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Happy Leap Day! We've had to wait four long years for another birthday celebration, but it's finally here! We also hope your holidays were special, safe, and fun! The beginning of the year is traditionally pretty slow, as most record companies are busy taking inventory, calculating their tax write-offs, and still trying to dump repackaged greatest hits collections on us.

But there are still reputable independent labels out there to whom we owe our allegiance for bucking the system and trying to get new, exciting, adventurous, risk-taking music out to the dazed and confused masses who's biggest music decision is trying to figure out what Ozzy's mumbling about this week. So here are some of the late stragglers I missed from last year along with a few bona fide "new" releases - the first of 2004! Enjoy!

In-Flight Safety - "Vacation Land" EP (self-released)

Luxuriously long, languorous lullabies that'll have alt.country fans creaming in their jeans highlight the debut EP from this Sackville, New Brunswick quartet, winners of Canada's "Best Unsigned Artist" award at the 2003 North by North East music festival in Toronto. Comparisons to Wilco, The Jayhawks and, particularly The Wallflowers, especially on the early candidate for "song of the year," "Somebody's Watching You" will reel you in, and soon you'll fall under the spell of John Mullane's sleepy vocals, which add just the right comfy-chair vibe to tracks like "That Day" and "Lucky Boy." This is the perfect soundtrack to sunsets and long walks on sandy beaches, benefitting from such exquisite flourishes as the  xylophone intro to "Somebody's Watching You" and the mellotronish organ fills on "Turn Off." The latter is also noteworthy for Mullane's (perhaps unintentional?) spot-on Sigur Ros imitation, particularly during the song's extended coda.

The only deterrent may be Mullane's tendency to yodel on every song (never more apparent than on "Missing Persons"), but after a while, even this adds to In-Flight Safety's downhome, country charm. While it may give new meaning to the term laid back, "Vacation Land" is someplace you'll want to spend those long winter evenings, snuggling up in front of a warm, crackling fireplace. A stunning debut from Canada's best country rock band since Blue Rodeo.

Lycia - Empty Space (Silber)

Following eight albums on Projekt, this 4AD/Cleopatra-styled Phoenix quartet briefly reunited to record this mostly instrumental final (albeit unfinished) album. With a sound firmly entrenched in the 80's Goth movement, it combines the pop sensibilities of The Cure, Love & Rockets and Echo and The Bunnymen with the moody, metallic synths of the Clan of Xymox (especially on openers "Not Here, Not Anywhere" and the instrumental "You Can Never Go Home Again"). "Persephone," despite lifting its title from an old Cocteau Twins' song, is a rather weak attempt at capturing the magic of Siouxsie and The Banshees, but Tara Van Flower is no Siouxsie, making the track that much more disconcerting. The closing "This Is The End" takes on new meaning (after fifteen years, it literally is "the end"), and the Al Jourgenson-meets-Tom Waits vocals over a depressingly forboding dirge a la Fields of The Nephalim will be fodder to the ears of fans of the Minneapolis' industrial goth outfit, Skye Klad.

It's also obvious from the arrangements of the many instrumental tracks that Mike Van Portfleet has been listening to a lot of Durutti Column and Porcupine Tree albums. This compensates somewhat for the weak vocals and will no doubt be of great interest to fans of Vini Reilly and Steve Wilson's glistening guitar extravaganzas. The guitar lines tend to become repetitive to the point of exhaustion, but it's still a pretty relaxing, contemplative riff at that, and if you're in the mood for a dark guitar album, Lycia's final blast may be a welcome addition to your gothic prog collection.

Twelve - First Album (Silber)

Twelve is a new side project from Chris(es) Olley (guitarist/vocalist) and Davis (drummer) of Nottingham dronesters, Six.By Seven [sic]. Opening with the ambient soundscape of the cleverly-titled "Intro," they set the stage for another entry in the marvelous "speaker hum" style of instrumental music popularized by Windy & Carl, Stars of the Lid, Eno, Landing, et. al. But then they make a 180° aboutface for the minimalist, Low-meets-Swans folk song, "Talkin About."  And just when you think the song can't get any sadder, a mournful violin straight out of Nick Drake's Bryter Layter sessions strolls into the room to tie your heartstrings up in a knot. Imagine Mojave 3 hopping in the sack with Godspeed You Black Emperor and eleven minutes later birthing something that belongs on Bill Callahan's next Smog album.

"Travelin Light" upsets the apple cart once again for a big beat, motorik instrumental that sounds like Olley has a lot of St. Etienne, Stereolab and Denim albums in his collection. However, at 7½ minutes, it's too long and repetitive for my tastes and ends up ultimately sounding more like a tape loop than a song. "Never Let You Go" is a battle of the "3's": Spacemen and Mojave, while the lazily-titled "One Seventeen" (it's length!) is another chance meeting of ambient soundscapes and hip-hop backbeats on a disecting table. Unfortunately, the ridiculously metallic backbeats win, as they do on "Police Cars" as well.

