Tori Amos kicks my ass. She has mastered not only individual releases, she's mastered the concept album in the form of covers. But that wasn't enough, so she made an original album with a concept. Now, granted, this has been done before by many, including the misunderstood Lucid Nation (Tacoma Ballet) and the oft-admired Pink Floyd (The Wall) but Tori is different. She is a natural storyteller, and this is an album of journey, of understanding, and bittersweet disenchantment of the American canvas. Every song is lullabye, every song is seamless and shimmeringly inspired. She goes Neil Young's Harvest on "Crazy" and makes it a love song of discovery, she goes Mt. Olympus on "Don't Make Me Come to Vegas" and tells us that virility and truth push gender barriers without sounding weary. She turns Darwin inside out on "Carbon" and fetters around the hubris abstract on "I Can't See New York", making the pretentiousness of other 9/11 tributes sound paper-thin. Her succulent "Your Cloud" is poignant without being saccharine. I could go on and on. The thing about Tori Amos is that you're guarunteed excellence whenever she puts out a product, and it's a given that she released this album in fall, where the brisk autumn air provides a decadent backdrop to this dance of the voices in Ms. Amos's head. So go get it, take a walk with Tori, because she is one of the handful of artists that provide me with a reason to go to the record store and simply believe in the magic of music. [www.toriamos.com]

With his trusty companion and multi-instrumentalist, Clune, David Gray forged ahead of the bittersweet pop masses with White Ladder, and created something that everyone, broken-hearted folks to commercial media, could stake their claim in. One can only imagine the weight the professedly Welsh singer-songwriter had to bear when stepping back into the studio to record the follow-up, A New Day At Midnight. Quite a big set of expectations laid upon David Gray for what is seemingly just another day and another batch of his trademark melancholy. From the opening seconds of "Dead In The Water" it's evident that Gray and Clune have not adopted a new approach to songwriting. The water-down dance backbeats accompanied by Gray's distinctive warble is what sold White Ladder, why change it? Still, as the track slides into the chorus and "we're dead in the water now" is uttered, Gray's honesty comes shining through. If it's one thing that the American public can claim, it's that we, for the most part, have a good set of bullshit censors. Perhaps why Gray is so successful is that it's hard to believe that he's somehow just conjuring up all of this from some fictional wonderland. Try the longing in "Real Love", the heartbreak of "Freedom," or the dreary "December" on for size and then have a go at accepting it any other way. After borrowing a couple lines from "Into The Mystic" and "Madam George" for "Say Hello Wave Goodbye" on White Ladder, it might be safe to assume that Gray contends to be the Van Morrison of his generation. However, as most everything in music today is derivative of something, it might just be better to not think about things so much. With light, minimal arrangements of acoustic guitar, piano or keyboard powdering "Last Boat To America", "The Other Side" and the majority of this album, Gray may have just created a simple frame to display his demons. The only question for you, the listener, being: are David Gray's woes worth paying attention to again? [www.davidgray.com]

One By One showed up online quite a while before it hit streets and I refused to listen to it because I heard it wasn't all that great and didn't want to disappoint myself early on. So I waited until I got a promo copy and finally gave it a listen. Well sorta. First I had to bypass a little copy protection so I could actually listen to the CD while typing this review, damn RIAA. For the two months leading up to the release, all Dave Grohl talked about was how this record rocked and was the best Foo Fighters record, etc. Needless to say, he created high expectations for it. To top things off the first single "All My Life" was one of the most rockin Foo Fighters songs yet and they even put it as Track 1 on the CD. However, disappointment starts to kick in as you progress through the album. The songs are good, it just doesn't live up to the comments Dave was making. There are too many slow songs like "Burn Away", which is a nice song, but pretty boring. Then you have tracks like "Lonely As You" which have a little more umph to them, but still has an overall lackluster appeal. This pattern pretty much repeats itself throughout One By One. Notable exceptions would be "Low" which shows that drumming for Queens of the Stone Age has clearly rubbed off on Dave as it sounds much like something they would have written and the seven and a half minute closer "Come Back" which rolls through various tempos and reminds you why the Foo Fighters are so fucking good. If you were disappointed with There Is Nothing Left to Lose then don't automatically rule out the new record. One By One is basically a hybrid between the Foo Fighters of old and the more recent stuff they have released. It contains some really strong songs that show that Dave and crew still have it in them, but disappointingly it still maintains that pop feel that the band moved closer to with There Is Nothing Left to Lose. However, in listening to the record you can tell that it is one of those that will grow on you. Often albums that take you a while to appreciate, end up being the ones you cherish the most. [www.foofighters.com]

