The primary gripe I had about Engine Down’s Demure was that its mood – however murky and melancholy it may be – seemed contrived and quickly wore the album into jaded monotony. However, for what Engine Down strives, Denali accomplishes. But this comparison to Engine Down is probably much more relevant than it should be – Denali features Engine’s Jonathan Fuller and Keeley Davis in the rhythm department as Keeley’s younger sister, Maura, shapes and sculpts Denali into both the ethereal and aggressive subdivisions of rock. Denali’s self-titled album – as it vaguely sounds like Portishead’s Beth Gibbons sitting in on a fuller, angst-ier rock band – succeeds in maintaining a mood of sweet, dripping despondency while varying their soundscapes just enough to keep it compelling even when it drags. Certain moments glimmer in the moonlit melancholy more than others, though – specifically the drifting, drum machine-accentuated “Relief” and “Function’s” piano-driven emotional plea. But Denali isn’t attractive because of their wide array of instruments or their technical ability; this Virginia four-some lures you in for one reason: their desolate, emotional outcry that careens forward at a slow pace, but evokes swooping melancholy tirelessly. Returning to PJ Harvey’s anguished, premature days, Maura’s breathy, alluring whispers, although low in volume, scream with emotional distaste. If you find yourself alone on a gloomy Saturday night or peering at the rain while it drizzles on the windowsill, this is the prescription you’ve been longing for. [www.jadetree.com]

There’s a wide misunderstanding in music that “electronic” instantly connotes “emotionless.” Similarly, there’s a backlash in musical culture that denounces all use of samplers, dat tapes and synthesizers as many seem to find these devices prefabricated to the point of meaninglessness. But, as illustrated in our everyday lives, denying technology is like rejecting the evolution of humankind. So, why oh why do so many contemporaries continually steal from Kraftwerk – a electronic band that made their analog noise three decades ago? Isn’t this negating technology’s modern sense and acting as a retrogresser rather than a futurist? I think so too. Luckily, since Ladytron’s debut, 604, they have also dropped the cold, crafted edge of Kraftwerk and adopted a set of neoteric eyes for themselves. Although Light & Magic is still the same edgy, stylistic electro they’ve always stitched into the synth-pop scene, it is decidedly warmer and more emotive. Ladytron, true to their name, emphasizes keen, icy cool feminine vocals that would much rather explore the intricacies of the human heart than the programmed circuit board of a computer – which , surprisingly, is decidedly different than most of their synth-pop peers. As Helen Marnie glosses over acutely melodious vocals, sleek douses of synth-oriented sound washes atop the warm haze of distortion to paint a futuristic portrait of warm emotion, such as on “The Reason Why.” Although Light & Magic tires to homogeny on a few moments throughout its fifteen tracks, standouts such as the eerily familiar neo-new wave of “Blue Jeans” and the bass damaged synth splurge of “Startup Chime” more than redeem it as an album worthy to exit antiquity and enter the future. But, if nothing else, Ladytron triumph in proving that it is possible to fuel computers on a beating heart. [www.ladytron.com]

Djinji Brown's Sirround Sound is one part world-beat and one part hip-hop. From the opening track, "Mojuba (Afro-Beat for Ellegua)", you begin to feel that Brown has done something remarkable; he's made world-music album that's raw in the production and devoid of the tedium found in past releases in the genre. Brown doesn't cram several styles into one track, but instead preserves the intrinsic style of each culture and musical genre he's sampled. By keeping the arrangements minimal and leaving out the excess found in others like its kind, Sirround Sound can be something for open-minded hip-hop heads and eclectic drum-n-bass fans. The beginning of the set opens with classic African vocals and percussion, which then gives way Brown's own additions of feathery keyboard and shuffling beats. As the second track spins, a Latino woman recalls a story from her past as the track fades into a Latin-styled groove, complete with horn samples and myriad percussion. One can only expect things to get more varied from here. However, after another more Caribbean-influenced track, Brown takes a turn towards drum-n-bass and hip-hop. Throughout the middle of the set, Brown begins to use a more customary sampling style, with clips ranging from Burgess Meredith to The Fugees in the mix. It all comes to a head on tracks "Red Lights and Congnac... and Table Talk" and "Lifesavas", which both drop the world-beat pretense and instead flaunt an unadulterated hip-hop style. The same varied styles continue throughout the duration of the album; one track will exhibit more hip-hop tendencies, while the next re-adopts the previously established world-beat styles. The jury is still out as to whether Brown's wide-ranging approach to this album is more helpful or more hurtful. In some aspects, Djinji Brown definitely has managed to create something original with Sirround Sound. The raw production and the mish-mash of styles work well to take world-beat music to new heights. However, it's the intermittent hip-hop that seems to hurt this album. Being that it's not as strong as the other tracks, it detracts from the mood he sets up in the more exotic tendencies of the album. The bottom line: leave off the pedestrian hip-hop and you would find the beginnings of one groundbreaking album. [www.sevenheads.com]

