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The proverbial cautionary warning, "Mayday" is the perfect clarion call for this month's collection of opinions masquerading as fact. As always, try to listen to some soundbyte samples online before shelling out your hard-earned money on my say so.

Of course, avoiding crap on my say so goes without saying...so.

The Livingroom Legends – Honeymoon (Baby Possum Records)

“Lovin’ Left,” the first track on this husband and wife duo (Mindy and Stephen Stephens) from Grovetown, GA’s debut album is a catchy, soft rocker in the finest tradition of The Byrds or Soul Asylum. And if there’s a dry eye in the house after hearing the gut-wrenching “Whitney LaRue,” then you don’t have a heart OR a soul. Fantastic stuff, despite possibly qualifying for the misinterpreted lyrics hall of fame: for the longest time, I thought they were singing, “Rent Me A Room.” But before you start wallowing in self pity, put those handkerchiefs away and set those toes a-tappin’ to the hard-driving rocker, “Colorado Wind,” with a subtle guitar solo that’ll have you Roger McGuinn freaks bowing in tribute. If the label had Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers name on it, this’d be a million-selling, number one hit single.

The soaring harmonies and swaying melody of “Fool” should be the benchmark for husband-wife duets for years to come. Hell, it should be required listening before ANY couple start recording. “How Could You?” is vintage New Riders of the Purple Sage (NRPS) dreamily crossed with Sweethearts of the Rodeo-era Byrds, and the Honeymoon just keeps getting better with each passing track. Special attention should be afforded “Another Number,” one of my faovrite songs of the year and, perhaps, the best song that (Lindsey) Buckingham (Stevie) Nicks never recorded.

Suffice it to say that if you’re into gorgeous harmonies, stoney, good-time country-rockin’ vibes and jingle-jangle mornings, you’ll want to join me in annointing Honeymoon as one of the Top 5 albums of the year. Add this to that Desert Island Disc collection that includes the first NRPS album, Soul Asylum’s Grave Dancers Union, The Traveling Wilburys Volume 1, Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks, 5 Chinese Brothers’ Singer, Songwriter, Beggerman, Thief, Blue Rodeo’s Five Days In May, and your favorite Byrds, Wallflowers, Wilco and Jayhawks albums. It’s not only that good, in some cases, it’s better.

The Minus 5 - In Rock (Yep Roc)

The screaming garage fuzz of instrumental opener, "Bambi Molester" immediately kicks this testosterone-fueled collection of power pop monsters into hyperdrive, and the party never stops until the fading guitar solo's note-for-note rendition of Bobby Darin's classic "Over the Sea" a dozen winners later. That finale is one of two songs which stick familiar titles on original tunes (the whimsical "The Night Chicago Died Again" being the other) and these are just some of the indications that the band is having way too much fun. There's infectious bubblegum pop ("Dear My Inspiration," complete with cheesy keyboard breaks), one of the catchiest songs ever about a dead ex- ("In A Lonely Coffin"), and long-lost Jonathan Richman-inspired pop hilarity on "The Forgotten Fridays" (with a completely off-the-wall coda that has to be heard to be believed.)

Drummer Bill Rieflin taps out the riff from Bay City Rollers' "Saturday Night" to open "Courage is The Smallest Bird," and the band wears their influences on their sleeves by dropping in the middle eight from Richard Hell's "Love Comes In Spurts" to keep us on our toes. Beatles fans will be forgiven if they mistake "The Girl I Never Met" for the best Lennon/McCartney tune that Neil Innes never wrote, and T. Rex fans will be scouring their bootlegs and b-sides collections for the source of the appropriately titled "Cosmic Jive," refusing to believe it's not a long lost Marc Bolan original. And by the time you realize that "The Night Chicago Died Again" is not a cover of the aforementioned Paper Lace bubblegum classic, but a tongue-in-cheek lament about the downfall of one of singer/songwriter/guitarist/madman Scott McCaughey's favorite bands, you'll be hopelessly hooked into the story and have to start the track over again to appreciate McCaughey's clever lyrics.

