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The Baseball Project - Volume 1: Frozen Ropes and Dying Quails
***NEW REVIEW***
If you are a baseball fan you'll definitely get a kick out of the Baseball Project. BP's songs are full of history and  detail that convey a true love of the game, as well as plenty of rowdy irreverence. The two chief architects of BP are Steve Wynn (a KDM favorite, former Dream Syndicate leader) and Scott McCaughey (former Young Fresh Fellow, current R.E.M.). They've written a slate of fine songs that should entertain even their fans who could give a fig about small ball. Linda Pitmon plays drums bashingly, as she does in husband Wynn's full time outfit, the Miracle 3. Some guy named Pete Buck plays bass. They sound like they had a great deal of fun putting this together, andthe fun is contagious.

Foxboro Hot Tubs - Stop Drop and Roll
***NEW REVIEW***
It's Green Day. But you probably knew that. Rumor has it that they handed this record to Warner Brothers, who insisted that it not be released under the band's name. You know, brand identity issues and all. Silly record company - Foxboro Hot Tubs rock! Billy Joe and the boys binged on Kinks and Paul Revere singles and wrote a fresh crop of songs based on that pop-punk-garage legacy. Armstrong even subdues his cod-English accent in places. Wow. Anyway, it's a swell record; period evocative, sure, but very fresh sounding, too. For techies - it's all done on eight (even four) track tape, and it sounds cool.

Thomas Function - Celebration
***NEW REVIEW***
The Thomas Function combine Farfisa organ accents with garage-folk drive and Jonathan Macero's wounded, Richard Hell cum Dylan yowl. Macero's singing also evokes The Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments and the Ponys (for all of you whoactually keep up with this underindiealternaground stuff). The lyrics are the usual poetic dropout, misfit stuff, but sharply observed and tied to catchy tunes, part jangle pop, part backwoods T. Rex. Back when record companies had money they would have "discovered" these Alabama punks. Now, it's all down to thefreakin' internet. And Kief's. We're always glad to help, you know.

Robert Pollard - Is Off to Business
***NEW REVIEW***
Robert Pollard is the J.S. Bach of power pop. Endlessly melodic, inventive, tireless, and obsessed. Since disbanding Guided by Voices Pollard has been very busy, proferring the sweet chamber pop of "Silverfish Trivia" and the beautiful collaboration with Tommy Keene - the Keene Brothers. And as always he's done some stuff that was neither here nor there. Such is the price of the prolific. United with his GBV co-hort Todd Tobias "Is Off to Business" is top-notch Pollard. The title is both indicative of this set's relative gravitas and an ironic dig at a culture lost at sea, as lamented in the lovely "Original Heart." Tunes galore, as usual. Fetching words. If yer a Bob Pollard fan you'll find nothing not to like here.

Felice Brothers - s/t
A band (yes) of brothers who grew up near Woodstock, literally and figuratively. The specter of Dylan and The Band's "Basement Tapes" drapes all over this music. The neat trick they pull is that they sing about an old weird America, in Greil Marcus's phrase, a world that's as much about the Great Depression as the current recession, but they drop in all manner of contemporary landmarks
and references. Their ensemble sound is graceful and sounds practically effortless; it's that, shall we say, organic. They play beautifully at slow tempos with ghostly, sparse arrangements. Remember how your band teacher told you it was harder to play slow (well, at least)? Right they were - and the Felice boys are masters at that. Ian Felice handles most of the vocals with a conversational, whiskey at noon nonchalance, somewhere between Levon Helm and Tom Waits. How "authentic" the Felice Brothers are is an interesting question, but finally an irrelevant one. They do what great bands do - they create their own universe and hook you into it.

Mudcrutch - s/t
Tom Petty, and fellow Heartbreakers Benmont Tench and Mike Campbell, prove that you can go home again. To Florida, that is. And the band they first thought they would conquer the world with. Originally signed to Shelter Records before TPAH,
Mudcrutch folded after one seven-inch. As the liner notes indicate this session was done in ten days – no headphones, no overdubs, just the sound of musicians comfortable with one another playing music they love. The newly penned material works and the period evocative (early 70’s) covers, like the Byrd’s ’Lover of the Bayou’ and the trucker anthem “Six Days on the Road,” add seasoning. A reasonable critical reference point would be a cross between the Byrds of the “Notorious Byrd Brothers” era and early Neil Young and Crazy Horse. The showstopper is “Crystal River,” a long, jammy number that does precisely what long, jammy tracks mostly don’t – it sustains mood and tone beautifully for every second of its’ length. 

Los Campesinos! – Hold on Now … Youngster
Los Campesinos! sound like what they are: a bunch of college smart asses (Cardiff University), clever, caffeined, and set to bounce off the wall. Like a less somber Broken Social Scene their lyrics are unexpurgated and sharp, their music a careening monster that sounds like big rock (you know, like the Waterboys or somebody) and a parody of all that that stands for at the same time. Knowing and snarky lyrics (and exclamation points) aside (bet they
love Pavement), Los Campesinos! (roughly, Spanish for ‘peasants’) are in
their queer way a voice of their generation – plugged in, attenuated attention spans and all, going a mile a minute in six directions. And, they are musical enough that their giddy enthusiasm is met with melody and craft, the combination ultimately beguiling. Gosh, maybe Belle & Sebastian woulda sounded like LC is they’d had more fun at parties. Fresh faced, cute, brimming with ideas … Los Campesinos! are the future. Of something.

Virgins – s/t
Superficially, the Virgins have more in common with some crap band like Maroon 5 than they do with, oh I dunno, Arcade Fire or somebody. But,
anyway, that’s not the point. What is? That first impressions are deceiving. The V’s are in fact a sly, slick outfit; equal parts pop-rock melody and
dance-rock grooves. Definitely having their cake and eating it too, they bring everything from the Stones (think “Miss You”), to the Strokes, to Chic, to the Chili Peppers, to Hall and Oates (fronted by Elvis Costello), the Police, Royal Crescent Mob (maybe, or Les Savy Fav?) … to the table. The songs are largely nightlife narcissism exercises, yet there’s something desperate and melancholy underneath the surface, rather in the manner of vintage Roxy Music. The rock guitar moves are spare and compressed. The bass grooves are fat. The drums funky. Superficial appearances aside, the Virgins bring it.

Jack Penate – Matinee
Jack Penate slogged his way through the tough British club circuit with a bag of fine tunes, a keen sense of vernacular and a warm tenor to deliver it all with. Signed to XL Records he cut his first record in 2007 and it was released this year in the U.S. Reminiscent of the fine Eighties outfit the Housemartins, the Smiths (sometimes) and a none too distant cousin to Elvis Costello’s debut, “My Aim is True,” Penate’s “Matinee” is sweet with turning to treacle, trenchant with out pretension and melodically engaging throughout. Songs like the brisk apology “Have I Been a Fool?” and the mortal, but not morbid, query of “When I Die” grab you and stick in your brain days later. Unaffected, but effecting, “Matinee” is a lovable showcase for an important young talent.

Scarlett Johansson – Anywhere I Lay My Head
As some other scribe observed, the French are used to actors posing as pop stars. In America we are circumspect, nay cynical, about such endeavors
 as this … this being Scarlett Johansson’s cycle of Tom Waits songs called “Anywhere I Lay My Head.”  While it won’t redefine how we hear Waits,
 and it doesn’t introduce a singularly mesmerizing vocal talent, that’s not to say that, by God, this isn’t pretty good stuff. Because it is.  “Anywhere” was produced by Dave Sitek from TV on the Radio, and Nick Zinner from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and David Bowie make contributions to the sessions. Sounding vaguely like a cross between Liz Fraser and Nico singing to arrangements that evoke a lusher Joy Division, Scarlett has, well – a point of view, and a love for the material that carries the day. It has and will provoke divided opinion, and more than a little scorn (envy?), but “Anywhere” is a somber, yet engaging take on a great songwriter’s songbook.

Alejandro Escovedo – Real Animal
Should you wish, you can read my long ass review of the new Alejandro Escovedo record at www.downtown.kiefs.com, where it’s linked to the
Kansas City Star’s Tuesday, June 24th edition. The Cliff’s Notes version: Alejandro is a major artist with a deep feel for everything from punk-rock
to Van Morrison’s Caledonia soul to Mexican folk music. Like Doug Sahm before him he’s a walking, talking compendium of Texas music. But he’s
 also a devotee of Seventies glam and proto-punk (think Stooges, e.g.), and that comes through decisively in his music. Produced by Tony Visconti (David Bowie, T. Rex – two of Alejandro’s faves), “Real Animal” rocks, croons, shakes and soothes. It’s a look at Escovedo’s musical and personal odyssey that is both career summation and a door to his musical future. It’s one of the best records of 2008 right now and I don’t think much will happen in six months to shake that judgment.

Waco Brothers - Live and Kickin' at Schuba's Tavern
Schuba's is a great bar in Chicago for music. And it's
like the local, as the Brits would say, for the Wacos.
Formed by Leeds transplant, Jon Langford of the Mekons, to amuse himself inbetween Mekons activities, the Waco Brothers developed into a fine band in their own right. Imagine Rockpile (Nick Lowe, Dave Edmunds, etc.) with Noam Chomsky as lyricisit. Or, forget if you insist, the subversive subtext and just, you know, rock out. 16 tunes, all delivered in their Cash goes Clash way. All rockin (kickin', too). All in all, a fine night out preserved for posterity.

Fratellis - Here We Stand
Their debut, "Costello Music," was really a wonderful record. A masterful, melodic spin through Brit-pop history, delivered in rogue Glaswegian wonder. "Stand" is a little different. These tracks sound like the work of a band that's grown tighter on the road, which means the playing is muscular and powerful. The trade off is that something was lost in terms of economy in arrangement (read: songs are roughly four minutes
each, instead of three). But on balance it all works out.
These tunes have a rakish Faces quality, telling tales
of young men on the town, and the prowl. Rest assured.
Gradually, the songs sink in. And the same old charm
rubs off. Another pop masterpiece from one helluva band.

Gurus - Now
The Gurus hail from Barcelona. They sing in the Lengua Franca of rock and roll, though - English, duh! Their palette is unselfconsciously diverse in a way that few American or British bands match. They veer wildly from Beatlesque/Freakbeat stylings to power trio blasts that cover territory from Rory Gallagher to the Pixies and Nirvana.  They pull off Badfinger inspired pop harmonies, but muscle up on tracks like their cover of the Doors "Roadhouse Blues," which barrels down the track like some bastard child of Motorhead and early Patti Smith Group. Throughout, the Gurus play and sing with abandon and authority. More proof that the future of honest to God rock and roll music may be with cats that use English as a second language.