Ever wonder how many songs have been written about relationships? Obviously, in the course of music history, many songs have been written about falling in and out of love. "Love the one you're with," some might say. While others might quip, "Love is a battlefield." There are countless others, but, whichever way you tend to lean, you know there's always a song about how you feel. Let's talk about Beck. Lately, he's one sad guy. "Who cares," the man in the back replies, "he's rich!" Well, what did you do that last time you broke up with your girlfriend? Huh? I bet you just lost 15 pounds, sat around in your underwear, ate dry Cheerios and watched reruns of M.A.S.H. Sounds about right, doesn't it? Ok, if I may continue… Since we've covered how pathetic we all can be, what the heck does Beck Hansen do when he breaks it off with a long-time sweetheart? I'll tell you what Beck does! He makes Sea Change, one fine album! Add about twelve more songs to that list. What is there to say about the new Beck album? In case you're that one person who hasn't heard any of it yet, he's reverted back to the acoustic-laden sound employed in Mutations. Except this time, clearly because of recent events, he's bitter and a tad more comfortable with the dreary, sad-bastard arrangements. Lyrically, this album isn't anything breathtaking, but it is quite honest. It shows in instances like the beginning of "Paper Tiger," which deals with both accepting the loss and moving on (Just like a paper tiger / torn apart by idle hands / through the helter skelter morning / fix yourself while you still can). Think about that line, and then think about the thousands of variations on the same theme, then you'll have all the lyrical content for Sea Change. On the whole, this album is a beauty - pay attention to "Little One" and "Lost Cause". Beck got his Dad to arrange the orchestration and Nigel Godrich was back at the helm on production. On a nice, sunny day, it can get you a bit down, so it's got that going against it. It really should carry a surgeon general's warning, no joke. Also, for fans of Midnite Vultures and Odelay, no dice. You'll have to wait until the next album. Albeit, for anyone who feels like drinking your sorrows away or just don't have the energy to cry yourself to sleep anymore, here's your soundtrack. [www.beck.com]

Xczircles, Aamir, Ahmuse, Amnesia, and Trex are the core of The Escape Artists, a DIY hip-hop collective from Los Angeles, CA. Plot Against Theme isn't their first album. It's not even their second. It's more like their third official full-length release. These guys should know how to put together a decent album by now. For a self-produced group, their beats and arrangements are quite well done. However, since most of the melodies that inhabit this album are minor and somewhat dark, to make it through all fifteen tracks consecutively can be a bit wearisome. Furthermore, each of the MCs can at times both lift and weaken the tracks. While they all have a very distinctive style, the verbose rhyme schemes can be a bit overbearing. If you drip water consistently onto a person's head for period of time, they will eventually go insane. In a very similar fashion, if you don't change up the dynamic of how the lines are delivered or phrased, things can become dull. It's just inevitable. Lastly, where's the damn hook? It's almost non-existent on this album. You can't tell me that the hook is not important to a hip-hop song. Even Anti-Pop Consortium had hooks! Hip-hop isn't anything new; it's been around for more than two decades now. As a fan of groups that push the boundaries of the genre, it's hard for me to embrace something that is content to remain behind the shadows of more recognized, influential hip-hop artists. The Escape Artists would do well by themselves to take the ideas they used in "Permanent Grinn" or "Soul Purpose" (minus the horrible verse from Tommy V) and expound on those themes. People just can't keep bringing the same stuff to the table and expect people to buy it. [www.escapingart.com]