A rollicking power pop party with gnarly garage overtones, In Rock is a lunchbox full of rock and roll history and a high-octane hootenany from beginning to end that may best be appreciated by fans of the Nuggets box, Jonathan Richman and The Modern Lovers, Iggy & the Stooges, Richard Hell & The Voidoids, and just about everyone else with a couple of cold ones under their belt. An instant classic of its type and easily The Minus 5's finest moment to date.

Marissa Nadler - Ballads of Living and Dying  (Self-released)

Marissa’s voice soars like the choir invisible on “Ballad To An Amber Lady,” the opening track to the second volume of the Tom Rapp and Pearls Before Swine tribute trilogy, For the Dead In Space. Marissa read my review and contacted me with the great news that she had just completed her debut album, on which she plays all the instruments and provides all the voices (minus some psychedelic ambient backing guitar from producer Myles Baer and vocal assistance on the opener). It’s a gentle collection of folky ballads, highlighted by Nadler’s hauntingly beautiful, angelic vocals. “Fifty Five Falls” opens the album with an achingly forlorn and lonely vocal over a haunting backing, while “Virginia” lightens the load somewhat with a lilting, swaying Leonard Cohen-esque melody. [Check Marissa’s website for her interpretation of Cohen’s “Famous Blue Raincoat,” along with a couple of other exclusive tracks that reveal a kittenish Hope (Mazzy Star) Sandoval side of her voice.] “Box of Cedar” has the warmth and intimacy of Buffy Sainte-Marie’s early work. In fact, anyone planning a Buffy tribute should contact Nadler immediately; she would do a killer interpretation of “Guess Who I Saw In Paris.” That mellow, provocative vibe runs throughout Ms. Nadler’s debut.

Marissa breaks out the banjo for “Stallions,” one of those old time murder ballads that Timothy Renner does so well in his Stone Breath and, particularly, Spectral Light & Moonshine Firefly Snakeoil Jamboree projects. As such, it’s a perfect candidate for his next Hand/Eye wyrdfolk compilation. The organ that dances around Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda’s “Hay Tantos Muertos” [“There Are So Many Deaths”] adds a bit of hope and a touch of old European charm to her haunting interpretation. Finally, the album closes with another poignant murder ballad, “Bed of Solid Stone,” an instant wyrdfolk classic. At the time of writing, Ms. Nadler was entertaining offers from several labels to release this gem. Whoever the winner of the “sign Marissa Nadler sweepstakes” is, they can rest assured they have one of the year’s finest releases on their hands.

Bedroom Walls – I Saw You Coming Back To Me (Giant Pets)

OK, so naming your album after one of my favorite Jefferson Airplane songs is gonna win you brownie points, but hiding behind a megaphone can’t disguise the fact that “Winter, That’s All” is a blatant Luna ripoff. Still, I think even Dean-o “Vino” Wareham would admit this El Lay band has got his musical arrangement down pat, so we’ll give it a cautionary thumbs up. Just don’t make a habit of it and lose the “Winchester Cathedral” vocal technique next time. The twee duet between guitarist/vocalist/songwriter, Adam Goldman and  ex-keyboardist Melissa Thorne [that’s right…more in a moment] on “The Dog’s Life” is almost too delicate for its own good, like Holiday Flyer or any number of those anonymous, fey Darla bands. Perhaps realizing the dangerously hopeless direction they’re heading in, the band pulls a total about face on “More “Real Cats”” (the title refers to their publishing company),  a multi-directional pastiche of instrumental passages that’ll please former Tortoise fans who rue the day they abandoned the rock idiom and turned into a boring jazz band.

“There’s Nothing To See In The Morning Light” is another instrumental, this time a lazy floater for whiling away hot summer afternoons in a backyard hammock, although what that inaudible nonsense at the end is, I have no idea. “Landlord! Watch! Coffin! Angels!” (geez, these titles – I guess that’s what happens when you’re essentially an instrumental band and need to come up with something to distinguish the songs from one another) is a slow-poke waltz across the Ponderosa, complete with backporch whistling, and “Making Atoms Jump Like Trick Dogs” (see what I mean about the titles?) continues Goldman’s frustrating start/stop, stutter-step approach to composition that makes almost every track sound like three or four songs edited together to form a single track. Inevitably, the parts are much stronger than the whole, and we’re left with an unsettling listening experience where songs end and begin in the unlikeliest of places. On the latter, I thought the song ended about four or five different times before I saw the track indicator change!