All in all, a mixed blessing: if they could lose the horrible, headache-inducing techno noise and concentrate on the songs (as on the wonderful pop ballad in the best Holiday Flyer tradition, "Now"), they'd have a real winner. Perhaps they should have released the songs on a separate EP?

Tindersticks - Waiting For The Moon (Beggars Banquet)

Jacque Brel is alive and well and living in ... Nottingham, as evidenced by this outfit's ninth release, which is not really different from anything that preceeded it. Like The Ramones, they've found a style (mellow, orchestral, confessional ballads - think Arab Strap minus the sloppy, alcohol-induced sentimentality) and have stuck with it. Thus, if you enjoy what's come before (imagine if Jimmy Webb wrote a Leonard Cohen album), this is the album for you. Stuart Staples has one of those wah-wah trumpety voices (Fine Young Cannibals' Ranking Roger-meets-Johnny Mathis), and his overly "mellow"-dramatic tunes have a distinct Jacques Brel air about them. I also found myself mentally comparing notes with Richard Baskin's soundtrack work on Welcome To L.A. 

The stylistic contrast between Staples and fellow songwriter Dickon Hinchcliff gives the band its much-needed variety, with the latter's "Sweet Memory" sounding like an outtake from any number of Elvis Costello's recent lounge records. The title track is a minimalist, tearjerker ballad, similar to what Godspeed You Black Emperor has been trying to perfect on recent albums. The duet with Lhasa De Sala on "Sometimes It Hurts" is another of those "Yes-Depression," suicidal country tunes we love so much. It reminds me of those old Leonard Cohen-Jennifer Warnes ballads, or the Dean Wareham and Britta Phillips' Luna side project from last year. And if there's a dry eye in the house after "My Oblivion," then you're either emotionally bankrupt or have never been in (and out) of love.

With fifteen violinists, nine violists and six cellists, this orchestral delight is the perfect soundtrack to that quiet little romantic evening in front of the fireplace with a loved one. Although, like a series of one-night stands, you may forget all the names (of the songs) in the morning, they are very pleasureable experiences while they're happening.

Reed Dickinson - Ruby (Flying Kite)

For all you folks hooked on VH-1s "I Love the 80s" series, complaining that they don't write songs like they used to, Dickinson's sophomore effort may just be the answer to your prayers. From the catchy "Ruby Red Eyes," with its perfectly executed mini guitar solo from Dana West, to the cheesy, feminine backing vocals of Kerrie Powers on the toe-tapping "Dangerous Curves," and the jumpy, dancefloor magnetism of "Devil Doll, Ruby will bring a smile to fans of such 80s' singer/songwriters as Roy Sundholm and Tommy Keene. Even Wallflowers and Jayhawks' fans will be pleased with the alt.country vibe of the twangy, violin-led (courtesy Jane Hemenway) "No Longer A Chore."

While most of the ballads have better intention than execution, (Reed's vocals on "Write To Me" and "Believe In Yourself," for example, are somewhat flat and strained and venture dangerously close to wedding-reception sentimentality), Howard Jones and Paul Young fans may shed a few tears over the heartbreaking tearjerker, "Springtime Will Come Again," and even an old codger like me couldn't refrain from welling up over the father-daughter lovesong, "Rebecca." 

But these are only minor pitstops along the way, and are quickly overshadowed by the likes of "Limboland," which wears its reggae influences on its sleeve and will have Parrotheads dancing in the aisles, and "I Am A Kite," which sounds like a long-lost Cars' B-side.

Ruby is highly recommended to power pop fans of everyone from The Knack and Shoes to 20/20 and The Pop, and is infinitely better than last year's disappointing Rubinoos' comeback.

Cordouan - "Love" EP (Mechanized Mind)

The Scandinavian ambient music scene has come into its own in recent years with brilliant releases from Sigur Ros and Stafrænn Hákon (Iceland), Magyar Posse, Luukas Onnekas (a.k.a. Vladislav Delay) and Siniaalto (Finland), Orphax (aka, Sietze Van Erve, Netherlands) and My Beloved (Denmark). [We'll leave the Norwegian new-techno scene (Kings of Convenience, Royksopp, Erland Oye and Sondre Lerche) out of this discussion for now.) Not to be overlooked, however, is the vibrant Swedish scene, thanks in no small measure to the prolific Axel Willner, who's previously released material under the Porte and Lars Blek monikors. 'Love' is the third release from this self-described "Tarentel-meets-Windy & Carl" project (named after the site of a French lighthouse), and it's overflowing with warmth and melancholia in the finest tradition of those Terrascope favorites.