Simply Saucer – Half Human/Half Live
Simply Saucer was one of the great lost bands of the Seventies. They fused the Velvet Underground's dark jangle and noise with the spaced out explorations of Syd Barrett days Pink Floyd and the out of joint rhythms of Captain Beefheart's Magic Band, yet Edgar Breau's vision had something that went beyond influence or pastiche. Emerging from the Hamilton, Ontario underground they were too far out for their surroundings and never had much of chance to emerge from them. Miraculously, "Half Human/Half Live" finds them thirty years on with sound and spirit very much intact. Half studio recordings of unreleased songs and half live freakouts, this long delayed second album impresses. And it would do so if there was no back-story whatsoever, if this were a brand new band the power of their music would be undeniable. Had they been from New York we would be recalling Simply Saucer alongside Television and the Voidoids.

Love Psychedelico – This is …
Love Psychedelico have been rocking Japan for a decade now, but "This is Love Psychedelico" is their first American release. They sing in both English and Japanese, shifting not only tongues, but frankly in and out of coherence. Small matter, however, with music this infectious. The pop world is clearly this duo's oyster, as they range unafraid from British Invasion charmers to Zep riffage and Fleetwood Mac harmonization. It's the kind of unlikely mix up of styles that seduces the otherwise circumspect critical mind. The reason: Love Psychedelico is just plain fun.

Santogold – s/t
Santi White has knocked around the music business for a while now. She did a & r work for Epic Records, recorded with a ska-punk band called Stiffed, and produced a record for rock, reggae, and r 'n' b synthesist Res. Under the artist/band name Santogold, her debut recording is an arresting mixture of Eighties rock (thinkCars), dance music grooves (comparisons to M.I.A. hold some water), with convincing vocals that cross Nina Simone with Karen O. While that all sounds pretty cool, what makes this a damn good record is the quality of the songs. These aren't dance tracks with vocals layered on, but organic, grooving, rocking tunes. She's going to catch fire, so you might as well get hip to her now.

Frank Black – Svn Fngrs
Let's be frank. Since Frank Black (Charles Thompson) went back to the persona of Black Francis with last year's pretty great "Bluefinger" he's been sounding more like his old band. That would be the Pixies, as seminal a band as there's been in the last twenty years. His solo journey has taken him through all sorts of idiom and imagery, through Nashville studio cats, and more trad Stones based rock and rolling. No longer the surrealist spewing youngster, B.F. has turned to bizarre myths and archetypes (Celtic mythology, Nuclear age balladry). It works. He sounds in a fervor, committed. The music, while Pixie-esque, is also spare, driving and Beefheartian in places. The man's perspective is singular and on "Svn Fngrs" he rocks. The world
is a better place, still, for Charles Thompson.

R.E.M. – Accelerate
This is widely touted as a return to form; and for the most part it is. The inward gaze that had dominated the band's release since the underrated 'New Adventures in Hi-Fi" approached  ennervation in the 2000's. When a band has been around as long as these gents it's impossible to evaluate a new release without comparison to their catalog. That established, this record stacks up nicely. It recalls the "Life's Rich Pageant" through "Green" days, no doubt. If anything, though, R.E.M. have taken a refresher in garage-punk values given the brevity and thrust of these songs. There are hooks aplenty, too . Some of Stipe's lyrics resonate wildly, as they do when he's on. And for the first time in about ten years R.E.M. rocks.Any questions?

Teenage Prayers – Everybody Says You’re the Best
Cool band. Grows on me every time I listen. This is produced by Steve Wynn, a man of abundantly good taste. Teenage Prayers remind more of Green on Red than any single band, distinctly American, but rooted in the loose swagger of the Rolling Stones. They are both hedonists and philsophes, ready for a good time and ready to reflect on its passing. From the salacious opener, “I Like It” to the Brechtian sway of the closing track “Spirit in a Can,” the Teenage Prayers havecrafted an album that does what the good ones do – it takes you on a journey that you’re happy to take again.

Neon Neon – Stainless Style
Someone  who actually listens to Eighties synth-fodder and pop starlet contempo-trash could tell you more about the curious roots of Neon Neon. I hear all that stuff, but I don’t care enough about it to call myself an expert. I’ll leave that hard work to someone with more time on their hands. My interest is pretty much inspired by being a fan of Gruff Rhys. As both solo artist and as chief architect of the multi-faceted sounds of the Super Furry Animals, Gruff is a modern marvel. He has the same ability that the Beatles had (back in the(ir) day) to pulls sounds from out of the air, plug them into his own aesthetic vision and makes something musical and fun out of it. With noted hip-hop producer
Boom Bip he’s done it again. How does he do it … where others have failed? Duh, by constructing real songs, with real tunes and smart lyrics to go with all the undoubtedly groovy sounds. This is danceable, provocative, catchy music. Pretty much guaranteed to please fans of, say, Beck or Gorillaz.

Big Dipper – Supercluster/The Big Dipper Anthology
Bill Goffrier left the Embarrassment, and Kansas, for Boston back in the mid-Eighties. Okay, the Embos had some swell tunes. Give’m their due. They are also sacred cows in Kansas because they were dweebs from Wichita who shone a bright, inspiring light to all their fellow dweebs in Newton and Chanute … message – yer weird …and we’re here to say it’s okay. This was less of a bulletin in Lawrence, frankly, where oddballs already had sanctuary. Still, plenty of immigrants to Lawrence were from Larned (or wherever) and the ‘Bos were adored by many, especially such newcomers to Paris on the Kaw (ha ha). Anyway, Big Dipper were even better. They took the same sensibility and added more hooks, better playing and suaver harmonies. Sorry, it’s true. Songs like “Faith Healer,”“She’s Fetching,” and “Bonnie” are about as good as it gets for Eighties vintage alterna-guitar music (no synths) … better than
Husker Du, buddy. Or Dinosaur Jr. That said, three discs is a little much. That’s the bad news. But the good news is better. And that’s most of ‘Supercluster’ is pretty great and even the filler goes down pretty good at $16.99 for three stinkin’ discs.

Antietam – Opus Mixtum
Leave it to Antietam to define an era. Even if it’s twenty years late. Tara Key and company have always played ruggedly defiant alternative guitar rock – some Yo La, a lot of Sonic Youth, if slightly less dissonant. “Opus,” like Husker’s “Zen Arcade” before it, is a sprawling, varied document. Songs like “Tambo Hope” and “RPM” are pleasantly pop informed, in fact there’s a general improvement in song craft from the band compared to their past work. And while they can tear it up with the best of them, the second disc features several acoustic numbers and even some engaging instrumentals. This is Antietam’s fifth record. They’ve had a rather casual release schedule over their twenty plus years together. The cool part is that they not only stuck to their guns, but that their marksmanship has matured, too.

Gutter Twins – Saturnalia
Grunge was a bunch of dreck mostly. Still, some good things were spawned from that hairy, flannel debacle. One was Mark Lanegan. His solo career, full of charmingly depressive music and built on a foundation of Cave and
Waits, has been consistently sharp and musical. His duet with Isobel
Campbell was just plain lovely, and one of 2006’s surprise delights.
Greg Dulli made searingly sleazy rock with Afghan Whigs – all Dream
Syndicate guitar drone and white boy mock-funk. His more recent stuff
with Twilight Singers has been sweeter, if no less sinister. Lanegan has
been an occasional guest. In fact, their musical roots and shared Sub Pop
history make this collaboration seem inevitable. There’s  just the right
mix of kindred spirits and friction between the two. “Saturnalia”
chronicles the joys and rigors of wrestling with the dark side with big,
sometimes lush, arrangements and imposing songs throughout.

Pale Moon Gang – s/t
If there’s such a genre as New York rock, the Pale Moon Gang are unashamedly its ambassadors. Richard Dev Greene and company are Lower East Siders who have cut their teeth on the sort of punk rock that pours out of Revolution records in the Village. There may be some Clash influence here, but for the most part it’s the sort of tight, sinewy Gotham punk associated with Johnny Thunders and the Stooges (they qualify as honorary New York rockers despite their Michigan roots). PMG even tackle Iggy’s “New Values,” which could have exposed their weaknesses, but instead showcases their strengths. They don’t transform it, but they aren’t humbled by it either; they confidently make it their own. Just like kids used to turf wars, I guess. This is meat and potatoes stuff, but if you’re looking to cop a great example of the enduring qualities of this sound – this may be your score. It’s a Kief’s exclusive. And it’s a cheapo $9.99.

The Dirtbombs - We Have You Surrounded
No Jim Diamond production. This time the neo-garage sounds of the 'Bombs are complemented with more obvious filets of soul and even a little techno edge. Mick Collins and crew seem thematically preoccupied with a world going to hell in a hand basket, so it's remarkable/cool that for the most part they still make social collapse sound like a party (think Talking Heads "Life DuringWartime"). As usual, they proffer an interesting cover, this time "Sherlock Holmes" by Sparks. The top of the record’s arc is "Wreck My Flow," a Dylan goes Flava rant about all the peoples f'in with Mick's mojo. This thick, darkly comic record should enhance yours.

Raveonettes - Lust, Lust, Lust
Or as one song incants "I know that you want the candy." Yup, that candy ... as in the album title. And implicitly that other candy, of street pharmacy style. Well, the Raveonettes have always done this dance. Here they do it a little louder and more desperately. The pleasant Jesus and Lou Reed Chainovertones of their earlier work are replaced here by a thicker assault that makes the implicit distortion of their first two albumsless adulterated. In fact, at low volume parts of "Lust" sort of disappear. In glorious full blast the honeyed contrast between their Velvets s/t (3rd) vocals and their "White Light" guitars (on eleven) is in stunning relief. If you like this band there's nothing here going to change your mind. Just turn it up.

Shelby Lynne - Just a Little Lovin'
This is sheer pleasure. Oh, sure there's a little heartbreak on the menu, too, but Lynne is such a wonderful singer that even pain turns into pleasure. "Lovin'" is in essence an homage to the great Dusty Springfield; in other words it's a love letter from one tremendous female singer to another. At first, honestly, I thought this record was a little shy on affect, or energy. Most of the sweeping neo-Spectorian productions of Dusty's early hits were replaced by gentle ensemble playing that sounded - sorry, almost lounge-y. But I've been wrong before. Further listening confirms the absolute rightness, even elegance, of what Shelby has done with these tunes. I suppose veteran producer Phil Ramone deserves a bit of credit, too. One caveat: The fade on "Willie and Laura Mae Jones" that obliterates the narrative arc of the song. That aside, tremendous stuff.

Black Crowes - Warpaint
The reunited Robinson Brothers have made their best record since "Southern Harmony and Musical Companion." Recruiting Luther Dickinson on guitar? Good idea, guys. He and Rich R. sound terrific together. Bro' Chris can spread the hippie-soul shtick a bit thick sometimes, but at his best he's truly one of the most soulful and elastic white dudes on the planet. He sounds great on "Warpaint." This album has a sanctified sensuality that's more than a little reminiscent of the Stone's masterpiece "Exile on Main Street" - not a reference I throw around casually. In a world of neutered college rock and cod-testerone metal madness it's not clear where a soulful, sexy little record like this fits in. The cool thing is that it doesn't. Buck the trends, dance with one hand waving free, kids.

