Relive the past - visit our Flashes From The Archives Of Oblivion.

As the year draws to a close, there are still some great releases out there worthy of your time and money. There are also a few disappointing items that should be avoided. Here's a guide to the difference between good and evil. They make great stocking stuffers! Enjoy.

Mojave 3 - Spoon and Rafter (4AD)
www.4ad.com

The epic, nine-minute opening track and lead single “Bluebird of Happiness” is actually two songs in one: a gentle, “Darling, Be Home Soon”-styled mantra that is the perfect soundtrack to driving home late at night through a gentle snowfall, wrapped around a perfect three-minute pop song that singer/guitarist Neil Halstead seems to rattle off with amazing aplomb. “Starlite No. 1” is more glorious sunshine pop in the marvelous tradition of the late, lamented Witch Hazel Sound. Fulfilling the promise that Guy Chadwick hinted at on his first two House of Love albums, Halstead and Co. should be bigger than The Smiths by now. Combining the charming elegance of Morrisey and Marr, the brittle tenderness of Belle & Sebastian, the romantic wistfulness of Nick Drake, the countrified melodiousness of Leonard Cohen and John Prine and the stick-in-the-brain melodies of Boyce & Hart, Difford & Tilbrook, and, for seriously deranged trainspotters, Carter & Lewis, a new Mojave 3 release is always cause for celebration and mountain-top shouting around these parts.

These ten nearly flawless pop meisterwerks may be the finest collection of Halstead’s work yet. If you’re having a bad week, slap this in the deck and you’re guaranteed to have a smile on your face before you even reach the heart-tugging tearjerker “Battle of the Broken Hearts” at the end of side one. From drummer Ian McCutcheon’s exquisite Glockenspiel embellishments to keyboardist Alan Forrester’s theremin and Moog synths, the song takes on the multifaceted aspect of a prog suite, a feature common to many of the tracks and an exciting new direction for the band to explore. “She’s All Up House” is another of the many highlights, bearing a nice, mellow, Radiohead-meets-Sigur Ros groove.

The only downside is the near total obliteration (save the swaying finale of “Between the Bars”) of bassist Rachel Goswell’s lovely voice, leaving her relegated to standing around in the background looking ever so lovely. It’s inexcusable, as Halstead’s already got his solo album ego blast out of his system, and one of the highlights of past M3 disks has always been the Lee Hazelwood-Nancy Sinatra possibilities hinted at in their “Some Velvet Morning” duet back in their previous life as Slowdive. Please, sir, I’d like some more. Otherwise, pass the champagne and let’s drink a toast to the finest release to hit these ears in 2003!

Brain Jonestown Massacre - ...And This Is Our Music (Tee Pee)
www.teepeerecords.com

Bookended by "The Wrong Way" and "The Right Way" to leave a message on Anton Alfred "What, Me Worry?" Newcombe's answering machine, and huddled amidst a collection of mellow, ambient instrumentals that are so sedate, I frequently drifted off, forgetting I was even listening to a CD, BJMs eighth full-length is surely their most laidback offering yet. While venturing dangerously close to New Age background Muzak, they never lose the plot long enough to threaten your interest, and those who stick with it until the end, "will be richly rewarded," to borrow one of their earlier lyrics.

Another sonic change this time out is to abandon their namesake's sleepy, druggy output in favor of what sounds like excerpts from Pink Floyd's early soundtrack work, particularly "More," La Valee," and "Zabriskie Point," coupled with more than a few Moody Blues' references. The early highlight, "Here To Go," brings all these influences to bear, and even throws in a few Eno-era Bowie flourishes, particularly side two of Low and Heroes.

And while Newcombe's mumbled vocals are more unintelligible than ever, they can't detract from the undeniably catchy melody to "When Jokers Attack," which, come to think of it, began life nearly 40 years ago as the Yardbirds' "Heart Full of Soul." That's not to say that the typical slobbering, drunken stoner attempt at a love song has been completely abandoned - "Maryanne" fits the bill just fine, thank you! And what the fuck is this theremin-driven(!), Morricone-inspired western soundtrack(!!) posing under the title "You Look Great When I'm Fucked Up?" Oh? Nevermind! It just goes to show that Alfred E., er, Anton A. is still his old, curmudgeonly, "I don't give a fuck" self, still not opposed to ripping even himself off, as on the umpteenth rewrite of "Cause I Lover," (here entitled "Here It Comes.") Not even the short, buzz-killing blast of jungle fever called "What Did You Say?" or the Denim-on-'ludes shenanigans of "Prozac Vs. Heroin Revisited" can rob this collection of its power.

The playing throughout is up to its exceptional standards, if not even more bottom-heavy than usual-those throbbing basslines add an extra warmth to the already cotton-mouthed proceedings. Not exactly Their Satanic Majesties Third Request, but after the career-threatening disaster of Strung Out In Heaven and the equally disappointing Bravery Repetition & Noise, it's great to have the lads back in the company of the stratospheric "highs" of their mid-90s meisterwerks from "Satanic Majesties" through Give It Back. For a while it seemed like their bastard stepchildren The Warlocks might surpass them as America's finest psychedelic band, but ...And This Is Our Music firmly entrenches BJM back at the "head" of the class. It's clearly one of the year's best releases.

Small Life Form - One (Silber)
www.silbermedia.com

Ambient soundscapes were around long before Eno coined the term in connection with his Discreet Music release nearly 30 years ago, and today many artists continue to mine this fertile tradition of "speaker hum" music, from Stars of The Lid and Windy & Carl to Aarktica and The Azusa Plane. These artists don't so much make "music" as they explore the sound, texture and tonality created by their various instruments (typically guitars). Into this esoteric yet equally accessible school of new music we welcome the five-years-in-the-making One, the marvelous debut from Small Life Form, the one-man project of Silber honcho Brian John Mitchell, who also records the other end of his guitar mania spectrum as Remora.

"Small" grafts a continuously looping monotonic "OM" over a beating tone that sounds like your heart hooked up to an oscillating metronome, resulting in the musical equivalent of an EKG. "Cymbal" adds a metallic luster to the proceedings - imagine hooking that EKG up to your refrigerator or air conditioner. Trumpets and trombones are the main instruments used in "Horns," which combines haunting, disembodied riffs with industrial engine hums - sort of like the next-door neighbor warming up his car on a cold, winter morning. I also wonder if this might approximate the sound an unborn baby hears in its mother's womb, assuming it could "hear" anything. At 11½ minutes it could use a little editing, particularly the ear-piercing, "yabba dabba do" five o'clock whistle that becomes more grating and annoying than anything else. 

