When a band hits the big time, it’s only a matter of time before the money-making machine starts its engine, and in this day and age, that means re-releases. Most rock bands that sign a major label deal do so on the strength of an independent release, so sending that unknown release out to the masses is a great way for smaller labels gain profits on the band they helped start out. The downside is that these early releases often were made when the band had a different sound, and in this case, even a different lead singer. Be warned Yellowcard fans, this is not the MTV style band you know. To start off with, I’m not afraid to admit that I love the Yellowcard song “Only One,” a song that I couldn’t get out of my head for weeks. On top of that, the violin component intrigued me, especially hearing how that sounded in the early days of the band. Unfortunately, hearing a band in their early days isn’t always a joy, and Where We Stand isn’t any exception. From start to finish, the disc fails to really jump up and grab you. It isn’t obscenely bad or anything, but it sounds like any other punk rock start up band you could hear in any town in the country. A few tracks like “Uphill Both Ways” and “Anywhere But Here” might spark your interest for a minute or two, but unless you are a die hard fan, there isn’t much else here. Yellowcard addicts might want to pick this up, but for the rest of the world there really isn’t any reason to go seeking this release out. [www.yellowcardrock.com]

Child actors usually don’t make out so well in the adult world of entertainment, and to a degree the same can be said for child musicians. David Cassidy, The Osmonds, and a slew of young hot stars in the 60’s and 70’s never were able to maintain that level of success into adulthood, and with the recent influx of young stars in the pop scene, one wonders if any of them will be in the news 20 years from now. In the 90s the “too good to be that young” movement was lead out of Australia by Silverchair, a group of teens who burst on the scene stateside with the grunge look and sound. Headed by Daniel Johns, the press jumped on the age angle of such a young man leading such a successful band, but lost in the mix was one fact, the kid was actually talented. Now an experienced old man in his twenties, Johns has split from Silverchair and split from his old sound to form The Dissociatives, a two man group more akin to Radiohead's Kid A than anything remotely Silverchair. In particular the opening track, “We’re Much Preferred Customers,” sounds like it could have been a Kid A b-side release, a very nice track overall. “Somewhere Down The Barrel” continues the experimental sound, but this time mixed with a bit of a pop vibe, and is a success all around. The follow up, “Horror With Eyeballs,” continues the progression adding a more epic aspect to its sound. The atmosphere is maintained throughout the album by the sprinkling of instrumental tracks like the Beatles influenced “Lifting The Veil From The Braille” and “Paris circa 2007slash08”. The dreamy “Forever And A Day” and slightly up-tempo “Thinking In Reverse” keep your interest from waning in between the sometimes boring instrumentals. Kudos for Johns and partner Paul Mac for making an ambitious album that is pulled off quite well. The only real downfall of the disc is that it isn’t something I can imagine popping in my car or listening to on a consistent basis. While the disc is beautiful and adventurous, it isn’t a disc that outwardly blows you away but rather leaves you amused and pleased at a job well done. [www.thedissociatives.com]

The fact that Mustard Plug, of all bands, has a greatest hits compilation results in me feeling ancient at 21. Covering 11 years of third wave ska from these nerds from Michigan, Masterpieces initially comes off as unnecessary. I say this because, well, who actually listens to Mustard Plug? Not that I don’t have a place in my heart for them, but from my experience, Mustard Plug and most of their peers remain skulking in our adolescence. Where at one time this style of music was fairly popular, and Mustard Plug was one of the more enjoyable bands of the third wave revival, they pushed no boundaries and haven’t left a legacy. Then again, maybe there are enough nerds out there who have been yearning for a best of album from these guys since their last album in 2002. It’s certainly not a business strategy to capitalize on a band whose popularity peaked probably eight years ago. So, maybe it’s merely a final tribute to a band unafraid to be silly and carefree while writing incredibly catchy, funny songs. “Mr. Smiley,” “Lolita,” “Yesterday,” “Everything Girl,” they’re all here. While I can’t see myself ever listening to Mustard Plug again, save for nostalgia’s sake, Masterpieces fulfills its purpose and should do the same for all of you who unabashedly admit to listening to them in the days of wet dreams, pimples, heartbreak, and all the other things that come with being a teenager. [www.mustardplug.com]