Don’t get me wrong, the segments are gorgeous (the band coined the fairly accurate term “romanticore” to describe their sound), it’s just the editing and assemblage that needs work. And those brownie points I gave them earlier are hereby forfeited for not giving the aforementioned Thorne more to do. I could listen to her delicately whispered, sexy, coo-coo-ca-choos on closer, “I’ve Been Thinking A Lot About Dots On The Wall” all day long. Unfortunately, Goldman is the only remaining member of the band that recorded this album, as drummer Julian Gross has hightailed it over to godawful NYC hype mongers, Liars, and Thorne, who has a Masters degree in Fine Arts from the California Institute of the Arts seems to have returned to her first love, painting. It remains to be heard what their five(!) replacements will sound like next time, but until Goldman can learn to string his beautiful segments together into a complete “song,” I’m gonna have to suggest borrowing a friend’s copy before deciding to purchase your own.

Starsailor - Silence Is Easy (EMI)

Another winner of the seemingly endless parade of England's "best new band" sweepstakes, Starsailor's sophomore effort sticks to the old adage, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." Since most people don't base their "buy/pass" decision on the recommendation (or warning) of reviewers like myself, let's keep it simple and say if you liked their Love Is Here debut, you'll probably enjoy this as well and can move along to the next review. But for those of you who at least take these reviews with a grain of salt and a shot of 151, read on for an important cautionary announcement. In two words: this sucks. Let me 'splain, Lucy.

Overloaded with self-important, anthemic ballads ("Fidelity," "Some of Us," "Four To The Floor" - a blatant U2-ripoff if ever I heard one, "Born Again") and outright snoozers ("Bring My Love" and the title track) that probably go over like gangbusters in concert, but are boring and pretentious on record . Even the more upbeat tracks (I wouldn't use the word "rockers" by any stretch of the imagination) like "Silence Is Easy" are little more than weak imitations of old Waterboys and World Party castoffs. Sure they're catchy, but I'd rather break out my This Is The Sea and Goodbye Jumbo records instead.

Singer James Walsh has an annoying habit of singing every song like a cross between Richard Ashcroft and Ian McCulloch with a sinus infection, and perhaps, with the recent demise of both The Verve and Echo & The Bunnymen, Starsailor are attempting to fill that void. But they'll have to come up with a much stronger set of tunes to approach the back catalogue of majestic gems and near misses of those illustrious powerhouses.

For nondiscriminating Britpop, Waterboys, World Party, Echo & The Bunnymen and The Verve fans only, this is running nip and tuck with The Coral's Magic and Medicine for the most overrated, pretentious twaddle to emerge from England this year.

CatDesigners – Strange Little Creature (Googlie Mooglie)

Opening with the unusual arrangement that is part vaudeville, part doo-wop and part Rumour (as in Graham Parker and…), “Vain As I Am” sets the stage for a quirky-yet-hummable sophomore effort from these Londoners. The exquisite harmonies and wall-of-sound pop production continues on “A Mind Like Mine,” a rather unabashed tribute to Jeff Lynne and his Electric Light Orchestra. The title track features a catchy little melody that wouldn’t be out of place on a Julian Cope album. There’s a glossy, 80’s pop sheen to the production throughout, which occasionally works to its detriment, particularly on “Freak Show,” which tries to up the glam quotient by getting down and dirty, but is a bit too structured with it’s perfect harmonies and just-so fuzzy guitar runs. A little dirtier or sloppier and it could’ve given Slade a run for their money. As it stands, it sounds more like Queen, and there in a nutshell is my overall impression: Slade plays Queen. Not necessarily a bad thing!