The bone-chillingly hypnotic "Organ" is the perfect soundtrack to a haunted hayride or a stroll through a haunted house, and should be coming soon to a funeral procession near you, while "Pulsar" revisits those small furry animals grooving with a pict in Roger Waters' cave.

Not only is One an enthralling listening experience as presented, but it also is a sonic project waiting to happen for those of you with the inclination and equipment. Mitchell says these pieces were created in such a way as to be looped and listened to simultaneously to create a completely new work. Unfortunately, you'll need seven CD players, each with a different track set on "repeat" to enjoy Mitchell's ultimate creation. I would have preferred a "bonus track" tacked on to the end where Mitchell layered all the tracks into a continuous loop for us. But other than that, those with the patience and adventurous inclination to try something new will find One a deeply disturbing, challenging, yet ultimately rewarding work.

The Creatures - Hai! (Sioux)
www.instinctrecords.com

For those who’ve forgotten, The Creatures is the percussive project vocalist Siouxsie Sioux and drummer/hubby Budgie formed on Siouxsie’s birthday back in 1981 during the recording of the Siouxsie and the Banshees’ Juju album. They released six albums over the ensuing 20 years and, following the conclusion of the successful SATB reunion tour in Japan, decided to stick around and record album number seven. From the cover art and album title (Japanese for “yes”), it’s clear what you’re in for: an opportunity for Budgie Rich to exercise his fascination with the Taiko rhythms of ex-Kodo drum master, Leonard Eto, who assists throughout.

However, it’s Sioux’s voice that attracts the greatest scrutiny here, and at 45, it hasn’t lost any of its luster.  Going for the jugular straightaway, her vocals are so up front and personal on the sexy, sultry “Tourniquet” that you’ll swear she was standing right in the room next to you. “Imagoro” will surely fill Goth dance floors and batcaves around the world, “Seven Tears” is a particularly effective wall-of-sound presentation of her powerful pipes, and the beautifully haunting “Further Nearer” is the most Eastern-flavored track of her career, topping even the Banshee’s Top 10 debut single “Hong Kong Garden” from a quarter of a century ago! Only the uncomfortably aimless “City Island” fails to generate any excitement. But the immediately accessible and immeasurably catchy pop of “Tantara!” washes that stale taste of sake out of my head and is my choice for first single (despite the band’s opting for the fairly innocuous “Godzilla”). 

How you take to this album depends entirely on your reception to percussive albums in general and Japanese Kodo drumming in particular. By all rights, I should hate this with a passion. As one who has gone on record on numerous occasions to rue the boredom-inducing timewasters that drum solos often become, an entire album based around incessant skin pounding should be cause for immediate Frisbee fodder. But the triumphant return of one of the most powerful voices in rock is enough to assuage any fears and elicit a generous “thumbs up"!

Various Artists - Further Adventures of the Telepathic Explorers (Free City Media)
www.freecitymedia.com

Free City Media head Nick Bensen returns with his second volume of international treats from the current crop of the world’s finest pop psych practitioners, spanning the globe from Australia to Norway, with stops in Germany, England and the good ol' USA along the way. It kicks off with the sunny, '60s flower power pop of “Caught By This Feeling” by Norway’s Aquarium Poppers (aka AqPop) with Dipsomaniac (and fellow Norwegian) Øyvind Holm assisting his brother Thor and Karl Morten Dahl. Bummer of a coda, though, dudes! Next up is the disjointed, asymmetrical agitpop of Anton Barbeau (“Motor”), featuring (as he did on his solo album) The Bevis Frond (Nick Saloman, Ade Shaw and Andy Ward) for his backing band. Still, it’s also a downer of a tune that makes our hero sound like he’s locked in the basement with a needle and a spoon. Things don’t get much cheerier on Nick Benson’s own track, “Summit,” a collaboration with Jeff Sanders (who released an EP last year under the name Mountain Mirrors) which sounds like Frank Zappa let loose in a haunted house. The Bevis Frond (sans Barbeau, Shaw and Ward) turn in a surprisingly tinny, drum heavy, yet nevertheless catchy pop tune, “Under the London Wall,” highlighted by another in a long line of Nick Saloman’s traditionally hamfisted guitar solos. If only he'd used a real drummer (perhaps Ward was unavailable?) or at least buried his drumming on the bottom where it belongs!

The Bitter Little Cider Apples are more punk than psych, but fun and a bit surprising, nevertheless, as their contribution to the previous volume was one of its poppier highlights. The aforementioned elder Holm’s distinctive Lennonesque, nasally whine is back with his Dipsomaniacs for “Freedom Candy,” which oozes Arthurly’s Love-inspired charm. The haunting, baroque pop of The God Box’s “Student of Astrology” is another early highlight, ensuring that Curt Boettcher’s legacy lives on in more than just the work of the late, lamented Witch Hazel Sound. It also includes one of the best uses of the F-trumpet since “Penny Lane.” (Note: This project, featuring Fit of the German husband/wife wyrdfolk duo Fit & Limo has released several records under the name Discolor, usually with a heavier psychedelic aroma.]

Perhaps in an attempt to be all things to all people (a natural tendency on compilations), Bensen includes Bristol's stoner punks, The Heads, who combine Kiss, Blue Cheer and Hendrix into a sonic sludge that will leave stoner rock aficionados “bleeding from orifices,” to borrow a phrase from one of their main inspirations. Then, in a complete about-face, we get Kay Bonya (aka, Kable), whose repetitive mantra and wall of sound vocals turn “Just A Domino” into a first rate auditory hallucination, not unlike Bongwater at their peak. I think this is her first release since '97's Tardy All The Time (Fleece). Let's hope it's not her last.