Jets frontman Blake Schwartzenbach is no stranger to criticism. When his beloved former group Jawbreaker signed to Geffen Records during the alt-rock gold rush of the early 1990s, fans were quick to chant the all-too-familiar cry of “sellout.” Four Cornered Night, JTB’s previous album, also alienated diehards with folksy instrumentation and pop songcraft that was a far cry from the band’s post-hardcore stock in trade. Perfecting Lonliness surely isn’t going to break the streak; the 1970’s FM radio feel that permeates such an ambitious album simply is not for everyone. Fortunately, listeners who stick around are in for some finely crafted rock – not “emo” or punk or anything else, just plain rock. The songs themselves are among Blake’s catchiest to date, all simplicity and melodic conciseness, but their sprawling arrangements (aided by ex-Jawbox production whiz J. Robbins) add an interesting sonic touch. From “The Frequency”’s killowatt riffage to the stoner boogie of “William Tell Override,” Perfecting Lonliness takes the band on flights beyond anything JTB has done before. Yet that’s not always a good thing. The classic rock vibe gets tired after a while (not to mention that all the drums sound exactly like “November Rain”), and the epic-length tracks often feel in need of a scissor-carrying editor. Most glaringly, when ANY mopey, “woe is me” tune breaks the 5 minute mark, you’re in trouble – and that happens more than once on Lonliness. Fortunately, there’s more than enough gems hidden in the solipsism to make the album work. “Cat Heaven” is a sincerely touching slice of pop perfection, and the cleverly bitter couplets on “Disgrace” rival anything off Orange Rhyming Dictionary or even Jawbreakers’s seminal Dear You. While not always hitting it’s mark, Perfecting Lonliness aims high, no small feat in a world of fickle fans and critical ears. For every misstep, there’s a sublime musical moment following close behind, and such tracks are more then enough to make this album a worthy listen. [www.jetstobrazil.com]

There’s no denying the impact PE has had on hip-hop and pop culture in general. Their incendiary rhymes and innovative “Bomb Squad” production broke through the musical scene like a mic-wielding sledgehammer. It’s no surprise that everyone from MTV News to CNN regularly asks frontman Chuck D for his opinion on musical and political issues; he’s universally regarded as an elder statesman of rap. However, there lies the problem. Public Enemy has been trying, on and off for the past decade or so, to transcend their legacy and create new music that’s on par with the vitality of past efforts. It’s been a struggle, partially because their old albums have been so groundbreaking – and just plain DOPE – but mostly due to the fact that the newer songs simply didn’t connect with listeners like “Bring The Noise” did. But you had to at least give them credit for refusing to rest on their laurels. Revolverlution tries to split the difference between old and new PE, interspersing recent tracks like “Gotta Give The Peeps What They Need” inbetween a greatest hits collection of sorts, recorded live during the group's early 90s heyday. The gamble does not pay off, unfortunately. The old stuff is great, as expected, but it can’t help but highlight the faults of mediocre new tracks like “Son of A Bush” and the lightweight “Now A’ Daze.” Like fellow hip-hop godfather KRS-One, Chuck D and Co simply have not kept up with the times, beat-wise, to keep up with their contemporaries. Even more obtrusively, the music can’t match the bluster in Chuck’s lyrics – as a result, he shows his age with every rant, making “Fight The Power” sound more like “Get Off My Lawn.” The latest efforts from The Roots and Talib Kwali are able to give social consciousness a dope beat, your money’s far better spent with them - or better yet, with a copy of PE’s own It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back. I’ll take nostalgia over this stuff any day. [www.slamjamz.com]