Lisa Cerbone – Ordinary Days (Little Scrubby)

The opening guitar strum of “Swallowing Stones” has Red House Painter, Mark Kozelek’s signature style written all over it, which is only fitting considering he produced and plays guitar on this third release from Cerbone, my fellow New Jersey native and current Baltimore, Maryland resident. But as soon as her helium-voiced, chipmunk warble takes over, it’s clear this is not your big brother’s Red House Painters album. In fact, the country-tinged, minor-keyed “How You Shine” sounds more like Nicolette Larson covering another Neil Young tune like “Comes A Time” or “Ambulance Blues.” So while it may take a few tracks for your brain to adjust to Cerbone’s little-girl voice, you’ll soon realize you’re on to a fresh new talent worthy of your attention.

Highlighted by a romantic, second-set, coffeehouse intimacy, these gorgeous, soulful melodies soar over Kozelek’s gentle, finger-picked backing, which thankfully never threatens to run away with the schoolgirl charm of Cerbone’s self-penned tunes, although he does roll up his sleeves and break out the effects pedal on “Ruthless Order.” Occasionally, as on “Love Grows Slow,” Cerbone reminds me of Mary Lou Lord’s recent collaborations with Nick (The Bevis Frond) Saloman, both of which are more upbeat, mirror images of this fine collection of folky ballads. But, never one to wallow in self-pity, Cerbone also gives us “Mrs. Foster,” one of those “play twice before listening” tracks that you’ll want to return to in order to fully appreciate its tearjerking sentiment. It’s also one of several pieces that feature a subtle backing vocal from Kozelek.

Sad, thought-provoking, and heartbreakingly beautiful, these ten tracks are guaranteed to put a thousand yard stare on the faces of even the most jaded, thick-skinned listeners.

Electric Turn To Me – “Clouds Move So Fast” EP (No Quarter)

On “Pick Up the Trail,” the opening track on this NYC quartet’s second EP, German vocalist Silke continues to embody the reincarnated vocal histrionics of Hazel O’Connor and Beki Bondage of the Brit punk movie (Breaking Glass) and band (Vice Squad) respectively, tainted with liberal doses of a punky Toyah (particularly on “20 Eyes in the Car”). Occasionally, her vocals are distressingly overmodulated and poorly recorded (most annoyingly noticeable on “Wrestle With Me Angel”), giving each track a much lower-fi veneer than is necessary.  Comparisons with concrete blonde, Johnette Napolitano are also probably inevitable, although Silke is more emotive, even if the songs aren’t that catchy. However, the band does provide a suitably, skronky racket behind her. As with most punk bands, seeing is believing, and the emotional breakdown of “Cornelius” probably plays better on stage than on record, and “One Second” is way-too melodramatic without visual reference points. A bonus video track might have helped its cause. The jury is still out on this one; I’d like to hear what they do with a full length before writing them off completely.

The Amber Smith – “From Upper Lip To Lower Hip” EP (Version City)

Named after the Sports Illustrated swimsuit babe-cum-Playboy covergirl (or maybe it was just the same-named friend of bandleader and ex-BMX Bandit, Lawrence Kim), this Brooklyn-based quartet plays power pop/bubblegum rock for the masses, but their cleverly-titled debut EP will probably best be appreciated by all you shorthaired, skinny-tied, pointy-shoed, gangly geeks whose idea of exercise is sweating off those gin and tonics on the dancefloor. Opener “Yeah Yeah Yeah” oozes vintage Knack, Rubinoos, and 20/20 nostalgia, making the following finger-popper, “1984” about four years too late, but its heart and happy feet are in the right place. They even toss in a slowdancing cuddlefest (“She Says It’s All Too Much”) to let you catch your breath, although it does sound like something that I’d dance to at a wedding. “You Don’t Have To Stay (Go)” is a 21^st century hootenanny – think Sha Na Na meets the Four Seasons at a backyard kegger/barbecue, and “Zelda” is another hook-laden singalong that invites favorable comparisons to the beloved Shoes. So if your favorite TV show is “I Love the 80’s” and all your favorite bands start with “The,” this is the record to relive your formative years. Slap it on, crank it up and let it all hang out. My only advice to Kim & Co. is to go back in the studio and don’t come out until you’ve got a full length for us.