Those quirky Dorset hounds, The Lucky Bishops deliver another lusciously fractured prog suite – think Yes meets The Residents in a pool of acid. Patrick Porter’s bluesy wail features some of the release’s tastiest guitar licks and intimate production values; conversely, Australia's Sh’Mantra takes almost a minute to get going on "Headlight," and ultimately sounds like the producers were out in the parking lot on a coffee break when the musicians plugged in and started recording.  One of the disk’s few disappointing tracks, it’s only recommended to fans of omnidirectional guitar wankfests. But things are quickly righted when Bill Doss and his Sunshine Fix Electric Blues Band tear a page out of Tommy James & The Shondells’ distorted vocal exercises on “I Am A Tangerine” and deliver the tongue-in-cheek frivolity of “What Do You Know?” Finally, ex-Abunai! drummer Joe Turner goes right for the jugular with a sunshine pop psych fix of his own, “Turn Me Upside Down,” and thirty seconds into Troll’s “Shattered Venus” I was ready to issue an identity theft arrest warrant to haul Lotte Sveningsen in for impersonating Kendra Smith. It’s that good…! More, more, more, please, please, please!

Various Artists – For The Dead In Space Volumes II & III (Secret Eye)
www.secreteye.org

Beginning with the angelic, crystalline voice of Marissa Nadler (somewhat reminiscent of Naomi Yang of Damon and…), “Ballad To An Amber Lady” gets the collection off to a beautiful start. The Olivetree (aka the nervous-voiced Glenn Donaldson) gives us “Blind River” while Isobel Sollenberger and the Gibbons brothers bury “Uncle John” in an unnerving onslaught of psychedelic sludge.

Three Scandinavian instrumentals: Norway’s Aquarium Poppers, (featuring Dipsomaniac Øyvind Holm assisting his brother, Thor Jorgen) give us a loopy, sound effects-laden version of “From the Movie of the Same Name,” Noxagt’s metallic Goth version of “Regions of May” and Finnish avant noisemongers Kamialliset Ystävät interpret "Guardian Angels" (presented in their native tongue as "Suojelusenkeli") in their typical style that can best be described as a high school marching band tuning up for halftime exercises. The fourth contribution from our friends up north (and first in over four years from Sweden's Cauldron - the side-project of Holy River Family Band's Jens Unosson and Arne Jonasson) contains vocals, but might have been better off as an instrumental - they give us a pleasant, straightforward reading of "Man In The Tree," but their decision to sing it in two different keys at two different pitches renders each other unintelligible. An exercise in synchronicity gone wrong, it sounds like they each recorded the track in their own studio and then edited the two tracks together. Arne's guitar solo at the end, however, demonstrates beyond all shadow of a doubt why he is just about the greatest guitarist that no one's ever heard of.

The prolific Erik Wivinus (Skye Klad, Salamander, Barlow/Peterson/Wivinus) returns to his Gentle Tasaday project with partner Eric Hefferber for the haunting, dirgy “Snow Queen.” Acid Mothers Temple guru Kawabata Makoto brings his fx pedals and David Bowie-meets-Nick-Cave vocals to the recording studio and births “When I Was A Child.” Fortunately, the vocals are buried…unfortunately, all that remains is a fuzz-guitar solo. Oren Ambarchi’s “Sail Away” is a literal tone-poem, as he loops Rapp’s original guitar and vocals under a repetitive, minimalist metronome. It’s certainly a unique approach that may not yield repeat visits, but scores points for originality.

Prydwyn is one of the few artists who have actually recorded with Rapp, appearing on several tracks on his Journal of the Plague Year comeback on Woronzow a few years ago, and his all-too-short, straightforward interpretation of “Prayers of Action” is one of the disks' highlights. I’ve gone on record before stating that Fursaxa is one of the weirdest chicks I’ve ever heard and “Epitaph” does nothing to change my mind. For some reason she throws a jewelry box recording of the “Theme from Love Story” on the end, but that’s the only recognizable piece of music in there. Recommended to Marianne Nowottny fans only. 

Black Forest/Black Sea is the new duo featuring former Science Kit/Iditarod member, Jeffrey Alexander. As former head of Magic Eye Singles and current stringpuller at Secret Eye, Jeffrey is responsible for all three wonderful Tom Rapp tribute disks, and his beautifully romantic collaboration with Miriam Goldberg on “Wizard of Is” is a welcome addition to his discography.

From Scotland, Alan Davidson and his Kitchen Cynics give us “Les Ans” in the original tongue, a fine, folky, fuzzy figment of music that sounds like Jacques Brel fronting the Incredible String Band. For the Dead In Space Volume II concludes with a swamprockin’ rendition of the title track off “City of Gold” by James Jackson Toth. An interesting touch is the inclusion of excerpts from an interview Toth did with Rapp, but they are so buried and unintelligible as to be rendered virtually useless. Good idea…poor execution.

Tom’s son David kicks off Volume III with a bubbly, toe-tapping winner, turning “Frog In The Window” into a power pop shoutalong. He even recites the infamous “Miss Morse” code at the fade! Next up, is it Techno…? Disco…? Oh, no! It's Aspera, and they've turned ""These Things Too" into a dancefloor raveup, and when you find yourself dancing to Pearls Before Swine, you know this isn’t a cookie-cutter collection of copy bands, but a well-intentioned homage to one of folk rock’s most underrated influences. Bevel breaks out the cocktail shakers and swizzle sticks and tosses in some Anthony Newley histrionics (courtesy lounge lizard Via Nuon) for a space age bachelor's rendition of “Look Into Her Eyes,” and while the flute by Nate Lepine is a nice touch, Deanna Varagona's sax fade is pushing the envelope over the edge. 

Dead Raven Choir's "Song About A Rose" is too disjointed to gather any momentum and one-man/one name bandmember Smolken presents it like a theatrical performance piece that would probably appeal to Residents' fans. Prydwyn's third appearance (this time accompanying Timothy Renner in Stone Breath) graces "Ring Thing," which emulates the ending of the Pearls Before Swine Balaklava album by rewinding the entire track.

Finally, completists who have heretofore been unimpressed with this collection of Rapp aficionados paying homage to their mentor will nevertheless still need this tribute for the previously unissued Balaklava outtake of "Translucent Carriages" by Rapp and Pearls partner Wayne Harley (the other performers are unidentified). The performance and orchestral arrangement is clearer and more powerful than the original, and is a fitting conclusion to another worthy re-examination of the work of one of our finest (and most underrated) folk singers.

Primordial Undermind - Thin Shells of Revolution (Emperor Jones)
www.emperorjones.com

Ex-Crystallized Movements guitarist Eric Arn has assembled a new roster of players for his fifth go round as Primordial Undermind, following a successful trio of albums on Australian indie, Camera Obscura. Once again working overdub free, Primordial's improvised jams hold together surprisingly well for a debut release from the new incarnation. Opener "F.L.I. (Flaming Lizard Inauguration)" sounds like something they drink down in the band's hometown of Austin, Texas to put people out of their misery. I wouldn't recommend listening to this on the way home from a night of partying or downing a few bucketsful of "flaming lizards," as its frequent use of wailing sirens will, as David Crosby so eloquently put it, "increase your paranoia."

