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Here are some of the records I've been enjoying this summer (along with a few embarrassingly bad bumps in the road). As always, try and find some sound clips to hear selections from these albums before making your final purchasing decisions.

Mushroom – Glazed Popems (Black Beauty)

The ‘shroom’s tenth album (a double disk at affordable, single-disk prices!) opens with the smooth, relaxing mellow introduction of “L’Auberge” and proceeds apace to the more experimental “Pink Island,” featuring an avant guitar solo from Erik Pearson that slices through the brain likes shards of glass. The woodwinds (Ralph Carney), congas (Pat Thomas), various Eastern percussives (Dave Mihaly), and celeste, melodica and vibes (courtesy newcomer Matt Henry Cunitz’s vintage ‘60’s Mellotron) on “(Hats Off To) Bert Jansch” place you in the middle of Hyde Park ca. 1968, or at the early Glastonbury fests a few years later. The track is an obvious reference to the similarly titled trib to Roy Harper on Led Zeppelin III and is perfect for freaking at the folk freaker’s ball, although only the hardcore Jansch fanatic will hear any of Bert’s melodies lingering within. It’s all about the mood, dude!

“Isle of Wight” is a tribute to the site of Britain’s Woodstock, and features synth swashes from ex-Loud Family keyboardist Alison Faith Levy, although fans of her Sonoptic project will also recognize her soft, uninhibiting, fluid ruminations. The grooves are perfect for sitting cross-legged in a big, open field, staring at the clouds and having a heart-to-heart with a hookah-smoking caterpillar. Pearson trades his guitar for the flute and tenor sax, and guests Dan Olmsted (acoustic guitar) and Monica Pasqual (piano) pick up the slack, as most of the regulars sit this one out. But if, like me, you occasionally dig out your well-worn copy of the (1971) Glastonbury Fair Revelations triple album and enjoy groovin’ to the sounds of Mighty Baby’s “A Blanket in My Mousli,” then this is right up your pink half of the bongpipe.

The guitar/piano duet between Pearson and newcomer Brian Felix on “Two of Us,” er, “You and I Have Memories, Longer Than The Road That Stretches Out Ahead” (I kid you not!) is as ponderous as it is melodically beautiful (think of Penguin Café Orchestra’s more accessible efforts) and provides the requisite tug on the heartstrings that all precious memories instill. And if you’ve ever had a “Half Sicilian/Half Welsh” pizza, then this tasty tribal stomp will be (musically) repeating on you for days. Will that be for here or to go? Things fizzle somewhat with the silly homage to the Airplane’s “A Small Package of Value Will Come To You Shortly”: “Just Because Nobody Understands You, That Doesn’t Mean You’re An Artist,” but quickly recover on the pleasant woodwind rendition of “Backwaterside,” which is essentially a Katharine Starzel solo piece. This short finale wraps up one of the year’s finest releases with another nod in the general direction of Sir Bert. A genuine heroic effort and the missing link between the psychedelic experimentation of After Bathing At Baxters and the communal hippie lovefest of The 5000 Spirits, or The Layers of The Onion.

But wait! There’s more! A second disk, entitled “Oakland” opens with “The Beards Are Back In Town,” a jazz/funk/fusion monster that, with all due respect to Thin Lizzy, is the most effective statement of purpose that any band has offered to date and a welcome return to this reviewer’s good graces after several adequate, but ultimately disappointing releases. Halfway through this 11½ minute epic, the tide turns to a reflective, rather proggy vibe, highlighted by Pat Thomas’ syncopated backbeat, Erik Pearson’s snaking, well, snake guitar and a lilting flute wafting through the room courtesy Ralph Carney, whose tasty sax work drifts through the opening half of the track as well.

The short, playful “Tin Foil Hat,” featuring the frolicking interplay between Cunitz’s gurgling Hammond and Brian Felix’s electric piano is as lightweight and comical as its title suggests, as is the equally short avant garde mini jam, “This Goes Squonk!,” which illustrates the band hasn’t lost its sense of humor and will certainly appeal to fans of the Chicago post-rock and alt.jazz of Tortoise, Joan of Arc and the Chicago Underground Duo/Trio/etc.