Frank Jordan – Milk the Thrills (Devil in the Woods)

To paraphrase the old Blondie marketing catchphrase, “Frank Jordan Is A Group.” Why they’ve chosen, like the previously reviewed Amber Smith, to hide behind this pseudonym is not exactly clear, but judging from the infectious, ‘80’s-styled pop jumping off the Sacramento, CA trio’s sophomore effort, perhaps “Difford & Tilbrook” would’ve been a better choice for their nom de group. Call ‘em what you will, just don’t throw “prolific” into the mix: this is only the second full length in their decade-long career. But it’s a good ‘un. Think Squeeze meets XTC with just the right tinge of 60’s British psychedelia. For starters, if you can imagine Difford & Tilbrook penning “Sowing the Seeds of Love” and then sprinkling on melodies from Timebox’s “Gone Is The Sad Man,” you’d be in the neighborhood of the groove running through “Green Light, Red Light.”

Halloween, Alaska – Halloween, Alaska (Princess)

They say there’s a thin line between love and hate…pleasure and pain…Peter Gabriel and Sting…? Well, that’s the impression left by this provocative debut from these veterans of the Minneapolis, Minnesota indie scene, which combines Gabriel’s languid, cinematic melodies with Sting’s jazzy pop sensibilities and smooth-as-glass delivery. Opener “You’re It” is perfect for your late night, smooth groove, getting laid mix tape, and “Call It Clear” features nice percussive work (which drives the song without drowning it in effects) from David King, and is a hummable pop gem with hit single written all over it. James Diers sings the band’s theme song, “Halloween” in an echo chamber, and rips off a great Vini Reilly-inspired guitar solo in the middle. It’s also pleasantly reminiscent of some of the quieter pieces on Tobin Sprout’s brilliant Moonflower Plastic.

The Houston Brothers – The Houston Brothers (Self-released)

Let’s see: their surnames are Faircloth and they’re from Charlotte, NC, so calling themselves The Houston Brothers makes about as much sense as calling your band The Thompson or Cocteau Twins. At least these guys are brothers. I think…. Nomenclature aside, “Lovin’ You is Such a Drag” is an intriguing cross between Pink Floyd and The Church going (alt.)country, and it had me chomping at the bit for more. Luckily, the Faircloth, er, Houston Brothers live up to this early promise and deliver a solid collection of tears-in-your-beer soap operas that’ll have you mopping up the dancefloor with your sweetheart in the best Jayhawks and Wallflowers tradition. Highlights include the swaying rocker (“Portland”), the harmony-filled tearjerker (“Star”), the Floydian, Dark Side of The Moon-ish (“Bluejays”) with its cool honky-tonk piano solo and stadium-ready Gilmour-esque guitar solo, and the exquisite Wallflowers-meet-Counting Crows harmonies on “This Afternoon.” 

The lovely melodies and easy, laid-back vibe throughout will have you coming back to this album again and again, making it, along with the latest from In-Flight Safety, Graham Parker, and The Livingroom Legends, the finest alt.country release so far this year.

The International Playboys – First Album (Motron)

From the ear-piercing shrill of the opening guitar note of “American King Cobra,” it’s clear these Missoula, Montana punkers are graduates of the “loud…fast…rules” school of rock. Throat-shredding screamer, Colin Hickey howls his way through these ten tracks with the velocity and ferocity of Iggy on steroids. Of course, this is nothing that we haven’t already heard from the new school of Scandinavian punk in the guise of Finland’s Flaming Sideburns and Sweden’s Hives, so originality is out of the question.

While Hickey and Co. have no problem working up a sweat, it’s pretty much ado about nothing, as few songs rise above the mundane, sloppy, garage rock mentality. Special attention should be paid to highlights, “My Car Is An Alcoholic,” which slows things down to a Sabbathian roar and even nicks the synth solo melody from The Who’s “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” which could be a multi-level, genius pun if done intentionally (read: “Won’t Get Fueled Again”), but that’s way too deep for these cowtippers. I also liked the two finales: the anthemic theme song, “Playboy, Inc.” and the hidden track, both of which  probably sound great at about 2 A.M. on a Sunday morning with your head sloshing around a few keggers. While this is enough for some folks, and might appeal to fans of overhyped noisemongers like The Vines and White Stripes, it’s a great big Excedrin Headache #253 for others, who may not be fond of people screaming at them at the top of their lungs. My advice is to sit down, take a chill pill, and throw on John Prine’s “Quit Hollerin’ At Me.” Otherwise, you may end up like the narrator of “Si Sick!,” who screams, “ I feel sick/Can’t handle this/No cure for this/’Cause I’m fuckin’ sick.” Amen. Period. End of sentence. End of review.