Efterklang - Parades
I have no idea how many people are in this band. I don't know what to compare them to. Of course I could throw out some reference points but they'd just be grasping Pitchforkian double-speak. Since I have no ready critical framework for this music it makes meta-critical reference beside the point. The simple fact is that it's distinctly musical and moving. These Danes thrive on epic pop constructions, making liberal use of massed choir vocal moves and gorgeous orchestral passages. Honestly, 95% of the music that sounds vaguely like Efterklang is convoluted crap. What makes this different? Not really understanding is part of the enjoyment. "Parades" carries you, sweeps over you. And leaves you feeling like you've arrived at some place different when it's over. Sometimes you just have to follow the music.

Super Furry Animals – Hey Venus
Our old faves the Super Furries have done it again. “Hey Venus” brims with melody and invention. Gruff Rhys and friends can write and produce beautiful pop tunes like “Run Away” and “Show Your Hand,” songs that are Top of the Pops in a perfect world. They typically mix in some oddball charmers, in this case the quasi-round “Baby Ate My Eight Ball” or “Noo Consumer” with its syncopated rhythms and sing-song (along) choruses. The albums peaks with “Suckers,” simply a great tune about, well, all of us – simultaneously sour and hopeful The Furries are always playful and innovative; they don’t disappoint here. Quite simply, likethe Beatles or XTC before them, the Super Furry Animals are a model for rock’s capacity to absorb new and varied ideas and synthesize them in fascinating and entertaining ways. These Welsh dudes are simply …
…  brilliant.

Cococoma – s/t
The blueprint for the Cococoma is simple. Take the Sixties garage idiom as defined by the ‘Nuggets” collection, with its roots in everything from
stalwarts like Them (or Paul Revere and the Raiders) to innumerable one hit wonders and turbo-charge it with the speed and nervous energy of
post-Nuggets outfits like the Modern Lovers and the Lyres. On the vocal end, abandon any attachment to Sixties hit radio aspirations in favor of something closer to Bill Roe’s mutated Richard Hell yelp. All the signifiers are here – plentiful Farfisa organ touches, guitars with natural tube distortion and songs that make their point quick and split. For more contemporary references think bands like Viva American Death Ray. In other words,  there’s nothing groundbreaking here, but it’s  guaranteed kicks for lovers of the genre.

Vampire Weekend  - s/t
Four rich boys from Columbia University with a Pitchfork Almighty buzz. Just the kinda thing I'm inclined to dismiss. Except that this is pretty darn good. Imagine the Strokes if they were devotees of Afro-pop rather than Reed and Verlaine. And the comparison holds up because beneath the stylistic maneuvering in each case there are solid, likable pop songs. Vampire Weekend's bright, attractive sound also recalls the Talking Heads, although Ezra Koenig seems a blithe spirit compared to David Bryne's sometimes vein popping angst. As a lyricist he has his rich boy cake and eats it too, neither denying nor reveling in his clean cut superiority (frank, everyday observations honestly rooted in the quad of an Ivy League school). Instead, he and his band make warm, inviting music that might just charm its way into lots of collections.

Paul Metzger - Deliverance
Well, there aren't too many guys playing a modified, treated 21-string banjo to whom one can compare Paul Metzger. While Metzger's instrument has the percussive plink of the banjo it also can sound like a tenor guitar or a sitar. Conceptually, I think it's safe to say that he's a descendant of string players like Sandy Bull, John Fahey and Robbie Basho, all of whom mixed the American Delta and Appalachia with North Africa and India. Metzger's works sound like improvisation from someone with a natural compositional grace. The ultimate effect is music that unfolds, sometimes sequentially, sometimes aleatorically and that reflects all the above influences without mimicking them. You can furrow your brow listening to this music if you want, but its ultimate rewards come when you 'turn off your mind, relax, and float downstream." Deliverance … yeah.

Fleshtones – Take a Good Look
The Fleshtones have always rocked hard and good humored. They've been playing their own version of party rock since the late Seventies and their basic mission is unchanged - to provide a good time to fans who like frat rock with a blown mind - "Louie Louie" on a crash course with the counterculture.. Peter Zaremba's is the wry perspective of one who's chosen a life on the bohemian fringe. In his fifties he's both defiant and reflective. Musically, he, guitarist Keith Streng and company are as focused as they've been in years. At their worst (which is still big fun) the 'Tones have descende into surf and garage clichés. At their best (here) they keep the guitars aggressive and the energy level just a little crazed. Ivan Julian (of Voidoids, etc. fame) gets great sounds and great performances from one of rock's unheralded heroes - the Fleshtones.

Lightspeed Champion – Falling Off the Lavender Bridge
Dev Hynes is a true product of our times. He's an African-American, but raised in Britain (he lives in London). He played guitar in the dance-noise outfit Test Icicles. He loves country music. And hip-hop, especially. But as Lightspeed Champion (a fictional doppelganger with super heroic dimensions) what does he do? He writes beautiful, personal songs and performs them in baroque pop and folk-country settings. He records in Omaha with various Saddle Creek types. There's no reason why "Falling Off the Lavender Bridge" shouldn't appeal to fans of Conor Oberst, Sufjan Stevens, or M.Ward. But the fact is that there's a humor, vulgarity even, at the core of Hyne's art that's looser and more touching than any of those indie icons.

Giantess – s/t
Once the Battles, Giantess surrendered the name to another Battles whose fine, but very different, sound, was responsible for one of 2007’s indie fave discs “Mirrored.” Oh, the hardship. Yet they toil in obscurity, which is too bad since they’re really good. Giantess is rooted in the Kinks. And early Wings. There are also echoes of Big Star and the Velvet Underground in their sound. It all adds up to appealing, slightly oblique, pop with sharp wordplay and sly arrangements that rock out without diving into cliché. Ted Hamilton, in word and voice, reminds of Scott Miller who led the at once snarky and endearing Game Theory and Loud Family. A more contemporary, and (still) fair, comparison might be Britt Daniels. Sure, there are some Spoon-isms here, but Giantess is broader, bashier. And less David Byrne twitchy. In fact, it’s hard to believe that we live in a world where music like this isn’t immediately accessible and widely enjoyed. Sadly, we do.

Sick Fits – s/t
Hailing from Ottawa, Canada the Sick Fits started life as yet another band desperate to evoke the spirits of ’77. You know, punk rock. Buzzsaw guitars. Jeans with holes. Great stuff it was, and is; but you can buy the uniform at too many malls, so the Fits decided to dig a little deeper. Not much, but a little. So, they glommed onto the glory of early Seventies rock, the sounds that gave birth to a revolution (punk, finally). Damned if they haven’t learned their lessons well. This rocks. Granted, the “Aladdin Sane”/”Kill City” (Iggy – down and out in L.A.) vibe is so thick you could cut it with David Johnansen’s tongue. And sometimes the re-writes are pretty transparent (“Every Day is Sunday” could sue Bowie’s “Watch That Man” for paterntity). Screw it, though. This is fun, fun stuff – evocative of a day when rock was sexy and sly, before Motley Crue and those numbskulls turned sex into sleaze and legions of mall punks turned punk into emo and drained all the humor, joy and mojo out of it.

Lewis & Clarke – Blasts of Holy Birth
Rather symphonic pop, sumptuous stuff. The lyrics here, while intelligent, are not the thing. Nope, the music here does the talking, if you will. These intimations of the frontier and journeys undertaken are tone poems of a sort, climaxing with “Be The Air We Breathe,” its conversation in strings providing a nice balance to the more guitar driven “Black Dove.” Lou Rogai and friends could make “Blasts of Holy Birth” as pretentious as the title itself if they were compelled by a more prosaic execution of their naturalistic vision. Finally, said vision is as vast and enveloping as the North America discovered by the “band’s’ namesake, yet Lewis and Clarke make their case with music
as discreet as it is big.

Damon & Naomi – Within These Walls
Described by the artists as “ballads in a lonely mood,” ‘Within These Walls’ is quiet, conversational music that serves as both environment and as something more prepossessing (if you take time to absorb it). Damon and Naomi extend the spare, enveloping sound of their old band Galaxie 500 with music that’s as intimate as friend wordlessly bringing you a cup of coffee on a cold winter’s day. Finally, though, as contemplative as this music can be, it’s hardly easy listening. Guitarist Michio Kurihara (a frequent collaborator from the group Ghost) weaves
guitar lines, some melodic, some blistering, throughout these songs like a Greek chorus or a quietly made argument. Occasional strings and horns also enter Damon and Naomi’s (songs) conversations about isolation, heartache and hard truths. A bittersweet take on the traditional folk tune “The Trees They Do Grow High” culminates this resolute, quietly beautiful recital.

Phosphorescent - Pride
Matthew Houck and who/whatever else is Phosphorescent seems torn between realizing their own slack version of Brian Wilson’s teenage symphonies to God and the cod grad school Americana of Will Oldham (or whomever he/it is this week). But, heck, it’s all something blowin’ in the Pitchfork wind, I reckon. What makes this somehow more compelling than another Neutral Milk Hotel homage or just another Animal Collective record is the “Tonight’s the Night” comedown of “Cocaine Lights,” and Houck’s resolute insistence on balancing the beautiful and the harrowing – until the latter strides off hand in hand with the former. Which is another way of saying that Phosphorescent manages to pull of a vocal drone to rival Reed and Cale’s string-saw work – you know, first it’s grating then you can’t stop listening to it.

Claudius Linton – Reggae Master
Claudius Linton is one of those reggae singers that no one outside of Jamaica and the hard core reggae fan knows much about. But like rhythm and blues masters James Carr and Howard Tate, he was (and remains) beloved by his peers, including the late Bob Marley. He’s allegedly preparing a new, comeback record; this is a sixteen track compilation of his work from the late Seventies. It includes the Jamaican
hit “Crying Time,’ and other Linton calling cards like “Backra-Massa” and “Twentieth Century.” The backing is from top flight studio cats from reggae’s heyday and the singing is nonpareil, from testimonials to Jah to sweet lovers rock sounds. Any fan of great reggae vocalizing should check out Claudius.

Michael Yonkers & The Blind Shake – Carbohydrates Hydrocarbons
Michael Yonkers is a cult fave whose less than widely known work dated back to the Seventies. Sub Pop resurrected him a couple years back, and his bedsit psych-skronk sat well with a new generation of the alienated. Having resumed performance, this set takes to the studio the energy and tension created on stage with the Twin Cities noise merchants Blind Shake. Easy listening it’s not. What it has in spades is a doomed (n)e(u)roticism that’s as thick as Black Sabbath and as psych damaged as Pere Ubu. In fact, Yonkers strained, barely contained vocals recall the latter’s David Thomas as much as anything. In the racket department these misfits stack up to Sonic Youth or newer captains of distortion like Places to Bury Strangers. Okay, these guys are committed. And they probably should be. Committed, that is. In other words they make And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead sound like a band with too many words in their name. This righteous distorto-fest is released on the GoJohnnyGo label. Anything to do with the estimable Mr. John Kass is okay in Kief’s book.