The boys from Gomez offer up a two-disc live album recorded live at the Fillmore in San Francisco. Okay, I’ll say it now: despite loving live music in the flesh, I’m not the biggest fan of live albums. Many a time I have come away disappointed that the quality and content didn’t live up to my high expectations for a band. Not so with Gomez’s Out West. One of the band’s distinctive qualities is dynamic, layered vocals that punch, tear and float through every song. This quality is not compromised here. The band’s sound is well-represented on all fronts, clear and powerful, unhampered by technical flubs. And Gomez delivers. When considering a live album, I ask myself “How is the sound? (In this case, very good) and “Do the live versions of the songs bring something new to the table without affecting their original enjoyableness?” I am glad to report that the deviations are pulled off well and with the energy only a live performance can generate. “Get Miles” serves as a great opener to the entire effort, and really sets the pace and expectation for the rest of the album. With twenty songs (none particularly short), there is a lot to listen to, but Out West should be able to keep your attention. Disc two is as good as the first, starting off fun and funky before moving into a emotive cover of Nick Drake’s “Black Eyed Dog” and beyond. I’ve never caught Gomez in concert, but this two-disc live set whet my appetite for a show. Next time they come around, I’ll likely have a ticket in hand. [www.gomez.co.uk]

The debut EP from Chicago four-piece Essenza exists in that realm of music between somewhat easy listening and earnest expression through languid, ethereal spacescapes. Vocalist Jane Zabeth carries each song through a collection of beats, strings, keyboard twinges, lulling bass lines, and the subtle strum of acoustic guitar. Reminscent of the types of music previously brought to you by the likes of Morcheeba, DJ Food, and a plethora of other downtempo artists Essenza does not seek to rock your body, move your feet, or motivate you in any way other than to lie down and let your eyelids slowly close. Granted, that's also an apt description for music that could be incredibly boring but tracks like "Between Caffeine and Daydreams" and "Weightless Smile" float so gently by that they are easy to let drift into the background. As a downtempo disc, it does its job quite well. The songs are gentle, the vocals are somewhat sad and bemoaning, and the music could easily be plugged right into a movie score featuring a crossfading montage of scenes where your lead character reminds themselves of why they miss character B so much. As a disc being reviewed on a primarily rock website, it certainly seems a bit out of place, but this is one for those of you who enjoy the candlelit nights with a nice bottle of merlot and some fromage. [www.essenzamusic.com]

While 2005 marks the debut of Nightmare of You, the respective members have been involved in several notable bands. Frontman Brandon Reilly formerly held down lead guitar in The Movielife, while drummer Sammy Siegler previously contributed his talents to CIV and, most recently, Rival Schools. One probably wouldn't expect this foursome of Long Island natives to churn out a healthy dose of amorous, undeniably catchy pop music, but that's exactly what their self-titled debut boasts. With a sound that centers on strong melodies, Reilly brings Nightmare of You's songs to life with his tales of sex, love and loss. The strange mix of pristine arrangements with melancholy narratives works well for Reilly and crew. "The Days Go By Oh So Slow" opens the set with an up-tempo romp, all the while Reilly croons sweet nothings to his anonymous lover. A pulsating bass line and various electronic touches give way to an undeniable catchy chorus on "My Name Is Trouble." Then, "Heaven Runs On Oil" closes the album with a somber ballad that slightly touches on the current state of world affairs. Without dropping names, it's not hard to uncover the influences behind Nightmare of You -- especially since their own biography cites a reference to the "1980's Manchester scene." Nevertheless, Nightmare of You was intent to introduce a refreshing sound into music today. By leaving the distortion and angst at the door, that's exactly what they've done. [www.nightmareofyou.com]

I’ve always felt that one of Nada Surf and Matthew Caws’ biggest strengths is creating deep personal connections with listeners through intensely introspective songs. That trend remains intact with The Weight is a Gift, and so does the trend of their growing musicianship. Where The Proximity Effect advanced lyrically over the trio’s youthfully energetic and angst-ridden debut High/Low, and Let Go took the band a step further in almost every category, The Weight is a Gift hones an infectious brand of pop-craft that is stamped on every song. Lead singer Caws and crew manage to avoid the double-edged pop sword that provides instant rewards and future headaches, despite pushing the envelope. The result is a collection of insanely catchy songs that retain their meaningfulness over many listens. The opener, “Concrete Bed,” is the crown jewel of this phenomenon, and the refrain from “The Blankest Year” is still ringing in my head. I thought I heard the influence of New Order in the song “Do it Again,” and I wondered if the subtle earmarks of Sondre Lerche could be heard in “Your Legs Grow” (The band did some shows with the Norwegian boy-wonder in 2003). Regardless, Nada Surf has chosen their influences well and retained the individuality of their sound. This time around, answers outweigh questions, with Caws boldly tackling love and relationships with a simple tact. “Always love,” sings Caws, “Hate will get you every time.” Sometime back when the band was supporting Let Go, I had the privilege of running into Caws after a breathtaking show in a nondescript music hall. In my usual clumsy and socially-challenged manner, I briefly confessed that it seemed he and the band “pulled ideas from my head and made them into songs.” I’m not sure if he got what I meant, and he was probably a little creeped out, but he was very nice about it. Nada Surf’s legs have grown, and so have the legs of their fans. [www.nadasurf.com]

