It's not often I hear stuff from folks who want to sound like Paul Simon. Maybe that's passe. Maybe twenty or thirty years ago lots of folks worked the witty jange folk pop angle. I was kinda young back then and didn't notice.

Though, thinking about it, I can't think of many folks who really went back long the same path quite like this. Maybe they just didn't have the chops. Because while the Actual Tigers really remind me of Simon, these folks sure do know how to make a pop song sing.

And, well, there's meat in them thar hills. The lyrics are cleverly crafted, and they fit in nicely with the tightly-played tunes. The sound, too, has that slightly less polished feel of the early 70s. There are a few modern hints here and there, but they simply add to the charm.

That's really what this disc has: An immutable, unmistakable charm. The quality of the songs kinda snuck up on me, mostly because I've been enjoying myself too much. Yeah, the Actual Tigers might want to distance themselves a bit further from Paul Simon, but only if they don't lose what's good here. A big ol' wad of fun.

While recycling the press stuff for the last issue, I noticed this note from Matt at Sub:Marine about the excellent Miles Tilmann EP. He mentioned that those familiar with the early work of Autechre might dig the Tilmann. I'm not familiar with Autechre at all, but by coincidence this album appeared in my mailbox the next week. Convergence like that I can truly appreciate.

Autechre uses beats as melodies, harmonies and effects. This is electronic music on the edge, skillful compositions played in artificial setting. There's no mistaking the fact that human hands never quite touched this music, though the ideas expressed are clearly of this world.

There are moments (the intro to "Sim Gishel," for example) that sound like an old Atari game that has developed a short. The sounds are that kind of soft, rounded electronic sort. A big warm fuzzy to a day gone by. There is something in the way Autechre makes its noise that is truly nostalgic for a geezer like me.

The songs themselves, however, are thoroughly modern. Avant garde wouldn't do the writing justice. Ahead of our time, to be sure. But not beyond the realm of human existence. Autechre is nothing if not truly real.

Reminds me a bit of June Panic, what with the idiosyncratic minimalist pop thing that underlies all these songs. Still, all the scratching, horns and other accouterments do take the final sound in quite a different direction. Almost faux-jazzy at times.

Nowhere near the mainstream, of course. Joel Blum wrote or co-wrote most of the stuff here, and his band (with plenty of friends) really give the songs a workout. Everyone is on the same page, trending toward the same kinda weird excess. Focus like that is cool.

Eccentricity serves Blume well. The rollicking whine of the vocals fit in perfectly with the loosey-goosey playing style of the band. This kinda stuff could get oppressively pretentious, but that never happens. These folks are too easygoing.

Honest recordings like this are pretty rare. This album was recorded with an almost pure desire, and such emotional risk-taking is breathtaking. Probably makes a few folks uncomfortable, really, but I dug it.

Reminds me a lot of this Illinois band the Moon Seven Times, except that Brave trends toward keyboard-laden hard rock. Right. So there are these ethereal (but still strong) female vocals floating around with mashed keys and operatic guitar work. It's interesting, to say the least.

And it works, really. Probably better in the studio than live, since the key to these songs are subtle things, and live all that would likely get wiped out by the heavy guitar playing. Maybe not. The thing is, I'm reviewing what I hear here, and that stuff is pretty impressive.

A real unique blending of styles and feels. Not many folks would think of putting together college rock and NWOBHM (the latter being the school of hard rock I think Brave most tries to emulate). Imagine Lisa Loeb (with a much better voice) fronting Diamondhead and you might begin to understand what Brave is trying to do. What Brave is doing. Pretty damned cool.

Almost all Rick Chavez. He wrote the songs and plays all the guitars, keyboards and assorted midi programming. A couple family members drop in on a couple tracks, but that's it. This is a one-man deal.

The sound is easy-listening Latin jazz. That's really the best way I can put it. This is the kinda music that people put on their voicemail systems. It's not bad for that kinda thing, really, but I prefer stuff with more edge.

A lot more edge, to be honest. Chavez is a nice guitar player, fluid and fairly expressive, but he's really not venturing out into unique territory. I keep getting the feeling I've heard these songs before. It's not that he's ripping anyone of. Just that he's sticking to safe ground.

Really, this isn't my thing. Chavez can play. I just wish he played a little closer to the fire, that's all.

Micky Moody, Bernie Marsden and Neil Murray formed the core of the Whitesnake band from 1978-1982. David Coverdale, of course, was the frontman who sold the show. Company of Snakes reunites the three Ms and brings in Stefan Bergren as the new singer.