Voice of the Seven Woods – s/t
Rick Tomlinson touches all the bases. As Voice of the Seven Woods, Tomlinson and cohorts aim to take you on a trip. A good one. Ya know, there’s been an explosion of neo-psychedelic stuff in the last few years. As curious, engaged record store folk we’ve had the occasion to sample widely from this emerging genre. One size does not fit all. Most of it, frankly, is aimless, tuneless drivel. Wow, just like THE FIRST TIME. And some of it, from certain Acid Mothers Temple releases to the more acoustic wood-psych of Nick Castro, is pretty brilliant. So is VOTSA.
Widely and wildly ranging stylistically, VOTSA’s journey includes stops in the forest of British folk spirit (from Davey Graham to, I’m guessing, the Incredible String Band), then at the Krautrock rail station, before bedding  down with Frippertronics after a night of dervish abandon with the step children of Indian and Moroccan music. Actual melodies are developed, rhythms are insistent and compelling. In other words, this is adventurous, exploratory music that works.

Fields – Everything Last Winter 
Fields are shoegazer and beyond. For while theirs is a dense sound
dominated by multi-track guitars (from delicate acoustic to howling feedback), it is also finely wrought and detailed, subtly incorporating strings, horns, synths and the kitchen sink.  The tone of many of these songs recalls the days when House of Love were brilliant. Ride also comes to mind as an influence. My Bloody Valentine? Yeah, I guess, but not so much. This band can sing well. Oh, how that helps. Thorunn Antonia, in particular, is an arresting singer, with her fire and ice voice that summons comparison to everyone from Sandy Denny to Nico. Field’s ensemble vocals create sweet and dour harmonies akin to both Low and Joy Zipper. Michael Beinhorn’s production is brilliantly detailed, capturing all the subtle (and dramatic) qualities of Field’s songs and arrangements. I came to this late in 2007, but in hindsight “Everything Last Winter” is looking like one of last year’s most striking releases.

Plastiscines – lp1
Welcome to another segment of Lafayette’s revision. Yup, another cool, rockin’ record by a French group. Who knew? These four Parisian ladies are candy floss Elastica. Their music generates
comparison to classic punk, and their influences range from the angular drive of Wire to the pop propulsion of the Buzzcocks, and from the messaround dance grooves of the B 52’s to X (Billy Zoom-ish guitar moves). They sing some of them in French. And some in English. And it just don’t matter because it’s all full of energy and melody. Short songs - sharp and tons of fun.

Jose Gonzalez - In Our Nature
Argentine born, Swedish raised, Gonzalez is a singer-songwriter and interpreter (one of the most arresting songs here is a cover of Massive Attack's "Teardrop") whose guitar palette and gentle, but captivating voice make him unique among the nu-folk crowd. He may superficially resemble everyone from John Smarty to Nick Drake to Elliott Smith, but his weave of alternately delicate and brutal guitar sounds with subtle electronics and bossa nova carries his art into an idiom all its own. Beneath the seductive and insinuating purr of this music are anti-war sentiment and attacks on religion. "Nature" moves deftly from the pastoral to the passionate with a cool, seamless drive that never lets up.

Emma Pollock - Watch the Fireworks
Her indie credentials impeccable (former Delgado, co-founder of Chemikal Underground label, here Emma takes aim at the market, or mainstream, or whatever. Not exactly dead aim, though. Nope, lurking underneath the sweetened pop arrangements and her guileless, unassumingly pleasant vocals are tales with much drama; the mother/grandmother tiff of "If the Silence Means That Much to You;'" the deathly take on a friend's anorexia ("Limbs"); the domestic violence in "New Land". Charming, lovely, and dark, too. Top songwriting, widescreen smart pop arrangements, and intelligent lyrics, nah - who'd be interested.

Steve has a review of the new Babyshambles record "Shotter's Nation" in the Kansas City Star ... read it here ...

http://www.kansascity.com/entertainment/music/story/344072.html

Ha Ha Tonka - Buckle in the Bible Belt
Named after some Missouri state park/lake, Springfield's Ha Ha Tonka are the best product out of scary southwest Missouri since the Bottlerockets. They share the 'Rockets working class roots, but Ha Ha's harmonies are more pop pristine, and their rueful musings on the the weird reality of mid-America are more obtusely poetic. They somehow manage to have fused alt-rock, heartland sounds and pop production values into an oddball, and effecting whole. It's appropriate that they are on the Bloodshot label, but beware (and this is a compliment), there's a left of center, Daniel Woodrell quality to this band that's not biscuits and gravy country-rock.

Richard and Linda Thompson - In Concert ... 1975
If you are among the enlightened minority who consider  Richard and Linda Thompson's work from the 1970's as some of the finest of that fractured era, you should pick this up now (get it over with) and walk to the counter. Only two of these songs have appeared (on the collection "Guitar/Vocal") previously; otherwise, this is a complete and completely convincing 1975 show. Thompson's dourly human songs are the sine qua non of the duo's brilliance, but their singing, especially Linda's, is sublime, and Richard's guitar work is that always thrilling combination of rock pyrotechnics, swinging phrasing and melody out of time. The disc is import priced, which is never fun in this day of the declining dollar, but it's worth it.

White Williams - Smoke
Take the synthesized, stylized take on black music that characterized Bowie, Eno, Roxy Music and Sparks and update it to the post hip-hop era and you have a pretty good idea what W. Williams is after. Where Beck makes obvious nods to the urban thing on the one hand and morose, introspective singer-songwriter moves on the other, Williams' mix is comparatively seamless - implicitly funky, but decidedly downbeat and chilled out as his cover of "Candy" demonstrates.
Now there's a song that's been done to death. And W.W. breathes spooky, slightly creepy life into the old sucker. Weird shades of the Velvet Underground even creep into the guitar work. Altogether, a fascinating, successful debut.

My Sister Klaus - Chateau Rouge
Actually, it's a guy (not really a band/not a female) - French dude named Guillame Teyssier. He's frankly all over the place, from Suicide/electro-dance tracks to three chord guitar jams. He's obviously a fan of the likes of Spacemen 3 and Jesus and Mary Chain, which means he also traffics in
their permutations of Spector pop. Really, though, the unifying vision here has mostly to do with a healthy worship of all things Velvet Underground/Lou Reed.
Such worship can be a formula for autodidact mediocrity, no doubt.
In MSK's case the songs and production manage to sound focused and
professional without losing any of the primitive tribal stomp at the
heart of this music.

Sterling Harrison - South of the Snooty Fox
You gotta wonder - how many marvelous rhythm and blues singers are there who never get their star time. The late Mr. Harrison could stand up tall next tomany more renowned r'n'b singers - from Tyrone Davis to O.V. Wright, to say nothing of Solomon Burke and Bobby Bland. He rings every last ounce of souland sexual tension out of Brook Benton's "I'll Take Care of You," owns such chestnuts as "Ain't Nobody Home" and "You Left the Water Running," and reads every nuance in Tom Waits' "The House Where Nobody Lives." If you are a fan of fine soul singing, add "South of the Snooty Fox" to your shelf.

Flying Burrito Brothers - Live at the Avalon Ballroom 1969
Ah, present at the birth of a legend. Fresh from his brief stint with the Byrds, Gram Parsons assembled the Burritos to pursue his version of a new country
music, a vision only half realized by the Byrds  "Sweetheart of the Rodeo." The Burritos mixed country songs (more culled nuggets than hits) with Parsons own plaintive songs. Their sound would have entertained in Bakersfield or Lubbock, but Sneaky Pete Kleinow's screaming steel guitar leads shook up traditional country, as did Gram's vulnerable, wounded vocals - more about expression than professionalism, as full of reverence for his sources as the suggestion of new possibilities. And there was yet no hint of how short Parson's journey would be.

Robert Plant/Alison Krauss - Raising Sand
The inevitable pairing. Just kidding. Percy the Metal invader/impaler meets the neo-bluegrass angel Alison. To cut to the chase - they sing just beautifully together, sometimes their blend is Everly Bros. close and endearing. The songs are all fine, especially the TWO Gene Clark ditties. T-Bone Burnett's production, while meticulous, is also a part-time party pooper with his insistence on keeping the whole stew down to a simmer. Some of these songs might've benefited from a bit more of Plant's sexual hysteria (i.e. rocked out more). Ah, but don't let me rain on this NPR parade, "Raising Sand" is a splendid meeting of two musical talents.

Moby Grape - s/t
Know about this record? It's one of the greatest debuts EVER. Five distinct singers. Three guitarists, each with a very different style, playing beautifully together and staying out of each other's hair. If some of the vibes sound hippie dated, remember this was San Francisco - 1967. A jam band they weren't - taut, discrete songs that pull all the same roots music strings as the Buffalo Springfield or the Grateful Dead, but with a straining at the bit energy that anticipates the MC5. Remastered too sound better than ever (wow, there's bass!), this Sundazed re-ish also features some early demos that crackle with Skip Spence's sheer manic intensity and hint at what a s*%t hot live act the Grape must've been.

Mannequin Men - Fresh Rot
Chicago lads who rock with a vengeance. They hang out with the likes of the Black Lips and the Ponys, two bands with whom they share some stuff, but their mix is all their own. Their myspace page answers the question "Sounds Like" with "everybody's pretty upset." Ha. And just about right. Lazy writers compare singer Kevin Richard with Mick Jagger. Okay...and so what...not quite...actually, he's more like a cross between a pissed off Peter Perrett (Only Ones) and Brother JT from the Original Sins (who always sounds pissed off, or "pretty upset."). Plenty of snotty, wounded workin' class attitude, well constructed songs and lean, mean playin'. They're the kind of guys who scoff at choosing between the Stooges and Creedence - their answer is both, just ask Richard Hell.

Daniel Higgs - Metemphyschotic Melodies
What the title says. Close recorded guitar from the more deranged wing of the John Fahey school of pan-American guitar - so close it sounds like it's treated, or a banjo, resembling the sound and approach of the great Sandy Bull. His long-ish compositions build wonderfully, ranging from the frenetic to the atmospheric without any obvious studs showing. Fans of everyone from the aforementioned Bull/Fahey to guitarists like Derek Bailey and Jack Rose should find much to dig about Mr. Higgs.

Redwalls - s/t
Pulling the eponymous title trick for a third album is pretty much an indication that the band feels this is representative, primo stuff. And they are pretty much right. The Redwalls sing with a Fab Four derived open throated joy and sentimentality (rather like Mando Diao) that's not exactly in fashion. Unlike their enjoyable, but tooooooo slick, second release on Capitol, this indie label third album was recorded basically live. In fact on a first listen the overdriven, compressed guitar sounds shock a bit - sounding kinda like a transistor radio really cranked (except that the robust vocals are crystal clear). Upon second...third...listenings it all makes sense. Beatles, Dylan, all the classic rock influences remain, but on this album the Redwalls don't sound like charming pastiche, rather a very talented band that's arriving at their own sound.