So much shit gets labeled pop-punk. I'd like to know who penned that phrase and give them a swift kick in the gonads. Punk is dead; it died a long time ago, so even referencing it seems a little ignorant. It seems if anything catchy is played at a fast tempo, it's got to be referred to as pop-punk. Well, I ain't buying it. Of course, New Found Glory gets lumped into that dreaded category for good reason, but there's a bit more there. Aside from the various contemporary rock influences that make up their core, the Glory boys have an equal amount of metal and late-80's pop protruding from the surface ("Sonny" seems like a long lost cousin to the Goonies soundtrack). They haven't turned down the distortion and they haven't compromised their energy. What's more, as if said description wasn't enough to separate them from the sea of mediocrity, vocalist Jordan Pundik, who, yes, voices most of his lines in the same, trademark nasally refrains, is set on leaving the past in the past. He's not the usual perpetually adolescent frontman, constantly rehashing his horrible prom night or whining about how much he hated the jocks in high school. Instead, expect songs about meeting girls, talking to girls, relationships with girls, living with girls, how much girls suck, how weird girls act, how girls can be mean… and… well, just more songs about girls. There's not one allusion to high school on Sticks and Stones. Believe me, in this genre, it's refreshing. If there's another area that New Found Glory doesn't disappoint, it's the intensity department. The set opens with "Understatement", an upbeat rocker that would probably make the less adventurous stray away, and maintains throughout the duration. Well, I'll take that back. New Found Glory does let the intensity fall once or twice - namely "Forget My Name" and "Singled Out" - but for the most part pack Sticks and Stones full of 3-minute pop-rock gems played at a punk-rock tempo. Sure all money that MCA pushed their way polished up Sticks and Stones more so than its predecessors, but it hasn't really changed their sound. They're still pushing along the chunky, hard-hitting pop songs that they started with Nothing Gold Can Stay; they've just got a budget now. The truth of the matter is simply that New Found Glory is just great at what they do, and they're a good band. They just need to get that damn bass player to stop making stupid faces and put his shirt on. [www.newfoundglory.com]

Tom Petty begins The Last DJ with, "You can't turn him into a company man, you can't turn him into a whore." It's possible that Petty was talking as much about himself as the fictitious DJ whom the song centers around - in Petty's 13-album career, he's never allowed any corporation to use any of his songs. It's also evident that Tom Petty is fed up with the way the music industry is running the game these days. Instead of keeping his mouth shut and talking behind backs, he's dedicated much of his new album to the cause of putting the facts in everyone's face. As the album begins, the title cut instantly chimes in with a ringing melody that harkens back to a more golden age of music, and sets the pace for the rest of the album. The second track, "Money Becomes King" is a fated tale about Johnny Rocker, who rises from obscurity to fame and fortune, light beer commercials and over-priced tickets. Next, "Joe" is heavy-stepping gambol that addresses the corporate "head honchos" responsible for assembling and packaging pop stars - "he gets to be famous I get to be rich." Perhaps Petty and the Heartbreakers were caught up in all the nostalgia of remembering better days, but many of the more rocking tracks invoke Petty's younger days of rock 'n roll riffs and swagger - note "When A Kid Goes Bad" and "Lost Children". The light-hearted "You And Me", with it's playful piano melodies, and the grand ballad "Have Love Will Travel" both show the love of song that Petty found with Wildflowers. Finally, to remain in top form, Petty throws us a curve with "The Man Who Loves Women", a mischievous tune full of throwbacks to the Beatles (also see the rock-typical, middle-finger-in-the-air closer "Can't Stop The Sun"). It's all classic Petty, the whole album. I've always said that Tom Petty gets better with age. From Full Moon Fever on, I've taken more and more notice of what Tom Petty releases. It's perhaps the longing for the ways past that makes this album not exactly what I want it to be. By attempting to make a statement about where the music industry has wandered astray, Petty put substance over style and forgot to push his creative boundaries. It even affected the tracks not laden with the lofty task of pulling the music industry's pants down. I would have liked to see the inventiveness and grit culled in Echo, but you can't have it all, I suppose. [www.tompetty.com]