A wonderful duet between Felix’s piano and Michael Rinta’s horns (trombone, tuba, bass trumpet) highlights the romantic “Blues for Bobby Seale,” as perfect a rainy day dreamaway as you’re likely to hear all year. In fact, as I write this review, I’m staring across my backyard through another of this summer’s torential downpours, and listening to Rinta’s weeping trombone brings a hint of sunshine into this otherwise gloomy day.

Alison Faith Levy returns with synths and wordless vocals (or at least barely recognizeable ones) on the title track, adding a hint of ‘60’s nostalgia to the disk’s poppiest track, which would make a nice introductory single to the set. The titular puns continue on “Tonite Let’s All Make Love in Oakland” [as you’ll recall, “London” is the title of the other disk!], a warm, juicy invitation from the spider to the fly (courtesy Pearson’s honeydrippin’ flute) to come hither, honey, and check out my space-age bachelor web. One good pun deserves another, so let’s just praise Pearson as he switches to syrupy tenor sax in the finest Gato Barbieri tradition (cf. his Last Tango in Paris soundtrack), allowing Tim Plowman to pick up his double-tracked guitar for some, uh, tasty licks that are sure to offset the premature ejaculation urges on this elongated sex groove that may soon be coming…er, appearing in a porno film near you. And let’s not overlook Felix’s organ, which flows freely throughout – the glue that holds the whole enchilada together.

Finally, we can’t overlook the walking, talking, funky jazz of Carney’s saxes and Cunitz’s swirling, Leslie’d Hammond and Baldwin harpsichord on closer “Running Wild and Looking Pretty,” which reminds me favorably of Quincy Jones’ seminal ‘60’s and ‘70’s soundtrack work, from The Hot Rock and $ through TV’s Sanford & Son and The Mod Squad. Oh, and did I mention those typically mouthwatering, drop-dead gorgeous, nude models spread across, er, adorning the cover, booklet, disks and gatefold?

Perhaps their most cohesive release, Glazed Popems features the tightest personnel that drummer/producer/leader and sole constant member Pat Thomas has ever worked with. The refreshing breath of cool, smooth jazz coupled with occasionally soft proggy vibes on the “Oakland” disk and the psychedelically tinged, slightly purpled haze of acid folk on the “London” disk combine to deliver one of the best releases of the year.

Sharron Kraus – Songs of Love and Loss (Camera Obscura)

The sophomore Camera Obscura effort of my fellow Oxfordite continues in the marvelous, traditional folk style of her Beautiful Twisted debut, oozing remnants of the Fairports, Steeleyes, and Pentangle. With a banjo on her knee, she imbues the opening medley “Gallows Song/Gallows Hill” with the traditional air of a fairground. Welcome additions to the repetoir include Jane Griffiths fiddle and Jon Fletcher’s downhome, backporch drawling harmonica interludes on “The Frozen Lake.” Donovan covered Buffy Sainte-Marie on the title track of his debut EP (“Universal Soldier”) and on “Song and Dance of the Bees: Kraus reverses the tables to give an indication of what it might have sounded like if Buffy ever returned the favour on this admittedly difficult, but rewarding listening experience.

Kraus’ gorgeously crystalline voice, perhaps one of the clearest, sweetest lilting instruments in the current female folk canon highlights the banjo-driven “The Pale Prisoner,” which is a pretty nifty medieval muder ballad to boot! If the gypsy violin wailing of “Impasse” doesn’t bring a tear to your eye, then you’re just a coldhearted emotionless bastard, aren’t you!? The rest of us can just sit back and enjoy this heartbreaking tale that recalls Mary Hopkin at her weepiest. I also enjoyed the much-needed lift to the overall dour proceedings that the accordian oomp-pah-pah gives to “Song of the Hanged Man” and the bright and bouncy, cleverly-titled murder ballad, “Murder of Crows,” which reminded me (favorably and musically) of Siouxsie’s interpretation of Iggy’s “The Passenger.” Overall, another memorable release (particularly for fans of that angelic triumvirate of British foxy, folky, femme fatales, Sandy Denny, Jacqui McShee and Maddy Prior) from both Sharron and this fine Australian imprint, which continues to impress with each successive release.