Black Lips - Good Bad Not Evil
Like the quotation from the Shangri-La's that gives their new album its name, these guys are a throwback that somehow achieves timelessness. Tuned to some surreal, phantasm of a Sixties radio show that plays everything from the Velvets to the Byrds to the Sir Douglas Quintet to Dion to Red Sovine, the Black Lips finally focus the agitation and energy of their early albums into a cogent, crazed and totally rockin' record. Start to finish, "Good Bad" will have you dancin', singin' along and swillin' whatever's handy. A definite candidate for the store top 10 of '07.

Tuung - Good Arrows
On their third release, Tuung sharpen their songwriting and focus their vaunted electronics in service to the songs. That's a good thing. One can only say so much with effects and sonic manipulations, ultimately it all gets back to tunes. Tuung's new material reflects the influence of everything from the Incredible String Band to Syd Barrett, as well as a kinship with the more pastoral side of the Super Furries. Electric guitars and modest nods toward rocking out integrate nicely with the band's oddly traditional countryside idyll. Pretty, charming, a nice trip.

Bettye LaVette - The Scene of the Crime
The magnificent revival of a great soul singer's career continues. Her last release, produced by Joe Henry, featured LaVette's scorched and seductive pipes trained on a fine collection of modern singer-songwriter material (Joan Armatrading, John Hiatt, etc.); it worked. This time, accompanied by the Drive By Truckers, she turns in a seamless, personal and soulful testament dominated by her own material. This might be playing if you wandered into the West Memphis roadhouse of your dreams. Except you can just hit 'play' again...and you don't have to pinch yourself.

Nyles Lannon - Pressure
Folktronica. Whatever that is. This guy sure gets that tag from the press. I guess all you need is love - and an acoustic guitar and a laptop. Anyway, Lannon, formerly of the band Film School, gets the combination right. Which is to say that the emphasis here is clearly on melody. And Lannon writes very compelling tunes. Between the ambient fuzz of the production (Kevin Shields producing the first McCartney solo?) and his opaque elocution the lyrics are a bit hard to make out, but what you can make out sounds resonantly contradictory to the seductive charm of the tunes. Elliott Smith, anyone?

Bruce Springsteen - Magic
These reviews must be brief. Had I more space, I'd tell you exactly why this is Springsteen's best record since "The River." In short, "Magic's" material is reflective of everything a Springsteen fan has ever loved about the artist. His politics make protest poetic. His commitment to the American ideal manages to breathe life into what often feels like a stale old joke. His love songs are all hard won pleasure, sinew and devotion. On songs like "Girls in Their Summer Clothes" Springsteen sounds renewed - like he's shed much of the weight of three decades of superstardom and he's back on the boardwalk at Jenkinson's. The great beast that is the E Street Band roars again after the suppressed slog that was "The Rising." Brendan O'Brien's sludgy, compressed production occasionally obscures their parts and dulls their roar, but so it goes. When a record succeeds on so many levels, one can only heap so much scorn on the producer.

Thurston Moore - Trees Outside the Academy
A weird little solo salvo that works better than it has a right to. This isn't Sonic Youth. The voice is recognizable; it's not as if Thurston lapses into some assumed country drawl or precious neo-folkisms, but this is a song suite dominated by acoustic guitar, Steve Shelley's always stellar drumming, and Samara Lubelski's sonorous violin. It's oddly reminiscent of Nirvana's acoustic contrarian side (think "All Apologies"), and somehow evocative of some bizarre Lower Broadway take on the slipstream of Van Morrison's "Astral Weeks." J Mascis shows up every once in awhile for some oddly appropriate guitar rippin'. And Thurston segues with some gratuitous sonic skronk occasionally, too - just because he can.

Oakley Hall - I'll Follow You
We've championed these guys for awhile. Had an in-store last October. They were brilliant; the turnout was so-so (sometimes you guys take your time listening to us). Ah, but yes, we planted the seed. And their last record "Gypsum Strings" wound up selling quite nicely for us (and you). Their new album, and first on Merge, is mostly a step forward. It lacks some of the manic, folk kineticism of "Gypsum." Some of the songs seduce a little slower. But be patient, this album insinuates itself with repeated listening. The band's psychedelic tendencies (think Jefferson Airplane/Moby Grape) always accelerate the music, rather than dissolve it. While still sounding quintessentially American, Pat Sullivan and the band sound for all the world like vintage Fairport Convention with their mix of swirling guitars and fiddle and blend of fine male and female voices. An assured record from what's becoming a great band.

Taken By Trees - Open Field
There's something almost heartbreaking about the quality of Victoria Bergsman's voice. Immediately distinctive, it was at the center of the Concretes' self-titled, and best, record from 2004. Sure, it's recognizable from some damn I-pod commercial, and from her cameo on Peter Bjorn and John's "Young Folks." But "Open Field" is the clearest declaration of Bergsman's own musical vision. At turns sweet and acerbic, it's chamber pop blend is compelling, but never demanding. In fact, it has a spontaneous, offbeat charm that's best enjoyed in a quiet space with its instrumentation, both folk-ish and orchestral. Bergsman's voice, whether expressing loneliness or joy, has a consistently yearning quality that haunts and compels. Fans of everything from El Perro del Mar to Nick Drake should find something to love about Taken By Trees.

Black Francis - Bluefinger
Prolific, always good, often tremendous - Black Francis (or Frank Black) is one of modern rock's greatest resources. For fronting the Pixies alone he'd be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame of the post-rock mind. That his solo career has, while not without its ups and downs, been an embarrassment of riches is frankly (ha) the icing on the cake. His work the the Catholics may have been sufficiently rock-traditional to have warranted the shift in identity from Black Francis to Frank Black, but his version of rock orthodoxy was still plenty, and enjoyable, weird. For "Bluefinger" the shift back to the Black Francis identity will be made much of in the Pitchfork circles, and while some of this music is a direct line back to the Pixies it also has plenty in common and continuity with Frank's solo work. Actually, with Black as the sole guitarist, this record has a tough, spare quality that's even rawer than most Pixies music. He's an expressive, arresting and oddball singer - as you know. These songs, if inconsistent, are mostly terrific - manic, oblique and oddly personal...like Frank Black. Hey, he's one of a kind - and he's on top of his game here in a way he hasn't been since the first two albums with the Catholics.

Chesterfield Kings - Psychedelic Sunrise
Alright, the title sounds like some sort of hippie smoothie drink. But the Chesterfield Kings always bring the rock, and it's a rock that's suffused in brooding, even malevolent shades of late Sixties Stones. Some of their records are straight out of the suburban garage. Others are a little more acid-laced. "Psychedelic Sunrise" features a consistently engaging tune stack and may be a definitive record in their twenty-five year history precisely because it's the apotheosis of their blend of garage snarl and swirling dervish sounds. Released on Little Steven's Wicked Cool, this is as good a place to start.

Okkervil River - The Stage Names
Okkervil River exemplify nearly everything that drives me nuts about indie rock these days. They are self-referential, self-obsessed and histrionic. So, of course I hate their new album, "The Stage Names."
Except I don't. Even if they aren't always a good time, like the Arcade Fire they bring their passions past a simmer, which separates them from a gazillion Will Oldham adherents. In fact, the band almost rocks out in places, in a loose, refreshingly unhinged way. Lyrically, "Stage" is pretty much a concept album about being an indie rock band. Oh God help us. Amazingly, beyond the self-reference and obsession Will Sheff is also an astute, frank observer with a way with words. Guys who reference the poet John Berryman and re-write "Sloop John B" are never going to break the college club ceiling. But in this case it's okay.

Tough & Lovely - Teardrops
Tough and Lovely come to us from Spoonful Records, a label out Columbus, Ohio with an ear for offbeat garage sounds. Their two previous albums didn't sell me, but "Teardrops" does. Chief songwriter and guitarist Andrew Robertson works some of the same turf as the the Reigning Sound's Greg Cartwright - new twists on old r 'n' b formulas, and he does it convincingly. As much as one might balk at the whole R.I.Y.L. (Recommended If You Like) construct, it's safe to say that if you like the Reigning Sound, Detroit Cobras, Thee Shams or Mary Weiss, Tough and Lovely will do the trick for you. Singer Lara Yazvac is the real deal maker here. Unlike so many garage-soul belters she's a bit subdued, but her sultry approach is refreshing (a dash of Debbie Harry to temper the usual soul sistuh sounds), and she can belt it out tough when the material requires it.

Butane Variations - s/t
Butane Variations. Another band of Brooklynites hoping to avoid honest work. If sheer musicality is any criterion they might just do it. What do we have here? Smart, tuneful songs and arrangements for junk shop Epiphones, steel guitar, cello and spacey keyboards. Knee-jerk categorizers will reach quickly for the alt-country tag, but they're about as country as Simon and Garfunkel. Sure, their harmonies recall the Jayhawks, but their vision of things and their loose-limbed playing are straight outta Pavement. And like Pavement they sound like they listen to each other and their songs have a cagey way of drawing you in.

The Blakes - s/t (EP)
Reissues by Karen Dalton and Betty Davis demonstrated the Light in the Attic label's good taste in music from yesteryear. Along with Nicole Willis and the Black Angels, LITA's signing of the Blakes shows they know what sounds good today, too. The Blakes are hard to nail down, which makes them plenty fun and interesting. Their sound careens from short, sharp punk-pop tunes ("Magoo") to pop takes on Eighties Will
Sargeant/The Edge sounds ("Streets"), to neo-freakbeat ("Die"), to the Vines-go-psychedelic Fab Four sound of "Village Green." The tunes are all concise. For all their stylistic cops and diversity the band's sound is seamless, rockin' and sounds less self-conscious than it probably is. If they can construct an entire album as cool as this EP we'll be in for a treat.

The Raspberries - Live on the Sunset Strip
Okay, the 'Berries probably don't have any more hipster cred now than they did in their heyday. Back then, their sound, which cunningly, convincingly and sometimes originally synthesized the Beatles, Beach Boys, Who and Small Faces, was considered teeny-bop by all the addled beardies lost in the pot fog of blooze guitar and drum solos. Their loss. Today it can be yours. It can if you don't check out this record. Thirty years on these guys still sound absolutely great. Culling the best material from their four fine early Seventies releases, the Raspberries rock the house. Alright, a few of the harmonies augmented by musical extras add a tiny bit of cheese (and one or two of Dave Smalley's Eagles-y songs wear out their welcome a little quick), but for the most part the great songs and inspired playing rule the day. Wally Bryson masterfully combines the sounds of Harrison, Townshend, Marriott, and McGuinn. Jim Bonfanti is a monster drummer - the missing link between Keith Moon and Max Weinberg. And damned if Eric Carmen can't still sing his ass off. Are there better combinations of hard-rockin and power-pop tunefulness than "Tonight" and "Ecstasy?" I don't think so. These guys should be mentioned in the same breath as Big Star, but because they had more commercial success and fewer drug problems they missed out. Don't let the image nonsense burn you, this is really good stuff.