Bergren is capable, if not as potentially incendiary as Coverdale could be, and the band does a good job of recreating the hard blooze and roll sound that made early Whitesnake a lot of fun (even if I did appreciate those albums after experiencing Slide It In).

Interestingly, there are numbers from Slide It In and the self-titled megahit, though these guys had little to do with them. Even the version of "Here I Go Again sounds a lot more like the hit than the spookier rendition on Saints an' Sinners. So is this a labor of love or a dash for cash?

Probably a bit of both. Whitesnake recorded a lot of great rock songs before Coverdale finally figured out that excessive music paid better. Company of Snakes recalls the nobler, if poorer, part of Whitesnake history. Personally, I prefer the old recordings to this set, no matter how well played the stuff is here. There's nothing new here, really, and that is what seals my opinion.

In jazz, improvisation is studied. There are "right" and "wrong" ways to play, depending on the approach. Ernesto Diaz-Infante and Chris Forsyth play the wrong way. All the time.

These improvisations are as much about found sound as they are about tonal theory. For example, on the first track Forsyth's entire contribution is a meditation on the static caused by plugging and unplugging the amp cord into and out of his guitar. By the way, it really works, too.

Unlike the last pairing of these two, this album was recorded in one studio with both members present. Funny thing is, I don't hear a whole lot of difference. Both play with more instruments in rather unusual ways, but the spirit of adventure is just as high as when the due recorded bicoastally.

That's the main reason I'll pick up anything that either of these guys does. There's just no telling what's going to happen. I'm not gonna lie; sometimes the experiment doesn't quite work out. Most often, though, the results are spectacular.

Utilizing a stripped-down, industrial sound that's quite reminiscent of Fear Factory's Soul of a New Machine (who doesn't sound like Fear Factory--and by relation Sepultura, I suppose--these days?). A good take on the sound, I might add. Diesel Machine leaves a lot of holes, and that really works.

There's room for strange things to happen. Space for one element or another to take charge for a bit. Little gaps for clever snippets to fall into. Diesel Machine has crafted this puppy tightly and smoothly. Just have to lean back an enjoy the grind.

And what a grind. The songs churn and roil, never losing sight of the inner groove. A little like Coroner--or maybe the first Pantera album--that way, I guess. That's not a bad thing, either. Diesel Machine's influences have a fine pedigree.

And the boys whip it all up into something fairly original. I wish the guys would work a little harder to really put the finishing touches on their own sound, but this disc shows they could well be on the way to something great.

Just about everything here is controlled by an Austrian named Lanvall. He wrote the songs, played the guitars and keyboards, produced the album and put the band together in the first place. The press notes call this "new age/symphonic" metal. More symphonic than new age, thankfully.

While Lanvall's hands are all over this album, the key to the sound is Sabine Edelsbacher's voice. She's not yer usual metal chick. Her vocals are restrained and almost ethereal. And they fit right in with the concept of the songs. A perfect match.

Lanvall's crafted himself a fine album. The sound is grand, but not excessively so. And he's laid Edelsbacher's vocals into the perfect spot in the mix. She doesn't have to scream to be heard over the music. Creates a unique sound.

You know me. I'm a sucker for this kinda thing. So maybe I'm not the most objective listener. Still, Edenbidge does the Eurometal thing a little differently than I've heard before. I really like it, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's this illustration in the liners that perfectly explains what Flaspar is all about. It's a person, with the head of a smiling man in an astronaut helmet, the body of a fit woman wearing a short sweater dress (sitting, legs crossed, so that you can see the tops of her stockings attached to a garter belt). The kinda strange thing is that the top leg is artificial, attached just above what would be the knee.

In other words, these people (person? I can't really tell) like to make singular pieces out of many parts. Electronic work, with lots of samples and found sound plastered over strikingly idiosyncratic beat work. Did I mention that Flaspar likes to create unusual pieces?

Right. There's not much in the way easily accessible points. You've gotta be in the mood to be challenged to give this a proper listen. That's not to slag. I happen to really be grooving on the stuff right now. That's how my mind works.

Taking up the challenge will yield rewards. Flaspar journeys to some cool places, and I came away with a number of great ideas. That's what music like this does for me. Kind of a creativity recharge, if you will. The album is hardly cohesive; you've gotta connect the dots for yourself. I've always found that to be a most invigorating exercise.