Ultraviolet Makes Me Sick – …  No Freeway, No Plan, No Trees, No Ghosts (Camera Obscura)

After a title like that, what’s left? Plenty, I say. For openers, there’s the downstream floater, “This is the season for rest, she said” with its classic, post-rock, jazzy vibe. And if you listen closely to guest vocalist, Andrea Ferraris on the Floydian “Counter-clockwise,” you will barely make out references to Creedence Clearwater Revivarl (“Bad Moon Rising”), french fries and Klaus Kinski, undoubtedly a first (luckily, the lyrics are enclosed!) The tune itself adds a melodramatic air to the much-loved and dearly lamented Ebeling Hughes- and Camera Obscura’s own Phineas Gage- style of mellow, dreamy psychedelic rock. Gianmaria Aprile’s wonderfully melodic guitar lines on “Overexposed” is another perfect representation of the best that post-rock has to offer and may be what led to the band’s silly, but accurate, description as “an Italian Tortoise,” especially when one compares this to the latter’s “Along The Banks of Rivers (on Millions Now Living Will Never Die).

One of the more unsettling elements on this new album is their consistent transition into new songs in different keys, rhythms, melodies and instrumentation such that songs that feel as if they’re ending actually begin life anew. This gives many of the tracks (“A Two-Headed Coin” and “Hearts and Minds out of tune and reversed“ are prime examples) a proggy, suite-like vibe, another element that distinguishes UMMS from your run of the mill post-rock act. The syncopated, pounding of the untitled closer (here identified as simply “…”) may also bring to mind the great Wetton-led period of King Crimson, and is in fact (according to the liner notes), “taken from an improv session vanishing at night: no overdubs added, only the feelings of that moment impressed.” His royal highness, Sir Frippertronic couldn’t have said it better!

The lovely melody on the piano-guitar duet, “Brothers fallen near Allen” may be the prettiest piece of music I’ve heard all summer, and while not far removed from the modus operandi of the now defunct aforementioned Chicago band, it’ll put a warm glow in the hearts of fans of some of my favorite international post-rockers like Australia’s cinematic Silver Ray, Norway’s emotional White Birch and the sweeping pop soundscapes of fellow countrymen, Port-Royal, Yuppie Flu and Leben. “I think I feel the night comin’ on” even adds a percussive spunk to the mix (courtesy Davide Impellizzeri), emulating the new direction of personal faves, Tarentel.

Simultaneously cinematic and expansive (especially the opener), yet warm and intimate (the title track, which is also another album favorite), this is a vast improvement on their debut and is one of the year’s best post-rock entries to date.

Verdure – The Telescope Dreampatterns (Camera Obscura)

Loner, stoner rock from the SF suburb of Concord, CA, Verdure is the one-man project of Donovan Quinn, the son of (60’s psych act Country Weather) bassist, Dave Carter. “Into the Blacktrees” uses bells and whistles (literally) to introduce us to the inner workings of Quinn’s illustrious gray matter. As the title suggests, “The Coffin Splits in Two” is a slightly deranged, spoken-word piece which reminds me of Father Yod and his cult of hippie stoners, Ya Ho Wa 13. And speaking of laid back recordings, Quinn is so out of it on “The Greentrees,” I’m surprised he had the strength to lift the microphone to recount his tale. It’s a perfect theme song for the drug czar’s campaign to quash Quaalude intoxication: “This is your brain on ‘ludes!” In fact, as you get deeper into the album, you’ll find your heartbeat slowing down, your mouth getting dryer, your eyelids getting heavier, and on more than a few occasions, your head jerking itself back into semi-consciousness.

The sloppy, intentionally lo-fi, disjointed instrumental title track (“Seeing the Telescope Dreampatterns”) is probably the make-or-break point where you’ll either close your eyes, lay back and enjoy the rest of the album or hit the eject button and frisbee this beer coaster through the nearest window. Those who exit early will miss Quinn’s efforts at recreating Dementia 13’s Mirror Mind album, particularly on the intriguingly incompetent, strained vocals, percussive backbeats, and meandering guitar scrapings of “Softly, the Embers,” which curiously becomes a completely different song halfway through, as tambourines, echoed vocals and vibrattoed, wah-wah guitar enter the fray. You will also miss the straight-out-of-left-field Gregorian chant that is “Fluttering Pastures and the quirky, Sonny Bono-meets-Ray Davies “The Sea Funeral,” complete with faux British accent. With its catchy melody and full band feel (well, at least there’s another like-minded soul, Derek Montpeny, helping out on lead guitar), it’s the album’s highlight and not that far removed from the wonderfully insane efforts of Anton Newcombe and his Brian Jonestown Massacre, although that mondo-distorto guitar skronk of an ending will probably keep it off most CMJ-controlled, indie college radio station playlists.