Christainsen is a four piece form Louisville, Kentucky who have not only grown up together, but also live together. The product of this type of relationship is a very tight album that makes it clear that these boys know how to play together, and know how to do it right. The EP soars with melodic vocals, amazing guitar riffs, and an overall tightness that is clearly a result of the closeness the band members have with each other. Described by Kerrang as "post hardcore with soul, passion and melodic genius" Forensics Brothers and Sisters is part At the Drive-In, part Dismemberment Plan or Fugazi, and of course, all Christainsen. This mix of styles is a breath of fresh air to my indie mutilated ears. What sets Christainsen apart from the rest of post-hardcore (hey, I have to call it something) music out there is that the vocals and even the lyrics are just as solid as the music. All too often these days lyrics are overlooked, and we are left with a great sounding record that you can't bear to sing along to, because you don't want to repeat the stupidity that the lyrics imply. You don't have to worry about that with Forensics Brothers and Sisters. Also very present in the mix are the bass lines, which often shift toward the front of the mix and provide a nice break from the majority of guitar driven emo drivel that is all too present in today's music scene. As you may guess, we get a lot of crap music in the Silent Uproar mailbox. In fact, I think I even started out another review with that same line, but it is so true that it is worth pointing out again. The reason why this is so important to recognize is so that you will understand how happy it makes me when I slip something like Forensics Brothers and Sisters in my stereo and am just blown away. I can only hope that their follow-up full length will be just as impressive. [www.christiansenonline.com]

Despite rock’s history of stage names, alter egos and larger than life personas, there’s only been one constant that really, truly matters: the music. And, of course, Bangs know this. Which is why the band’s two figureheads – guitarist Sarah Utter and bassist Maggie Vail – supercede feminist pigeonholing, evade any form of musical gimmickry and concentrate on simply letting their punk energy squirm and writhe into pure rock ‘n’ roll on Call and Response, parented by their aptly named Kill Rock Stars label. Nothing represents Bangs’ punk rock call to arms better than the blaring garage squall of “Call and Response.” In fact, that clamor of clashing garage rock that perpetually exudes energy and endlessly perspires catchiness is so refreshing and so exciting it’s difficult to get past the introductory tune and discover what lies beyond. Although Bangs’ Call and Response situates itself close their relatives in Sleater-Kinney and Bikini Kill [literally in this case; Maggie’s sister, Tobi, is an ex-member], their concoction of sweet and sour punk ingredients amasses an exciting – if unoriginal – recipe for a garage rooted band. While the drummer position seems to stand as a revolving door for surrounding musicians in their native Olympia, Washington, new sticksman Peter Connelly’s straightforward beats slash and burn while adding a healthy does of rhythmic tension to Bangs’ guitar-fueled punk jitters. Bangs know what they’re good at – lashing out with tart melodicism that sweats beneath punk rock’s classic three-chord assault – and they religiously adhere to it. Call and Response complies to this never fatiguing formula with noticeable breaks only stemming from the plunking piano on “Kinda Good” and the immediately danceable and singable closer “Dirty Knives.” Call and Response is the sketch of a fun-inflicted trio playing the classicism of rock through punk’s 25 year history filter while disregarding any unnecessary decadence and avoiding typical indie elitism. It’s simply three people righteously rocking out for rock’s own sake – and that’s something we can all appreciate. [www.killrockstars.com]

With a name like Dead to Fall, it's hard to know what to expect. Clicky black metal can come in many colors (other than black), and even though decent ideas flail across Everything I Touch Falls to Pieces, and Dead to Fall has signs of young lads with talent, there is not enough adhesive. Something is missing from the whole of this band, and it's difficult to know what that is at first listen. Of course, unfans of throat-culture vocals should steer clear of this entirely. There is such a thing as bad classical music - where melodies that pick from all that has been done before are given in little doses, so there's nothing interesting. This can create ear candy for some, since it's easy to listen to, but since black metal is far from ear candy, Dead to Fall ends up being overly simple. You've got guys that love... well... black metal, and two guitars playing single notes of classical scales is obviously their love as well. But with few original ideas and a not-so-tight rhythm section, you've got a very, very decent band. The album itself is poorly mixed, and is a loose attempt at being heavy. The singer has nothing special in his repertoire except for "woofs" and repetition of his favorite phrases including the album title, the word "destruction", and "I will not fall". Certain tracks really do stand out and might make you smile, including "Like a Bullet" which starts out slim but is choreographed the way classical metal is supposed to be. Honestly, the highlight of the entire CD is the acoustic/instrumental interlude, "Doraematu", which shows the string talent a few of them have. A few choice tracks keep this one over a 2.0. But overall, Dead to Fall is nothing special, and aside from a few "special" tracks, the CD is not really worth it's weight in hard earned cash. [www.deadtofall.com]

