly here.

An album to play on a cold winter night when it seems the spring will never come. You'll warm up knowing that someone feels worse that you do, and you just might get a laugh or two while you're at it. One of the finest albums of any year.

Sprawl
Sarah Veladora
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #237, January 2003

Ralph Kircher sounds like Robyn Hitchcock. He's got just the right amount of earnest whine in his voice. Sprawl, on the other hand, plays heavy pop music. Stuff that wails and moans in a most atmospheric way. The combination is pretty cool.

There are down moments, of course, times when the band chills out. At times like that, Kircher generally croons--losing his whine in the process. Soon enough, though, that little edge creeps back into his voice. I like it there.

Nothing spectacular going on. Just some good music. Sprawl doesn't go for the jugular, but it doesn't just sit on its ass, either. These songs are nicely crafted and played with restrained aggression. At times I'd like to hear a bit more, well, something in the writing. Maybe a bit more of a sense of adventure. Not a big deal. There's a fine comfortable cheese feel going on here.

I think I've pretty well summed this up. This puppy slipped in smooth and continued to satisfy long after its time was done. And there's not a damned thing wrong with that.

Spring Heeled Jack
Songs from Suburbia
(Ignition Records)
reviewed in issue #163, 7/20/98

When the first song on the record is a really damn good song, one has to wonder if the rest of the CD will live up to the beginning. "Mass Appeal Madness" is the tastiest piece of ska/rock on this disc, but it's not the only good thing about it. Other gems include "Pop Song (Green)" and "Makisupa Policeman."

The thing about Spring Heeled Jack is that it sounds like a ska band that used to be a rock band, but incorporated ska for the right reasons. The sound needed spice, and this was the way to do it. I keep flashing back to bands like Danger Danger and Steelheart from the late 80s. Crappy bands that had hit songs because they were (conveniently) able to craft one song to fit the glam rock of the time. I think SHJ is better than those bands, but every time I listen, these are the thoughts that race through my head.

Are we in the declining days of ska, where everyone plays a chink chink guitar rhythm so we know it's not a KISS rip-off band? Will we care about these late 90s days of music, or will this be the forgotten time of music--much like hair bands of the 80s are only remembered by the kids unlucky enough to be 16 and full of hormones at just the right moment to sing along to "32 Pennies?"

Only time will tell, I guess. One thing I can say about Spring Heeled Jack is that they are a powerful live band, and there are some really tasty cuts on this disc, even if I feel guilty about saying it.

--Matt Worley

Tobin Sprout
Sentimental Stations
(Recordhead-Luna)
reviewed in issue #234, October 2002

Once again recording under his own name (as opposed to Eyesinweasel or any of his other alter egos), Tobin Sprout has created another set of quirky and slyly engaging pop songs.

There's nothing particularly threatening about a Sprout song, but there's always something slightly askance. It might be the way he seems to throw his voice every once in a while. Or it might be that the guitar sounds like it's being strummed to death. Or maybe it's just an instrument that's not immediately identifiable.

These songs have been recorded with a deliberately muddy sound. Nothing excessive, just a slightly queasy muddle in the middle ranges. It lends these already unusual songs that much more of an otherwordly feel. I like it.

Sprout has a talent for writing songs that get under the skin. He doesn't put up a big front or come at the listener screaming. His talent is sneaking cool little ideas into what seem like innocuous tunes. Clever one, he is.

Tobin Sprout can take a straight pop hook and twist it so many times he's made a dreadlock by the time he's done with it.

That's a compliment, by the way.

Some folks find his lo-fi affectations either pretentious or silly. I like them, myself. As long as you're gonna screw with melody construction, you might as well noodle around in the booth as well. And when the results are as shimmeringly enchanting as this, well, I don't know how you can complain at all.

But then, there are those who are still convinced that Wayne Coyne still hasn't written a good song. I'll have no truck with Philistines. The simple truth is that Sprout is such as master of this form that he can almost will a song to work, no matter how odd it might be.