All the elements are still there: their love of the DJ culture that helped pioneer hip-hop, their almost Motown-styled multiple MC delivery, and their refusal to let go of the "yes ya'll" years of rap. Jurassic 5 thrives on its ability to cleverly and creatively grab from past influences. It's that ability that allows them to continue to produce great music. Appropriation or homage, look at it however you like. While Power In Numbers features cuts that J5 fans will instantly relate with, it seems as a group they are attempting to break new ground. Power In Numbers introduces itself with very little gusto. The set opens with "Freedom", which could use a shot or two of adrenaline. If it's one thing that a hip-hop album needs it's a hot opening track - see "The Influence" from Quality Control. "If You Only Knew" picks up the pace with bouncy, jazzy piano and fluttery flute samples, packaged with a catchy-enough hook. It's the fourth cut, "Break", a ramped up DJ anthem, that begins the best run of the entire album. The interlude, "React", then segues into "A Day At The Races", two cuts with absolutely blazing bass lines. The next track, "Remember His Name", is probably the most original J5 track yet - a mid-tempo romp based around phone conversations between each member of the band. J5 then establish "What's Golden" as the catchiest track of the group, and, by no twist of fate, the single. To close out the run, "Thin Line", featuring vocals by Nelly Furtado, is a cryptic love song about a forbidden relationship. Throughout the remainder of the album, keep an ear peeled for bump of "Sum of Us" and the pleasantly soothing "Hey", but nothing competes with the 6 tracks that make up the middle of the album. Power In Numbers is a strong album. Yet, it is weak in a few places - namely, the fuming verses behind "One of Them" that lash out at other rappers in a style uncharacteristic to Jurassic 5's somewhat positive attitude, and the relatively mellow opener. Regardless, it's still Jurassic 5. Nu Mark and Cut Chemist throw out the jams and Chali 2na, Zaakir, Marc 7 and Akil know exactly what to do with them. [www.jurassic5.com]

Up until Mezzanine I would have deemed Massive Attack as a good representation of British hip-hop. But, if you're totally honest, Massive Attack is just its own thing altogether. Maybe I'm just not knowledgeable enough of the UK hip-hop scene (in fact, I know I'm not), but I don't think I've heard any hip-hop from England that actually sounds like it's from England. No too long ago The Streets album, Original Pirate Material, dropped in my lap - it really couldn't be more British. Think: Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels backed by a salvo of two-step hip-hop, garage, house and pseudo-drum-n-bass tracks. Not to limit the album that simple comparison, but that's really the best description I think of. The music itself is even influenced exclusively by UK artists. Much of the soundtrack draws inspiration from Oakenfold, Chemical Brothers, Basement Jaxx, Norman Cook and, heck, just the absolutely thriving UK electronic and DJ scene. Most everything about the album is British. But, is it good? Well, as a matter of fact, yeah, it is good. It's got the grit and grain of a self-produced album, which suits the subject matter. Furthermore - all mindless corporate media banter aside - it's actually "real" and believable. Think: diary of a mid-20's British kid who does as much drugs as he sells, hangs out at pubs every night, has a penchant for Playstation, and represents himself best through the hip-hop medium. Not to mention, he can actually flow. [www.the-streets.co.uk]

What happens when oddles of drab Scottish indie rockers unite for an album’s worth of material? Nothing much according to Son of Evil Reindeer. Despite filling members of the atmospheric rockers in Mogwai into their ranks as well as Belle & Sebastian, Astrid, Idlewild, Teenage Fanclub and Arab Strap; the Reindeer Section fail to make an impact or lasting affect with their rainy day rock that merely drizzles when it should rain cats and dogs. Although the Reindeer Section sift through 26 members of prolific indie rockers, their sophomore outing churns out typical indie guitar pop that bases its sound on acoustic guitars, meandering piano and honking horns. Stale and bland, Son of Evil Reindeer does little more than dub down all the members’ main bands into three-minute songs that tap little emotion and practically parody dismal indie rock usually exported from Scotland. If nothing else, this collective of lite-rockers add yet another example to the already proven theory: Quality, not quantity, is ultimately what matters. [www.reindeersection.com]