Herzog (aka Kinski) – Don’t Climb On and Take the Holy Water (Strange Attractors Audio House)

No, those aren’t the titles of the A- and B-sides of their latest single, but the curiously surreal offering from Kinski’s guitarists (Chris Martin, Matthew Reid-Schwartz and bassist Lucy Atkinson) masquerading under their Herzog alter-ego. Now this isn’t the first collection of live, improvisational jams to hit the streets (Abunai!’s Round Wound comes immediately to mind), and we all know how they can often deteriorate into a non-stop orgy of self-indulgent guitar wankery or electronic noodling, but (like Abunai!), Seattle’s psychedelic juggernaut (mostly) avoids the pitfalls by keeping the experiments to a minimum and focusing on their strengths – the live performance setting.

The opening drone, “Never Compete With Small Girls” is a heavy-lidded nodder that’s perfectly suited to fans of Stars of the Lid and Windy & Carl, and makes a fine addition to that “Music To Fall Asleep To” mix tape you’ve been assembling over the years. But it’s the album’s massive half-hour centerpiece (“The Misprint in The Gutenberg Print Shop”) that everyone will be talking about in hushed whispers of reverential awe. Recorded live at the I-Spy club in Seattle, it’s tempting to toss about names like Pink Floyd and titles like “Echoes,” Careful With That Axe, Eugene” and “Astronomy Domine” after a first, cursory listening. But on subsequent listens, closer analysis reveals strands of Grimble Grumble’s brilliant (head)space rock classic, “Future: The Only Point of Entry” as well as elements of the quieter moments from Acid Mothers Temple (with whom Kinski recently shared a split LP).

A slowly rising behemoth of electronics from Atkinson’s (JX-3P) and Martin’s (JP-8000) Roland synths and oscillator, and Schwartz’ particularly subtle flutework flutter out of your speakers and gently cascade down the melting walls of your psyche. After ten minutes of Buddha-like communion with your inner being, a soft, gently reflective middle section floats around the room on the back of Martin’s simple, repetitive guitar riff. At 18 minutes, you can hear a pin drop in the room (remember, this is a LIVE recording!), as the audience, obviously stunned into catatonic oblivion, has all but taken leave of their corporeal transports and their collective (sub)conscious hangs in the room like the sweet smoke of success: ahhh, Nirvana! (The state, not the group…duh!)

But wait! We still have ten minutes to go! And it’s here that Schwartz’ flute wafts into the room, commingling with the collective buzz and welcoming all comers to a magic carpet ride to the stars. The saddest part is, judging from the audience response at the end, it sounds like there were only about a half dozen people in the room that night. So kudos to Chris Schofield and Strange Attractors for capturing this moment in time and preserving it for the edification of future generations to come. In sharp contrast, the next two pieces (“Crepes the Cheap” and “Bulky Knit Cheerleader Sweater”) are, as their titles suggest, weird instrumentals…little more than experimental collages of musique concrete filtered through a myriad of effects that probably only the most adventurous fans of the genre’s inventor, Pierre Schaeffer, will listen to more than once. And the closer (“There’s Nothing Sexy About Time”) is an exercise in futility as we strain to hear the barely audible musical rumblings. However, it’s the half-hour mindfuck that is the album’s selling point, and it’s strong enough to make it appeal to more than just the casual Kinski completist.