Some things I know I'm gonna like. I've been a fan of what the notes here call melodic speed metal" (think Helloween, Gamma Ray, etc.) since the first time I heard it. The stuff is cheesy, over the top and utterly excessive. The songs are often silly paeans to science fiction or swords and sorcery, but since I grew up devouring that kinda stuff...

There is a logic, I suppose. And Freedom Call sure knows how to make this stuff sing. The melodies soar, and the peppy tempos make sure nothing drags. No matter how bad a mood you're in, this album should cure your blues.

Fun, pure and simple. Yeah, there's some great technical playing, and the production gives Freedom Call a thick, round sound that rings out during the particularly quick breaks. Breathless and bouncy, all at once.

Like I said, this stuff is like crack to me. Probably not the healthiest thing to ingest on a regular basis, but good for a kick now and again. Gotta light that pipe man, man.

So one of the better pop hardcore bands headed out to Colorado to get ALL-ized by the boys at the Blasting Room.. Not a bad idea at all. Bill Stevenson, Stephen Edgerton and Jason Livermore know how to streamline a sound into pure rock candy.

Good Riddance has enough experience in the studio to make sure that its own particular characteristics aren't overshadowed by the distinct tendencies of the production crew. The result is an album of unbelievably tight and loud songs. Hooky? Oh yeah, and then some. With lots of pep in the punch.

One of those albums that just might turn a few heads. Good Riddance has been making good music for quite a while, but the narrowing of focus here (just a bit) seems to have funneled the band's ample energy into some really fine creative spaces.

If there's one thing the boys at the Blasting Room do better than anyone it's edit. Take out the extraneous nonsense. Leave the pura vida, if you know what I mean. Good Riddance took advantage, and this album glows as a result. Radioactive, friends.

Kinda like if AC/DC picked up a speedy Eurometal fetish. Gun Barrel sticks to a basic metal blues base, but picks up the tempo and adds a nice touch of melody. Loud, fast, at times pile-driving. Pretty damned solid fare.

A little too solid sometimes. I mean, the production is so slick and polished that very few rough edges can be found. I think the boys would be better suited to a more rough-and-tumble sound. That's the way songs were written.

Plus, you know, when then Maiden influence hurls itself at me, I want to grasp those steaming guitars, not let them slip through my hands like quicksilver. Still, I have to admit that at times this full, overpowering sound really kicks my ass. The more I listen, the more I'm torn on this issue.

A cool blending of metal styles that I haven't quite heard before. Gun Barrel's mixer churns out some great classic-sounding rock tunes without utterly ripping anyone off. It's a difficult trick. I'm impressed.

For me, the way to judge extreme hardcore is viscerally. Does it get ya in the throat? If it doesn't work there, well, screw it. Doesn't matter how fine the lyrics are or how much work the boys put into the riffage. It's gotta slam you right in the windpipe.

Hoods land a blow right there, and then they slide right to the jugular. And, indeed, that's the whole story here. The lyrics are fine explorations of outrage and pain, but I've heard them before. The riffage, well, it does the trick, though there's nothing really new to add to the canon here.

Naw, what Hoods do is simply tie everything up and then light it brilliantly on fire. It's the energy, that ineffable something which separates the mediocre from the inspiring. This puppy? Inspired.

Just a whale load of attitude flying down the pike. Some bands simply know how to connect. Hoods? Connected. To the main line.

Just yer basic punk rock bar band. Hudson Falcons play rock and roll. They play it fast. They play it loud. They don't mess around with fancy things like changing keys at the bridge. Three and out. That's all.

And when the stuff is this good, that's all you need. These songs are lean and mean, no frills all the way. A pure protein diet for those who just don't want to eat their vegetables. Am I getting the point across?

Geez, I hope so. It's not like this is a complicated concept or anything. Certainly, the Hudson Falcons aren't trying to add anything extra into the mix. These boys know exactly what they're playing and why they do it.

What else is there to say. Hudson Falcons play as pure a distilled version of rock and roll as I've ever heard. The essence, as it were, is here. Encounter at your own risk. Bathe in the glory.

Little sticker on the front sez "includes members of the Appleseed Cast," which made my eyes light up light up like a frat boy at the sight of an all-girls school. Emo as storytelling form, songs that defy easy description.

Um, yeah, just like that. Hundred Hands does utilize a nicely punchy rhythm section (the stuff just throbs in a deftly tinny fashion), with plenty of extras. Like electronic percussion, keyboards and other stuff that adds, not detracts from the sound.