Run motherfucker, run...out and buy this album! You know, you can't judge many things on visual representation alone... Food, pencils, penguins... and bands. Because you can have a really cool video (Xibit) that makes your music look better, or you can make a crap video (kidneythieves) that makes your music sound worse. Or you can be Tool, but that's a whole other area. But the kidneythieves, right? They're good, they're rough, they're aggressive, and they're in stores now. Totally. We've got a femme fatale singer (the poision fetish Free Dominguiez) with a super voice, about as syrupy as an oil slick and about 3/4ths as sweet, whose barbed lyrics against the spiky backdrop of the band form an unbreakable steel door that hearkens back to the good old days of Skinny Puppy with a touch more madness. It's a hallucinatory album, filled with turns not necessarily unexpected but fruitful in their exploration. I have heard like "it", but I haven't heard "it" ever before. What is it? Well, Mike Patton once asked the same question in a little band known as Faith No More, and Mr. Patton also is known to shriek like an electrocuted wombat into microphones with strange urgency- And that's what "it" is: The urgency of humanity that the kidneythieves try to convey...and almost succeed. That's the only pratfall of Zerospace: The almost part. There's a bit of overproduction, a bit of a bad cover (Patsy Cline's "Crazy" sucks in this setting) and an ounce or so of exaggerated badarse-ness mixed in here. "Serene Dream" and "Dyskrasia" are super tracks layered in mayhem and existensial lyrics, and the title track is overall the most outstanding in terms of articulate chaos. "Glitter Girl" kicks theStart's butt in terms of adulation, and my favorite track is "Black Bullet", which is Nine Inch Nails-ey in a way that only Pretty Hate Machine could have been, trouncing the music with "when i'm walking on the line/i am/when i think that i could kill, i am/ when i think that i am love, i am/i am a black bullet" doing more for the female psyche than any artist of late. It's a strong album deserving of major props and adulation. [www.kidneythieves.com]

Brendan Benson is a good boy- I cannot say enough nice things about him. He sings about being rejected over sunny guitar sing-a-longs, he loves strangers, he (and this is the point where he captured my heart) sings tribute to his "1980 Volvo" ("Good to Me"). His just sunshine in a bottle, a tan in a can, the sugar in coffee. He is also, like the title of one of his songs, a "tiny spark" of cinnamon apple goodness against the grain of the new wave of seemingly never-ending emo bands. He is bummed, yah, but he ain't gotta dwell on it. His "Pleasure Seeker" is like finger-painting, his "Folk Singer" makes you want to play a parachute game. If you're in the mood to feel good, or even if you just need to feel good, ye shall seek the Brendan and ye shall be happy. Really. I cannot write the "...but" part of the review, because Brendan just isn't bad. The lyrics are fuzzy and cozy like Stealers Wheel, even in his depressive moments ("What"): "You keep me guessing I’m always guessing wrong/ Always wrong/ With a not-so-pretty face/ And a poorly thrown ceramic vase" as well as songs "Just Like Me" and "Jet Lag." He's one of those guys who ask their female friends things like "Why don't girls ever go after nice guys like me?" Then throws in the proverbial towel and writes a song about it. He's just a well-rounded individual with a good disposition. I'm a sucker: Buy the album. [www.brendanbenson.com]