If there is one genre that falls victim to monotony more than any other, it's rock. It's thriving in the mainstream right now, but the chances of sifting through the puddles of mud and finding something refreshing is pretty slim. This must have been the motivation to issue a re-release of Shiner's Lula Divinia. If there is one album this year that has the ability to shake the bowels of the thick/space rock persona, it's this album. I could never say enough good things about Lula Divinia, and as a starving Hum fan, I can vouch for a warm listening experience. It's hard to describe Shiner in a way that keeps it separated from all else that shadows its excellence. I was lucky to get introduced to Lula Divinia prior to it's reissue, and it's one of the most repeated albums in my player this year for sure. If there was one word to attach it would be "thick". The raunchy and bloated guitars fill all space not covered by other instruments, and although it can't be called "heavy", the punchy mix and wild chords will push any stereo hard. On the music lie very husky and brown vocals, that make melody work. His very deep voice, especially on the opening track "The Situationist", harkens back to the days of a prosperous Dinosaur Jr. This guy has no need to scream, and really doesn't have the range to hit shreaks, so he ignores them. The rest of the instruments scream for him. The drums couldn't be punchier, and do more than simply present a backbone on Lula Divinia - they're a key element in the composition. If there was no heavy hitting rhythm, the strumming guitars would be a wall of sound with no direction. It's so balanced it hurts; you can choose what you want to listen to with Shiner. The vocals sit back in the mix, and you can choose to concentrate on rhythm, where the guitars go, or what strange vocal melody floats on top. It's one of the most well-rounded albums I've ever heard as far as a "group" effort is concerned. For fans of space rock, anyone who likes melodic vocals over disonant chords (see Jawbox, Toadies), or anyone who likes their CDs thick, the ONLY thing that keeps Lula Divinia from earning a perfect rock score is the links between tracks. It's not as much an album as it is a collection of really great songs. But in its entirety, it's stupendous, and the 2 extra tracks are a nice edition - a reason to go out and pick it up. [www.shiner.net]

If you ask our favorite Cornerstone girl Dani, she will be the first to acknowledge that I have been stalling on this review. I have always been a big Filter fan and I was really disappointed when I heard The Amalgamut. In fact, I was so disappointed that I dreaded reviewing it because I didn't want to have to trash the band. However, some things must be done. Better to give my opinion then to just ignore it I suppose. My main problems with Tthe Amalgamut lie in the chorus of various songs. For instance, in "American Cliché", the song starts out with a lot of potential and has the makings of a great Filter track, however once the chorus kicks in it just ruins the song. It isn't really that the chorus is bad, it is just that they all are so repetitive that it seems like old Ritchie Patrick just ran out of ideas. Sure the words are different, but the delivery of the vocals and the pace of the chorus all seem the same. By track 3 your are already looking to hear something different, and what you get is the first single, "Where Do We Go From Here", which is basically "Take a Picture" round 2. The clear exception to my previous comments is the track "So I Quit". This track is balls to the wall rockin and a nice change of pace, but guess what follows...another slow boring song. I guess I need to be clear that it's not that I think The Amalgamut is a bad album, it is just not that good. The lyrics of the album are clearly a reflection of how Richard Patrick has felt after September 11th, and in that regard it is really great to hear something with such positive lyrics and hopeful wishes for the future. However, it makes me think that maybe he was so wrapped up in these lyrics and really expressing how he was feeling that he forgot to spend a little extra time on the structure of the songs themselves. The result is a really heart felt and what feels like a very introspective album, full of borrowing songs. There are two ways to look at this album. One is to say that Filter just doesn't have it in them anymore and have run out of ideas for songs. I don't like that way of looking at it. I believe that The Amalgamut is what Richard Patrick needed to make to deal with the world when he was recording the album, and that next time around we will get something with a little more edge to it. Only time will tell. [www.officialfilter.com]