Arn continues his excellent choice of covers with a sleepy, psych/ blues version of The Dillards' "There Is A Time," which, at nearly three times the length of the original is highlighted by one of several tasty solos, and a scorching version of the "Theme From Serpent," an avant garde silent film from the 70s. The first half of this eight-minute epic sounds like someone left an electric shaver on the recording console, but then the dual drumming of Jared Barron and Matt Martinez and the alto sax skronk of Otis Cleveland  kicks in and jumpstarts a freewheelin' Cream-meets-Hawkwind strange (sonic) brew that gently fades out in one of those Bevis Frond-styled, homebrewed, sidelong guitar tuning exercises, a la "Miskatonik Variations" or "The Shrine" (not surprising as the Frond's Nick Saloman played bass on Primordial's debut release, "Swimming the Ultramaroon" on an old Baby Huey EP ("If I Could Hear You I Would Hit You") back in 1991).

"WWOD?" ("What Would Otis Do"?) relights the bongloads of righteous boo for a mellow, rainy-day-stay-at-home-and-party mix of vintage Traffic, highlighted by O's gently wafting flutework (Chris Wood is smiling, I'm sure) keeping brain tags reading "Feed your head" afloat in the room full of purple haze. The surprisingly melodic "Stagger The Heart" illustrates the band has not completely jettisoned their accessible side. Let's face it, psychedelic jams are all about filling in the spaces BETWEEN the melodies, so to build an improv AROUND this pretty tune is a bonus that the pop/psych listeners will enjoy. Finally, the epic "Ten Toes, One Soul" is wrapped around the most gorgeously melodic guitar solo this side of the Frond's "Stain on the Sun" (that's intended as the utmost of compliments).

I sped past the closing avant-jazz skronkfest, "Kinky Sex (Makes the World Go Round)," which is a bit aimless for my taste, but is a pleasant headcleaner after its bonechilling predecessor. Ultimately, fans of heavy psych improvers such as SubArachnoid Space, Bardo Pond and Salamander will be particularly impressed with this release. Completists know what to do and newbies are encouraged to check out what they've been missing all these years with one of the best releases from this ever-expanding and always improving psychedelic rock ensemble.

Kraftwerk - Tour De France Soundtracks (Astralwerks)
www.astralwerks.com

Beginning with several imperceptible variations on the title track (each slightly more techno-fied than the previous), Kraftwerk's first new album in over 15 years is ... a concept album about riding a bicycle!?! Sung in French! Actually, it's merely a revisit to the title track, which was originally released on an EP twenty years ago, rounded out with some surprisingly stale electronics that all add up to one long snoozefest. Sadly, the group which laid the blueprint for electronic music has deteriorated into nothing more than a sad parody of itself and the genre it helped launch 30 years ago with "Autobahn."

At least now we know where they've been all these years: trapped inside Peabody's WABAC machine in the mid-80s inside some exotic hotspot blasting Euro-disco from its multi-million dollar sound system! By the time we reach the first new track, "Chrono," Ralf & Florian are posing to refill their tyres (and that "swooosh" of air passing through the hose and over an incessantly annoying techno backbeat is about all we hear), and if you've ever wondered what we critics mean when we talk about "electronic bleeps, blurps, and bloops," just give a listen to "Vitamin," all eight interminable minutes of it.

We also get the punny "Aero Dynamik" (hey, they're German, how funny can they be?), which mines the fertile Depeche Mode/Blancmange/Camouflage triangle at the height of its power. It's all pleasant enough, but hey, this is Kraftwerk we're talking about...their first new album in 17 years and only their second in over 20! And this is all we get? I expect so much more - where's the innovation...the challenging listening experience...the EXCITEMENT of hearing "Autobahn," "Trans-Europe Express," and "Hall of Mirrors" for the first time? Instead we get stale rehashes of the dead techno scene that even the Norwegians can't breathe any life into, no matter how hard Astralwerks (via labelmates Erlend Øye and Röyksopp) tries.

Bethany Yarrow – Rock Island (Little Monster)
www.bethanyyarrow.com

“Black is the Color” is the perfect opener to this collection of reinterpretations of olde tyme Americana and traditional folk tunes. It's probably a color the daughter of Peter Yarrow (of Peter, Paul & Mary) is more comfortable around, having practically grown up at Danceteria, CBGBs and other NYC punk hangouts. This certainly isn't your father's folk music. It's funky, bluesy backbeat leads into a fullblown production number tailor-made for radio airplay. “Pretty Polly” makes effective use of banjo accompaniment by Paul Pretopino, giving this traditional murder ballad a melancholic vibe a la Timothy Renner’s work with Stone Breath and, particularly, The Spectral Light and Moonshine Firefly Snakeoil Jamboree, whose traditional Americana tunes and murder ballads may be this disk's closest companion.

Elsewhere, Bethany's bluesy, gospel-inflected chant on “Another Man” teams wailing backing vocals from Amy Helm with some sorrowful harpblowing, but then ruins everything by throwing in a silly rap from Michael Jackson (the New Orleans rapper). Her double-timed scat-rapping on the title track has more than a hint of Joni Mitchell, but Knox Chandler’s fancy production embellishments (backwards guitars, verbal drop-ins, etc.) overpower the performance and are the main detriment to an otherwise exceptional interpretation of the Leadbelly classic. 

And therein lies my frustration with this disk. Bethany’s gorgeously crystalline vocals are often overshadowed by massively overpowering '80s drum sounds, synths and unnecessarily intrusive wall-of-sound production, mostly by Chandler and Kevin Salem. This might have worked well with Chandler’s former clients, which include The Psychedelic Furs, Siouxsie and The Banshees (he was their guitarist on their reunion tour earlier this year) and Depeche Mode’s David Gahan – all '80s icons to be sure, but it just doesn’t sit well with these tender tales of love, loss, and remorse.