Be Something Else reminds me of Mudhoney with a velvet-voiced female singing instead of Mark Arm... being molested by someone who thinks he's Glenn Danzig. Overall, Sugarcoma's effort is pretty good. The guitars are warpy (say the word and twang it- That's what the guitar sounds like) and the riffs (what a word) are fuzzy in a good, sadistic kitten way, and the lyrics are fair. But, um, get rid of the screaming dude in the background. I feel bad for saying that, because he's the only guy in the band, and I like guys, honest, but after you get the harmony on "Last Orders", home skillet's screaming leaves a lot to be desired. See, my "specialty", when it comes to music, is one of two choices: the grunge scene (circa Seattle/ Minneapolis 88-94) and the Zeppelin saga. After that, I jump around a lot. Luckily for Sugarcoma, their album falls right into the category of the former segment, and has (probably) gotten their name from a Hole song concerning lots of lackluster sex themes ("Just Like You"). Bonus. The bass lines and the vocals are right up to par with That Dog ("Stitch It Up"), and the lyrics are like really stoned Fastbacks ("What Goes Around")... But then the guy screams. There's even some jaded, Imperial Teen anthems tucked in there ("Because September Ended")... But then the dude screams. We get super-gargled drum n'pedals in songs like "Start of the End", which is fun... But then the guy screams. There's a quote in the Michael Azzerad book about Nirvana, Come As You Are talking about how Kurt Cobain had the uncanny ability to scream on pitch or to yell on key or something like that. When you interrupt your otherwise pretty groovy track with screams, it's cool with me, especially when you have corrosive, glimmery, Brit vocals prior. When you interrupt aforementioned music with a raspy, icky scream, I just don't find it kosher. What's wrong with the scream? It's not emotional enough, deep enough... Doggone it, it's just not good enough. It breaks up a certain level of monotony, but it's weak. It makes you laugh. I dunno, I'd have to play it for you- I'm certainly not going to tell you to get it yourself... Especially with (and remember the screaming man) the most puzzling Britney Spears cover ever. Well, maybe I would, because our ladies of the band are very talented, and the album is something that's right up my alley...But then the guy screams. [www.sugarcomaonline.com]

Ooh, looky! An album that sounds the same all the way through! Background noise for a franchise loop tape! Sugary pomp-rock devoid of any hint of meaning or context outside of comfort food! Great! Great. So... I guess this got off to a sarcastic-enough start, eh? I tried, good Deity of Music, I really did. I tried to be a good girl and listen many times and unearth the diamonds that were buried within this Top 40, post-grunge boom, post-Pixies quiet/loud dynamic album of pure, unadulterated, "Lite Listening!" When the singer attacked me with "Do you know how it feels to be angry?/ Do you know how it feels to be hurt?" ("Do You Know") I wanted to answer him, 12 tone, with a letter of quiet dignity of pain, anguish, and angst that I have been inundated with in more sincere ways by other bands. When the singer (backed by a riff that sounded REALLY familiar...) begged me to feel the pain of his never knowing his father and having a crap homelife ("Take Me As I Am") then decided to remind me that he wasn't marred by this situation, rather wanted me to help him "find love again." I assumed dude hasn't gotten his life-owed apologies yet, and wondered if I personally apologized for the sins of the world if he'd quit making albums. I then decided that I need not apologize for anything; He should apologize to me for making such a Soundgarden rip-off morass of evil that was track 8 of Head on Straight, aka "Come Rest Your Head." Come on. Let's see some ingenuity. Let's see something besides early-90's stuff in the 21st century. Let's give nice reviewer Erun something to get excited about other than the fact that she has yet another mediocre CD to collect dust in her room. This is pitiful! Every song sounded the same. Every lyric was whiny or defiantly whiny (whichever's worse). What was the name of that hit that Tonic had? At this rate, I think it's going to be their only one. [www.tonic-online.com]

I first heard of the Donnas three years ago from a friend who described them as "this really hot chick band". Well a lot has changed in the music world in three years. There are now more people who hate Fred Durst then there are who like him, nu metal is on its way out, and The Donnas are on a major label. With the release of Spend the Night the girls aim for mainstream success. We all know there can be pitfalls to signing to a major. You run the risk of loosing artistic control, alienating indie fans, and you just might be turned into the next Linkin Park before you even realize what is happening. However, The Donnas prove that it is possible to avoid all these pitfalls while at the same time taking advantage of the benefits a major label can provide. Spend the Night is packed full of tracks that could easily show up as the ladies next single, while at the same time maintain the band's chick rock attitude and have a punk rock flair. The vocals are dead on, the guitars are great, and the band packs the rock on songs like Dirty Denim. However, if your a fan of deep subject matter, you won't find that here. After about halfway through Spend the Night the songs begin to sound rather formulaic and frankly start to get boring. With the subject matter rarely straying away from the central themes of partying, sex, and guys and the tightly packed mixing of Chris Lord-Alge you find yourself wondering if perhaps the disc has already started over and you just didn't notice. When I first listened to Spend the Night I was very pleased to see that The Donnas had not totally changed their sound with hopes of greater success. These girls really do rock, although from the looks of the band these days you may never guess that. What bothered me about the album was the lack of depth to the songs and lyrics. The girls clearly have something new and interesting to bring to the musical table, perhaps in the future we will see a bit more experimentation and variation. [lp.instavid.com]