When I eagerly snatched up Interpol’s debut full-length I was ignorant to the fact that I was not in fact buying it, but for every intangible reason it was just beginning to own me. The more you listen to Turn on the Bright Lights the further it festers and blossoms in your heart and soul. The oblique guitar atmospherics glimmer like stars lost in the moody backdrop of an all-encompassing black sky, while Paul Bank’s voice conjures tales of dark romanticism and dislocated love. In true heart throbbing fashion, Interpol magnify human emotion down to blinding, bone simple melodies that etch their consistency around the concrete musical surroundings of chilling keyboard drones and emotive, glacial guitar cuts. Although the tools that construct Turn on the Bright Lights are modest and almost basic, the method, style and technique that Interpol sculpts its magically epic soundscapes is what is most ravishing about their jaw dropping debut. A sense of mystique and spiritualistic aura gleams through in every aspect of Interpol that, when coupled with moonlit guitar streaks and love illuminated vocals, is nothing less than pure, unadulterated magic. What further distinguishes Bright Lights as an epic guide to the celestial constellations of our world is that through its despondent Joy Division tangents and lush episodes of strangled guitar chords there is always a sense of true beauty – untainted by our world of corrupted ideals and conformed beliefs. Ignoring trends, buzz and hype of every kind, Interpol mends haunting and moody aesthetics into a transcendent musical endeavor that surges with human emotion as its spinal cord. Now, maybe it’s just me, but it’s been far too long since something like that has not only been upheld, but truly advocated. [www.interpolny.com]

Imploding into one simultaneous wretched shot of punk hacked hardcore, Thirty Two Frames are a cheap and generic blemish on the individuality-centric punk scene. Their self-titled EP briefly recalls the crew’s alumni – Elliott and By the Grace of God – and features similar emo-core moments. But, sadly, this quartet opts for ‘80s styled punk annoyances that lack much of the genre’s former musical boldness, lyrical outcries and inspiring energy. This sterile and predictable EP is extraneous and stale to the scene of both today and bygone years. Although, their honest plight is Thirty Two Frames’ most respectable virtue – they attempt to return their heavy handed hardcore back to the days when punk meant more than bouncing onstage without a purpose and dying your hair 14 different colors. But, they do nothing but appear as sub-par rehashers of a sound that peaked well over a decade ago. Instead of Jay Palumbo’s [no relation to Glassjaw’s Daryl, thank God] surge of societal punk viewpoints feeling relevant and fresh, they appear more of a mimicry of his influences rather than a heartfelt rally against our often disposable culture. The music also fails to ascend to the heights of Thirty Two Frame’s inspirations – namely Hot Water Music, Boy Sets Fire and American Nightmare – and is drowned out by severely mediocre power chords and the stagnancy of boring snare bleating. Thirty Two Frames simply fails to squander an identity of their own. And with twenty minutes of undistinguishable songs, this Kentucky homegrown four-some can’t seem to even carve singular identities out of the six songs that make up their self-titled EP. A true shame. [www.revelationrecords.com]

Although many bands of the initial hard rock hybridization of the late ‘80s have dwindled away – the Red Hot Chili Peppers have mellowed to commerciality; Jane’s Addiction continue to fumble over reunions – Mike Patton continues to redefine, reinvent and completely subvert the norm without the backdrop of a constant band. His most recent target: the shape-shifting stomp of math-metal gods the Dillinger Escape Plan. As pairing the skin-crawling shriek of Mike Patton with the gnashing, tempo changing heaviness of the Dillinger Escape Plan may sound like the ultimate musical incongruity; it probably is – and that is precisely what makes Irony is a Dead Scene the most welcomed and challenging release in the world of “metal” for quite some time. Despite this matrimony of initial opposites, the cohesion of this EP is uncanny. Dillinger’s raucous music trades punch for punch with Patton’s squall to keep the format perpetually evolving and extremely ambitious – check the knee-shaking intensity of their take on Aphex Twin’s electro-scorching classic “Come to Daddy.” While the Dillinger Escape Plan’s earlier releases carved vocals matching its music under the “hyper-technical metal” tag, Mike Patton adds previously unheard of dynamics to the their intelligence-bleeding slash-and-burn take on hardcore. “Rock Paper Scissors” slices, lashes and writhes with screaming time changes and an ADD-fueled rhythmic stomp that propels Patton’s “mental hospital patient” vocal vibe with a payoff of frenetic, chugging noise that proves how effectively these two reputations compliment each other. The Dillinger Escape Plan collide with their well known kinetic force – the guitars stab your mind like the piercing, serrated knives that register Richter scale-like heaviness. But what ascends this concise four song EP to new, uncharted heights in “metal” and its vast family tree is the accessory of Patton’s hyperactive demented babble and his additive of churning dynamics. Perhaps the most thrilling component to Irony is a Dead Scene is that it actually challenges the rigid rubric found in the vast majority of heavy music - and when only using four songs as an instrument to do so, that, in itself, speaks much louder than any typical headbanging riff or inaudible scream. [www.dillingerescapeplan.com]