Sonic boom. After the first four tracks of frenetic arrangements, lyricism and screaming I found myself left exhausted and exuberant, wondering if I could keep up with the rest of Kane Hodder’s album, The Pleasure to Remain so Heartless. Luckily, the pace eased during the down-tempo “Heaven help me, I love a psychotic,” giving me just enough of a breather to get back into this dark, charged and striking collection of songs to finish out the ride. I’ve never been particular to “screamo” or other music with an abundance of screaming, but Kane Hodder may have created an exception to the rule. The Pleasure to Remain so Heartless adeptly merges caustic and catchy, turning on a dime at a moment’s whim. For example, I never thought a song could take so many directions in under three minutes and remain as cohesive and memorable as does “I Think Patrick Swayze is Sexy.” The material is decidedly murky and, at times, unfathomable. Cryptic lyrics swing towards the darker side of things but will unexpectedly kiss you on the forehead with clarity and soulfulness. I’m not convinced I ever knew exactly what was being sung about, but that didn’t keep me from feeling like I might. Ignore any fledgling faults; Kane Hodder is worth a listen. [www.hodderrock.com]

My parents, teachers, favorite cartoons, and even Nancy Regan all warned me about the dangers of drugs. If you take drugs, you can never grow up to be a Doctor/Fireman/Astronaut/Ballerina/Model/President of the United States. I want to grow up to be somebody important, and drug users only end up in jail or dead. Shame on !!! for telling me any different. !!! are the bad kids on the playground that I’d been warned about. And they were led down the wrong path by The Magnetic Fields, because it’s their song anyway. Alas, peer pressure is a powerful thing, and I just can’t resist a funky ass beat. Maybe Ecstasy is good for something other than making me like house music and glow sticks. Plus, I mean, what is really the harm in just trying something once? Really, “Get Up” is the stronger of these two tracks. It begins with a solid three minutes of the funkiest Nate-Dogg-played-by-white-hipsters I’ve heard in a long, long while. The lyrics alone portray more swagger than I can after 3 cans of Sparks and a half-pint of whiskey gulped from a flask. From there, we head into the psych-out rock that makes me realize just how crazy colored swirling lights and mind altering substances can be. By the time I’ve been let down, I’m asleep on Seventh Avenue thanking my lucky stars that somehow my wallet is still in my pocket. It’s a crazy time…and being a Doctor or Ballerina is overrated anyway, no matter what you’ve been told. [www.brainwashed.com]

Like a well-made dry, vodka martini, Richard Hawley is refreshingly chilled. English-born, he seems to exemplify the class and sophistication of a James Bond character. The former guitarist of The Longpigs and for a few touring and recording stints Pulp, Hawley had been wary of the lead singer lime light, but three albums later not a trace of hesitance or fear can be heard in his silky vocals. Taking nods from the Vegas lounge croners of your father's age, Hawley breathes new life into a genre of stagnet smoke. Shaking up shots of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Roy Orbinson, and even Hank Williams, Coles Corner is a slick and fresh album. "Just Like The Rain" is a La's-esque rousing romp with shimmering guitars remaniscent of the most beautiful of spring days. "The Ocean" is an epic anthem whose expanding melodies are worthy of the vastness of its title. "Born Under a Bad Sign" sounds like a cheery lament ala Morrissey. And "Wading Through The Water" sounds like a whiskey-soaked AM radio ditty from a diffrent era. However, some songs suffer lyrically, "Hotel" is a meticulous recallection of a night with a smitten lover, and "Tonight" is a hodge podge of stream of concious lyrics with more than its fair share of repetition. Hawley can almost pull it off though with a sincere delivery and his flattering instrumentation, but sadly he only almost pulls it off. But even the best of martini's olives have their pits. [www.richardhawley.co.uk]