I'd like to note for the record that this puppy was recorded at the Red House in Eudora, Kan. A friend of mine drowned in the Waukarusa River outside Eudora when I was six. For some reason, the songs on this EP made me think of him even before I saw that note in the liners. Kinda funny how that stuff works sometimes.

More rock and roll and doo wop than the blues (or even jump blues), James Hunter evokes the soulful side of the 50s. And evokes is the right word; Hunter writes almost all of his own material.

And the stuff he didn't, well, you're not gonna know it. Hunter sells all of this stuff with everything he's got while still keeping faith with the "restrained" singing style of the time.

Now, no one played all of these styles at the same time, but I think Hunter can be granted that much artistic license. He's not trying to be "pure." He's just trying to play music he loves.

That love is expressed with every he plucks and sings. Call this a "survey" of the late 50s, if you like. Hunter hasn't just recreated a time; he's also brought the music forward to today. A refreshing blast.

Emo hits the big time. Well, Jimmy Eat World isn't the first emo band to sign with a major (particularly if you count Jawbox, though I'm not sure that's quite fair), but still. I think these boys have the potential to break out.

Certainly, they're put together an album that will turn heads. This is emo pop, strident riffage combined with rough hooks. The kinda thing the big boys can work with, you know? And yet, the sound remains surprisingly true.

Yes, the bass is emphasized a bit too much. This is a major label album, after all. But the songs are still a bit ragged. Certainly, a lot of them are rather long--many get close to or surpass five minutes in length. Obviously, Dreamworks plans to play the "cool alternative" card here.

Could work, too. Every song has a golden hook, and Jimmy Eat World simply won't get stuck in a rut. A really varied and pretty album. Much better than yer standard major label release. Superior, even, to most releases, period. I think the boys may just have struck a perfect balance here.

An all-star cast taking on a rock opera based on the life and prophecies of Nostradamus. Joe Lynn Turner, Alannah Myles, Sass Jordan, Glenn Hughes, Doogie White and more. Can't fault the talent.

Imagine Queen at its most excessive. And then square that. Nikolo Kotzev has spared no effort in creating his world. The songs are utterly overwrought. The lyrics are rather artless, simply telling the story in the most straightforward way possible. This does explain what's going on, but it doesn't help much with character development.

The music is classical prog, with plenty of "medieval" touches. It's far too much, but that works. I mean, this is a piece concerning Nostradamus, the most over-hyped prophet in the history of the world. If you're not over-the-top, you're not telling the story right.

A lot of fun, if you don't take it too seriously. I'm not too impressed by the "dramatic" elements, but the songs are fun, particularly when multiple cast members start wailing. Kinda an ultimate extension of the whole Eurometal ideal. That's the part I like.

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

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

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

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

If you're like me, you occasionally wonder what happened to the members of Tiamat. Well, singer Johan Edlund has decided to continue down the road traveled by his old band, cranking out some Sisters of Mercy-style goth pop. And he's pretty good at it.

This isn't revolutionary fare by any means, but it sounds good. You know, a lot of folks have the impulse ride straight into overkill territory. Too many guitars. Too many keyboards. Moving the percussion toward the disco. That sort of thing. Lucyfire plays it straight up instead. Basic and solid.

That restrained hand on the production knob really lets the songwriting come through. The lyrics are often pedestrian, but Edlund sells them coolly. And the music just grinds on.

Okay, so there's a silly cover of "Sharp Dressed Man." I can't really describe it except in those terms. It doesn't ruin the album, though. Just adds to the somewhat otherworldly dimension already created. Like I'm listening to this disc in some kind of parallel universe. It's not a bad feeling, really.

Inspired by Guns N' Roses's "November Rain?" Three guys from mid-Missouri playing wonderful no-wave releasing their record on a French label? I got this package in a plain manilla envelope with no return address--but a St. Louis postmark. It's hard to figure out where the put on ends and reality begins.

Don't go by the tracking on the disc. There aren't really 29 separate pieces on the disc--though there are more than 10. There is a lot of pounding and a good deal of howling. In a relatively artful fashion.

Reminds me a lot of early U.S. Maple. High on energy and creativity, low on structure. There's some really nice guitar work, when the boys decide to clean up for a moment. A lot of surprise for less than 10 minutes of music.

Old school rhymin' combined with a variety of beats and "Wham Rap" technique (you know, white guys tryin' to be as cool as the Sugar Hill Gang). Kinda reminds of MC 900 Foot Jesus, except not as clever. Rather, these boys come like Sir Mix a Lot. Subtlety isn't a virtue here.