Eugene McDaniels – Intimate Screams and Whispers (Self-released)

The funkmeister Left Rev. McD returns after a criminally overlong three-and-a-half decade absence with this bluesy, ballsy, wailin’ ‘n’ sailin’ collection of soulful grooves. “Trapped” features screaming guitar solos from John Patti, and McDaniels’ smooth, breathy vocals, not unlike Hendrix. Some jazzy ivory tinkling from co-writer/arranger Ted Brancato propels McD’s pining plea for sanity in a world seemingly bent on nuclear destruction (“Nuclear Dancing”) and Leyna (no surname) takes center stage for “You’ve Taken All” and, believe you me, this ain’t no “American Idol” reject. This sister can wail, baby! Sing it, mama. Whoa! There’re also some nice harmonies from Eugene’s son, Mateo Denali and a tasty “Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard” guitar vibe courtesy Woody Allen (no, not THAT one!) chugging along in the background.

Matt Langley’s wailing tenor sax solo opens “Too Rare,” a finger-poppin’, be-boppin’ duet with McD’s co-producer, Carrie Coltrane (no, not THAT one either!), which also features Brancato’s happy fingers on piano. (McD and Coltrane have known each other for over 20 years and Eugene produced and collaborated on Carrie’s solo albums, Child Inside My Heart, Flamenco Sketches and The First Time, all released on the Numoon imprint they formed in 1996. Many of the label’s “house band” musicians, including Langley and Brancato, also appear throughout this recording.) McD turns the reins over to his son, Jam Master Django, who programmed all the instruments and provides the cautionary motor-mouthed rap on “Babies and Raisin’s,” sort of a cross between Tom Tom Club’s “Wordy Rappinghood” and another of Ian Dury’s “Reasons To Be Cheerful, Pt. III.” Let’s call this “Part IV.” Vocal assistance from Gene’s daughter, Dali and son, Mateo and Coltrane’s son, Daniel Kearns makes this one a true family affair.

Fans of McD’s 1970 debut “comeback” album, Outlaw, know the Left Rev is a straight-shooting proselytizer who won’t take no shit from no “evil people,” be they corporate execs or double-speaking politicos. So the funky soap-box sermon, “Alien” (with backing vocals from sons, Mateo and Django) should come as no surprise that he isn’t afraid to kick ass and take names. Behold, ye, the wrath of McD: his warnings are righteous…his aim is true. His heart grows weary for the heartless and cruel.

Rockers will enjoy the barnstormin’ footstomper, “All Night” (kudos once again to Patti’s nasty guitar licks and Coltrane’s backing vocals), and the emotionally gut-wrenching, smoky, latenight caberet confessional “Long Way From Home” features an elaborate arrangement (wonderfully done by McD and Coltrane) with Brancato once again providing an impressive piano and bass accompaniment, highlighted by McD’s powerfully evocative voice which totally belies his 69 years. So, whether your tastes run to Isaac Hayes, Sly Stone or The Chambers Brothers, there’s no denyin’ you be flyin’ over this triumphant return. Get down and get funky with the Left Rev McD! [Note: The disk is currently available directly from Ms. Coltrane via her Numoon website listed above.]

Pedal Steel Transmission – The Angel of the Squared Circle (Cardboard Sangria)

This Chicago quartet’s third release opens with the loungy, Hawaiian cha-cha of “Waiting,” and after about nine minutes you start to realize this is not just another cheeky lounge cash-in album. There’s some serious shit going on here. After a 45-second palate cleanser-cum-electronic filler, “Amy” sashays into the room like Dire Straits wielding that eponymous pedal steel. Unfortunately, “It’s Only A Day ‘til My Bed Is Warm” is ALL segue of backward electronics and no song, but “Breakin’ Windows Everywhere” sets things right with a sleepy, drawling observation of life as seen through heavy eyelids – call it “stoner country.”

“In Mourning” is built around a pretty piano melody, but the noisy background effects relegate it to the interlude-y filler bin and we’re left with a beautiful instrumental passage waiting for a song that never arrives. However, I really like the jazzy, surf instro intro to “Editene,” but the dissonant, lyrical second half of the song is eminently forgettable and truly does need some “EditING” [sic]. Which, like the Bedroom Walls reviewed above, is the major problem with this release. There are many great ideas and beautiful passages here, they just need to be tightened up to lose all the filler and maybe next time PST will have a real winner on their hands. As it stands, there are about 4 or 5 great tracks, but a half dozen others are in search of the skip button.