Thing is, for all the machinations in the background, these songs aren't all that weird. They're just not, um, normal. And that's definitely true. Greatness isn't normal. It's something that should always be appreciated.

A full set from Tobin Sprout, with three new demos tacked on to the end. Those who don't know Sprout might well find this set of his deceptively simple pop songs a revelation. Those who know him will know most of the songs (which include a couple of songs he wrote with Robert Pollard while a member of Guided by Voices).

The sound is pretty good. Not studio quality, but I like a little mess in live albums. Otherwise, it might as well be new noodlings on old themes, right? In any case, Sprout and his band blow through 29 songs without flagging a bit. The demos are, well, the usual outstanding work.

Highly recommended for fans and for anyone who digs slightly loopy, exuberant pop music. If you haven't gotten into Sprout yet, this is the perfect primer.

Sprung Monkey
Mr. Funny Face
(Surf Dog/Hollywood)
reviewed in issue #163, 7/20/98

It's rock and roll your mom and dad wouldn't mind you having. These San Diego natives throw in tastes of funk, hip hop, and a taste of hard core blended with the common rock flavor. Nothing in excess, nothing over the top, nothing frightening.

The music does twist enough to make each song stand on their own, so the tracks don't blend into a pile of stock rock beats. Having a good producer always helps in that regard.

While Mr. Funny Face won't take you to any place new, it has enough punch to merit a stroll down to the local music shop and giving it a listen. Not everyone wants to hang out on the ledge, so squat in the middle of the floor with lots of space around you and be soothed by some rock that won't hurt you. In fact, it even hugs you at the end with a Hawaiian traditional.

--Aaron Worley

Spudmonsters
Stop the Madness
(Massacre-Century Media)
reviewed in issue #47, 1/31/94

These guys have obviously ignored all of the marketing folks who told them how they should sound in order to be "hip" metal guys. There's some grind, some hard core, a couple of death metal tracks, and some shit I don't even want to try to identify. Actually, they will often seg between what people who think too much call subgenres.

With titles like "10 Lbs. of Shit in a 5 Lb. Bag", you know you're not dealing with the sensitive artist type. And the level of humor is somewhat below, say, the "Honeymooners".

This isn't a bad thing at all. Who says a band that plays like their various appendages are about to fall off can't have a little fun (or a lot). You should too.

Spur
Moon Doggies
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #139, 7/21/97

A D.C.-area horror punk band not unlike the Groovie Ghoulies. There are some amusing song titles (particularly "Libido Bandido"), but the music is terribly banal.

Almost as if the words were written first, and the band then wrapped the first tune to come to mind around each set of lyrics. There are plenty of almost desperate-sounding shifts in style and sound within individual songs, which doesn't help provide much continuity.

I have a feeling the changing grooves and general off-kilter feel are intentional, but they still don't work. Spur is plying standard rock riffage, and the lyrics aren't clever enough to make up for that fact.

A big boatload of effort, and it kinda bums me out to rag on the guys, but this doesn't cut it. Spur isn't a big name trying to pass a load of tired music on the kids, but the sad thing is the final sound is the same.

Squirrel Nut Zippers
Perennial Favorites
(Mammoth)
reviewed in issue #165, 8/17/98

Okay, so they aren't forging any new ground here, but who the hell is these days? And it isn't that rock band masquerading as a swing band, which seems to be the new "underground" sound coming out of everyone's garages. Nope, they play straight forward dance jazz. The kind of stuff illegal drunks sloshed to in the twenties.

Unabashedly clean and meticulous, these guys have an ease about them--as if this huge ensemble work ain't that hard. Well, this is a really nice album. Lots of fun. Nothing as funny as "Hell," their breakthrough (and probably only) single, but in the same vein. Nice, clean, and suitable to play for your girlfriend's mama. Not to mention your own.