Did they just say "Like Howard Hessman on 'Head of the Class'?" Right before mentioning Euripides? Yeah. I thought so. Maybe that gives you a better idea of what's going on here. These guys toy with rap forms, but they're really nowhere in that universe.

Which is not to say MC Double M and crew are classy. They mention a Greek playwright to show off, not to make a serious point. Songs like "She's a Sleeze" and "Booty Delight" are about you might expect. They do play with the subject, a little. Just enough to show some self-awareness.

The thing is, the music here is fun. The rhymes are entertaining. The depth is fair to middling. Nothing too complicated, nothing terribly highbrow. Just some good times and catchy grooves. Nothin' wrong with that.

Been a while since I've heard solid prog jam fusion. This album certainly fulfills that need. Scott McGill handles the guitar work, Michael Manring rumbles around on his fretless bass and Vic Stevens blisters all manners of percussion. Jordan Rudess joins in on keys every once in a while, and producer Neil Kernon plays with some loops.

A group endeavor all the way around. Most of the songs are a series of solos built around a particular theme, though there is some nice interplay as well. The obvious camaraderie makes it quite apparent these guys like to play with each other.

Kernon has given the sound just a bit of a metal sheen, and that helps to give this album a slightly off-kilter feel. I mean, these guys are playing in a more rock style, but this is hardly bash 'n' thrash. Technical soul is the order of the day.

That's what really impresses me here. Yeah, these guys can play. But it's the feel, the tenor of the sound, the way true ideas are expressed by that playing which really knocks me out. Artistry, in a word. This isn't a sterile prog project. It's three (or four or five) friends talking. And that makes all the difference in the world.

Three guys obviously inspired by (but not controlled by) that wonderful midwestern noise rock ideal. I hear a lot of Don Caballero (I think Pittsburgh counts as the midwest, don't you?), early stuff, the pounding, bruising fare. A lot of wailing (mostly instrumental).

These boys work together more than apart. The songs are cohesive, and if a solo is taken, it's still tightly tied to the rest of the song. Not a lot of wandering, really. So that when there are a few side trips, I got a little surprised.

Always good to keep people off-balance. Minus does that. Just when I was beginning to wonder if I could take much more pounding, there's a pleasant repast. Then back to the salt mines.

Oh, it's not work. Not that at all. Minus just has this way of cutting to the bone. Then they guys get a little playful. Then the waves start crashing once again. A good way to sequence an album. There's a sly sophistication at work here. I wouldn't be surprised to hear a completely different album next time out.

Kinda the predecessor to, and now the progeny of, Three Finger Cowboy. Hunter Manasco and Katharine McElroy were part of an early incarnation of this band, and Manasco joined McElroy for the second 3FC disc (one of the great albums of 1999). So, now that 3FC is no more, McElroy and Manasco have come together once again.

My first reaction, before even reading any of the press or liners, was that this guy (Manasco) was singing just like McElroy. He's got the same imperfect, crackly singing style. I like her voice better--probably just because she's a she--but Manasco's cords have a similarly endearing quality.

And the songs, well, I think it's fair to say at this point that the addition of Manasco to 3FC is what solidified the songwriting on that second disc, and the maturation continues here. Not to discount the contributions of new bandmates Larry Holt and Will Lochamy, but it sure sounds like Manasco and McElroy are in the lead during the writing process.

I do wish I heard more from McElroy. She sings mostly backup here, and I could easily listen to her sing all day. Nonetheless, Manasco is almost as impressive up front, and this album sounds great. Wonderfully ragged rock and roll. Some folks just know how to play, no matter what the surroundings.

Spacey stoner rock. Thick thick thick in the grooves and shiny hoarse in the vocals. Just the way things should be, you know.

Really, there isn't much of a trick to making this kinda music. Just write some slow-building anthems, make sure your guitar lines are long and languid and be sure to keep the songs in motion. That's about it.

Novadriver does all that and adds some style as well. There's a bit of a glam feel at times. I like that. Adds a bit of fun to the proceedings. Too many times bands make the mistake of taking stoner rock seriously. Can't do it.

And that doesn't happen here. These boys can jam with the best, but they make sure to play songs, not extended solos. This is summer music, man. Crack a beer, light a j, whatever. Kick back and enjoy.

In my last review (in January), I mentioned that Jeremy Brightbill (the man behind Panic Strikes a Chord) was unusual and talented. Add another word. Prolific.