If you were to review the actual band, Glassjaw, you’d take into account individual talent, live performance, history, personality, and motivation. But writing a review for Worship and Tribute means disregarding those things, and reviewing this single effort. How “cool” the band is has nothing to do with the quality of the album, which is what most people fail to consider. Worship and Tribute is a solid album, full of original ideas, appropriate tangents, and lots of pizzazz, and could get labeled as a 5.0 by some. But every album has it’s share of flaws, and although I would call Worship and Tribute a must own, it’s still not a perfect CD. An album this good needs to be taken apart. The problem with nitpicking is it can make the record sound like a bad one, when you’re just highlighting the few things that “could” be wrong with it. Worship and Tribute is a stupendous rock record. It’s well-formulated, very honest, and contains the polish that Glassjaw deserved from their sophomore major label effort. The first track, “Tip Your Bartender”, is a table of contents of things to come: wild monotone vocals with “wah” guitar to fill the space shot right into a chorus that settles everything down. The changes and jerks in this album make it better for some and worse for others. Glassjaw is known for one key thing, the vocals. People either turn their nose up in understandable disgust, or cover their songs. If it’s one thing that separates this album from the last, it’s the odd and slippery noises put out by Daryl, which fit in some parts – while others sound like he’s actually trying to sound like himself. Even those that call Worship and Tribute album of the year can point out parts of the vocals that sound so funny, you can only memorize them until you forget how strange they are – then praise them. Glassjaw is honored as one of the pioneers of “Screamo”, but songs on this record could make me say they are actually “trying” to sound like Glassjaw – something which many local acts these days are being crucified for. There are slow songs and fast songs, but nothing nearly as raw as Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Silence, their previous album. That album came from the soul of a kid being shredded by love. Worship and Tribute comes from the soul of a kid that was shredded by love a while back. I was into the furious parts of their earlier efforts, and although the new disc is a good one, and some songs could make you cry, I’ve found the old CD in my player once again. Regardless of the quirks, it’s one of the best albums of the year for fans of the genre, and a great next step for Glassjaw. [www.glassjawband.com]

I'm looking for some innovation, and I cannot seem to find it. Can Pulse Ultra help me? Nope. One of the biggest factors when reviewing/listening to bands that have a "Now On Tour with Ozzfest!" sticker on their CD is weighing this new, up-and-coming, probably Jack-picked band against the heavyweights of the metal world, like Ozzy himself, Corrosion of Conformity, Tool, AC/DC, et. al. This aforementioned band, in this case Pulse Ultra, has three options: They can (a) reivent the genre and set new precedents (think Kyuss), (b) follow the genre with their own little special twist (a la Incubus), or (c) get the metal paint-by-powerchords kit for Christmas and follow it by the letter, thereby making a decent album with decent licks and whatnot, yet doing nothing truly relative. Sadly, Pulse Ultra chose option "c", playing it safe and therefore extinguishing yet another spark of hope I once held for the state of rock n' roll's grittyist cousin. The lyrics are trite, hanging on the more sesquipedillian nature of verbosity (See, now I sound like Pulse Ultra- Was it fun for you?) with the usual themes of paranoia (to the world, to the establishment, yawn) with profuse usage of words like "empty" and "conform". There's some breaking of the chains that bind (ho-hum), and, of course, there's always the requisite call out to that one female whom was once the hub of narrator's world, yet now narrator believes said female is a selfish, manipulative bitch. (Thank Fred Durst for this lovely rawk breakthrough.) Sure, songs like "Big Brother" and "Build Your Cages" highlight the Staind-ish harmonies of Pulse Ultra, as well as the band's cool knack for nice musical landscapes and fairly earnest delivery. But still, I cannot quit hearing the lyrics of Lauryn Hill ringing: "Everything you drop is so tired/ Music is supposed to inspire/ How come we ain't gettin' no higher?" This, like she says, applies to music, and this album, though by definition music, does no homage to inspiration or higher thought, and perhaps can hope to aspire to a great live show or background music for Hot Topic, but otherwise, it's just another album, and this frankly makes me sad. [www.pulseultra.com]