-- Matt Worley

Squirrelbait
Squirrelbait
(Drag City)
reviewed in issue #127, 1/27/97

A band that is so seminal that two of its offshoots are considered primal instigators of the whole 90s indie rock thing. Yeah, Squirrelbait existed for a short while and recorded albums that either the Replacements or Husker Du (the most common references for Squirrelbait) would have been proud to release instead of their own end-of-the-road stuff.

Right; so a couple Squirrelbait members went on to form Slint, David Grubbs did Bitch Magnet (and more, obviously) and singer Peter Searcy kinda kept wandering about Louisville from gig to gig, most notably (I guess) Big Wheel.

From perusing the "experts", I find that Rolling Stone never made a mention of the band. The Trouser Press likes Skag Heaven much better, while Spin prefers this album. Both claim there is a huge difference between the two albums.

They're both wrong. The second may be a bit more textured, the first a bit more raw. If you heard either of these albums, you might think the guys got lucky. But two in a row should have served notice of the future.

Like I alluded in the first review, Squirrelbait advanced its sound just a tad on this album. The production is a little tighter, though no one could accuse the band of meticulous recording habits. There is a bit of a drop-off energy-wise, but that's fairly minor. And as I noted, the "experts" disagree with me anyway. Believe who you want.

A thoroughly enjoyable romp through midwestern punk, a la 80s. It would be disingenuous to claim that this stuff could have existed without Minneapolis, but the Louisville transfer added a little something to the concept, and certainly gave these guys the requisite musical education.

As history, these discs are valuable. Hell, I'd be impressed if these were albums by group of teenagers recording today. There's still no way of seeing how important future projects by the members would be, but with the benefit of hindsight, you can almost see it.

The odd "important" albums that also happen to be a lot of fun.

The Squirrels
Scrapin' for Hits
(Poplust-Pop Llama)
reviewed in issue #122, 11/4/96

What started as Rob Morgan using the Young Fresh Fellows as a backing unit playing some truly silly songs (and sillier versions of other folks songs) has managed to keep riding through loads of personnel (including the main men of the Posies and a ton of Seattle scene stalwarts).

Really goofy shit, if you must know. These tracks are taken from various Squirrels albums, songs from compilations and quite a few singles. And while a pretty much straight-up "Alone Again (Naturally)" (yes, a cover of the 1972 hit) managed somehow to get named best single by the Northwest Area Music Association (they're still checking for ballot-stuffing, I understand), there really aren't any hits to speak of.

Unless you count the "Seasons in the Sun/The Hustle" medley that appeared on the second Pravda Super Massive 70's Hit Explosions... compilation, I guess. Not like this should be taken seriously at all.

Liners from Mojo Nixon, Scott McCaughey, Ken Stringfellow and the authorized biography from Pete Bletcha, among other luminaries. Pop a beer, kick back, and try not to smile. Betcha do anyway.

Squirtgun
Squirtgun
(Lookout)
reviewed in issue #90, 10/23/95

Lots of thanks to Ben Weasel on the liners, and what do ya know? These Hoosiers (literally) have that straight ahead Boogadaboogadaboogada sound that helped Screeching Weasel to legendary (if not fiscal) success.

Every song is astonishingly catchy, and since the whole disc clocks in at just over 25 minutes, there's plenty of time to play over and over (and over and over).

If pop punk were so simple, a lot more people would do it well. Squirtgun has a handle on the formula, and the guys keep modulating it to keep thing interesting. A couple more albums will tell the story, but this is an auspicious debut.

Them Indiana boys again, with four tunes about life, love and bad TV. Well, they think it's good TV, but I won't hold it against them.

Standard punk-pop, a little short on the hooks this time out. Sure, it's still good enough to keep me bobbing, but I'm predicting chord changes and melodic ideas a bit too easily with these four songs. Should be a surprise every now and again, methinks.

I liked last year's album better than this stuff, which is just above middling. It takes a little more to keep my attention on the second spin. Squirtgun can do better.