The genre of Drum n' Bass is a strange beast: defined by high-speed beats, rapid-fire bursts of percussion, erratic blips and off-kilter basslines, yet incredibly formulaic. Upon first listen, you're struck by the craziness of it all, but by the time the 10th minute of do-do-chick-da-dada-chick-chick rolls around, you're sick of it. Listening to Squarepusher is not like that. Built upon the same basic structures as Drum n' Bass, Tom Jenkinson's music consistently finds new ways of mixing it up, fucking with your head and surprising the hell out of you. Take, for instance, the album's opening title track, which begins with a heavily vocoded vocal intro (something about being "sexy on the mike") over a funky, staccato beat. After a minute or so, the track screeches to a halt, starts up again, slows down, gets funky and adds a nice keyboard melody. More vocoded lyrics are added as the song maintains its leisurely pace. Or so it would seem -- listen closely and those drums are still going at full speed, Drum n' Bass style, only in time with everything else. I don't know, it's hard to describe, but the track is simultaneously relaxing and unsettling. If you know Squarepusher, however, you know that he's not just all about the crazy-fast beats. For example, in 1998, he released a jazz album (Music is Rotted One Note) completely devoid of electronics. This jazz influence shows heavily in "F-Train", which is a chilled out track that features a cut-up rap and bouncing percussion. "Kill Robok" is a bit more fast-paced, but just as jazzy (we're talking Miles Davis jazz here, not some Kenny G shit). "Astromm-Feck 4" is another speedy number, probably the most fast-paced on the album. Imagine watching a car chase seen on fast-forward -- this track would be a good soundtrack for that. Of course, in unpredictable Squarepusher style, the next track is a completely beat-free atmospheric interlude. And then "Mutilation Colony", a 10-minute noise experiment with the occasional abstract percussion. Finally, there's an uncharacteristically lush rendition of Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart". When I saw the song on the album's tracklist, I figured it would be either some sort of Kik606-style crazy remix or maybe just a joke track, but instead I found a sincere, melodic cover. I have to admit that the vocals aren't my cup of tea, but otherwise the track is quite good. Overall, this mini-album (it's only 32 minutes long) serves as a good survey of of what Squarepusher is all about -- hence the title, I'd imagine. It's a good start for someone unfamiliar with his past body of work, but there are enough surprises (like a bonus live disc) to interest those like yours truly who already know Squarepusher. [www.warprecords.com]

The Dames further prove a hypothesis that I've been putting through the scientific method recently. That being "Minneapolis, MN produces some of the best underrated rock bands this nation has to offer." Forget New York, forget Los Angeles, the real rock comes from the snowy northern regions of Minnesota. While the major cities that you expect to produce good bands actually do, it is odd to consider a state surrounded by Dakota's and Wisconsin to consistently get right what so many other area's struggle to produce. This brings us to our first example; The Dames. With their album Divorce they set forth an onslaught of pure punk-rock energy. The bands diversity shows through with tracks like "Charlie Hustle" (a distorted guitar frenzy), "Embryological Recapitulation" (metal intensity), "Outside" (a harmonic hard-pop song, if such a thing ever existed), and "Pisspot" (the angry snarling rock with a vocal growl James Hetfield himself would be jealous of). "Divorce" is definetly not for the pop-rock lover out there. If you are ecstatic over the new OK Go album (I'm not knockin it) then this may not be up your alley. Singer Tony Bennett (from The Dames, not that other one you're thinking of) often sounds like he's taken over where Layne Staley left off, especially on "Only Half", but that's certainly not a total detriment to the band. Overall, the album is produced well, has alot of really strong rock songs mixed with the occasional slower tune ("Nurse"), and most of all - helps to further prove my point about emerging rock bands from the great mid-North. [www.the-dames.com]