In fact, halfway through the mellotronish drone and gently plucked acoustic guitar of opener, "MMN-ALS," I expected Windy's hushed vocals to put in a guest appearance. A mournful, cello-ish hum drags "As if all stops and all I can focus on is you" around your synapses, effortlessly drifting amongst the Stars of the (heavy) Lids. A pounding heartbeat brings almost unbearable tension to "Quiet tide," which is only slightly alleviated by a playfully repetitive leitmotiv, and "This may be winter coming" is a majestic entrance hymn, not only announcing the arrival of the new season, but perfectly suited to visiting dignitaries and heads of state.

The scratchy surface noise at the opening of "When all this is over we'll meet again" (reminiscent of Willner's "glitch music" a la Oval and Microstoria on his Porte release) effectively captures the romantically nervous excitement of being caught in a rain storm, seeking shelter from an onrushing deluge. Riding the wave of that storm, the mounting electronic drone envelopes the listener in a vibrating warmth as our lovers shed their rainsoaked clothes and lose themselves in the passion of the moment. If this sounds like the perfect soundtrack to your next romantic encounter, proceed apace to the address above.

Troll - "Pathless Land" EP (Orange Sun)

I first discovered Troll via their wonderful contribution to 'The Further Adventures of Telepathic Explorers' compilation (reviewed elsewhere); however the band should already be familiar to readers via Steve Hanson's ecstatic review of their self-released debut, 'Que Son Los Troll y en Que Nos Ayudan' back in issue #31. Three years on we're anxiously awaiting their sophomore effort, but this stopgap five-song, 19-minute EP will whet our appetite for the new and exciting adventures to come. Spanish surely is the loving tongue of this multi-international quintet (currently based in San Francisco, the members hail from the US, Denmark and Argentina), and poppy opener, "Mexicana" (sung by guitarist John Koch) is a heady cross between Pink Floyd and Migala. "Western" finds Koch and Danish keyboardist/vocalist Lotte Svennigsen cooing sweet nothings in each other's (and our) ears in the finest Serge Gainsbourgh/Jane Birkin tradition. As I'm conversant in neither, I'm not sure if that's Danglish, Spanglish or even Japanglish, but as with Gainsbourgh, it's the emotional delivery, not the "meaning" of the lyrics that counts.

Argentinian bassist (and other female vocalist) Marina Moreno sings "I Walk On Water" (again in Spanish) over some tasty Morriconi-ish guitar licks courtesy Scott Hewicker, and his interplay with Koch on "Li'l Lisa Slurry" recalls the finest work of past dynamic duos in Felt, The Chameleons and Television. Unfortunately, the unintelligible (and unnecessary) vocal utterings of Koch and drummer Cliff Hengst almost ruins the song, but if you can block out their mumbling, you'll enjoy another fine example of the band's intricate instrumental chops.

Hewicker's sloppy (and unnecessary) remix of "Texas Bossanova" from the debut (here entitled "Tex Bossa Redux") concludes the recording on a low note with little more than a repetitive drum beat, random organ noodlings and some moaning, mourning vocals over the top. As a fly-on-the-wall observation of the band "in action" in the studio it's interesting for about a minute; as a "bonus" track on an already too-short EP, it's the epitome of "filler." Hopefully the second album will be ready soon.

Skullflower - 'Exquisite Fucking Boredom' (Tumult)

Essentially Sleep's 'Jerusalem' as interpreted by Bongloads of Righteous Boo (or Loop's "Heaven's End" stuck in a lockgroove), Skullflower's first release in seven years is centered around the four-part stoner suite, "Celestial Highway," wherein guitarist Matthew Bower and Co. discover the lost chord and proceed to relentlessly (at times, torturously) skullfuck you with it for nearly an hour (O.K., the index adds up to "only" 53-minutes, but it seems like 53 years - your mileage may vary depending on the quality of your "real estate.") Mercifully divided into four sections, part two is essentially a tinnier version of the same riff, as if Bower continued recording down the hall, leaving the remaining lot (guitarist Mark Burns, bassist Steve Martin and boss drum rhythm manipulator, "Bump") behind to overdub some spacey electronics and fool around with the phasing knobs on the console.

By the time part 3 starts to wind down, the electronics have swallowed the lost chord to the point where your mind will start playing tricks on itself, wondering if it's hearing a guitar at all, or is it merely re-hearing a musical image, if you will, that's been indelibly imprinted over the preceding 40 minutes. It's a moot point by the time part 4 rolls around, as the entire exercise swallows itself up in a fifteen-minute maelstrom of white noise that's perfect for clearing sinuses and scaring the neighbors' dogs for miles around

Of the remaining tracks, "Saturn" is essentially electronic filler and loop (not the band) manipulation that's somewhat akin to listening to the refrigerator hum, and "Return To Forever" is basically a finger-stretching exercise, understandably intended to help Bower stem the onslaught of arthritis from holding his hand in the same position for 50 minutes!