I liked this band's self-titled album on Lookout the first few times I listened to it. Then it got old. While I can't promise anything, I think this album has a bit more staying power.

First off, the obvious reference here is Naked Raygun, not Screeching Weasel (which was my comparison for that early disc). A pretty big difference, even when you're talking about two sets of folks who were hanging out in Chicago at about the same time and all. Anyway, these songs have a bit more heft to them. The hooks are less sugary and more substantial. Incremental improvements, but important ones nonetheless.

Bassist (and prolific punk producer) Mass Giorgini did the honors on the board, and he gave the band a thick, slightly plastic sound. It works well with the added power of the writing. The sharp edges give these songs that much more oomph.

A fine effort by a band that went MIA quite a while ago. Good to know the boys's skills didn't go away. This tightly-wrapped disc is a lot of fun.

Squish
fig. 1
(Pinch-Hit)
reviewed in issue #186, 9/28/98

Just yer basic roots rock. Kindly harmonies and jangle guitar skimming along with uptempo backbeats. Fun stuff. Take the top off and feel the wind stuff.

And so it's easy to overlook the shallow song subjects (or, at least, the less than perceptive lyrics) and the way everything comes together so predictably. Squish isn't reinveting the wheel. Indeed, it's riding on the latest model.

But all that doesn't matter a whole lot. The way to judge this sort of music is how it makes me feel. Does it lift the spirits, add a bit of a spring to the step? Yeah, sure. A nice little pick-me-up. And as long as there's no need for anything further, then we're cool.

I know, I'm a sucker for this stuff and all of you are tired of me saying things like this. Tough. I've got a nice little smile going and no one is going to take that away.

Squonk Opera
Howandever
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #88, 9/25/95

Vaguely jazzy, with goth and classical overtones. A wondrous mix of styles and (lots of) substance.

Eclectic doesn't really begin to describe the stuff. While it is fairly easy to classify all of the songs on this disc as "Sqounk Operatics", the mood and feel often changes gears from one tune to the next. And to be honest, "tune" doesn't do these pieces justice.

Highly pretentious, to be sure, Squonk Opera still manages to pull off a wacky, cool album. Just because these folks know they are "out there" doesn't mean it sucks. Indeed, while it may take a few listens to even start to acclimate, there is plenty here to admire.

Sri Lanka
Here
(Neverland)
reviewed in issue #44, 11/15/93

Combining standard rock rhythms and middle-eastern melodies (well, at least a pretty good approximation), Sri Lanka have a fairly addictive sound.

The beat rarely slows down, but things don't get too heavy or overwhelming. Everything just keeps moving forward at a nice pace.

I've heard other bands do a song or two in a style like this, but I think these folk have a grip on something original. I know I haven't heard anything like this for an entire album. And the dance cut at the end of the album manages to convey this sense into a fast goth cut.

Something good and different. I like their chances.

SSD
Power
(Taang!)
reviewed in issue #13, 5/15/92

History.
Not the kind you find in books. Aural (not oral) history. This is a lesson in the roots of Boston hardcore. How is was, and where it was destined to go. If you have never heard of the band, this is a good primer. It contains many live tracks, but mostly unreleased jams (thrashes?) from various recording sessions. And if these were throwouts...

Yeah, so SSD is legendary in Boston circles. This release should help spread the word nationwide, if it hasn't been already.

This is not just one of those "take the money and run" session rip-off releases. All of these songs stand on their own, and most bands would be incredibly happy to have one on an album. It's in the interests of history...

Staind
Tormented
(self-released)
reviewed in issue #142, 9/1/97

Metal. The kind of metal that isn't terribly cool now. Which makes Staind either stupid or truly driven. Just a few seconds should give you the answer. This is pain-stained music, as if the band expects to ride the pine at radio statons.

And that may be the case, but these guys sure know how to craft pile-driving music in such as way that it doesn't become drudgery. Not quite sludge (there are too many quiet moments), but not quite anything else, either. Armored Saint is the closest reference that comes to mind, but Staind is much more rhythm than melody oriented. Just good stuff.