So if you’re not ready to discard this as the incompetent ramblings of a madman, and are willing to embrace it as the homebrewed, lo-fi, DIY exploration of a paranoid/schizophrenic deranged mind with too much time and too many drugs on his hands, and your record collection is full of artists bearing the number 13 (as in Dementia 13, Ya Ho Wa 13 and 13^th Floor Elevators), then make plans to peer through the telescope for a bird’s eye view of Verdure’s Dreampatterns.

Ladies W.C. – Ladies W.C. (Shadoks)

This Venezuelan artifact, originally released in a limited edition of 4,000 on the Souvenir label in 1969 (and which immediately sold out, mostly to fans in the Caracas area), was recorded in 2½ days on the eve of American student Stephen Scott’s return to the University of South Carolina’s School of Journalism. It sure makes all his fellow students’ “What I did on my Summer Vacation” essays pale in comparison! Scott (bass and vocals) co-wrote the album with lead guitarist, Adib Casta (who died while this reissue was being prepared—the release is dedicated to him, although, sadly, his name is misspelled in the booklet photo); the Seijas brothers, Jaime (guitar) and Mario (drums) round out the quartet. The songs, which Mario’s liner notes tell us were “Steve’s melodies purified by Adib and tinted by Jaime” are bookended by the sound of a flushing toilet (a bold move back then, but completely appropriate considering the band’s name, which refers to the women’s bathroom, or “water closet”) and, indeed, sound effects play a key linking role between tracks in the form of ocean waves, wailing sirens, screaming babies, screeching brakes, crashing cars, jet take-offs, etc.

Scott has that requisite bluesy wail so prevalent in late 60s’ psychedelia and the opening track “People” wouldn’t have been out of place on Cream’s Disraeli Gears, with Casta’s spot-on emulation of Clapton’s trademark screaming guitar and Scott’s perfect embodiment of Bruce’s heavy, throbbing bass lines. Casta also shows off his magic fingers on the sloppy, garage-rockin’ “I Can’t See Straight.” Scott mentions in his liner notes that the band featured the two hottest guitarists in Venezuela, but I think he’s being too parochial. Few stringbenders anywhere could match the dual pyrotechnics on display here and fans of 60s’ blues/psych, whether it be the Latin or North American type or across the pond in Britain are encouraged to seek this out pronto!

“Heaven’s Comin’ Up” is another walking, bluesy wail of a tail in the great tradition of what Canned Heat, Paul Butterfield Blues Band and Killing Floor were doing north of the border, and also demonstrates that Scott can blow harp with the best of them. The screaming baby between-track link perfectly (and literally!) suits the tale’s screaming lament. Casta whips off another brain-frying solo on “And Everywhere I See the Shadow of Life,” which is a rather catchy pop tune that might’ve made a successful single were it not for that unwieldy title. “Searching for A Meeting Place” returns to the classic bluesy psychedelia of Cream to the point where I think they would have made a perfect opening act for the British blues legends at the Fillmore and Avalon Ballrooms back in the day.

A couple of soft, moody ballads (perhaps not coincidentally, track 3 on each side: “To Walk On Water” and “The Time of Hope Is Gone”) offer welcome respites from the guitar workouts. A theme song of sorts, “W.C. Blues” has a familiar air about it, like one of those bluesy instrumentals in those 60s’ exploito psych films like Psych Out, The Trip or Beyond The Valley of the Dolls. So if you are a fan of 60s psychedelia with a “blue(s)-ish” tint, especially if you collect South American rock, I highly recommend Ladies W.C.

[Note: Scott, who currently resides in New Mexico, left journalism school to work with the trio, Speed Limit 35, and a live recording of a 1970 gig (opening for Steppenwolf) is currently being readied for release! Regarding the good old days with Ladies W.C., he told me, "As I look back now, I really wish that I had had an inkling of a clue that this was such a rare, trend-setting project. We had a lot of fun. Now I am rebuilding my (ok, the Lord's) music just about from scratch, but it is a welcome challenge doing that."]