I have to admit I was feeling pretty antsy after about a half hour of this stuff, but for anybody who's fascinated by the idea of Loop and Black Sabbath jamming with Hawkwind, this could be an otherworldly close encounter of the mind-numming kind.

Vocokesh - 'The Tenth Corner' (Strange Attractors Audio House)

When guitarist Richard Franecki left Milwaukee cult psych monsters, F/i to form a new band (ostensibly to continue in the original "Hawkwind-meets-Blue Cheer" experimental space rock direction he felt they were abandoning), what better name to settle on than this eponymous tribute to the then-recently deceased Abe "Voco" Kesh, legendary DJ (he worked at KSAN alongside "the father of FM radio," Tom Donohue) and producer of Blue Cheer and Terrascope favorites, Savage Resurrection. His fourth full length is another tribute of sorts, this time as the imaginary soundtracks to the drug-addled cinematic visions of Michaelangelo Antonioni ("Desert Song (Zabriskie Point)") and Alejandro Jodorowsky ("Love Theme From El Topo" and "The Holy Mountain").

The opening (title) track is a short welcome, a la the spacey, Eastern-flavoured electronics of the Ozric Tentacles. But the fun really begins with the first of the Jodorowsky "alternate sountrack material," which opens with Franecki's mind-melting guitar solo intertwined with horror film electronics courtesy Wiard Synthesist and former member of Terrastock vets, Primordial Undermind, Doug Pearson (think Porcupine Tree in a haunted house) and ends fifteen minutes later sounding like the Royal Battle of Walthamstow between Nick (The Bevis Frond) Saloman and Gary (Sun Dial) Ramon. [Another bit of trivial minutiae: Undermind leader Eric Arn was once a member of The Outsideinside, named after another "Voco" Kesh-produced Blue Cheer album!]

"Eddie's Hallucination" slowly emerges from its Rip Van Winkle-like slumber with swirling electronics bouncing off the walls and dancing with some well-placed power riffing. It's all rather aimlessly fascinating, like a bunch of Ozrics perched in a Procupine Tree.

The other Jodorowsky "soundtrack" piece is the imaginary title track to "The Holy Mountain." Now this isn't the first time this has been attempted - trainspotters may recall the work of Pengo (an offshoot of Terrastock I performers, Hilkka), whose 2000 release 'Climbs The Holy Mountain' was literally used as the film's soundtrack when it was recorded onstage while Jodorowsky's film was projected in the background. But Franecki's piece is more of an industrial standoff between Einsturzende Neubauten and Faust, which ultimately sounds more like a metallic, avant garde soundtrack to one of Clive Barker's Hellraiser films than anything Jodorowsky puts on the screen (although, admittedly, it's been over twenty years since I've seen the film). Images of carcasses, meat hooks and blood-soaked vivisection tables will wreak havoc in your mind - sort of like riding naked down a razor-studded sliding pond. Just the sort of thing that'd have David Lynch running from the room, covering his ears and screaming for mercy. It's certain to be the most frightening piece of music you'll hear all year - each copy should come emblazoned with a warning sticker: "Caution: Do not listen to alone in the dark!"

Ending with the tasty, relatively structured (in comparison with what has preceeded) "Vibe #4," Franecki seems to be wearing more of Ed Wynne and Steve Wilson's influences than Randy Harmon on his sleeves these days, but that's certainly not a bad thing around Terrascope headquarters and 'The Tenth Corner' is a welcome return after a much-too-long six year absence.

The Special Pillow - 'Inside...' (Zofko)

The Six-Year Itch has also finally been scratched by this New Jersey sextet, lauded in these pages as "an extraordinary agglomeration" whose '97 debut, 'Ancient History' contained "the occasional skewed pop masterpiece." During the ensuing drought, Pillow members drifted in and out of various projects such as Run On (violinist Katie Gentile), Sleepyhead (group leader and  ex-Hypnolovewheel bassist, Dan Cuddy), Tara Key/Rick Rizzo's band (Cuddy's Hypno rhythm section partner, Peter Walsh), Splendora (cellist Cindy Brolsma) and Tara Key's old band, Antietam (cellist Tim Harris). However, the band always found time to lay down recordings, both formal (in a rehearsal studio) and informally (in various members' bedrooms, bathrooms and living rooms throughout the metro-NJ area). Walsh assembled a baker's dozen of these recordings into this release, which could thus properly be called 'More Ancient History,' and we're glad he did.