Roy Loney & The Longshots – Drunkard in the Think Tank (Career)

For those of you who like your rock and roll fast, loose and rowdy, former Flamin’ Groovie/Phantom Mover, and current loony, Loney is right up your alley. Roy assembled The Longshots (then known as The Northwest Movers, but essentially, Seattle’s Young Fresh Fellows in disguise) for some Pacific Northwest gigs back in 1992. The following year found the rechristened Longshots’ highlighting the Garage Shock Festival in Bellingham, Washington, and in 1995 they released their debut album, the live, Spanish-only, Kick Out The Hammmons.  Now, nearly a decade later, Roy is back with The Longshots in tow and you can thrill to the reckless “Johnny’s Got A One-Track Mind,” a punny tribute to ex-NY Doll, Johnny Thunders (?), the country-tinged rockabilly of John Fogarty’s “You Don’t Owe Me” (from his Blue Ridge Rangers project) and the twangy Ray Davies’ overtones on the Kink-y “He Talks To Himself.” And if Dave Edmunds and Wreckless Eric ever got together to write a song and then convinced Gary Glitter to sing it for them, it might sound something like “Nobody Does It.”

“Grapey Wine” grabs you by the throat and tosses you on the dancefloor, and its walking bassline will have you shaking your tailfeathers into the wee hours: think Stray Cats with an extra kick in their step. Fancy a bit of mud wrestling? Nothing gets down and dirtier than “Steam” and if Roy Orbison were alive today he’d be wise to put “Five Times A Fool” on his next album, but since he’s not we have the pleasure of hearing Loney play the role of the poor, broken-hearted title character.

If Brit pop-punkers The Boys and The Lurkers ever got together to assassinate The Beatles “I Saw Her Standing There,” the results would sound something like Loney’s rousing rendition of the obscure Chartbusters raver, “She’s The One.” If there’s a catchier rocker that’s been released this year, I’ve yet to hear it. Boys, you’ve got your debut single right here! Elsewhere, the theatrical snarl of “Such A Nice Boy” revives the beloved memory of the Sensational Alex Harvey Band and (to quote Woody Allen) “achieves total heaviosity” and “Hang With Me” contains the nastiest guitar solo I’ve heard all year. Quite simply, a dirty, rockin’, catchy, toe-tappin’ winner from start to finish and another fine release from Bozeman, Montana’s finest little homegrown label.

Deniz Tek and Scott Morgan – 3 Assassins (Career)

This live album, which was recorded in Italy and France in 2001, opens with “Future Now,” a nasty, sloppy, dirty-assed rock and roll barnstormer that sounds like Mountain let loose in the garage. The rest of this hourlong set finds the gnarly barband (Tek and Morgan on guitars, joined by Roman punk trio, The Sonic Assassins: Romano and Pippo Pasquini and third guitarist, Stefano Constantini) at the peak of their powers. You can practically smell the beer pouring out of your speakers. Occasionally, the recording quality is a little lo-fi, but there’s no denying the group’s enthusiasm, and a loose and raucous Heartbreakers vitality (Johnny Thunders, not Tom Petty) permeates this electrifying set, highlighted by several bloody-fingered guitar duels.

Other highlights include “Runaway Slaves” (a cover of Morgan’s old Hydromatics’ tune), which here becomes another Mountain-esque scorcher with a “Mississippi Queen” vibe, and the blazing Ramones-meets-Motorhead cover of Tek’s “Blood From A Stone” (originally on his Outside album). A couple of Stooges covers, “I Got A Right” and “TV Eye” round out the insanity. Your own enjoyment may be tempered by how big a fan you are of Motor City madmen like Iggy and the MC 5. Morgan, of course, was a founding member of Sonic’s Rendezvous Band with the latter’s Fred “Sonic” Smith and the former’s drummer, Scott Ashton (their only official release, the classic “City Slang” single is covered here to terrific effect, as are four other Rendezvous live favorites), and both Tek and Morgan have toured with Scott’s brother and former Stooge guitarist, Ron Ashton. But even the general populace will enjoy this fun-fueled set enough to catching Deniz and Scott when they come to your town.

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