Whatever happened to the garage rock revolution? You know, a few years ago with The Strokes and The White Stripes and The whatever-the-hell-elses; what happened with that? Did they overthrow someone? Is there a new government? Have they drafted a new constitution yet? It seem like the whole thing just kind of fizzled a little. A lot of new bands released a lot of exciting music, and then it all just seemed to fade with subsequent releases. Casablancas is busy playing Tron, and White is married to some European model. The revolution seems pretty much over. The Sights, though, were always on the cusp. Their debut came too early and their sophomore album too late. They didn't sell out big concert halls or play Virgin instores but continued sweating it out at dive after dive, night after night. Mixing British psych-rock, retro West Coast pop and their own ragged edges - they fit in with other bands but with more of a history. The problem is, their edges kept getting more and more ragged as they strayed from their other influences. The new album is an example of this, opening with a few cliche and forgetable rock songs, throwing loud guitars on unispired lyrics. But as the album progresses, so does their sound. "Will I be True" bounces around with youthful vigor and excitement that just drips from each guitar riff and organ wail. "Scratch My Name in Sin" is a gospel-tinged sing along with an almost sea shanty beat to it. And "Backseat" is a teen-bop worthy of a "Buddy Holly" music video. The rest of the album shows the band taking from their strong points and experimenting with new sounds that aren't as well-executed as earlier ones but still show a band with potential. So the revolution isn't over. There are still good garage bands making good garage music, but they're just underground again. In the bars and in the old vinyls stores - frankly, back where they belong. [www.wearethesights.com]

The driving sound of Ninja Gun’s album, Smooth Transitions, is an interesting punk-meets-country aesthetic that succeeds more as a concept than in actual fruition. The idea intrigues me; I enjoy a little country mixed into my music. Ninja Gun’s delivery just comes up short. Songs tend to start out rock and end country, or vice versa, with awkward transitions from one to the other. Apart from that complaint, nothing really grabs your attention. The punk-rock is rather generic, and so is the country. Combined, the results are unremarkable. The song “Losers talking” is sweetly endearing, if not groundbreaking. “Picture of a boy in his prime” may be the strongest, most compelling offering, although it is built over an overly-familiar alt-rock chord progression. The album is not without appeal. Smooth Transitions carries with it a wholesome farm-fresh quality that strikes a chord with the underdog-cheering, Cheerios-eating part of me. Also, the album is focused and well-arranged, telling the familiar story of the inescapable slide into adult life with a likable and approachable manner. If you like cowboy hats, punk rock and are not suffering from extreme musical elitism, you may find some appeal here as well. [www.myspace.com]

The crudeness of their name is as definitive of their sound as anything—Assholeparade probably wouldn’t be guys that you’d want to take home to your parents, judging from the fifteen tracks found on Say Goodbye. Coming in at close to twelve and a half minutes, Say Goodbye recalls the thrashy hardcore of bands like Charles Bronson and In/Humanity. And if I do say so myself, Assholeparade reminds me (in style, not values, that is) of the skinhead band in American History X. The vocals sound like a more maniacal Jello Biafra (imagine that), and the songs are so short that only the most ADD-ridden kids can really get into it. Assholeparade does good on the Circle Jerks’ classic “Red Tape,” busting out the tune in a mere fifty seconds, forever when you remember that the album’s opener, “Mr. Rippington’s Revenge” clocks in at just over half a minute. Lyrically, the band isn’t anything special, especially when compared to their counterparts—they’re pissed off and they use the “f-word” gratuitously. Thrash fans take notice, join the Assholeparade. [www.noidearecords.com]

That Much Further West pushed Lucero to new heights. The 2003 success was the band’s third studio album, and while it dimmed in comparison to their self-titled debut, the production quality and, I’m assuming, the heavy touring schedule helped the Tennessean quartet build a much bigger and deeply devoted fanbase. Once again working with producer Jim Dickinson (the Replacements’ Pleased to Meet Me, Big Star’s Third/Sister Lovers), the band continues to churn out Southern soul, fusing it with a punk attitude and a country drawl. These guys drink a lot; they wear flannel and apparently found their influences in the heart of their home, Memphis, as well as in records from Jawbreaker and the aforementioned Replacements, not Uncle Tupelo, which comes readily to mind. Nobody’s Darling solidifies Lucero as a band worthy of the hype. And while Ben Nichols’ vocals are definitely the most “country” characteristic of the group, with the twangy guitars fading out a bit more on each record, the songs themselves are indicative of punk kids raised in the heart of the South told through hard hitting drums, sub-technical but tastefully intertwining guitars, and tales of heartbreak, the hardships of touring. The album’s shining star, “The War,” which is told from the perspective of a World War II veteran, is banged out with more emotion than any track on the record, strengthened by being just Nichols and his guitar. In summary, Nobody’s Darlings is as good or better than any of the band’s previous work, and a resurgence in alt-country among today’s youth wouldn’t be far-fetched based on the feedback Lucero’s been getting over this last year. [www.luceromusic.com]