Howling winds, crashing lightning, pealing church bells and Katherine Gange’s childlike, weeping voice will scare your dinner out of you before the surprisingly gentle, orchestrated pop of “Please Come To Our Séance” finally opens this band’s sophomore effort. The oven-fresh, Pillsbury Doughboy fluffiness of the "fa-la-la” harmonizing on “Poison Apples” sounds like Redd Kross covering The Cowsills, and alt.country fans will enjoy the good-timey twang of “You Can Do It (Just Don’t Do It Wrong).” And if our friends, The Lothars are ever at a loss for original material, they could do worse than take a stab at Michael Zod’s theremin-driven “Nothing Important.”

While the majority of the album is as light and airy as a soufflé, several attempts at achieving “heaviosity” add a welcome variety, such as the album’s centerpiece, the 9-plus minute suite, “The Whole Thing,” which comes off like Mooseheart Faith attempting to cover The Mothers, and the lengthy attempt at inducing Spacemen 3-like catatonia via the meandering spacey psychedelia of closer, “Fantastic Light.” Then there’s the blatant T.Rex (“Telegram Sam”) ripoff, “Internet Pet,” and trainspotterrs should also be on the listen for the fleeting Bolan riff from Gentile at the end of “New Best Friend.”

Another orch-pop classic in the finest tradition of Witch Hazel Sound, High Llamas and the Beach Boys-inspired, sunshine pop side of Olivia Tremor Control.

Bipolaroid – Transparent Make Believe (Surreal But Kind)

Bens Glover (vocals, guitar, songwriter) and Sumner (guitar, keys, production) lead this New Orleans quartet through a series of Floydisms that’ll transport your head back to Abbey Road studios, ca. 1967 for a fly-on-the-wall’s perspective of those early Barrett-era recordings. From the spot-on recreation of “Astronomy Domine?” in the opener, “Farewell and Godspeed” to the sleepy-voiced witticisms of solo-era Barrett in the perfectly titled “King of Cabbages,” Bipolaroid make no secret of their modus operandi at work here. Hell, even the album cover is a photograph of sheep! Fortunatlely, as Asteroid #4 did on the similarly-infected King Richard’s Collectibles, the band use’60s British psychedelia as a blueprint and add their own unique voice to complete the musical canvas. String arrangements (also by Sumner) embellish the otherwise mournful “The Looking Glass” with a “Blue Jay Way” vibe, while the somnambulistic sway of the acoustic “Old Witch” could be Robyn Hitchcock fronting Stone Breath and The Firefly Snakeoil Jamboree.

The spacey “Dimension 5” opens the sound considerably via some extended soloing and could easily be mistaken for an In Search of Space-era Hawkwind outtake and the childlike nursery rhyme of “Madeline” could be the great, lost Ray Davies track, as memorable as any of those early singles (“Dedicated Follower,” “Well Respected Man,” etc.) collected on the US-only Kinkdom.

Not everything is successful: “Insect Religion” is too rushed, “Sympathy for the Swine” is too disjointed, with Glover’s vocals at their atonal worst, and his slow-motioned, outta-my-head-on-‘ludes-and-wine delivery on “Galileo’s Son” is interminable, but these are minor quibbles on an otherwise exceedingly promising debut from an exciting new psychedelic voice from the Crescent City. I understand they are about to head into the studio to record the follow-up and I. for one, can hardly wait.

Hamfatter - Fireworks (Pink Hedgehog)

Named after an old Negro minstrel song ("The Hamfat Man"), this London quartet is the brainchild of singer/songwriter, Eoin O'Mahony, whose motormouthed, Zappa-fronting-Barenaked-Ladies vocal pyrotechnics on "Fireworks" and "Soundcheck" set the stage for a quirky collection of angular pop songs with more than a passing whiff of Georgie's Psychotic Monkey. I like the swinging, jazzy, Joe Jackson vine of "Bluesy Grooves," and while Emilie's pleasant harmonizing highlights "We Never Know" and her wafting, lilting soprano graces "This Is Entertainment," she may be the most woefully underutilized "lead singer" this side of Rachael Goswell on recent Mojave 3 releases.

"Saturday" and "Pyramid Song" are quiet, romantic tearjerkers (sort of like Arab Strap with less alcohol and better harmonies, particularly on the latter), and the whistful harpsichord intro to "Bad Karma" is a delicate springboard into a broken-hearted tale that conjures bedsitter images of Al Stewart, although the young ones may find more in common with that guy with the Radio in his Head. Finally, the closing "Bonus" is a gorgeous little piano solo that someone needs to sequester immediately and lock inside the nearest music box. 