I would have preferred a stripped down, laidback approach a la Sharron Kraus, focusing on Bethany’s skillful interpretations, highlighting that lovely voice which oft times recalls Janis Ian filtered through a grittier Joni Mitchell. Burying this in an avalanche of “I Love The 80s” synths, drums and mega-overkill production is most unfortunate. It almost seems as if this disk focuses on what Knox can do in the studio instead of what Bethany can do with her voice, which is painfully obvious on the harrowingly beautiful, near a capella rendition of “The Cruel War,” with only Rufus Cappadocia’s cello and dad Peter’s harmony vocals. My God, it would bring tears to Enya’s eyes. Why couldn’t we have a whole album of this?

Bethany has a great album in her somewhere, I'm sure. And an unplugged, solo performance of these tunes would probably sound terrific. I just can't get that heavy production out of my head long enough to appreciate the soul and emotion she pours into her work. Hopefully, next time she'll leave all the toys at home and come to the party stag. Of course, an album of her influences and an opportunity to show off that punk upbringing wouldn't be half bad either!

The Bangles - Doll Revolution (Down Kiddie!)
Down Kiddie! Records

The gals return on the original homegrown label that gave us their debut single ("Getting Out of Hand") over 20 years ago for another stab at that brass ring. Hell, if it worked for The Go Go's.... Only problem is, while they are infinitely more successful than their ugly stepsisters, they don't have the tunes to make you want to rush out and welcome them back. Oh, they try: the power pop with a snarly bite of Elvis Costello's title track seems less confrontational coming out of the mouths of babes, and the driving, harmonic pop of "Stealing Rosemary" ranks with their best, and the bouncy, calliope-laden carnival-like atmosphere on "Ride the Ride" may be singer Susannah Hoffs' best single track ever. But then the ballads take over and it's time for the welcome (back) committee to leave town. Ballads have always been the band's downfall (and, naturally, biggest sellers), so "Doll" plays it safe and ups the sugar quotient accordingly. We get a syrupy earful of coo-coo-ca-choo's on "Something That You Said" (it sounds like a Britney Spears' reject and is the weakest snoozer on here, so obviously it's the label's choice as debut single and will probably be a future million seller - you've been forewarned), drummer Debbi Peterson's limp ballad "Ask Me No Questions," the perfectly titled "Lost At Sea," and Hoffs' own "I Will Take Care of You" (which would have been perfect for Linda Ronstadt, ca. Heart Like A Wheel, but not on a power pop comeback album from a bunch of fortysomethings.)

Always a second-fiddle Jan to The Go Go's' "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia," The Bangles have always been adored by the record-buying public, but abhorred by the critics, who feel their cutesy pie, clean-cut, girl-next-door image is all fluff and no stuff. Not coincidentally, their hits have all come from outside sources (Billy Steinberg co-wrote "Eternal Flame," Liam Sternberg [Rachel Sweet's ex-manager/producer/songwriter - 'nuff said!] wrote "Walk Like An Egyptian," Jules Shear was responsible for "If She Knew What She Wants," Prince penned "Manic Monday," and of course there's Paul Simon's "Hazy Shade of Winter"), so the tendency to view them as puppets going through the Britney, Spice Girls, etc., uh, interpretive motions overpowers their competent playing and sweet harmonizing. Ending with the impossibly silly, "Up With People" singalong, "Grateful," speaks volumes. These gals stepped in something and they may not want to wipe it off until the aroma settles.

Kill Hannah - For Never & Ever (Atlantic)
www.killhannah.com

Garbage's eponymous debut was a classic exercise in how to make a great alternative album, combining, as it did, the best of Smashing Pumpkins, Veruka Salt, The Pixies, Joan Jett, Cheap Trick, et. al. Unfortunately, they shot their wad on their debut and everything they've done since has pretty much been shrug-your-shoulders forgettable, disposable crap. Enter Kill Hannah, whose lead singer/songwriter Mat Devine sounds, at times, more like Shirley Manson than Shirley does! Their major label debut is everything Garbage's second album should have been...and more! Let's call it Version 2.5.

Lead single, "Kennedy," which DOES feature an even better Manson impersonator in the wonderful Juliette Beavan (producer Sean's wife) is a raw, anthemic, big beat, funky monster which just might be the year's best single. And the spirit of Joan Jett hovers over both "10 More Minutes With You" and "Unwanted," just two of several anthemic, Blackhearts-styled fist-pumpers. In this day cookie-cutter copycat assholes slaughtering the airwaves, it's a relief to have something original to grab onto and, while Kill Hannah is certainly derivative, no one has combined the best ingredients of each of the acts mentioned into a totally new sound the way they do. For that we should all be eternally grateful.

"From Now On,"  and, particularly, "Raining All The Time" are the type of arms-swaying-in-the-air, new school, teenybopper punk stompers that'll have the Good Charlotte and Something Corporate fans creaming in their jeans for more. The synthy backbone of "Race The Dream" supports a fine new entry in the mid-90s glam revival scene that brought us bands like Nancy Boy, Spacehog, Suede, Babylon Zoo, et. al., and that glittery, glammy wall-of-sound production by Sean Beavan, whose credits range from heavy metal (Pantera, Megadeath, Slayer) to industrial (Nine Inch Nails) to downright silly (Marilyn Manson, No Doubt) permeates the album.

While longtime fans have been bemoaning the fact that this is merely a collection of rehashed, older tunes re-recorded for "the big time," those of us new to the band will appreciate it for what it is: one of the best alternative rock albums of the year. Let's hope a follow-up with all-new tunes from their current tour (I hear their live shows are killers) is just around the corner. Until then, enjoy!

Guided By Voices - Human Amusements at Hourly Rates (Matador)
www.matadorrecords.com

For me, the sign of a great pop tune is a killer hook with a catchy verse that sticks in your head for days. Now if you take every song that fits that category, what you essentially get is basically the same melody repeated over and over for three minutes: verse-chorus-bridge-verse. Well, imagine how great it would be if you could just release the killer hook and throw away the peripheral baggage, that excess filler usually referred to as the "bridge" and "verse"! Well, therein lies the philosophy of Robert Pollard and his Guided By Voices project. Unfortunately, the flipside of that argument is that a GBV song can be likened to the aural equivalent of a premature ejaculation: just when the going gets good, it's all over before you reach the "money shot." When I saw 32 tracks (from 16 different albums, singles and EPs) shoehorned onto a single, 77-minute CD, I suspected the worse: a compilation of their finest "auditory hallucinations" masquerading as songs - a bunch of sound samples advertising some expensive box set (which, in fact, it is - a slightly different lineup of songs graces disk one of the Hardcore UFOs 5xCD box). Then when I noticed that head Voice, Bob Pollard assembled this "best of," I knew I was in for a bumpy ride, for we all know how disastrous band-assembled greatest hits collections are.