I haven't heard a band like this, period. The songs would probably benefit from a bit of further tightening in the rhythm section, but the mechanics are sound.

A nice find. Glad this one came down the pike.

Max Stalling
Sell Out
(Blind Nello)
reviewed in issue #272, March 2006

Funny thing about some of this "new-fangled" country music is that it sounds like the old stuff. Max Stalling's voice ilies somewhere between George Strait and Randy Travis, though his songwriting is something of a cross between Rodney Crowell and (lyrically, anyway) Carolyn Mark. Which is to say he seems to come from that "new traditionalist" movement of the late 70s and early 80s, but with his own little quirks.

I don't know what his studio albums sound like. It's possible to take songs like this and really trash them with glossy production and overblown arrangements. I'm guessing he didn't make that mistake, as the sound on this live album is strong and assured without any sense of bombast.

The tinny sound on the acoustic guitars is annoying (I'll always complain about that when I hear it, I guess), but otherwise the sound is clear and full. Stalling comports himself like a good ol' boy who's been there and who assumes his audience listens to more than country ("6x9 Speakers" references AC/DC, April Wine, Cheap Trick and more). Oh yeah, he's 35...I knew there was a reason his stuff speaks so much to me.

Mostly, though, it's the quality of the songs. Stalling does 13 here, and all of them are at least excellent. I don't know why I haven't heard him before, but I know I'll make sure to hear a lot more from now on. One of those albums that brings clear vision to the blind.

Not too long ago, I reviewed Stalling's live album. I liked it a lot, but I hadn't heard any of his studio albums, so I had no way to hear if the understated feel of the live sound was his regular style or an anomaly. I mentioned that in the review, and Stalling was kind enough to send me his fine back catalog. Sometimes it's good to be in this business.

Each successive album, Stalling has been adding new elements while dialing back on the production sound. He branches further afield from straight country music on this album, borrowing liberally from folk, blues and other traditions even as he adds more organ, dobro, horns and other instruments.

Which moves him ever so slightly from the "Texas country" fold and toward that more nebulous genre of "americana." I don't know if it was the experience of recording and listening to the live tracks, but Stalling has achieved the loosest and sparsest feel of his career on this album--despite, as I noted, much more of a "large band" instrumentation on many songs. There is also the fact that this is Stalling's first studio album in almost five years. A progression of sorts had to be expected.

I think this is Stalling's most realized album. He's always been a great songwriter with a sly delivery, but I think he's coming to understand the best way to present his stuff. That this album is a stunner comes as no surprise (my wife tried to steal it from me before I even reviewed it), but the depth and restraint of the sound here is most impressive. Wonderful and then some.

The Standard
August
(Touch and Go)
reviewed in issue #233, September 2002

In many ways, the Standard isn't yer usual Touch and Go band. The sound is often atmospheric and keyboards play a large role in the band's approach to songs. On the other hand, the guitars play linear lines (in addition to distorted chord washes) and there is a definite sense of allegiance to the noise fusion sound so well-loved in the Chicago indie community.

Of course, the Standard hails from Portland. Which probably explains the unique take on the Slint/Rodan axis. To be perfectly honest, I like the noodly keyboards. They're playful, not proggy, and they add a sense of fun to what otherwise might be dreadfully solemn fare.

Now, I'm a big fan of serious abstraction, but I think these folks balance things out nicely. With all of the different ideas and styles in the mix, a keen sense of what works and what is excessive is important.

Thoughtful, fun and ultimately quite moving. The Standard has put together a complete effort here. It's easy to hear all sorts of influences bopping in and out, but what really emerges is a sense of the Standard. A very good sense, to be sure.

Stanford Prison Experiment
Stanford Prison Experiment
(World Domination)
reviewed in issue #52, 4/15/94

Combining a late-Skin Yard rhythm approach with straight rock riffs, SPE are amazingly catchy for something that sounds this, um, rough.