Lyrically, I'd like to hear O'Mahony explore more deeper subjects than drugs and hangovers on future releases, but overall this is a most promising and engaging debut, and these somewhat inebriated Minstrels in the Gallery are worthy of your attention.

Anton Barbeau - Guladong (Pink Hedgehog)

When we last encountered this Sacramento (California) singer/songwriter, he was fronting The Bevis Frond on King of Missouri, part two of which appears here. His ninth album again features quirky-yet-catchy power pop tunes, with memorable yet off-kilter hooks. "Grapes on a Plate" is a poppy Gang of Four, "Telephones and Singalongs" is warped psychedelia like Dipsomaniacs covering The Lucky Bishops, and "You Look Good In Yellow" (obvious Blondie references aside) and "Mahjong Dijon" are the best impersonations of John "He's Gonna Step On You Again" Kongos I've ever heard. 

However, it's the Bonzos that will spring to mind most often as you get deeper into Barbeau's silly love songs. He has the same skewered sense of humour (and melody) as Neil Innes and the hilarious "It Won't Be Long Till The Banjo Patrol Comes Along" (as it's title suggests) sounds like a Bonzo Kongos outtake from Gorilla: imagine Kongos covering "Urban Spaceman!" With titles like "The Prince of Chairs Has the Happiest Dream in the Universe," "Mahjong Dijon" and "Chinese Boots of Spanish Leather," it's obvious Barbeau's tongue is firmly planted in Innes' and Stanshall's collective cheeks.

Occasionally, he's at a loss for words ("Stewart Mason" is little more than the title repeated ad infinitum and "Ruth From Leeds" spends half it's length explaining who the mysterious Marshall Froom is), but then he treats us to the cross-dressing shenanigans of the paeon to his hometown, "I'm Just A Country Girl" and all is forgiven. It's as wacky and wonderful as any of Jonathan Richmond's odes to Boston.

Elsewhere, Barbeau's recent visits to England have brought back a myriad of influences, from Roy Harper ("Keep My Face Clean") to Robyn Hitchcock ("The Prince of Chairs Has The Happiest Dream in the Universe" - and if that's not a Hitchcock title, I don't know what is!). A lot of the obviously jovial atmosphere in the recording studio trickles through your speakers and I can imagine that Barbeau puts on a killer live show. Check him out when he comes to your town. Until then, pick up Guladong to whet your appetite.

Lisa Gerrard and Patrick Cassidy - Immortal Memory (4AD)

For over a dozen years, Gerrard was one half of the Gothic chamber ensemble, Dead Can Dance, combining pop music sensibilities with Medieval and Renaissance folk music on such classics as Serpent's Egg (1988) and Into The Labyrinth (1993). Following that band's disolution in the mid-90s, she went into a prolific, profitable and award-winning career writing film music (not surprising, considering the cinematic breadth of much of DCD's music - in fact, several of their songs have been used in film (Baraka), TV (Miami Vice) and commercials), garnering several Oscar and Grammy nominations and a Golden Globe (Gladiator) in the process. Cassidy is widely hailed as Ireland's top classical composer, the recipient of many awards, who has also recently turned to film composition (Broken Harvest). In 2001, he was specially commissioned to compose an aria for the opera scene in Hannibal ("Vide Cor Meum"). So what happens when two award-winning film composers with distinguished backgrounds in classical and medieval folk music get together? Nothing short of a masterpiece.

Gerrard has always been possessed of one of the world's most emotionally expressive voices, and here she delivers stunningly unforgettable tales in ancient Gaelic ("The Song of Amergin") and Aramaic ("Abwoon" and "Maranatha," a meditative piece that borders on religious ecstasy). Even the occasional foray into wordless vocals (the title track and the jaw-droppingly gorgeous "Sailing To Byzantium") demonstrate the power of her pipes and sets the bar for future attempts at this often overlooked (and much-maligned) cinematic technique at audience manipulation.

"Amergin's Invocation" is one of the most powerful solo performances since Edda dell'Orso's groundbreaking pyrotechnics in the "Finale" of Once Upon A Time In The West, and if there's a dry eye in the house after the emotionally draining "I Asked For Love" or the heartbreaking "Psallit In Aure Dei" (composed by Cassidy in honor of his recently-deceased father), then you just don't have a heart.

Only the aimless meandering of "Paradise Lost" (based on a project Gerrard was developing with Gladiator star Russell Crowe) seems out of place. But the remaining pieces, with their accompanying romantic, predominently string-driven orchestrations, place Immortal Memory amongst the finest "imaginary soundtracks" ever composed. Fans of Morricone's film scores, particularly those featuring the enigmatic Ms. Dell'Orso, as well as followers of female soloists such as Enya, Anneli Marian Drecker (Bel Canto), Liz Fraser (Cocteau Twins), Anna Nacher (Magic Carpathians) and This Mortal Coil's Rutkowski sisters (Deirdre and Louise) are well advised to pick this up immediately. Others shouldn't be far behind.