Courtney Love, an iconoclast of the now dusty Seattle scene, once spoke in an interview about Seattle, specifically a song she was writing for the city known for its coffee, space needle, and heroin use. She said (and I paraphrase) "I want to write a song about rain falling on a Douglas Fir tree, to represent leaving the dark, and the need and inevitablity of going to the light." You might not like Courtney, but I think the statement has validity in lieu of the Seattle scene, which prides itself for being punky, wood-grained, and honest. But, eventually, you have to write about something other than your niche. Gaining different perspectives equals great lyrics, great music. Staying in one place equals stagnant, non-productive pond, covered in the alage of your repression. But before I wax poetic, lemme just tell you about Lucid Nation, which, taking a fun fact into consideration, has former Hole drummer Patty Schemel back behind the drum kit. Yah! And, once you get past the general annoyance of vocalist Tamra Spivey's poor Selene Vigil (7 Year Bitch) cauterwail laid thick and oppressive over every track of this double-disc journey/opus, you've got a pretty good Sonic Youth album,Goo era. There's good grooves, good jams, and some overall pretty nice ventures back into the good parts of Seattle's garages. There's some poppy stuff, some quiet stuff- You've got 32 tracks to choose from, and, like I said, the music itself is great. But take a sample lyric: "There'll be no more crying in your beer/ All troubles left behind". First of all, this was done better when Kim Deal decided to be an Amp, and secondly, this is all sang in an unbecoming vocal cross between Mudhoney's Mark Arm and Janis Joplin. I'll just be completely honest with you; I know that this album, overall, is pretty cool, but it didn't get my mandatory listens because Spivey's voice grated me more than Britney Spears' digital squeal. This is an album that you could take on a fall/winter drive through the mountains with your unrequited love, or even just take it in as background to sit behind your own thoughts (at low volumes), because this album can provoke new thoughts or further exploration in old ones, and when your band's name is "Lucid Nation", that's about all you can ask for, y'know? [www.lucidnation.com]

After recently releasing two full-lengths in as many years, Milemarker continue to blur that ever thinning line of passion-exuding hardcore and detached neo-electro with a new EP and an accompanying dynamic, boundary defying sound. Satanic Versus splits its emphasis equally between Steve Albini produced full band guitar drones and heavy distortion with the other half delving into electronic experiments that were concocted inside the band’s own Chicago home studio. While Milemarker has steadily decreased their ethical hardcore sound that reeked havoc on their earlier albums, they have exponentially increased their avant-garde experimental nature on every ensuing release. Now relying on sequencers and drum machines as much as guitars and standard vocals [or perhaps more], Satanic Versus begins with “Join Our Party” in an extremely Kraftwerk-esque nature recalling jerky keyboard rhythms and synthetic glitchery that purveys solely an electronic sound. Continuing in a subdued, layered musical attack that drenches itself in distortion and droning guitar, “The Banner of the Sick” and “New Lexicon” fully deviate from their previous realms of hardcore and propel themselves to new, astronomical heights. With extremely warped and passionate vocals gushing beneath the messy body of pulsing electro and zig-zagging textural guitars, Milemarker solidify their blossoming sound as a dark cross between Sonic Youth, Kraftwerk and Curve. As this EP defies every definition Milemarker has previously resurrected, each actual song on Satanic Versus outdoes the previous soundscape. “Lost the Thoughts But Kept the Skin” softly meanders through piano balladry for a handful of minutes before skittering into an explosive, shape-shifting noise drifter that skews and contorts guitars with entrancing melodies, sealing it as the EP’s true masterpiece. There really is no piece of the puzzle out of place, but as Milemarker continue to merge their saturated guitar drones closer to the cold, electronic-based synth work that superbly laces Satanic Versus, their material will do nothing but further ascend towards greatness. Despite only being an EP, Milemarker exercise their always burgeoning palette of traditional and subversive music to speak volumes more than the vast majority of full-lengths. One monstrously epic step forward for this four-some. [www.jadetree.com]