Rich Boys - s/t
From Kansas City's Northland comes an honest to God rock and roll band. Mitch Rich and the boys definitely have some New York Dolls attitude, but their sonic vocabulary is mostly pre-Thunders. In fact, their ensemble playing recalls "Teenage Head" era Flamin' Groovies more than anything. And that's to say they have plenty of Chuck Berry and pre-Altamont Stones moves in their back pocket. Where in the hell these kids learned this stuff I have no idea, but I intend to find out. Ten songs, twenty-five minutes - chockfull of cool guitar riffin', catchy keyboard sprinkles and Mitch's snot-nosed Nuggets vintage vocal shots. They play it hot, passionate and all the way for fun; in other words, they are the antidote to the prevalent college radio narcissistic sissies who poison the great spring of rock and roll waters. If you want to rock, the Rich Boys are your guys.

1990s - Cookies
John McKeown slogged it out on the British indie circuit for several years with his band Yummy Fur. Tired of the grind, McKeown retreated to his home turf in Glasgow. When he put together the 1990s with drummer Michael McGaughrin (ex-V-Twin) it was to play spunky back up to the outré former singer from Can, Damo Suzuki. Supporting Suzuki had its ups and downs, but the two musicians enjoyed playing together. Bored with the forced eccentricities of alternative culture, they decided to play for nothing but fun.

The fun is contagious. "Cookies" sounds like what it is - a party. Driven to capture the incandescent spirit of seventies punk rock, the 1990s deliver a transatlantic pop-punk blend that's equal parts Voidoids and Undertones. THe songs are about drugs, girls, and the vicissitudes of street life sung in McKeown's Richard Hell yelp, assisted by plenty of sassy harmonies and response vocals from McGaughrin and dissing New York ("Chelsea Hotel didn't ring my bell:), others address the bored ambivalence of mall adolescents ("Arcade Precinct:). "Cult Status" celebrates underground celebrity with a lascivious sneer.

The songs sound spontaneous, slapped together, yet they're very well crafted. As a guitarist McKeown is a sharp rhythm player and while he's no virtuoso, he can approximate a more guttural Tom Verlaine to mesmerizing effect, as he does so well on the party jam that closes the album, "Situation."

The 1990s bear some resemblance to Franz Ferdinand, who include two members of McKeown's old band Yummy Fur, but a looser, swaggering Franz - A Franz Ferdinand that swallowed an Alex Chilton record.

Aliens - Astronomy for Dogs
About the title...like the unlikely collision of styles and elements that make this record a success, one asks 'why not?' These former, founding members of The Beta Band retain the synthesis of songwriting and sonic exploration that characterized the old band, but with a refreshing emphasis on the former. The band's essence is Sixties psychedelia (Syd Barrett, Soft Machine, oh yeah - The Beatles) delivered with whimsy and a deep groove.

Manic Street Preachers - Send Away the Tigers
Their eighth album. The Manics have done it all - hard rock, glam, punk, sweeping balladry, you name it. Oh, everything except break the American market. James Dean Bradfield is that rare singer - a big voiced arena rock vocalist who doesn't suck. As a guitarist, he's Slash with punk guts and more melodic sensibility. Like "Everything Must Go," the terrific fourth album that followed Richey Manic's disappearance, "Tigers" combines everything the Manics do well - find a catchier tune than "Your Love is Not Enough." Dig the rocking loser anthem "Underdogs." It's all here - if you don't know the Manics this is a fine place to start to check out one of Britain's (they're Welsh, you know) greatest bands.

Gore Gore Girls - Get the Gore
The cool album these ladies have been threatening to make. Sheer devotion to and love of the garage rock and girl group idioms that inspire the Gore Gore Girls curbs any inevitable tendencies toward mannerism. "Pleasure Unit," with Kim Fowley lyrics no less, has to be a tongue in cheek take on the Runaways, sure, but the down and dirty "You Lied to Me Before" and the sassy "All Grown Up" are so fresh that the GGG make everything that's old about this music sound new again. Inevitably, girl bands in the garage idiom are better at one thing (girl group/garage rock) than another. The GGG bring both this time.

Ike Reilly - We Belong to the Staggering Evening
This is Ike's fourth album, and probably his best (although his debut "Salesmen and Racists" was pretty darn good, too). An Irish boy from Chicago, Ike is irreverent, politically charged (and sometimes "incorrect"), and determined to play it his way. Both poetic and plain spoken, Reilly fuses many of the same diverse sylistic elements as Beck, but where Mr. B. Hansen is cool, Mr. I. Reilly is hot blooded and not afraid to go overthe top. Most at home as a child of mid-Sixties Dylan speed lyric and blues-rock foundations, Reilly can also turn up the amps and go post-punk and Seattle sludge on ya. He has the top down openness and exhilaration of Springsteen before all the cares of the world fell on his shoulders. Ike Reilly writes fine songs and plays them for keeps. You need something more?

Brimstone Howl - Guts of Steel
These sons of Lincoln (Nebraska, that is) rock. No Saddle Creek bedsit bookishness for these lads. "Guts" is actually the band's third release, but the first on a well distributed inide - Alive. The youngsters are well served by the just right mid-fi production of the Black Key's Dan Auerbach. Unlike the dourly rockin' Black Keys, Brimstone Howl crackle with energy. Their fusion of blues feel and punk drive is reminiscent of the Gun Club, and at times they remind of a midwest American version of Billy Childish's various ensembles. They aren't afraid to get down and dirty. And refreshingly, they are afraid to slam a hooky chorus right in your face. Fans of bands from the Black Keys to the Black Lips to the Reigning Sound would do well to check these guys out.

Automatic Automatic - Not Accepted Anywhere
Well, here they are. In Wales they are just known as the Automatic. The doubling up in the U.S. undoubtedly having to do with some obscure legal nonsense.By any name this is an exciting band. They describe themselves, in part, as mixing influences from Blur to the Blood Brothers. Sounds strange, but it works because Automatic have catchy, arresting songs (like Blur) and youthful, manic energy (like the Blood Brothers). With their mix of pop vocals and screamo call and response they sometimes remind of a Brit-pop version of At the Drive In. If you grew up with the emo genre, but wished that emo bands were more interesting, varied and had better songs (c'mon, you know you have), Automatic Automatic may just be your answer.

Dilettantes - 101 Tambourines
If trippy Sixties B-movies had better music they might hvave sounded like the Dilettantes. Okay, that's not quite fair, to the Dilettantes, that is. Because along with the Sunset Strip/Byrds influences there's plenty of Lou Reed and even Roxy Music gestures. Joel Gion, from the Brian Jonestown Massacre - and arguably the 'star' of 'DIG' - emerges from that band's debacle in smashing fashion. Not only does he write or co-write most of the material, but he shares lead vocal duties. Not bad for a guy who seemed like just an amiable good with a tambourine. The songs all basically speak to the pleasures and discontents of the bohemian outsider. Like they say - write what you know.

King Khan and the Shrines - What Is
Wow. His collaboration with BBQ doesn't exactly prepare you for this. Oh, the voice and guitar are familiar, but the context is way different. The Shrines are a veritable big band by comparison and King makes full use of their versatility and firepower for a dynamite ensemble sound that careens from Velvet Underground slither to Georgia funk to Zappa-like craziness to  Sun Ra-style jazz explorations that take full advantage of the band's excellent horn players. Where King Khan and BBQ revel in the argot of juke joint ribaldry and excess, these songs feature a decidedly wider subject range. Mostly though, and what you need to know is ... this rocks, it funks, it swings - it's an eclectic and free ranging delight from an artist who appears to have more tricks up his sleeve than
anyone may have thought.

Two Gallants - The Scenery of Farewell
A departure from their usual electric fare, "Farewell" is a mostly acoustic affair featuring the duo's harmonies (they sound kinda like two Willie Niles), guitarsand some decidely Dylanesque harmonica. The songs are rambling and melodic at the same time, again reminiscent of much of Dylan's output. In fact, at points this long-ish EP sounds like the Everlys tackling "Blood on the Tracks." It will be interesting to see what impact this fine departure has on their upcoming full-length.

Porter Wagoner – Wagonmaster
Epitaph does it again. First Joe Henry brilliantly revitalizes the careers of soul stalwarts like Solomon Burke and Bettye Lavette. Then Ry Cooder helps Mavis Staples make the best record she’s made it ages. This time Marty Stuart lends a hand to the one of the kings of Country music, Mr. Porter Wagoner. Surrounded by spirited playing that’s both adventurous and true to the original
spirit of the music and Stuart’s impeccable production. “Wagonmaster” is a roots music tour de force from a fine artist that most of the world had forgotten. If you love country music this set is a no-brainer. If you’ve never heard Porter Wagoner, this is a wonderful introduction. The man who once had his own national television show, and who introduced the world to Dolly Parton is still a formidable presence.

Mark Sultan - The Sultanic Verses
Some of what you'd expect from BBQ. And plenty that you might not. There's plenty of his one man show stuff, equal parts busk and howl, Velvet Underground and doo-wop. Sultan also branches out into some multi-track stuff, almost experimental, with a distinctly different vibe. The songs are good, the performances inspired and the varied production styles are unified by his retro-futuristic rock vision. Any fan of his work with King Khan will find 'Sultanic' rewarding.

The View - Hats Off to the Buskers
This one was in our "We Like" section months ago as an import. If you didn't grab it then, now is the time with a domestic release and a measly $9.99 sale price. This is simply a great rock band record. Definitely descendants of the Libertines influence, but with a Scots vibe and a true personality all their own. "Superstar Tradesman" and "Wasted Little DJs," the latter with its oddball, but brilliant Pig Latin chorus, approach pop-punk perfection. Tracks like "Claudia" with it's McCartneysque melody and gentle syncopation/swing evidence the young band's versatility. Don't fail to appreciate the View.

Mando Diao - Ode to Ochrasy
2004's "Hurricane Bar" was one of that year's best rock and roll records. Over the first several listenings, "Ode" didn't quite measure up. But know what? It's starting to sound better everyday. Bjorn Dixgard sings with a refreshingly uncool passion. Gustaf Noren is his perfect balance, almost a Lennon to Dixgard's McCartney. The comparison isn't specious, either. Mando Diao bring the bristling vibe of Hamburg '62 into the sonics and spirit of 2007. From the full-bore rockers like "Good Morning, Herr Horst" and "Long Before Rock 'n' Roll" to the elegant balladry of "The New Boy," Mando Diao have delivered a third tremendous album. Unimpeded by the cynical cool of American alterna-nonsense, these Swedes sing and play like their lives depended on it.