Ink Puddle Compund - Tantrum Seas and Dust Lanes (Camera Obscura)

Brandon Siscoe joins a long line of performers trading (some might say hiding) under the guise of a full band name: Kurt Halske (Ultra Vivid Scene), Ian Broudie (Lightning Seeds), Bill Callahan (Smog), Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails), Matt Johnson (The The), Nick Saloman (early The Bevis Frond) and Camera Obscura's own Scott Smith (Lifesmyth) are but some of his predecessors. Clinging to the adage, "If you want something done right, do it yourself," Siscoe began self-releasing home recordings out of Norman, Oklahoma back in 1998. He has since relocated to Illinois and this is his first release under the IPC moniker. Opening with the bubbling, haunted house organ instrumental, "Camella," Siscoe sets the stage for an offbeat collection of synthy folk tales and horror stories that settle somewhat (un)comfortably between the ambient (Zoviet France, Current 93) and the downbeat (Lycia and other World Serpent and Neurot artists).

Nightmarish sound effects (and an even scarier vocal approach) imbue most tracks with an 80s gothic hue: Nine Inch Nails meets The Cure is close (particularly on "Furnace Palms"), but Siscoe's tunes are much more deliberate, taking their sweet time to develop (for example, "Our Sculptor Was A Lazy Prince" takes half of it's allotted nine minutes building from an ambient, horror film soundtrack to a misbegotten tale of vivisection and dismemberment, while "We Had Frost On Our Bodies" repeats the same three-note sequence for its entire seven-minute length). Swans fans will eat this stuff up. In fact, I can envision some of the instrumental tracks ("Camella," "Sirens In Our Bed," "We Had Frost On Our Bodies," "A Third Eye On Every Child," and the scraping, dripping, oozing Alien-like monstrosity lurking behind closer, "Distance Steals Her Vapor") serving as the backdrop to any number of tales out of Gira's short story collection, The Consumer.

As nightmarish as the cover art that houses them (Siscoe is also an accomplished visual artist who designs all his own artwork a la Stone Breath's Timothy Renner), these sleepy, late-night, deliberately melancholic visions of dementia and other things that go bump in the night will likely give even H.P. Lovecraft the jitters, and are highly recommended to fans of Camera Obscura stablemates, Stone Breath, Goblin Market, the Iditarod and the enigmatic Dafydd of Alphane Moon and Our Glassie Azoth, as well as the goth gods previously mentioned. A real grody horrorshow not to be listened to alone in the dark!

James Hallihan - The Funky Misfit (Nuevotron)

Lounge lizard Hallihan's self-released debut treats us to a smooth collection of loose, Happy Hour attitude adjusters so tasty you can smell the gin and tonic dripping out of your speakers. So grab a tumbler full of ice and shake your groove thing to the opening title track, a funky stomper with some gnarly guitar licks, the sprightly, organ-driven "Groove DeVille" and the George Benson-inspired cha-cha, "Across The Desert Sky," which tosses in a stray, Bacharachian (and Bacchanalian!) string and piano tinkle for good measure.

"The Hush of Love" (another nod to Sir Burt?) is as smooth as a pink squirrel - just grab your sweetie for some cheek-to-cheek dancin' and romancin'. The remainder of the album is in the same smooth groove/mood, with occasional forays into late-night romantic orchestration a la Jackie Gleason, Les Brown, Lawrence Welk, et. al. I particularly enjoyed the vibes on "Cypress Shores" and the Francis Lai samba action crawling all over "It Came From Brazil." If you enjoy romantic film scores in the Henry Mancini mold (dig the closing trilogy of "Solitude," "Café Blue" and "Angel Noir"), or the more upbeat "new lounge" licks of last year's wonderful Roamin' Gabriels' Smile CD, you owe it to yourself to strap this on and become a Funky Misfit yourself.

The Coral - Magic and Medicine (Deltasonic)

The problem with the Brits' "Flavor of the Week" approach to music journalism is that it elevates incompetent crap to incomprehensible heights at an editor's whim in order to sell newspapers. As a result, us Yanks are constantly subjected to unlistenable shite and can do little more than shrug our shoulders and scratch our heads and await the next candidate. Please! Deliver us from evil. But until then, we're left to ponder the cheesy, Pythonesque "And Now For Something Completely Different" organ intro that opens the continuing Kink-y exploits of Arthur "In the Forest" on this Northern England (outside Liverpool) sextet's sophomore effort. "Don't Think You're The First" is an expansive, Morriconi-ish, western-flavored ditty in the style of "Baby The Rain Must Fall" or any of those weepy Roy Orbison epics that folks like Cliff Richard probably tossed off in their sleep back in the day - and it's just as silly and pretentious now as it was 40+ years ago. "Liezah" is sung by a hick with a walking stick and is as backwoods as its phonetic spelling. It kinda sounds like Poco-meets-New Riders and is one of the album's only highlights.