Too arty to be considered pure pop and too pop to be considered art-rock, it’s gotta be tough for the boys in Rescue. Although evading the rigid genre regiment is always a good thing, Rescue quickly resort to a simple formula despite their unformulaic means. Their second full-length, Volume Plus Volume, is the sound of structurally complex art-pop being sifted through the accessible emo filter to arrive at music that’s articulate, but a little, well, lacking. Rescue attempt to put an intelligent spin on the typical emo-rock that breaks hearts and tears eyes, but despite how rapidly this foursome shift tempos and vary time changes, they lack appeal. Volume Plus Volume simply spends too much time meandering through the aspects of technical and complex music that it forgets the endearing elements of emotion and fun. Rescue, although dynamic and talented in their approach, seem calculated and mathematically reliant – which is commendable, but they teeter on the rock edge without really rocking and stumble along the border of emo without being emotional. This album would best be suited for art-school kids who want their pop with loads of logarithms and trigonometry. But when was the last time you met a calculus teacher who also majored in art? Yeah, it’s a fickle crowd. [www.rescuedotcom.com]

Marty James didn't get a very good chance to strut his stuff with Okeeblow. Months after he released the album on Grand Royal Records, the Beasties-founded label got thrown off the local pier with a pair cement shoes. Sleeping with the fishes, you might say. However, most people did get the chance to hear "Aisle 10 (Hello Allison)", with it's couple weeks of rotation on MTV. Rightfully so, that's a damn catchy song. Well folks, Mr. James is back and ready to give it another try with SWAX. Of the 12 songs on SWAX, 7 can be found on Okeeblow. Now, before you throw your hands in the air and wonder why you even need to buy this new CD, all the old songs got a new coat of wax and were buffed to a glossy shine. Furthermore, as with Okeeblow, all the songs on SWAX still display the eclectic, polished mix of pop, hip-hop and rock. Of the dozen, the most rousing, toe-tapping numbers seem to be "Both My Friends" and "Freeway". Indeed, James still opts for the kitchen-sink method of writing; there's no limit to the stylistic changes on this album. The lows on this album come when James attempts to rap (see "Eardrum" and "Back Again"). Even on Okeeblow, the hip-hop tracks were a little embarrassing to listen to. Nevertheless, the "Chico Boy" is equipped with a nice set of vocal chords and never hesitates to change up styles. Basically, to break it down to the brass tacks, this album is obviously a push for radio play. It's not underground or raw, James is definitely not afraid of production. Scapegoat Wax got another chance to break into the mainstream and Marty James is trying his hardest to give Hollywood Records a catchy hit. Maybe he'll succeed and go down in history with the Citizen Kings, Smashmouths, and Eagle Eye Cherries. [www.scapegoatwax.com]

I can't lie and say that I wasn't drawn to the new Coppe' record, Peppermint, because of the collaboration with Plaid (probably my favorite electronic duo). Even though the Plaid alliance covered only three of the sixteen tracks, it was still nice to find the rest of the album was at least enjoyable at times. The Peppermint collaborations do not end with Plaid: Coppe' managed to round up DJ Swamp, Mark B. and DJ Vadim as well. Unavoidably, with it being my first Coppe' experience, it's hard to know where Coppe' begins and the guest collaborator's influence ends. One thing that does remain constant throughout the album is the playful, airy vocals that permeate each track. In addition, whether the album tackles ambient, drum-n-bass or more straightforward electronica beats, flirty wisps of noise float through the background. It's hard to not draw comparisons to Björk. But, it's also easy to say Coppe' sounds nothing like the Icelandic songstress. It is evident that Coppe' takes freely from artists throughout the electronic world. Whether it is the treatment of the vocals, the vocals themselves or just the mid-range-heavy mix of beats and synth, Peppermint loses me often. "Jan & Jeff & Jungle Curry", "Jelly Omelette" and "Miso," with their more driving and focused arrangements, take the cake. Although, with the sparse placement of quality tracks, it's hard to totally immerse yourself into this album. [www.sweetrice.com]