Maybe he's been working on all this stuff for a long time and now he's got an outlet. I dunno. What I can say is that there's no dropoff in quality. Each song is an eccentric trip down one of the side alleys in Brightbill's mind, and rarely does one piece flow well into the next.

I kinda like the jarring sequencing myself. Brightbill's approach is minimalist in the sound, not in the breadth of his musical ideas. Some songs are him and a guitar, some include piano or some odd percussion. There's even a non-verbal (but sung) collection of harmony.

The whole makes sense. Each little piece can be confusing, but just let small stuff by. Brightbill's focus is on the big picture, so some of the songs are just fragments. That's cool. No need to be overbearing. Just make good music. That's pretty much what Panic Strikes a Chord does.

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

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

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

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

The stridency of emo combined with some hardcore power pop. A lot stuff thrown into one package. The result is a thick, vaguely atonal set of three-chord bliss. Members include Walter Schriefels (Gorilla Biscuits, Quicksand) and Cache Tolman (Iceburn). This is on a major label?

Well, the production is awfully, um, present. There is layer upon layer of sound, the kinda thing that most indie labels wouldn't insist on (though I think most would accept it in a minute). 'Cause, you know, good shit is good shit.

There are other major label staples. The power ballad, no matter how refined, is a must. And so Rival Schools cranks out "Undercovers," which should be accessible enough for the kiddies. It's a decent song, but it's rather out of place. Still, you gotta do what you gotta do, I know.

This didn't quite reach the potential I accorded it, but when you hit the big leagues, compromises must be made. Rival Schools did pretty well with theirs. And if this album can score, well, the more power the boys will have to make their very own record.

Extraordinarily underproduced pop hardcore. Think How Could Hell Be Any Worse?. And, indeed, Robweoza sounds a whole lot like early Bad Religion. Though the songs are more Green Day-style "will I ever get a girl" epics.

Nitpicking, truly. These songs are hardly cultured. In fact, some of them are hardly songs at all. Thing is, it's hard to get much closer to the original punk spirit than recordings like this.

The point isn't whether or not the boys can play (they can, a little) or whether the lyrics make a whole lot of sense (they do, sometimes). The point is, well, getting the point across. And with its manic pacing and utter disregard for musical niceties, Robweoza emotes quite beautifully.

Mind you, these boys are light years away from greatness. But you never know. I mean, have you really listened to early Bad Religion? There is something lurking within the technological crudeness of this disc. What it is, I'm just not sure.

As in the Saga? Canadian contemporaries of Triumph and such? As soon as I heard the first note, I knew. Yes. That Saga. The original lineup, even. That's pretty impressive.

Not much has changed. The songwriting is fairly sophisticated (kind of a "prog lite") for pop metal, but it's hard to really start pounding when you use so many keyboards.

I'll say this: If you still pull out Worlds Apart now and again and think "Hey, that's not so bad," this album will impress. If you found that kinda stuff pretentious and a little tedious back then, well, stay away. The formula hasn't changed that much.

It's hard to believe there was a big movement of bands that sounded like this (the aforementioned Triumph, Marillion, even Rush to a certain extent) almost 20 years back. It's not that this is bad. Actually, I fit into the former category I discussed above. But it's strange to think that a million people would buy an album like this. Kinda cool. Thing is, it's not gonna happen now, no matter how good this album is.

It's been a while. For me, anyway. I saw Season to Risk play with Pain Teens and Fudge Tunnel in Grand Rapids, Mich. Helluva show. Helped the boys spray paint some graffiti on the outside wall of the club (something Lizard, I think). Had some strange woman trying to get her hands in my pants. But that's another story.

The tale I'm telling today is that Season to Risk has found a label that probably won't fold right after releasing its album (they can hope, anyway). The sound is cleaner (that's what a little Blasting Room treatment will do), but the basic ideas are the same: Apply a little post-industrial grunge to hardcore and see what sticks.

This is a meaner, harder Season to Risk. The sound gets close to Fudge Tunnel territory at times, which is kinda funny because back in 1993 I didn't think these boys had anything to do with that strain of music. Shows you what I know. There's this insistent throbbing, a constant blistering of the ears that I can't (and don't want to) shake.

Easily the band's most solid and wide-ranging album since its outstanding debut (still one of my favorites). Indeed, while stripping away some of the fat the boys have come back 'round to where they started. A song like "Deserve" is the perfect follow up to "Home" from the first disc. And I hear parallels throughout the album. Once again, Season to Risk is playing brilliant music that just doesn't fit in with the times. Hey, I'll listen. Any time.