So I want to say that not only was I pleasantly surprised, no shocked, by the quality of the choices here, but let me go on record as the first to suggest that this may be the best "best of" of the year! Oh, the Brion Gysin-esque cut-up surreal titles are still often better than the songs themselves ("Tractor Rape Chain," 14 Cheerleader Coldfront," "Echos Myron," "Exit Flagger," etc.) and there's the usual blink-and-you-missed-'em noises (the 80-second opener, "A Salty Salute" and "Shocker In Gloomtown," the 90-second "14 Cheerleader Coldfront" (which Paul Weller should've been all over like white on rice), "Non-Absorbing," "Teenage FBI," and the Wild Man Fisher-meets-Kim Fowley rap of the funky "Hot Freaks", the 23-second "Hit"), but these are overshadowed by numerous examples of what the band can accomplish when they actually finish a song: from the recent "The Best of Jill Hives" (despite its unsettling double-tracked vocals), to the jangly, wall-of-pop classics, "Things I Will Keep," "Twilight Campfighter," and "Glad Girls;" from the Hollies-on speed of "Everywhere With Helicopter," the big, fat 70s power chords of the epic, 4½ minute(!) "I Am A Tree," The Beatles-esque (yet poor demo quality of) "14 Cheerleader Coldfront," to the equally Weller-esque bedsitter images of "Drinker's Peace" and the sugary pop confection of "Surgical Focus;" from the garage rock of The Replacements-like "Bulldog Skin" and "Back To The Lake (a band GBV is most often compared with - in fact, I'd describe them to the uninitiated as Kinks-meets-Replacements), to the rudimentary scrapings of "Shocker In Gloomtown" and the raw, Byrds-on punk "Captain's Dead;" there's even time for the sonic experiments of that electronic echo chamber that permeates "Learning To Hunt." 

Through it all, the melody is king and while the disk has enough melodies and ideas for 50 songs, the fact that there are only 32 is both the blessing and curse of GBV. Still, to wade through their enormous back catalogue (I think Pollard claims to have written over 2,000 songs and sometimes it seems he's determined to release every one of them, whether they're finished or not) is a daunting task, so we thank Pollard for saving us the trouble. While just as many great songs were undoubtedly omitted, this is still the best intro to the band and is required listening for everyone who's HEARD OF the band, without actually having HEARD them.

The only downside is Pollard's refusal to acknowledge the significant contributions of Tobin Sprout (he only gets one song, "To Remake the Young Flyer," with its guitar riff stolen from the Acid Casualties' "Floating"), so, rocknroll egos being what they are, Pollard's "this is my band" attitude ultimately distorts what could have been the definitive GBV compilation. Since Sprout was always the better, poppier, more polished songwriter (just listen to their respective solo albums), his omission is inexcusable, leaving us with this "Pollard-colored-glasses" view of one of America's finest, albeit frustrating bands. It traces the kings of lo-fi pop - that horrendous microgenre that was popular for about 15 minutes in the 80s until people came to their senses and realized that it was really just rank amateurism trying to pass for music - from the humble beginnings of 1987's Devil Between My Toes right on up to this summer's Earthquake Glue. And although there are mercilessly few stops at last year's godawful Universal Truths and Cycles, there are also too few drinks at the fountains of Under The Bushes, Under The Stars, Do The Collapse or Mag Earwhig! Somewhere along the trip, I'm sure you'll find something you'll like.

the Iditarod - Yuletide (Camera Obscura)
www.cameraobscura.com.au

As I sit here watching the year's first significant snowfall blanket my backyard, this posthumous 2xCD compilation forms what is sure to be the perfect soundtrack for many wonderful holiday seasons to come. It combines the first two microscopically released (75 copies each) seasonal albums (both bearing the same title) from this Rhode Island duo (Carin Wagner, who has since married and left the business, and Jeffrey Alexander, former Science Kit guitarist who currently records in another duo, Black Forest/ Black Sea) and appends several studio and live recordings to form a fullfillingness fitting finale to the recorded output of one of wyrdfolk's finest musical representations. Opening with one of those Godspeed You Black Emperor!-type funeral dirges surrounding a mournful cello intro (courtesy Alexander's partner in BF/BS, Miriam Goldberg, who assisted Jeffrey with the previous disk's meticulous remastering job), the recently recorded 12½ minute epic "Winter Suite" goes down especially well with a hot toddy in front of a warm, crackling fireplace (which is a recurring thematic soundscape appearing throughout) and sets the stage for a melancholic collection of new and traditional tunes that celebrate loss, change, and rebirth, and is the perfect Yuletide treat during this gift-giving season.

"The Snow It Melts The Soonest" is preceded by a wonderfully atmospheric field recording of rustling winter winds and tinkling sleighbells as Carin's crackling, whispered vocals relate this traditional tale (patterned after the Anne Brigg's version) of the changing of the seasons. If meteorologists delivered the snowy weather forecast of the "Watch The Stars/The North Wind Doth Blow" medley with the delicate wistfulness of Carin's hushed vocals accompanied by Jeffrey's gentle, acoustic, call/response arrangement, their cautionary message would be much easier to accept!

The Pied Piper-ish recorder courtesy Matt Everett of The Eyesores (whom Jeffrey has recorded with) adds an extra festive air to "The Woodcutter's Song," one of several traditional tracks bearing Alexander's new lyrics and/or arrangements. Jeffrey even manages to toss in the melody from "Comfort & Joy" into the mix of electronics and tape loops on "Trees Toasted In Cider." Wrapping up the first disk are several electric pieces featuring Goldberg (cello, piano, guitar), William Schaff (percussion) and, on "Night's Candles Are Burnt Out," Oxford folksinger Sharron Kraus on banjo. I particularly enjoyed the experimental closer, "Y Cwps," an electronic, ambient soundscape recorded live at Cooper's Arms in Wales, which ends on an overextended coda as gorgeous as anything in the Windy & Carl, Landing or Stars of the Lid catalogue.