I thought for a few minutes before settling on "rough". I knew a load of you had reported this, and I was expecting something a lot more commercial. Not so. This is wonderfully discordant and generally loud and cranky.

You folks get an A for spotting this puppy. Sometimes I wonder what it takes (other than legend status or heavy favors) to get a cool album noticed. Maybe, if the moon is full and the stars align, it just takes a good disc. I'd like to think that, anyway.

The debut was a surprise creative smash, and anyone expecting a sophomore letdown will have to be informed of their mistake.

Stanford Prison Experiment roars back with its "industrial metal as a fuckin' attack machine" concept in full form. Like you might expect, the disc is filled with mean, atonal discourses on various injustices that society presents folks with every day. Well, so some of the songs get a little more personal than that. Life goes on.

And, just to increase the coolnees quotient, SPE includes a great cover of the Babyland tune "Worst Case Scenario" and a bonus track which is merely 28 minutes of Noam Chomsky spoken word.

In other words, there is no reason to avoid this disc. Slackers will be penalized.

Stanley
Clobbered
(Another Planet-Profile)
reviewed in issue #90, 10/23/95

Excellent hardcore pop three-piece. The tunes whip around with vigor and purpose, fanning the flames of angst and anger.

Heavy? Distorted? Loud as fuck? Um, sure, but the songs are just so damned catchy, even when Stanley fully descends into Chi-core territory.

Tunes like "Cancer" show how it's possible to modulate a potential Green Day song into pounding and furious mess. Sure, it could have been a simple sing along (which does indeed take talent to do well), but Stanley passes on that option and just rips the song a new asshole.

I'm not sure if this is quite accessible enough to get big commercial attention, but for anyone who wants to know what a combination of Treepeople and the Jesus Lizard might sound like, this is your disc.

The a-side is one of the catchier tunes from the full-length reviewed (and raved about) in the last issue. If you missed that, then please understand that Stanley has a pleasantly noisy take on the whole post-punk pop kinda thing.

The flip, "Camel Toe", is more of the same, though possibly even a little more accessible. A great set of riffs with a killer bridge. If Stanley can keep this up, then its future seems to be limitless.

Star Period Star
Star Period Star
(Super 800)
reviewed in issue #131, 3/31/97

Absolutely refusing to pigeonhole itself, Star Period Star fairly insists upon playing wildly disparate styles of pop and rock.

Because while the band usually sticks to the outer limits of the alternapop sound (with nicely looping guitar lines and complimentary rhythm work), there are delicate songs like "Drowning" which add nice counterpoints.

Some of the explanation for this is the rapid turnover in the band, just on the songs on this disc. The only member who appears on all the tracks is Dan Sweigert (guitar and vocals), and the current bass player didn't play here at all. All this turmoil might have helped craft the nice juxtaposition in sound, though by the end (and the tracks seems to run somewhat chronologically) a more coherent vision of Star Period Star has emerged. I'd put the stuff toward the end solidly in the Chicago eclectic noise pop category, though there are still some pretensions toward accessibility.

Maddening in a way, but also satisfying. The one certain thing is that Star Period Star should continue to be a vital musical force, no matter exactly where the pursuit of music takes the band.

Star Star
Star Star
(demo)
reviewed in issue #15, 6/15/92

Listing most of the major glam acts of the seventies (including the Ramones) as influences, things become obvious.

I don't why I am such a sucker for cheap hooks, whining vocals and grinding riffs. I should say those three things should be done well, like early Kiss or T. Rex, not clones such as Poison. Some of you may have heard of Rochester (New York) 's Chesterfield Kings. Their last album sounded much like this, and I love it.

What's wrong with guilty pleasures? Absolutely nothing. I could get sexual on this one, but the music is too obvious a conduit for that. Three cool songs. Score them.

The upcoming Star Star album is the most commercial product Roadrunner has released in some time, and still should be one of the best. This single is not the best thing on the full disc, so don't sweat. I really don't groove on it much myself. It sounds a little too much like the new Faster Pussycat to really do anything for me.