The first song is called "Happy Jam." Perhaps that gives you an idea of what Second Left does. If, by some chance, you're still confused, try this on: These guys jam, and they often do it in a pleasant sorta way.

Which still doesn't quite give an accurate description of the goings on here. There's quite a bit of meditate, thoughtful playing going on as well. And, really, the guys do both very well.

And while a few groove band conventions are prevalent (in particular, excessive use of a certain type of syncopation), Second Left flavors its sound with some unusual instruments. Piano takes center stage fairly often, and Bryan "Wooker" Navarro is listed as playing all sorts of percussive instruments. The diversity of feels is impressive.

You know, this just isn't my style. I can take and leave most bands who play anything even approximating a groove sound. But I like Second Left. I mean, I really like these guys. The songs are consistently surprising, and the performances are outstanding. Just because you jam doesn't mean you wank.

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

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

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

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

When most folks think of the blues, this is what they think about. Tuneful, sometimes rollicking songs about pain, despair, bad women and worse men. Plenty of side trips into drink and other fine vices. James "Super Chikan" Johnson (& the Fighting Cocks) simply cranks out one fine original after another.

Recorded at Blue Heaven Studios in Salina, Kan. (the town where I went to kindergarten in 1975-76), this disc has a sharp, professional sheen to the sound. Like I said earlier, this stuff has the feel of major label blues releases in the 70s and 80s.

What really sells these pieces, however, is the quality. Writing, playing, singing, you name it. Some albums simply have the word "classic" imprinted upon them. This one sure does.

A lot of small things have to be done right to make an album sound this big. And while all that craft was completed conscientiously, these songs roll off the disc like the most natural things in the world. I guess that is the true test of greatness, and Super Chikan succeeds admirably.

Not so much oi as I heard on their recent retrospective EP. There's still a hint, of course, but mostly this is quite melodic hardcore. The music is melodic, the vocals haggard hardcore (though it does sound like Carl is trying to sing in tune). Rough as all get out, and a lot of fun.

One thing the Templars can do: Crank up the energy level. Even though these songs tend toward midtempo, there's a lot of power in them. Easy to get sucked in by the riffage.

The sound is much better than the EP. It's professionally done, something that can't be said for parts of those earlier recordings. Not so professional, though, that it takes away from the primal energy of these boys. Hardly.

Nope, the joy that is Templars rings out true. You can find better players or songwriters, but I think it would be hard to find a set of guys who play with such easygoing passion.

I've often railed against what I call the "white boy blues," stuff that uses blues construction but features mostly guitar pyrotechnics and rock beats. Walter Trout plays the white boy blues. With one exception: He keeps his soul solidly in the blues camp.

Part of it is that Trout doesn't resort to simple rock chords whenever he gets stumped in songwriting. Part of it is the great organ slung by Bill Mason. And part of it is that these songs simply work, whether your call them blues, rock, soul or whatever.

Trout writes songs that connect with, and not simply shout at, the listener. He plays with skill and emotion, not just relying on loud, fast runs to "express" what's he's saying. These are little things, but they're what's required to play the blues right.

And yeah, Trout and the Radicals do play the blues. They play their own stuff, and it sounds great. There are no hackneyed cliches, no recycled riffs. Just inspired work. Trout is one of the best, and this album adds another trophy to his mantel.

Back the day, I remember great Boston hardcore like SSD and Poison Idea. The stuff that made Taang! famous, you know. The Unseen remember, too.

Yeah, these boys are from the Boston area (Hingham is a bit south and east, but still in the general vicinity), and they ply that great sludgy style of hardcore. Plenty of energy, too. These songs don't drag for a second.

The usual angst-riddled, anti-hate and anti-authority lyrics. Nothing exceptional, but nothing dumb, either. Everything's right where it should be.

Which is cool. The Unseen don't really break any new ground, but the boys sure do blister this sound. Plenty of the buzzsaw to keep me happy, that's for sure.

The cover calls this a "dark metal" compilation. Everything from the goth edge to traditional death metal to black metal to folks who kinda throw in the kitchen sink. Tiamat, Amorphis, Mayhem, Love Like Blood, Danzig, Hypocrisy, the Gathering, Therion, Umbra et Imago and others are present.

What I like is the diversity of sound present. All of these bands do have a few things in common, but the relationships aren't obvious at first blush. This set helps a listener to sit down explore connections on his or her own.

And, really, the quality of the bands and songs just can't be overstated. Some of the best in the business, really. This set is joy to hear. Some folks put in a lot of hard work, and it paid off. Quite the toy box.