The Wailing Wall – The Wailing Wall (Shadoks)

From El Paso’s Suemi label (home of Iota, also reissued by Rockadelic/Shadoks), Wailing Wall was the brainchild of guitarist Mike Cancellare, who enlisted drummer David Rutledge and the Adams brothers, Darrell (bass) and Doug (guitar/vocals) to complete the band. (Doug later relocated to Novato, California, served a brief stint in New Riders of The Purple Sage, and released several albums with his middle eastern-influenced project, Light Rain.) Propelled by Doug’s bluesy grunts and shrieks on opener “Scissor-Tail Swallow” and Rutledge’s surreal, Dylanesque spoken-word vocals on “Country of the Goose,” which is underscored by unusual tempo changes (starting at 6/8 and switching mid-song to 2/4) and Doug’s meandering recorder, Wailing Wall sounds like a bluesy cross between Captain Beefheart, Jimi Hendrix and Black Sun Ensemble. At 9+ minutes, the Eastern-flavored “Goose” deteriorates into patience-testing pretentiousness, but before it implodes, it does manage to relay a desert-fried psychedelic vibe.

“Flying” has a pleasant, laid-back Poco groove which might have made for a nice single, the short, loose jam “Hot Summer’s Night” recalls CSNY at their peak, and “Mad Rapper” successfully recreates the swampy, bluesy skronk of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Graveyard Train,” released the previous year (1969). The “Dark House/Crazy Nights” medley is less successful, with painfully inept vocals bordering on parody that make Father Yod sound like Perry Como. (In his excellent liner notes, Darrell acknowledges his shortcomings, humorously noting, “My one solo vocal on the whole album is the “Woman, woman” part in “Dark House” and thank GOD for that!!!” The second half is also a rather pale imitation of the mellower moments of Ya Ho Wa 13, as is the stoner vibe of “I’m Running Low,” despite some admittedly wicked guitar soloing from Cancellare (Adams: “There’s a cool little lick that he plays on the slower part that’s mixed way back.” Listen for it.)

Finally, if you can imagine Father Yod, Capt. Beefheart or Moondog reciting a story over a musical backing that sounds like Lou Reed’s “Coney Island Baby” melded onto Neil Young’s “On the Beach,” then you’ll have a good idea of the insanity that awaits within Rutledge’s “Meet My Dreams,” a fittingly weird conclusion (complete with the Adams brothers playing their high school trombones!) to this wonderfully whacked-out memento of Southern-fried rock. (Just ignore the myriad spelling errors that, once again, plague the booklet: both Cancellare and Darrell’s name are misspelled!)

Biosphere – Autour de la Lune (Touch)

This seventh full-length from Norwegian electronics whiz, Geir Jenssen (aka Biosphere) was originally commissioned by Radio France and is partially based on Jules Verne’s “De La Terre a La Luna” (“From the Earth to the Moon”). The lengthy (21-minute) opening tone-pulse, “Translation,” perfectly captures the oxymoronic concept of the vast emptiness of outer space. It’s sort of like listening to elevator Muzak while suspended inside a sensory-deprivation tank. Elsewhere, Jenssen combines snippets from the original Radio France dramatization from the early ‘60s with recordings from the Mir space station. Fans of The Orb’s sci-fi masterpiece, “A Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain That Rules from the Centre of the Ultraworld” take note: you need this in your collection.

“Rotation” is more of the same, although you’ll have to pump up the volume a few decibels to hear the barely-audible hum, which is probably the closest approximation of the sound of the Earth spinning in outer space that you’re likely to hear this side of Eno’s Apollo recordings. Unfortunately, the “vocals” on “Modifié” are as unintelligible as anything SETI has uncovered to date, and you’ll spend more time trying to decipher them than listening to the annoying electronic bleeps and blunders.

On “Vibratoire” you’ll often find yourself asking the question, “Is it live or is it Memorex?” in what is essentially 3½ minutes of dead air, outer space style. “Déviation” will impress those of you who enjoyed the expansive opening of Pink Floyd’s “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” or the spaceship scenes in 2001: A Space Odyssey. But the rest of us will be too frustrated from cranking up the volume to try and hear ANYTHING that we’ll probably just press the skip button, hoping to fare better with “Circulaire.”

While much of this will probably impress your dog more than you (at least the dog may be able to HEAR it), I’ll give it a recommendation based on the epic opening two tracks, which scream for a separate release on EP. The remaining 45 minutes exist mainly to piss off both you and the neighborhood canines. Now I’m the first to espouse the merits of the speaker hum school of music from the likes of Stars of the Lid, Azusa Plane, Aarktica, Landing, etc., but this literal translation is taking things a bit too far and is tantamount to listening to half an hour of an ungrounded speaker faintly buzzing in your ear.