Oh those clever Dandy Warhols! Imagine intro-ing their new album, Odditorium Or Warlords Of Mars, with noted journalist Bill Curtis doing a little news blurb about how the Dandys influenced and changed rock’n’roll, as if it was they who came first…not Chuck Berry or Elvis. Cheeky monkeys. So let's see what we've got on this, the Portland-based band’s fourth major label release.... “Love Is The New Feel Awful” is shot through with an icy rush of sound and the band’s signature sense of cool, even including a sort of jazz fusion jam toward the end. “All The Money Or The Simple Life Honey” starts out pure, if not a little distractingly treble-heavy, but some sound depth enters around the 1-minute mark pulling it out. Then there’s “The New Country,” which goes back to some of their more rock-a-billy sound from Thirteen Tales From Urban Bohemia. By contrast, “Holding Me Up” sounds more like “Minnesota” from their label debut, Dandy Warhols Come Down. As for the first single, “Smoke It,” I know why it was picked to be the single. It’s bouncy and energetic, but it’s just not on a level lyrically with other Warhols singles like “Not If You Were The Last Junkie On Earth” or “Bohemian Like You.” It’s a decent song, but it’s not one that I think the whole album should be judged on, so you might want to look around a little if you're tempted to buy or not buy based on your feelings toward this track. Basically, with Odditorium Or Warlords Of Mars, the Dandy Warhols continue their tradition of artsy, rocker, slacker tunes that sometimes make you think, sometimes make you jump around a little, sometimes make you cock your head to the side and sometimes just make you sit back and chill. It's all good I guess. [www.dandywarhols.com]

If Beck ever decides to quit the music industry, I think he might have quite a future in international diplomacy. Hammering out peace accords between warring nations should be no problem for a musician able to persuade so many dissimilar musical styles and elements to live together in harmony. On Guero, Beck enables folky guitars, bossa nova beats, rap vocals and video game sounds to co-exist without allowing the music to become sloppy or unfocused. The playful spirit and musical fusion showcased here has and will cause many observers to liken Guero to Beck’s watershed 1996 album, Odelay. That was the last time Beck let his multiple musical personalities play together before breaking them up to make several albums which concentrated on one persona at a time. What makes Guero so unique is the way Beck applies the maturity of his more congruent albums (Sea Change and Mutations, most notably) to the musical meanderings of the Odelay era. Beck’s reunion with the Dust Brothers gives the album a defining groove, present whether the song feels like a Latino block party (“Que Onda Guero”) or a plaintive bossa nova (“Missing”). The spaced-out Western vibe of “Farewell Ride” and the garage rock/hip-hop marriage “Go It Alone” (featuring a few tasty bass licks by Jack White) feature wonderfully drowsy vocal performances that make each song a highlight of the record. When Beck’s career is over, Odelay will likely be used by historians as the ultimate description of his approach to music. While that album may end up serving as his commercial and critical zenith, I hope history will take a second look at Guero. More than any other time in his career, it is here we find Beck operating on all cylinders and allowing everything to flow together. For such a noted musical chameleon, this may be the best chance we’ll get to see a holistic picture of Beck as an artist. [www.beck.com]

Humanistic is quite possibly one of my favorite almost-but-not-quite over produced rock albums. In my mind, it stands up there with Blinker the Star August Everywhere, and Failure Fantastic Planet as an example of just how polished and smooth a rock album can get without sounding like a cola commercial, or frankly, a straight up pop album. So when I heard Tommy Walter was working on a new album with an EP to precede it, I was rather excited. Hearing he had made the move to Universal records, to work with people such as the A&R rep behind 3 Doors Down confused me a bit, but if Tommy could record Humanistic on a G4 in his apartment, just imagine what he could do with a major label budget. Then came The Reverb EP. The title track to the new album, a demo, few B-sides and a cover,are definitely the material I would expect on a release like this. But there is just something missing. Where is all the slick programming and processed guitars? Suddenly everything sounds like… well, like a rock record. And while I’m willing to think much of this EP may have been scraps from the full length to come, I’m still somewhat hesitant. What really disappoints me is the “Army of Me” cover. Bjork is a tough act of follow, but surely not for a former professor of Music Theory and Composition such as Tommy. It does succeed in being what a good cover should be – a reinvention of the song thru the voice of the new band, something completely their own. While it sounds very little stylistically and musically like the original, it ends up being somewhat unfocused. At times it seems to modulate strangely within the key in order to satisfy the original melody over the new rock guitar track. The fuzz bass and pounding drums are replaced with a tamer rock beat. “Armed to the Teeth,” the title track to the forthcoming album does show the most promise and keeps me hopefully for the future of Abandoned Pools. Universal rarely releases EPs, and I keep my fingers crossed that the finished product will be a return to the near over-production that I love so. [www.abandonedpools.com]