Although there has never been a vast rift of quality music in Sleater-Kinney’s six full-lengths since 1995, consider One Beat a return to true musical form. As they’ve hurdled many of punk rock’s obstacles in recent years, One Beat sketches a dozen tracks in testament to why they are not only the cornerstone of their Kill Rock Stars imprint, but the queens of the entire entourage of punk rock protocol as well. The key is reinvention without losing a trademarked sound. And this Olympia, Washington’s all girl trio effectively redraft themselves with booming soul, riveting blues and, of course, that brash and sexy squeal of garage-punk elixir we’ve come to expect from these scenesters. On One Beat, Sleater-Kinney hone their punk rock footing for tunes that erupt with saccharine sweet hooks that you will be humming immediately – just try the irresistibly catchy “Oh!” on for size – and songs that incorporate horns and keyboard scribbles, such as “Step Aside” and “Funeral Song.” But don’t think that the three girls [or is it women now?] in S-K forgot how to rock. Their dual guitar and drum siege continues to hammer clean chords and skippy drumbeats into the mix, creating a flow of familiarity while always willing to take that definitive step towards invention. And with S-K recapturing their evolving selves, it’s an asset that their influence is beginning to pulse through unlikely realms – the title track would not sound out of place on the Yeah Yeah Yeahs debut EP, for example. I haven’t always been enticed by S-K’s impassioned, sweet and articulate punk, but One Beat is a convincing musical vehicle willing to make the necessary stops at punk roots and delightful diversity. One Beat may not top year end lists, but this album is a welcomed rendition fitting somewhere between Bikini Kill, the Ramones and Patti Smith that stands with a strong backbone undeniably its own. [www.killrockstars.com]

Everyone always tries to encourage kids with the promise that “there’s no shame in trying.” Unfortunately, Onyx prove that truism wrong, track after track on the unsurprisingly lame Bacdafucup: Part II. Trying to reclaim the past glories the Queens threesome just sound generically and unconvincingly “hard” over the course of 12 tracks. Which is a shame, really, since “Slam” was a genuinely inspired and influential single, ushering in the barking style that became a staple of mainstream East Coast rap (what, you thought DMX just had a cold or something?) as well as the early wave of hiphop/rock collaborations that are so commonplace now. Yet anyone looking to see new ground broken should look elsewhere, as the closest thing to freshness Onyx bring is a…Welcome Back Kotter sample (YES!) on “Slam Harder,” a slickly produced party jam replete with a “lemme hear my ladies holler” call out that even Ja Rule wouldn’t be seen next to. And believe me, it all goes downhill from there – a 9/11 tribute, a song-long proclamation that “Onyx Is Back,” and countless other unremarkable joints all fail to ignite. Even Dr. Dre/The Roots collaborator Scott Storch offers the limpest of beats on the album’s closing track. When LL Cool J shouted “don’t call it a comeback,” he did it on one of the most powerful and propulsive tracks of his career. Yet Onyx’ re-entry to an already crowded field of generic rap music doesn’t even come close to a comeback – or whatever you want to call their disappointing album. Some things are just better left alone. [www.allmusic.com]

Hey, remember when Ozzy was better known for his music than his fathering? Maybe this live “best-of” can serve as a reminder to the hordes of Osbournes fans that big poppa raised hell way before he ever raised any kids, and can still rock with the best of them years later. The 13 brisk tracks – recorded in Japan’s legendary Budokan sumo arena – cover all bases of Ozzy’s metal pedigree, from early Sabbath (“Paranoid”) to the dove-decapitating, 80s era Randy Rhoads hits (“Bark at the Moon” and “Crazy Train”), even throwing in some of latter-day power ballads (“Mama I’m Coming Home”) for good measure. Oz and co sound tight as hell – perhaps a bit too slick for a “live” album, some might argue – and they certainly get the job done, as far as capturing legacies is concerned. Zakk Wylde’s ridiculously high-pitched metal solos are a particular treat, a reminder of a bygone age when Ozzy’s notorious drug intake didn’t include cholesterol medication. While this disc isn’t going to win any new converts to the Church of Oz, Live at Budokan will certainly remind everyone that Mr. Osbourne ain’t just a sitcom. Throw your devil horns in the air now. [www.ozzy.com]