Pale Horse and Rider – Moody Pike (Darla)

The prolific Jon DeRosa, who also records ambient albums under the name Aarktica, returns with his second full length country/folk album for Darla. First introduced on the excellent “Alcohol EPs” (2002, Silber), Pale Horse gives DeRosa a chance to combine his penchant for emotionally exhausting, Nick Drake-styled ballads as heard on the releases of his other alter ego, Dead Leaves Rising (Waking Up on the Wrong Side of No One, 2001, Plow City), with his fascination for the work of Hank Williams and the “man in black.” His previous release, These Are The New Good Times, was recorded in a church in Duluth with snorecore kings, Low. This time around, Jon and his new backing band (ex-Low/Rivulets member Marc Gartman, who also appeared on the debut and wrote and sings half of this one, ex-Mercury Rev pedal steel guitarist Gerald Menke and drummer Mike Pride) set up shop for a week in Kentucky exactly one year ago (July 18-24) with Palace/Bonnie Prince Billy producer Paul Oldham, brother of Will and Ned (aka, Palace Brothers).

Opening with the wonderful couplet, “We’ve been naked and close/But don’t know last names yet,” “Stoned in the Evening” floats into the room on the wings of Menke’s pedal steel, and Pride’s glockenspiel on “Bruises Like Badges” adds an uplifting moment of hope to the soapy ballad. Gartman provides a lighter, crisper voice to the band, not unlike James Taylor, particularly on tracks like “Quarters,” while DeRosa’s “Annabelle” harkens back to his Dead Leaves Rising weepers, although the warm, soaring harmonies prevent the track from disintegrating into an overwrought, mopey, maudlin mess.

“Weight of My Soul” is less successful, a rather tuneless, meandering jam, with “Mule Skinner Blues”-styled yelping. It’s a commendable attempt to add some heavy blues to the proceedings, but the execution leaves me cold and indifferent and thus the album’s lengthiest (7½ minute) track instills little more than the desire to find the “skip” button.

Gartman’s wistful “Winter Slides” is a nice recovery, and since no country album is complete without drinking songs, the fitting “The Drinking Boy” wraps the album up quite nicely. It’s a tears-in-your-beer weeper, full of nostalgic self-pity and loathing. Overall, another DeRosa & Co. offer up another winner for bar flies, gin-joint denizens and fans of Gram Parsons and Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska.

Eddie Gale – Afro Fire (Black Beauty)

In the sixties, Brooklyn-born Gale’s trumpet graced recordings by Cecil Taylor (Unit Structures), Larry Young (Of Peace And Love) and the Sun Ra Arkestra (Secrets of the Sun, On Jupiter). Wrapping up the decade with a couple of solo albums for Blue Note (Ghetto Music and Black Rhythm Happening, both of which were reissued by Black Beauty’s sister label, Water, last year), Gale then blended into the woodwork for the next three decades, occasionally emerging for live recordings with Oakland’s hip-hopping The Coup or to lend a lip to Bicasso’s Living Life Lookin’ Out (LLCrew, 2001). Now, over 35 years later, San Jose’s “Ambassador of Jazz” returns with his first new recordings since 92’s A Minute with Miles semi-tribute, and from the upbeat, Latin-flavored salsa tribute to his home stomping grounds, “Welcome To Silicon Valley” (imagine an instrumental version of Buster Poindexter’s “Hot Hot Hot”) and the smooth, funky tribute to former boss, Sun Ra (“Free You-Free Me”) to the refreshingly laid-back vibe of “Tribal Future,” it’s a welcome addition to the collections of any aficionado of hot-blooded, cool-tempered music, be it rock, jazz or otherwise.

While purists may balk at all the synths and rhythm tracks, I think they symbolize that Gale has changed with the times and embraced the new technology, allowing him to be both economical (David Hayden is credited with bass, synth and the rhythm tracks) yet contemporary. Besides, how can anyone living in Silicon Valley object to synthetics?

Gale's muted playing on “Inner Peace To You” is in top form, including a nifty little appropriation of Al Hirt’s familiar theme to the old Green Hornet TV show, and the catchy title track featuring faux orchestration from Chet Smith will once again have your happy feet donning dancing shoes.