The loungy doo-wop cha cha of "Secret Kiss," complete with twangy guitar solo nicked form the James Bond theme is appallingly sad and misguided and by the time we reach the smoky, Threepenny Opera-antics of "Milkwood Blues," it's clear this band hasn't got a clue what they want to sound like and have instead opted to dump the kitchen sink in our laps. So, on "Bill McCai" they try and cross Adam and the Ants with Anthony Newley, and end up splitting the difference and giving us Neil Diamond instead. By album's end ("Eskimo Lament," "Careless Hands," etc.), we've deteriorated into a Holiday Inn-circuit lounge act with boring, sappy ballads which can only mean one thing: brace yourself for vocalist, James Skelly's solo album within the next year. You've been warned.

Keith Christmas - Timeless & Strange (Sanctuary)

Along with Steffen Basho-Junghans and Harris Newman, Christmas gave us last year's finest acoustic instrumental solo album (the aptly titled, Acoustica), and with his star on the rise again, the time seemed right for him to go through his back catalogue and select some early material to be remastered and reshared with his ever-increasing fanbase. Despite the assistance of backing band, Mighty Baby, Christmas virtually disowns his "horribly recorded" debut, Stimulous (RCA, 1969) (only a contemporary live rendition of "I Know You Can't Lose" and "Metropolis" make it onto the anthology - and the latter is mislabeled as being excavated from his second album!), so the majority of this package is dedicated to that second and third albums, Fable Of The Wings and Pigmy, presented in their entirety minus one song from each. The former is the stronger of the two and is one of the lost gems of British singer/songwriter psychedelia. Graced with a fluid, finger-picking style and a relaxing, lilting voice (I'm often reminded of Roy Harper doing an album of Nick Drake covers), Christmas has that rambling, earthy Harper-esque approach to songwriting that crams a lot of detail into his songs, making each one sound like a self-contained short story.

"Fable…" features a tight rhythm section, including the melodic, walking basslines of Pat Donaldson and the busy, yet intricate fills of Gerry Conway, all complimented by the omnipresent ivory tickling of Keith Tippett, who could make angels break out their red (dancing) shoes and head for the nearest pin head. Highlights abound, but I'd like to call particular attention to the swelling storm that ends "Waiting For The Wind To Rise," the middle jam on "Lorri," which deserved to be screaming every night from the Fillmore stages back in 1970, and the extended coda to "Hamlin." Those who enjoyed last year's Acoustica will find some of the roots of Christmas' finger-picking skills in the title track, which I'd love to hear arranged for (and played on) sitar. As majestic as anything on the Incredible String Band's 5,000 Spirits, or The Layers of The Onion! Suggestions to Fit & Limo and/or Craig (Lamp of the Universe) Williamson: learn this song immediately for your next album.

Occasionally, an Al Stewart bedsitting vibe wanders through the room; at other times Help Yourself comparisons avail themselves. Some of Christmas' solos also wouldn't be out of place on a CSNY album (check out "The Fawn, complete with the soaring soprano of Shelagh McDonald), and on more than one occasion I found myself reaching for Rod Goodway's J.P. Sunshine album (perhaps fitting that Christmas would spend some time in the Rustic one's Magic Muscle outfit alongside bassist Ade Shaw (Hawkwind, The Bevis Frond), who appears here on several of the Pigmy tracks.

Pigmy opens with the gorgeous, heartmelting, string-driven "Travelling Down," its melody eerily similar to Donovan's "Widow With Shawl" and reveals itself to be a lighter album, with Christmas' vocals sounding clearer and less breathy, as on the song which gives this anthology its title. Moving away from the earthy, bottom-heavy, cotton-mouthed, warm and fuzzy vibe of "Fable…," the focus shifts to the lyrics and the stories and Christmas' vocals, which have lost some of their raspy, gruff demeanor. Strings (arranged by Robert Kirby, fresh from Drake's Bryter Layter) also play a more prominent role and the songs are more personal, such as the short, tragic love song, "Poem." But "Song for A Survivor" is clearly the highlight here, with its extended sax-led jam courtesy Ray Warleigh (also a Bryter Layter sessioner). It dips its toe to test the cold, prog-y waters, but successfully cowers back before falling in and succumbing to prog's unhealthy excesses. In sum, the year is young, but this is an early candidate for Reissue of the Year.

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