No Idea Records nerds have been waiting eagerly for a good while on this release. The aptly-titled Rumbleseat is Dead compiles the short-lived Gainesville band’s output, collected mostly from 7” records with short press runs and four tracks which had been previously unreleased. This acoustic trio was comprised of Chuck Ragan and Chris Wollard on guitars (whom you may know from their other project, Epitaph’s Hot Water Music), and Samantha Jones (ex-Bitchin’) on bass. Vocals are shared amongst the three, with the boys' trademark gruffness spewing out over the banging of their acoustic guitars, abandoning their familiar sound, and paying homage to bands such as Uncle Tupelo, with these down-to-earth, suited for the back porch on a cool Southern summer evening songs. I read a review that touted Rumbleseat as “Hot Water Music meets Johnny Cash,” and that’s not far off. Footstomping and whiskey-imbibing may accompany a listen through Rumbleseat is Dead, and though it’s been six years since these songs were recorded, it’s wonderful that they’re not forever buried in Gainesville history and haven’t become victims of the dreaded “out-of-print” tag that so much vinyl seems to carry these days. [www.noidearecords.com]

One thing about Flogging Molly that probably gets their name out the most--their music is steeped in Irish folk influence. Ireland equals beer, as far as most people understand. And beer, a favorite passtime of college students, leads to many a Flogging Molly t-shirt on campus. You'd think that the Pogues would have the same effect, or maybe they did twenty years ago, but maybe it's all in the fact that Flogging Molly are Warped Tour all-stars, rivaling the Dropkick Murphys in the modern day punk scene for the best drinking songs. Within a Mile of Home is their third album, following up 2002's Drunken Lullabies; you may be familiar with that title track if you were one of many who spent hours on end playing the Tony Hawk's Pro Skater videogame. The only way I can think of describing Flogging Molly is by calling them "a more rocking, less alcohol-fueled version of the Pogues, but based in Los Angeles." And while I'd much rather prefer to listen to the band actually from Ireland, it's nice to see a group of musicians delivering Irish folk to a younger audience, though I can definitely see underage consumption rates rising with Flogging Molly's popularity. It's no Run, Sodomy, & the Lash, but Within a Mile of Home excels in making for a good time, providing an energetic, rowdy, swaggering soundscape, replete with foot-stomping, banjos, fiddles, and accordians and most of all, fun. [www.floggingmolly.com]

56 tracks from this modern day Edgar Allen Poe should be in the collection of any Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds fans--it compiles a career's worth of, well, b-sides and rarities, including plenty of alternate versions ("Mercy Seat" done acoustic), covers (from Leonard Cohen, Leadbelly and Neil Young), traditional folk songs, tracks found previously only on soundracks (but where is "There is a Light" from the Batman Forever album?), and much more. Having fronted Australia's post-punks The Birthday Party from '77-'83, Nick Cave and his macabre takes on life and music have been an important part of independent music for more than 25 years. Lasting that long without a drastic change in style is difficult for any artist, but Cave always sticks to his roots, writing from his own perpetually dark world perspective, often providing extremely harrowing visual images in his songs, ranging anywhere from bloody murder to sodomy. The thick, deep bellows that Cave gives to the eclectic mix of folk, post-punk, lounge, gospel, art-rock, and whatever else the Bad Seeds spit out recall Tom Waits, the aforementioned Cohen, Dylan, the Beatnik generation, early goth, the blues of Robert Johnson, the Western Frontier, and so on, with which I'm trying to say that Cave is an artist with a catalog spanning decades before he penned his first song. Obviously, a B-Sides and Rarities collection is always a definite purchase for hardcore fans, whether or not said fans have spent days upon days scouring the Internet in search of these hard-to-find songs, but beyond that, there are much better introductions to the music of Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds. This one's not essential, but it sure as hell doesn't hurt to have it. [www.mute.com]