The ominously sexy, yet hesitantly cautious “New York After Hours” effectively captures the allure of the city that never sleeps, perhaps better than anything since Bernard Herrmann’s Taxi Driver soundtrack. And anyone who’s ever traveled on “Route 95,” the main north-south interstate on the East Coast will enjoy Gale’s colorful traveling music, whose snappy rocksteady groove will surely ease the frustration of whiling away the hours in bumper-to-bumper traffic! Finally, I can’t think of a cooler, more refreshing way to end a steamy summer day than succumbing to the serpentining charms of the smoothly exhilarating “Tribal Future.” Afro Fire is a welcome return to the spotlight for this vastly underrated and criminally underrecorded horn player.

The Stand-Ins – Clean Slate (Medium Build)

“Tabula Rasa,” the bland, title track (get it?) to this trio’s debut album is about the cleverest thing these former rhythm sections of local acts The Eskimos, Neat Stripes and Routine Felonies have going for them, and sets the stage for a nondescript collection of heavy Southern rock from another in the long line of artists hailing from the same college town (Athens, GA) that brought us R.E.M., The B-52’s, Pylon and several members of the Elephant 6 collective (Olivia Tremor Control, Elf Power, Gerbils, Great Lakes). However, their sound is far from both the New Wave, college radio friendly material of their 80’s forbearers and the quirky, idiosyncratic pop of the 90’s biggest scene makers outside of Seattle. Despite “Blame This Town”’s free-association appropriation of the riff from Suzi Quatro’s “Glycerine Queen,” their work also steers clear of any glam inclinations and is mostly a grungier, Southern-fried version of Soundgarden or Alice In Chains.

There’s a bluesy streak running through “Rant” that’s somewhat reminiscent of vintage Traffic; however, the album’s fairly weak, tuneless vocals (particularly on tracks like “Tonite’s Not The Night”) don’t encourage repeat listens, although I will confess an affinity for the punky, hard driving “Can Be Wrong,” which might prick up the ears of Husker-Du fans. “On My Diamond,” despite the sexually explicit overtones of the title, has the potential to be a ripping, live barnstormer and boasts a vicious guitar solo from vocalist Andy Pope, but by then it’s too late to raise the album above the also-ran, bar band variety.

Tiger Saw – Gimme Danger/Gimme Sweetness (Kimchee)

Any similarities between Duluth snorecore band Low and “R U Courageous,” the opening track that provides the title for the third album from this Massachusetts trio (with numerous guests) is purely intentional. Heck, they’ve even coerced ex-Low collaborator (and current Pale Horse and Rider member) Marc Gartman to stop by with his lap steel. Several glockenspiel players, a couple of organists, a toy piano and a banjo player add a much-needed layer of originality to the tunes, but with the iceberg-slow flow of tracks like “I Am So Cold” and “Forever Taking Leave,” it’s nigh impossible to sever the comparisons to Low titles like “Over The Ocean” (from 1996’s Curtain Hits the Cast) and “Medicine Magazines” and “July” (from 2001’s excellent Things We Lost in the Fire) or their famous covers of Joy Division’s “Transmission” and the Bee Gees’ “I Started A Joke.”

That’s not to suggest that the songs here are weak or boring; in fact, Juliet Nelson has a lovely voice that the band should make better use of. I’d also like to hear more of her exquisite cello playing, which adds extra warmth to the tender, cinematic instrumental “West of the Sun” and imbues a mournful, Godspeed You Black Emperor vibe to “The Sweetest Goodnight” which is perfectly suited to the song’s romantic nostalgia. The autobiographical “All My Friends Are Right Here With Me” benefits from the fancy finger picking of “blindbanjodjim,” who adds a down-home, back porch, campfire sing-along vibe to this fun, “where are they now?” reading of leader Dylan Metrano’s little black book.

An ill-advised and woebegotten cover of guest Jason Anderson’s “The Goodbye” from his Wolf Colonel album Something/Everything (2002, K) ends the release on a boring, poorly sung low note (no pun intended). But there’re enough highlights leading up to it that you can simply hit "eject" and ponder the otherwise lovely offerings on display, so I recommended the release to fans of Low, Ida, Nanang Tatang, Galaxie 500, Damon & Naomi and other like-minded, couple-led snorecore bands.