The improvisational aspect of their live performances has always been their strongpoint, so it's great to open disk 2 with a selection from their performance at Terrastock V in Boston last October. [In fact, more than half of disk 2's 12 tracks were recorded live.] Jeffrey pulls off his best Lou Reed-styled histrionics and the usually roomclearing, patience-challenging Fürsaxa (aka Tara Burke) adds a soothing tamboura to the proceedings. You will also be enthralled by the beautifully somber viola and cello backing from Everett and his Eyesores' partner (and former Iditarod-er) Margie Wienk on "Scandinavian Instrumental/The Rowan," recorded at their VPRO radio performance in Amsterdam during their 2002 European tour. [With Everett and Wienk, this and the cover of the Grateful Dead's "Mountains Of The Moon" amount to an Eyesores reunion of sorts, although they've also appeared on previous Iditarod studio efforts.]

In general, disk 2 is more experimental, highlighted by extended instrumental passages with occasional vocal accompaniment that gives the tracks more of a multi-part, suite-like vibe similar to the first disk's "Winter Suite." Alexander's wider use of electronics and acoustic, avant wyrdfolk guitar strummings also replaces much of the traditional songstructures of disk 1. For example, if there was ever such a thing as "industrial wyrdfolk," "All Winter's Eve" would be its signature song, with its metallic, percussive clanking and feverishly plucked acoustic guitar. Nevertheless, it also includes "There Was A Pig Went Out To Dig," which will no doubt be a permanent fixture on all DJ's holiday playlists for years to come. Just as Yuletide should be a welcome guest at your house, no matter what time of year it is.

The Dipsomaniacs - Praying Winter (Camera Obscura)
[Same as above]

If you can get past the annoying click track that sounds like the CD is skipping, "Dear Mrs. Widdercombe" is a pleasant folk rocker that opens the "Norwegian Pajamas" fifth album, an incredible collection of folk rock, power pop, and acoustic psych that eschews the lengthy psychedelic jams of their previous effort, Tremolo of Her Mind in favor of the more song-oriented nature of their previous CamOb gem, Stethoscopic Notion, which happened to be the best album of 2001. "How To Fall" suggests head 'maniac Øyvind Holm has been spending a lot of time with the young Dylan's back catalogue. The hard-driving "Feel the Travel" reflects a harder rocking effort this time out, and features backwards guitars and a biting bluesy solo from Holm.

At times, Holm's nasally voice stills sounds very much like Lennon on helium (as on the gentle ballad, "Don't Think You're Safe"), at other times he emits the delicate roughness of honeyed sandpaper. Thomas Henriksen's piano opening on "No. 2 Ventricle Road" sounds like the transitional segment of "Day In The Life," until Håkon Gebhardt's banjo picks up the melody out of left field. By the time the multi-tracked Queen-ish vocals wrestle the song out of its awkward opening, we are in the midst of one of those avant-prog suites the Lucky Bishops have mastered of late.

The twangy waltz of the title track, complete with countrified yodeling makes me long to hear the band take a crack at Mike Nesmith's old chestnut, "Joanne," but the forlorn piano base and dirgy electronics here will do fine in the interim. And if you think that was country rock, it was only laying the groundwork for the opening to "Beyond Repair," itself a teaser for the swirling dip into the Revolver gene pool, and which could easily have been subtitled "She Said Tomorrow Never Knows." I also enjoyed the R.E.M.-ish vibe of "Read My Mind (And Tell Me)," the gentle guitar weeping of "Someday Soon" (not, I should add, the old Ian Tyson-penned Judy Collins hit), the chamber pop of the album's most intricate track, "She Weighs Her Time" (featuring a wonderful marriage of piano and strings, courtesy Arve Henriksen, Elisabeth Rolvsjold Uddu, Ragnhild Torp and Tonje Bekken - Elvis Costello: phone Norway and get these folks' numbers immediately). Finally, the offbeat, genre-crossing, jazzy "Dead Men Free," offers a pleasant diversion which leads to Gøran Olsen's trombone-led swaying melody of the closing track, "Songbird (Without You Knowing)." It reminds me of the majestic Mojave 3, always a very good thing!

With the media mistakenly leading the public into the belief that the current Norwegian scene is centered around the fey, wimpy, electronic disco scene in Bergen (Sondre Lerche, Erland Øye, Kings of Convenience, Röyksopp), it's a shame the true superstars of the Norwegian pop scene are being criminally overlooked. Don't let their lack of notoriety turn you off - this is the true sound of Scandinavian pop at its best. Now all we have to do is close the 8,000 mile gap between them and get the Green Pajamas and Dipsomaniacs on the same stage - a dream lineup to kickstart the next Terrastock festival.

Gorky's Zygotic Mynci - Sleep/Holiday (Sanctuary)
www.sanctuaryrecordsgroup.com

No, that awkward title isn't the name of their latest single. It's more like separate titles for the A and B sides of this quirky Welsh band's eighth full length (there are also several albums' worth of material spread across nearly a dozen EPs). [And don't get me started on that name: just try "gor-keys zee-got-ik monkey" and don't ask what it means.] Recent albums have moved further away from their experimental beginnings as documented on their early recordings for Welsh indie, Ankst into more mainstream folk rock. Continuing that trend, the "Sleep" side opens with the harmonica-driven, "Waking For Winter" and the gorgeous slice of Americana a la Wilco and Golden Smog, "Happiness" before yielding to the scorching-yet-silly rocker, "Mow The Lawn," which manages to combine The Hives with The Kinks for a rollicking good time.

"Single To Fairwater" is a weepy, C&W ballad in the best tears-in-your-beer tradition. Here and throughout, the songs are highlighted by Megan Childs' weeping violin. "Shore Light" and "South of France" are twee, whispered ballads that tear a few pages out of the Arab Strap/Belle & Sebastian songbooks, while "Country" is an earcatching combination of "Sweethearts"-era Byrds and the New Riders of the Purple Sage that captures the best of both bands. And as long as we're tossing country rock influences around, "Eyes of Green, Green, Green" bears more than a passing resemblance to Poco and The Flying Burrito Brothers, with a tastefully serene Childs' solo. Perhaps the best analogy would be to imagine what a C&W album as performed by Camper Van Beethoven would sound like.