Ian Hunter - Shrunken Heads
Hunter is what, by now, 65? Who cares. He still writes brilliant songs and he still rocks. His social critic eye is as sharp as ever, "Heads" is chock-a-block with sly commentary on consumerism, media bullcrap, and the decay of the American dream. Heavy? Oh, sometimes, but with sing-a-long melodies and great rock playing from Andy York and company, Ian Hunter's medicine goes down with ease indeed. The man who fronted Mott the Hoople, when they saved English rock from prog-pompousity in much the same way that the MC5, Stooges, and Flamin' Groovies did in America, is as ever a rocker, a trenchant lyricist, and entirely his own man

Alan Vega - Saturn Strip/Just a Million Dreams
Two albums for the price of one (pretty much). The singing half of the band Suicide has made some good solo music, too. "Dreams" is wee bit too much embedded in the Eighties, kinda Suicide-lite with oh-so 80's production values. Still, and all, entertaining. THE REAL REASON TO BUY THIS IS "Saturn Strip." Produced by the Cars' Ric Ocasek, "Strip" also features contributions from Ministry's Alan Jourgensen. It expands Vega's palette to include
Mark Kuch's guitar sounds, which make explicit Suicide's implied
connection between dance electronics and rock (and rockabilly).
Vega hiccups throughout in his best Bowery Elvis and the tunes
all groove.

Brakes - Beatific Visions
A second salvo of short, sharp songs from Eamon Hamilton and company. Unlike the dour, decidedly Anglo British Sea Power (his other band), the Brakes combine punkish energy with only slightly ironic country and hillbilly moves. Tunes like "Mobile Communication" would be right at home on a Loudon Wainwright or Belle and Sebastian record, but teamed with Pixies-punk blitzes like "Porcupine or Pineapple" (a shaggy anti-war rant) the Brakes smartly straddle political outrage and absurd kicks ("Spring Chicken").

Michael Cashmore - The Snow Abides
It's summer now. And, actually, this is winter music. But good art is good year round, and this is good stuff. Brew some coffee, shut the blinds and put on "The Snow Abides" and you'll be transported to a January of the mind. Cashmore's piano and string arrangements are austere but beautiful. Antony (the Johnsons) contributes haunting vocals to several cuts. This was recorded several years ago, on break from Current 93 and before Cashmore's excellent "Sleep England" full-length, but this grave, but gorgeous mini-album is a welcome addition to Cashmore's resume.

Elvis Costello – The Very Best (of the first Ten years)
For those, like moi, who are fatigued with the
Elvis who makes car stereo commercials, exaggerates his vibrato, and dabbles in every Western musical idiom independent of his actual abilities…there’s THIS -  A stark and brilliant reminder of what made him great. Songwriting chops, a crack band, stylistic breadth (artfully deployed), and veins in his teeth passion. During the ten years in which these recordings were made he was on fire, the whole of pop history at his astute disposal and the communal energy of punk to drive it all home. The Attractions, who play on 90% of this stuff, were the key to making it work. And they did. If you’re not compelled to explore his whole, and vast, catalog, this makes a tremendous introduction.

Patti Smith - Twelve
Patti Smith lives her life as an artist. She worships her icons. She follows her muse. And the rest of the cultural hum, from business b.s. to Pitchfork Media - well, I don't think she gives a hoot. This 'covers' record is ample demonstration. She did these songs because they speak to her. She transforms some, if the spirit demanded. Others she just sings. Some are amazing and inspired. Some false-start. But that's my opinion And yours (and hers) is different entirely. The point? Everything Patti Smith does is pretty damn great. Think of this way ... those Bob Dylan records you think weren't so great? Well, "Twelve" is better. But the real point is also that those Dylan records have tracks you keep coming back to; don't they?More than some of the stuff you thought was so great in 1979. Or 1988, or whenever. You'll be returning to "Twelve" years from now, for her poetic reinvention of "Are You Experienced," or sultry take on "Soul Kitchen." And you can't if you don't buy it now.

Gruff Rhys - Candylion
Over the past decade plus few bands can boast a track record to match the Super Furry Animals. Responsible for a succession of innovative and diverse albums, the Furries are the closest thing this era has to a force like the Beatles. And like the Fabs, the Welsh quintet make great music characterized by deceptive ease. First among equals, Gruff Rhys now steps forward with an endearing second solo release.

While predominately in English, "Candylion" also includes two songs with Welsh lyrics (his first solo effort was an all-Welsh affair) and one with Spanish. Recorded in Wales and mixed in Brazil, "Candylion" is a genre bending delight, mixing everything from the Byrds ("Beacon in the Darkness") to electronic samba ("Painting People Blue). Reminiscent of Donovan's underrated "Sunshine Superman/Mellow Yellow" period, these sessions combine acoustic with electric, organic and electronic. Lovely as it is, "Candylion" might seem like an endearing trifle were it not for the closing track "Skylon". Building gradually over its thirteen sprawling minutes, "Skylon" strikes a groove that's somewhere between Traffic and a chilled-out War as it unwinds a wild narrative involving two characters on a plane flight, with lyrics touching on everything from the media burn of pop culture to terrorism to improbable romance.

Detroit Cobras - Tied and True
Four albums into their career, the Cobras don't deviate from formula. Their talent is for picking old rhythm and blues tunes that, while perhaps familiar to aficionados, have not been played to death by every bad bar band in the world. Pretty good start. The closer is that they sing and play with more spirit and skill than all those bad bar bands. A group led by females, guitarist Mary and singer Rachel (as good at sassy, yet sensitive r'n'b interpretation as any gal alive), the Cobras repertoire is all about the battle of the sexes. Theirs' is the ethic of the juke joint, beyond political correctness, if not good and evil. Augmented by Greg Cartwright and the Reigning Sound
crew for this album, the Detroit Cobras have turnedin a good one - pretty much tied with their fine second release, "love, life and leaving."

Jarvis Cocker - Jarvis
For his familiarly titled solo debut, the Pulp
frontman spins more of his characteristically
piquant observations. They make even more sense if you're British, but they are plenty sharp even if you're not. A gifted talk-singer with touches of Bowiesque melodrama, Jarvis and his crew stick to the post new-wave palette that has suited Pulp so well. He's perfect for your salon - witty, trenchant, and quick to skewer pretense and class nonsense. Have him over.

Red Button - She's About to Cross my Mind
Mike and Seth are two old coots who sound
young. Well, like youth sounded in 1966
anyway. Sure is Beatlesque. But it would
be oversimplification to say they are Fabs derived. They evoke something like innocence (does anyone remember innocence? oh, wait...that was laughter...and that was Robert Plant, anyway - ) with their gorgeous, breezy melodies. Even more than a mere Beatle zone, Red Button are in Wes Anderson land. You know, the director of "Rushmore" and "The Royal Tennenbaums?" He always picks these Chad and Jeremy/Kinks/Nico gems for his soundtracks. Heck, next time he could make it easy and just use 'She's About to Cross
my Mind.'

Robert Pollard - Silverfish Trivia
As any fan of RP knows, the guy is prolific. And while never less than musical, he varies wildly from brilliant to self-indulgent. "Silverfish" is mostly the former. It's oddly reminiscent of "Forever Changes" Love. It has a lovely, melodic, chamber-rock quality that's utterly charming. Pollard's incredible gift for melody is consistently in evidence. While nothing here "rocks" like the best of Guided by Voices, the beguiling production and gorgeous tunes more than compensate. If yer a fan, there's no reason to hesitate here. If yer not ... check out "Isolation Drills" in the GBV voices.

Arctic Monkeys - Favourite Worst Nightmare
Connecting with the American audience may be a challenge, but it's a blessing in some respects for the AM. In Britain they're saviours. Here they can just be a great rock band, which they are. Alex Turner has an ear for narrative and character detail that descends from Weller and Davies. His band plays with an intensity that's part Brit-pop, part Gang of Four/Pop Group angularity. This sophomore effort is harder, grittier, but no less arresting than their first. In other words, everything you could ask of a second album.

Mavis Staples - We'll Never Turn Back
Mavis ain't got nothin' to prove. If she never sang another note she'd be one of the great soul singers of our time. This is something of a concept album. It revisits the spirit that animated the Civil Rights movement and makes a compelling musical case for its' continued relevance. Ry Cooder produces and provides guitar accompaniment that echoes the late great Pops Staples while adding a warmth and texture that updates the spare, spectral quality of his playing. Mavis testifies. It's about spirit. And soul. Get on board.

Golden Smog - Blood on the Slacks
Ha. Get it. It's Minnesota humor. Blood on the Tracks...Slacks. So, this is a supergroup. Well, it would be if anybody cared about the Jayhawks, Soul Asylum, Run Westy Run (who?). BUT THIS IS NOT A NEGATIVE REVIEW! Nope, this music made by guys who've seen their best days commercially,
and they don't give a %^^&*. Beautiful, reverent covers of old David Bowie songs? Check. Approximations of Dylanesquese harmonica? Check. Fragments of song that sound like the Violent Femmes? Sure. And for the course of eight songs it's all very lovely, musical...charming even. And at $9.99 you've got 25 minutes of fine music informed by years of taste and experience.

Locksley - Don't Make Me Wait
Forty-five years after their recorded debut, bands still model themselves after a certain band from Liverpool. Like Chicago's Redwalls, Locksley (Brooklynites by way of Wisconsin) betray various influences, but the clearest and deepest is John, Paul, George and Ringo. Lucky for them, they're damn good. On their debut, "Don't Make Me Wait," Locksley write musical, well crafted songs with simple, direct lyrics and trick them out with all the requisite elements: Sha La La La  choruses, handclaps, and spirited group harmonies. A touch of Strokes styled guitar interplay and solos out of the Berry-Richards-Thunders tradition loosen the band's collar a bit and keep 'Wait" from being an absolute Beatlefest.

"Wait" includes the odd downtempo number, but most of  these tracks qualify as dancefloor material (circa '65, anyway) or rave-ups ("She Does" pulls a Kinks-Yardbirds turn). Some of the band's harmonies veer toward later Brit-pop, the Housemartins and Franz Ferdinand, in particular.  Still, it's that Beatle thing that predominates, especially on "Let Me Know" and "All of the Time," which just couldn't sound much more Lennonesque. This is straight up Beatle pop. Locksley don't ever veer toward the angst of Big Star or even Badfinger. Their music is built for sheer entertainment.

Fratellis - Costello Music
Last year it was one of the best releases in the U.K. Okay, this year it's released in the U.S. And it will again be one of the year's best (2007). The spirit of the Libertines (youth pursued with abandon and elan) is all over this. But the Fratellis have a sound all their own. Sometimes they sound like the Ramones playing Squeeze's songbook. Often they remind of Supergrass. There's definitely a touch of Beatles, Bolan and Bowie in the influence hopper, too. The songs are unbelievably catchy, smart, and rockin.' The playing and singing is full of gusto. Along with the View, the Fratellis demonstrate the Scotland is today's home of great rock and roll bands. And now it's just $9.99!