Nineteen tracks from some of the new generation of punk rawkers. Leads off with the Donnas, but what follows are bands with much less pub. Many are unsigned. All of them know how to blister ears.

And that's about what they have in common. I mentioned the "punk" label, but some of these bands earn that only in spirit. There's some straightforward rock here (as the title might express) and a couple of real curveballs.

It's all good, though. Don't worry about labels. Just enjoy yourself. I mean, if this stuff doesn't get you going, you need to start listening to Mantovani or something.

John Szuch has put together an amazing track record with Deep Elm. A lot of great bands, most of whom practice that ever-amorphous sound some call emo. The Emo Diaries series focuses on young, generally unsigned bands who have a great song that lots of people should hear.

This is the sixth installment, and the stuff is as solid as ever. The evolution of the sound is apparent, especially if you play the compilations one after another in order. Almost an anthropological survey. A pleasant one, of course, one that is very easy on the ears.

I think of this series as public service as much as anything else. The bands need the publicity, other folks like to know where emo might travel next. Some of us just like cool discs chock full of outstanding music. Whatever your reason, you know this is a must.

Just yer basic label compilation. Of course, when your label has releases from Dropkick Murphys, Agnostic Front, Anti Heros, Templars, One Way System and the like, your compilation is likely to be good.

And so this is pretty solid. Mostly previously released material, though you might find a couple gems you haven't heard. Solid stuff from a label full or working-class bands.

That's pretty much what's to found here. No grand bits of philosophy. No musical wizardry. Just crunchy punk rock. Good fiber for the colon, you know?

This is a Deep Elm label sampler. The Emo Diaries is a sound sampler. This has songs from bands who've recorded for Deep Elm. The latter has bands who (mostly) recorded for themselves. Get the difference?

Here you get stuff from the Appleseed Cast, Planes Mistaken for Stars, Starmarket, the White Octave and many more. All previously released (all from Deep Elm albums), so don't buy this if you're already in the know.

But if you want an exceedingly cheap entre into the world of emo, this is the ticket. There isn't a bad song here. I know. I've heard them all before. And I still like them loads. That's just the way I feel about Deep Elm.

Tracks (generally unreleased) from 26 of the bands that will grace the various stages on this year's Warped Tour. Bosstones, Ataris, Rancid, Bouncing Souls, Vandals, No Use for a Name, Buck-O-Nine, Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, etc. Lots and lotsa punk.

Um, some of these songs coulda stayed unreleased. Just not up to par. Still, most of these pieces are at the very least representative, and a few are great. If you were wondering whether or not you should plunk down yer hard-earned cash for the show, this disc ought help you make up your mind. Of course, that's even more hard-earned cash...

Aw, hell, this is mostly solid fare. A good snapshot of where melodic punk rock stands in 2001. Which is what Warped is all about, I guess.

Vox Americana! is Jim Bowley and Tracy Calhoun. They play a grand style of roots rock, plenty of harmonies and keyboards (sometimes organ) complimenting the jangly guitars. The sorta songs that sound like they're supposed to be saying something.

And they do, though the lyrics aren't the most eloquent. Sometimes they're a bit clumsy or simply overstated. You know, these songs sound great. The production lends a ringing quality. Added bits of pedal steel and other instrumentation are also a big plus.

But with all such buildup, there's gotta be a payoff. Sometimes there is. Some of these songs really score. Some of them, well, don't quite make it. There's not one culprit. Sometimes the songs are just a little too crafted, too rote. Sometimes the lyrics just don't connect.

Little things. But when you're making a big statement, the little things are important. I think maybe Vox Americana! ought to keep a bit of a looser feel. This would reduce the overcrafting, I think, and also help with some of the stilted lyrics. There are a lot of good things going on here. With a little work, there cold be a lot of great things going on.

Highly technical, almost proggy metal. The six songs here clock in at almost 45 minutes. Maybe that gives you an idea of what's going on. Or maybe not.

I think it does. Zero Hour sounds like a ton of other bands playing this kinda stuff. A heavy focus on skilled playing and rapid shifts in musical mood, and less of an interest in making a more personal connection.

Zero Hour wants to make a statement. But its songs are a bit too abstract, too chilly to really get to me. Hey; these boys certainly can play. I could hear that right off. They just don't play in a way that excites me.

If long, extended, technical guitar runs excite you, well, Zero Hour has what you want. I'd be the first to admit that this is not one of my favorite styles. And Zero Hour didn't break through my prejudice.