But Star Star at its best combines the finest parts of seventies glam with the moods of the Ramones. So be sure to check out the album when it arrives in a few weeks.

Back in 1986, a little label called Enigma signed a distribution deal with Capitol records. The first record to be released as part of that deal (if I have my history correct) was Poison's "Look What the Cat Dragged In," a great album because it was thrown together in overnight sessions in a studio for $15,000. They spent $450,000 on the follow-up and cruised into retread hell. But that first album.

It was dumb. It was stupid. It consisted of one blatant rip-off after another. BUT IT WAS FUN, DAMNIT!

So here is this great album cranked on my stereo. Star Star take the Sweet/Slade/Glitter (etc.) riffs and reprocess them into their own signature. I don't know why I even mentioned Poison, because these guys are a lot more talented and original (and this album is a lot better than Look...).

The lyrics are dumb as hell. You'll want to forget them immediately, but the tunes will drive them into your brain. Soon it will be as natural for you to sing "Ya gotta have action/To be the main attraction" as it is for you to know that Little Willy won't go home, and everybody comes (a running) when foxes on the run scream.

These guys did not invent their sound. They're at least twenty years too late for that. But they do it better than anybody else right now. And it goes down smoother than a spoonful of sugar (this album cried out for a cheesy review phrase).

Starfish
Stellar Sonic Solutions
(Trance Syndicate)
reviewed in issue #89, 10/9/95

One of the real finds on the !Cinco Anos! compilation was Starfish, whose two tracks leapt out of the discer and kicked my ass right then and there.

So when this disc was the slightest bit slow in reaching my desk, I put out a frantic call, and in two days it arrived. Seventeen songs full of punk fury and melodic intensity. Kinda like if Rancid was an art band. Or perhaps kinda like Alice Donut.

A lot like that, really. Starfish knows how to rumble, but there are also plenty of contemplative moments on the album, too. The sound is fun, but you can't miss the serious underpinnings, either.

A listen to the first track will have you addicted, so that by the time "Kliffordave" rolls around to grind your ass into a noisy grave, you'll be only too pleased to comply. Fuck genres. Starfish knows how to make great music. And this disc is just plain full of that.

Not sure what Starfish means by "frustrated". Critics have raved over this band's deft handling of noise pop, and I have a feeling more than a few folks have been to the shows and bought the albums. I can only assume a more personal form of frustration.

I have to admit that it takes balls to open an album with an 8 1/2-minute exploration of sound and space. Not really ambient or whatever, just noise. Cool noise, to be sure. And you know that the baser guitar instincts will kick in.
But even that takes a while. Starfish seems determined to fly out to the fringe of accessibility, all in the name of making great music. Whaddya know? It works.

Incomprehensible, painful and ultimately starkly moving, Frustrated is about as good a representation of that emotion as I've heard in a long time. This isn't easy listening by any stretch of the imagination, but then, Starfish fans weren't looking down that well, anyway.

The master statement (so far) by one of the finest bands around. A glorious tapestry of beauty, anguish, exhilaration and freedom. And the odd hooky chorus, thrown in almost for laughs. Gotta love it.

Starmarket
Calendar
(Deep Elm)
reviewed in issue #180, 4/12/99

Following what seems to be the trend in emo these days (at least as propagated by Deep Elm), Starmarket infuses a good amount of power pop feel into the traditionally edgy sounds. A bit more seamlessly than Planes Mistaken for Stars, and in some different ways.

An extremely raucous album, not at all contemplative. Starmarket is always in motion, ripping and wailing. The guitars have a cool crunchy feel, and the songs just pop out of the speakers, alive and screaming.

This is really more an adjunct of the Archers of Loaf/Treepeople pop sound than emo, if you ask me. And again, if you care, I'm perfectly happy with that. It's hard to go wrong following in the footsteps of legends.