Blessed Light – Love Lights the Way (Mill Pond)

This is the debut full-length from the latest project from Western Washington (North Bend) native, Toby G, love child of 70s’ Christian hippies/folk musicians Linda and Jim Gordon and former leader of 90s indie guitar band, Delta Haymax, who released a brilliant self-titled album in ’97 (on Tooth and Nail) and promptly disappeared. Opener “Suzanne Sunshine” has a laid-back, 70’s AM radio sunshine pop vibe with a memorable melody not unlike Graham Parker’s solo material, although, at six minutes, it’s a bit lengthy for FM radio airplay. Gordon’s nasally, raspy twang on “Great Northern” reminds me of Parker’s fellow angry young man, Elvis Costello, before he discovered Burt Bacharach and ruined his once-promising career. However, his histrionic attempt at the blues (“My Beloved”) is both awkward and annoying (and, at six minutes, way too long), and borders on the sound of John Lennon rehearsing for his next Primal Scream therapy session.

Maria Leon Guerrero’s charming harmonies and infectious keyboards, particularly on “Something More” keep things moving at a sprightly pace, and Gordon’s trebly, BIG guitar sound demonstrates an ample agility on the six-string. The tearjerking, romantic ballad, “Battlefield Figurine” will send even the most jaded, thick-skinned pragmatists to sleep, clutching their teddy bears for support. “Ancient One” can’t decide whether to borrow its opening from Yes (“Roundabout”) or Boston (“More Than A Feeling”), so it abandons both directions and settles instead for a bland, paean to love, harmony and other assorted hippieshit platitudes. Yuck!

Matters improve greatly with “Texas Songbird,” a nice, country-rock sing-along which wouldn’t have been out of place on The Byrds’ Sweetheart of the Rodeo or Parker’s current masterpiece, Your Country. “Angel of the Air” pays another visit to Snoozeville (despite the album’s loudest guitar solo, which sounds amazingly like David Gilmour’s runs on Obscured By Clouds’ “Free Four”), but then “Love Vibes” reconvenes everybody for a group hug as it soars majestically heavenward on the wings of a dove.

Jeff Kelly - For the Swan in the Hallway (Hidden Agenda)

The hard-rocking, heart-pumping throb of "Stutter" is another early highlight, and the decision to be less reliant on his library and current literary indulgences for song inspiration makes the album more accessible to the general public who aren't as well versed in obscure Victorian poets (Elizabeth Siddell, anyone?) as Kelly is. Anyone who's ever wandered aimlessly through the streets of London will appreciate Kelly's musical ruminations on "Oxford Street," as lovingly reflective as Nick Drake's "Chimes of a City Clock," Sweet Thursday's "Gilbert Street," Ralph McTell's "Streets of London" or Terrastock favorite, Pat Orchard's "Shabby Road." In fact, Kelly tells us that the album's artwork (featuring, once again, gorgeous photos courtesy wife Susanne), title, and many of the songs were inspired by a recent trip to Merry Olde.

The achingly romantic "The Lock," with it's haunting piano and strings, and the busy, rocking-yet-catchy 80s synth swirl of "Whispers of the Pool" are other winners, with the latter particularly recommended to fans of the short-lived Bruce Haedt/Steve Lawrence lineup that gave us the oft-maligned 1987 Pajamas release, Book of Hours.

The familiar piano riff that opens "Ever So Lightly" ultimately reveals a down 'n' dirty, nice 'n' sleazy sex romp that comes across (no pun intended) like After The Gold Rush-era Neil Young covering the "Golden Showers", or "Slumbers"/"Carry That Weight" medley from Abbey Road. It's no surprise, therefore, that Kelly considers this his "sex and desire without the guilt" album. The snarly fuzzfest of "The Depth of My Desire" compares favorably with the best of the Pajamas' peak period that resulted in the magnificent Camera Obscura releases, Strung Behind the Sun and All Clues Lead To Meagan's Bed. (Note that the booklet incorrectly flips tracks 10 and 11; "Desire" is actually before "The Girls of the Ford.")

The album's closer, "A Night at the Opera" once again demonstrates Kelly's keen sense for unforgettable hooks and can share mix tapes with the best of Ric Ocasek and The Cars at their ingratiating, infectious best. More lyrically accessible and harder rocking than recent solo efforts, The Swan in The Hallway is one of the finest collections of Kelly's songs, with or without his fellow Pajamas, and ranks among his very best.

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