Sister Vanilla - Little Pop Rock
While The Jesus and Mary Chain have reunited, they haven't released new music since 1998. Quietly, though, they've been working in recent years with their kid sister, Linda. The result is  a minor classic issued under the moniker Sister Vanilla. Linda Reid is the principal vocalist, but there's plenty of brothers Jim and William to go around, too. The JAMC aesthetic, sweetly narcotic pop meets god-awesome noise, is at play with Sister Vanilla; any fan of the JAMC will delight to "Little Pop Rock." Actually, as it was on occasion with the Mary Chain, the noise quotient is reasonably slight, resulting in a sound that calls to mind the band's second album, "Darklands," and something akin to a Scots version of the Brian Jonestown Massacre's sweet and sour take on late-period Velvets.

The Reid family, accompanied by guitarist Ben Lurie and Stephen Pastel (of the, duh, Pastels), delivers a typical mix of the sanguine ("Can't Stop the Rock") and the mean spirited kiss-off ("What Goes Around"). Some songs feature focused production, other sound like sketches with some parts, like the piano on 'Pastel Blue," sounding like rehearsals more than finished takes. Somehow, it all hangs together. Linda Reid sings with the same Dylan/Reed drenched, honey-vinegar delivery as her older siblings, making "Little" both
a pleasant introduction to the younger Ms.Reid and a worthy addition to the Jesus and Mary Chain canon.

(Originally printed in the Kansas City Star.)

Mary Weiss - Dangerous Game
As the teenage lead singer for the Shangri-la's, Mary Weiss scored a number of hits in the Sixties, most famous among them "Leader of the Pack" and "Give Him a Great Big Kiss." The group’s time in the spotlight
was brief, but they left quite a shadow, especially on the New York rock scene. The first thing that strikes you listening to  “Dangerous Game,” Mary Weiss’s  tremendous return to form, is what an influence she was
on the Seventies generation of Gotham rockers. With her powerful pipes and Queens accent, Mary Weiss was a huge inspiration to singers like David Johansen, Joey Ramone, Patti Smith and Deborah Harry.

Pairing her with Greg Cartwright and the Reigning Sound was truly inspired. Produced by Cartwright and Billy Miller, "Game" is that rare animal among comeback records: a triumph. The songs and their arrangements echo the sounds of the Shangri-La’s heyday, but update things with a leaner, garage-punk feel. Some songs, like “Nobody Knows (But I Do)” and “Stop and Think It Over” are sung from a coltish persona for a woman pushing sixty, but they succeed as straightforward pop pleasures. Other tunes, like the Cartwright’s beautifully wrought ballad “Stitch in Time,” or his Dylanesque “I Don’t Care” have an emotional depth
that Weiss develops fully.

Cartwright’s guitar playing combines George Harrison filigree with Steve Cropper rhythm chops. Dave Amels provides a clinic in rock keyboard styles. Bassist Carol Schumacher is perhaps the secret weapon here, especially with her tough and tender harmonies. From the driving “My Heart is Beating” to the closing ballad “You Can Stay with Me,” Mary Weiss reasserts her place
on the podium of great rock singers.

(Originally printed in the Kansas City Star.)

Stax 50th Anniversary Celebration
How great is this? Originally slated as a country label, it didn't take long for Stax's destiny as the fountainhead of Memphis (heck, Southern) rhythm and blues to emerge. Look at the credits on the back of this wonderful package...Booker T. and the MGs, Otis Redding, Sam & Dave, Albert King, the Staple Singers...are you kidding? The Sixties soul on disc one has an obvious and enduring greatness, but there's some cool stuff from the Seventies on disc two, too. This is down deep Southern soul music -as funky as it gets, but with tremendous song craft from writers like Isaac Hayes. At $17.99? What a great introduction to a classic label
and it's many fine artists.

Amy Winehouse - Back to Black
Winehouse writes songs that reflect a deep and wide absorption of classic rhythm and blues styles. She swings from torch songs, to
New Orleans second line, to ska, to ..lots of styles, effortlessly. With a fine supporting cast of British soul players, she sings with
a sexy, sassy assurance that draws from Nina Simone and Sarah Vaughan. Like Macy Gray at her best, Amy Winehouse can suggest whole histories of soulful music with a single phrase. The production on "Black" is at once sythnetically modern and spot-on in its evocation of the inlfuences it draws upon, sounding both contemporary and so, so analog.

Tiny Masters of Today - Bang Bang Boom Cake
***NEW REVIEW***
Beat on the brat time. Remember Big Stick? Here's today's real sonic youths, siblings Ida and Ada, along with some overgrown kids to join in the fun. Sandbox mates include B52's Fred Schneider, Butthole Surfer Gibby Haynes, NYC hipsters Kimya Dawson, Karen O, Nick Zimmer, and Blues Explosionist Russell Simins producing and banging some drums. A shake and bake mix of punk, hip-hop, and art skronk smothered in a '77 flavored CBGB's mothergoose gravy. Danceable, wacky, witty, and stickin' it to the man in the "Bushy." Joey Ramone would be proud.

Heavy Trash - Goin' Way Out
***NEW REVIEW***
"I dig that goddamned rock 'n' roll, the kinda stuff that don't save souls - ain't nothing good about it that I know - I dig that goddamned rock 'n' roll." - Lux Interior

Beware, non believers, Mr.s Jon Spencer and Matt Verta-Ray have eaten the flesh and drank the blood of Elvis, Johnny Cash, Gene Vincent, Eddie Cochran, and the Burnette Brothers to dump forth another heavy load. Not for L-7s, this music will get you stinky, gooey, and wiggly. It will crash your party and make-out with your mom. This music will make you wanna "suck your brain out your eyeball." Charlie Feathers would piss all over this. You don't get it? Too bad, Jim. Armed with this record and the year's other favorite release, King Khan & The Shrines "What Is," I am fully prepared to launch into the Astral Plane.

"The Doctor said, "I may get better, but I'll never get well. I got the Boogie Disease." - Dr. Isaiah Ross

"Disconnect from today...the octabeast flies tonight...you can't win..." - Heavy Trash

Jerry Lee Lewis - Last Man Standing
Upon hitting the play button on my cd player to hear this record for the first time, I admit to a tinge of anticipatory dread. I immediately noticed what sounded like a pilled-up, slightly drunk Sam Phillips behind the sound board, definitely a good sign. When The Killer is on, he is officially the standing king of Caucasian rock 'n' roll (hats off to Richard, Chuck, and Bo)! This record over all does old Jerry Lee proud. It manages to keep the superstar cast and their accompanying material mostly in a support role mode, leaving The Killer to "Killerize" as he does best. Best cut "Rock & Roll" with Jimmy Page (Go away Robert, you lose this one.) Especially touching, "Don't Be Ashamed of Your Age" with George Jones and "Travelin' Band" with John Fogerty. Forgive Jerry Lee for exploiting the big money, but in the "eat awhile & gag awhile" category are the Toby Keith, Rod Stewart, and Don Henley numbers. Even Eric Clapton & B.B. King sound like they still remember how to rock on their respective cuts. You can actually forgive Kid Rock for at least "trying to get it" in his own Detroit-blitzed brain way. And speaking of Detroit, my only complaint is somebody forgot to pair The Killer with Iggy on "I Wanna Be Your Dog." Turn it up loud, kids of all ages!

Spencer Dickinson - The Man Who Lives For Love
I paid $30.00 a few years back to acquire the original version of this record from a Japanese website (with the help of our beloved Meat Flower). Here it is, fifteen bucks cheaper with 8 extra tracks. Expert rock 'n' roll production by Papa Jim Dickinson. "That's A Drag" should be a hit single, but it won't. Akin to Los Lobos' side project, The Latin Playboys, this is Jon & The Dickinson boys trying to get outside their respective boxes. Sounds best with a bottle of Mad Dog 20-20 at midnight in a barn in Mississippi.

The Editors - An End Has a Start
Let's just get it out of the way - Editors have obviously been influenced by the darker side of '80's British music. And? They used those influences to make a terrific first record and then honed their skills to made this (their 2nd) record with a sound that is more recognizable as their own. The Brits know how to make legitimate goth music - not cheesy darkwave. Here's a band with a distinctive guitar sound and hook-y songs that explore the darker side of love and life. Ignore the "labels" and listen with an open mind 'cause it's great!

Adam Franklin: Bouts of Melody
Near the top of my list of great yet underappreciated bands of the 90’s would be Swervedriver- the former band of Adam Franklin. This solo debut sounds a lot like his old stuff- lots of guitar, complicated melodies, and lengthy tunes. This may be a bit mellow in comparison, but Franklin still rocks a fair amount. In my opinion, he has a great husky voice that can pull off the rock ‘ballads’ as well as the scorchers. Better luck this time ‘round, Adam!

Interpol: Our Love to Admire
Darkly gorgeous…that’s how I would characterize the sound of this record. But since it’s Interpol’s sound that is so often discussed, I’ll focus instead on my favorite aspect of the band- Paul Banks’ voice and lyrics. First, I love that nasally baritone- and he sounds very strong and as if he has worked on his range. Second, these lyrics are so image-filled with references to the darker side of life…Paul could easily sip absinthe in a late 19th century French café! My favorite of the year…

Maps: We Can Create
What do you get if you cross the poppier side of electronica with the breathy, layered songs of the shoegazers? Most likely this. Longer songs, tiers of vocals, lots of “la la’s” and “yeahs”  … very pretty and tons of atmosphere. Reminds me a bit of slowdive (one of my fave shoegazer bands.) One of those records you just know sounds better with the headphones on.

The Lodger: Grown-Ups
The Lodger remind me of a lot of great 80’s pop bands: The Wedding Present, the La’s, The Lightning Seeds. Catch songs that are fun to sing/hum/whistle along to.  The songs feature really tight precise drumming and clever lyrics too. Let’s hope they don’t get lost in the shuffle of all the other detritus out there, ‘cause they’re too good for that.

The National - Boxer
If you are looking for the moodiest of mood music, look no further. The National's lead singer, Matt Berninger, could easily hang out with old school singer/songwriters such as Tom Waits and Leonard Cohen and be right at home. They could trade darkly witty barbs about disappointing loves, the solace of drink, and time spend on mindless pursuits. Berninger's deep voice and the lyrics are what blow me away...Sad? -Sure, but beautiful as well. I just wish there were one song with a little more maniacal genius showing through the gloom. One of my faves of the year so far.

Bjork - Volta
This record is really a hip hop record which features some mad beats and percussion...and then there's little ol' Bjork. As usual, she sports one of the greatest voices of her generation in all of its yelping, shouting, trilling glory. This record sounds tuff...so for those who want a sweet little pop bird to lull them onto the dance floor, give it up! Bjork is all about risks and change - and you've gotta admire that. It won't be popular with all - but who cares?

Clientele - God Save the Clientele
It's hard to write about the Clientele without using the word "lovely." They have a certain sweet, pop flavor like the '60's band the Left Banke. Here, the Clientele are a little more upbeat than on their previous records. They are still very British in lyrics and themes, and they have added a little more orchestration. Oh, and I do dearly adore that liquid bass magic!

Holly Golightly & The Brokeoffs - You Can't Buy A Gun When You're Crying
You'd be hard pressed to