Just another great album, the sort of thing which doesn't pass the desk very often. Starmarket has all the tools, and they're all on display here. I can't begin to describe the wonders of this disc.

Yet another Deep Elm band that has pretty much left emo behind in search of a purer pop sound. There is very little stridency here. Nope, instead Starmarket has discovered kitchy 70s pop, which it has merged with its punk sensibility.

So there are 70s-style keyboard effects draped over alternately complex and starkly plain lines. Then all of a sudden an Alex Chilton lead drops in out of nowhere. What a revelatory moment.

And even while running in all these disparate directions, these four Swedes have managed to capture a snapshot of American pop music that might have been difficult for a home-grown band to achieve. I mean, we know why all these sounds aren't supposed to appear on the same record. You know, Big Star didn't open up for the Carpenters or anything.

And don't take that as a description of the sound, please Remember, Starmarket is a recovering emo band, and so there are some nicely crunchy moments as well. It's just that these guys blend all of the sounds so damned well. I've never heard anything quite like this. It's done so well.

The Stars of Aviation
Greatest Disappointment E.P.
(Grandpa Records)
reviewed in issue #214, 4/2/01

Understated, deeply introspective songs that immediately demand attention. The Stars of Aviation set the table right and then deliver a sumptuous feast. Not one of those bells-and-whistles sorta dinners, but more of a candlelight affair where the duck is crispy and succulent.

The guys have a knack for developing their songs. These pieces starts slowly and build in intensity (if not in volume) until something appropriate happens. A shattering climax. A slow fade. Something like that.

What I'm saying is that the band refuses to follow formulas. These songs are small symphonies, works that illuminate rather than educate. Knowing the difference is one of the small things that makes the Stars of Aviation most impressive.

It's still cool in England to release singles. Oh, sure, there are some hip-hop outfits in the U.S. dropping 12"s every once in a while, but it seems the only place I get real singles from lies across the pond. It's too bad, because the short release can be a great format.

Stars of Aviation takes the opportunity to do four songs, each rather distinct from the other despite the fact that the band adheres fairly strongly to a dreamy pop ethic. One song sounds vaguely Kiwi, another somewhat Australian and the other two are decidedly British. I know, I'm splitting hairs, but when you've heard enough of this stuff you start to truly appreciate those who have mastered the art of subtlety.

And when you name a song "Stars of Aviation Are Singing About Summer, But Is It Going to Be Sunny, Carol?," the only thing a guy like me can do is smile. Which is what I did the entire time I was listening to this disc.

The Starside Eight
Goodnight Noises Everywhere
(Electric Frog Recordings)
reviewed in issue #233, September 2002

Mainly the duo of James Eight and JJ Starside, who trip through a nice selection of (generally) acoustic pop. The hooks are ragged and the sound is decidedly folky, but for some reason I get the idea that these boys really want to sound like the Posies.

I could be so far off with that observation, but there are these little hints. The vague attempts at harmonies--which sound something like "we're not real good at this, so we won't try too hard to sound bad"--are one. The clincher is jaunty strummers like "Fit of Love." And then, of course, there's the fact that the Posies began as an acoustic duo.

Pretty, generally introspective songs. Even the raucous bits are measured. There is very little unfettered anything here, even when the electrics kick in. And that's alright. There's no need to act like crazy buffoons when you have such a nice handle on channeling an inner voice.

Charming, I guess, is the best description I can come up with. Which isn't to say that these are songs brimming with joy and hope. A couple do, but mostly these songs stick to familiar theme of outsiders looking in. And what voyeurs they are!

State of Mind
Revel
(Cool Stuff)
reviewed in issue #28, 2/14/93

A bass, an acoustic guitar and voices. That's all. Sure, it lends itself to that late sixties folk-rock kinda thing, but as that goes it's not too bad.

Blessed with a knack for writing songs that, like R.E.M., sound a lot more important than they really are, State of Mind have some serious potential. And they can play their instruments rather well, which puts them at the head of their pack.