Unfortunately, once we flip the album over to the "Holiday" side, things aren't as successful. The blatant Belle & Sebastian ripoffs, "Leave My Dreaming" and "Only Takes A Night," wouldn't be so bad if the Gorky's' brethren across the Scottish border hadn't already perfected the art of the melancholic ballad about half a dozen releases ago. And I'm sure they're not bucking to be referred to as the "Welsh Belle & Sebastian" or Arab Strap minus Aidan Moffat's potty mouth. Still, "Night"'s extended coda and the somber, wordless vocals and organ backing on "Pretty As A Bee" combine to make the perfect soundtrack to driving home on a cold, snowy evening. But at 9½ minutes, "Bee" goes on about three minutes too long, and soon you'll think Sigur Ros was in the player. Finally, I can say without fear of contradiction that "Red Rocks" is the best impersonation of Low ever to come out of Wales. So, if you enjoy twee, melancholic C&W ballads from a band that's not afraid to wear their obvious influences on their sleeves, and can't wait for Mark Kozelek to finish that next Red House Painters' album, Sleep/Holiday (which, truth be told, should have been released as separate EPs with the final four tracks comprising the "Holiday" EP) is just the album for you.

Asteroid No.4 - Honeyspot (Turquoise Mountain)
www.turquoise-mountain.com

The inaugural release on this new "Cosmic American Music" imprint from the fine folks at Rainbow Quartz finds our favorite Psychedelphia chameleons trying their hand at alt.country/No Depression/Americana. Each of their releases has attempted (and succeeded magnificently) different genres, from the druggy, Spacemen 3-styled British psych rock of their debut to the ransacking romp through British garage Rubbles of their follow up. [Importantly, all three releases have been by (almost imperceptively) "different" bands: The Asteroid #4, The Asteroid No.4, and now just Asteroid #4.] Now they show the shitkicking wannabes like Wilco and Jayhawks how it's done with one of the best country folk rock albums I've ever heard. The Mike Nesmith and his First National Band-inspired opener, "The Preacher & the Setting Sun" explodes into one of the most mind-exploding psych jams of the year, and the country rock of The Byrds, Poco and The Flying Burritos with more than a sprinkle of the late lamented Five Chinese Brothers never sounded as sweet as on "He's A Fire."

"Running Away" makes good use of Neil Diamond's "Thank the Lord for the Night Time" melody, and jangly guitars and exquisite harmonies that haven't been heard since CSN&Y lost their voices share centerstage with New Riders/Grateful Dead/Little Feet/Outlaws boogie on "Big City Blues." Of course, smart asses will complain that they don't have an original thought in their repertoire, to which I counter, "Thank God they don't!" With recreations and interpretations this good and seamless aboutfaces from 60s to 90s British psych to American folk rock, they don't need any original ideas. And just as they impersonated faux-British accents on their prior "British" releases, here they successfully co-opt a familiar hicks-from-the-sticks twangy Southern drawl so prevalent in the alt.country arena.

The banjo and steel guitar duet on the instrumental "It's All OK" is pure, driving, river riding music that'll have you digging out your best Huck Finn duds to go 'sploring the mighty Mississip' or your own local water(ing) hole. "As Soon As Dawn" benefits from a spot-on Neil Young twang that could have been lifted from a collection of After The Gold Rush outtakes. "Trolley Car Blues" is a shitkickin', bar brawlin' shoot-'em-up and the closing "Made Up My Mind" is their take on "Knocking On Heaven's Door." Of course, this being a country rock rekkid, it has its fair share of drinking songs (the title track) and honky tonkin', breakup tales ("Like Dogs"), and, when all else fails - this being an Americana salute - they break out The Band for "One Time," which has everything except a Levon Helm lead vocal, including a few chord progressions and guitar licks lifted straight off of "The Weight."

The band [no pun intended] is obviously having a good time, and you will too on, dare I say it, the feel-good album of the year. Music hasn't put this big a smile on my face in a long time. I haven't heard an album this derivative since Soundtrack of Our Lives' Behind The Music, and that was only last year's finest album. Honeyspot is definitely one of this year's. Everything Cracker has been trying, unsuccessfully, to pull off on their last couple of albums (cf. Forever and Countrysides), this should be required listening before David Lowery and Johnny Hickman sit down to write their next album.

Linus Pauling Quartet - C₆H₈O₆ (September Gurls)
www.septembergurlsrecords.com

Psychedelic stoner rock from Houston's finest, LPQ form the missing link between Detroit and Birmingham (that's MC5 to Black Sabbath for those not up on their musical geography). Their fifth album (originally titled Louder Than Bongs, then renamed after the chemical formula for Vitamin C - the reason probably lost forever in a cloud of, er, smoke), C₆H₈O₆ presents studio versions of the previously released "Cole Porter" and two tracks from their previous release, Ashes In The Bong of God ("Airplane" from the CD edition and the sidelong Kraftwerk cover "Hall of Mirrors" from the 2xLP version), and appends half a dozen new stoner classics for the best release of their decade-long career. From the familiar two-note "Friday On My Mind" opening riff of "Cole Porter," which vocally and musically bears an uncanny resemblance to the fine psychedelic jams of the late, lamented Abunai! which a catchy chorus that'll make even Beavis and Butthead crack a smile (heh, heh, he said "crack," heh, heh!) Ramon Medina's distorto vocals and wailing guitar solo drag "Brain" around the room, leaving several cells scattered among the wreckage. 

Stuttering, stoned, studio banter and a silly penny arcade whistle opens the sleepy, acoustic jam, "Thorn," which starts out like a Ya Ho Wa 13 acid-fried campfire song until Medina's throat-shredding vocals and the dueling guitar soloing of guest axman, John Cramer (Mike Gunn, Dunlavy) awake us from our stupor. Death metal aficionados will get a kick out of Satan's guest vocals on "La Tapatia," an ungodly horror of a song that sounds like Ministry on 'ludes. Time to change those ashes in that bong, dudes.

The heavy-lidded head nodder "Airplane" wanders the room under the aroma of Pink Floyd, and Medina's sandpaper vocals and bassist Steve Finley's heavy riffing find the boys trading rounds of "bourbon and gasoline" with Motorhead on the aptly titled "Drunkest Man In Town." The MC5 and other assorted Motor City madmen are turned loose on "Cannonball," and last, and certainly most, what else can we say about finally corralling "Hall of Mirrors" into the studio? It's an opportunity for the band to wear their Hawkwind influences on their sleeves ("Naked" Charlie Ebersbaker's skronkin' sax is particularly tasty) and trade guitar solos in the finest Crazy Horse, Outlaws, Lynyrd Skynyrd traditions. So fire up the bongs, assume the cross-legged positions on the floor, drop your head, close your eyes and drift.

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