It took me a LONG time to review this album. Why? Because this album, by Mr. Controversy, Marshall Mathers aka Slim Shady aka Eminem, is so terribly good. I tried to find knots, I tried to find little pockets of bad bits, I tried to be overly critical. I read every available article about Eminem, trying to grab a foothold on something that would keep this review from being a kiss-arse. It was so difficult, because this album was totally brilliant and addictive, easy to enjoy, easy to put in the CD player. It's cynical, it's smart, it's cheeky, it's un-PC, it's gleefully entertaining. Eminem, you made a good album. Okay, so there's no denying the obvious talent that Eminem has under tap, and he knows how actually irremarkable he is in terms of controversy ("Like I'm the first rapper to smack a bitch or say faggot?"-"White America") as well as how precious his carrer is ("My insecurities could eat me alive"- "Hallie's Song" and "I know I'll probably never get the props I deserve" - "Sing for the Moment") but he's irrepressably funny and so clever. Have you figured out that I was impressed yet? Are you surprised? I was. I usually get irritated by overt misogyny, childish name-calling, and anything having to do with homophobia. But it seems a part of Eminem's character, a part of his anger-management: He might not mean it so much as he only means it when he's angry. Not since Kurt Cobain has there been so much vitriol to be purged. The only difference (c'mon, hear me out) is that Emimen has a sense of humor about the world, while Kurt was more apt to rage against it. In terms of beats and breaks, well, that's the docking of the ".5" on this album's rating, because there's obligatory samples, obligatory rollicking pieces that, while they make Dr. Dre raise hell again, Eminem seems just to be comfortable in them, as oppossed to really feeling them. But then there's the silly, OutKast influenced track "Square Dance", which is easily the best rap track I've heard since "B.O.B.", as it boasts a goofy and southern-fried beat and the BEST flow on the whole album: "psychotic, hypnotic product I got it the antibiotic, ain't nobody hotter and so on/and yada yada, god I talk a lotta hem de lay la la la, oochie walla um da dah da dah da but you gotta gotta/ keep movin'..." You gotta hear it- This is part of the process of purging Bubba Sparxx from our collective unconcious. "Business" has Dr. Dre getting mad again as a Batman to Eminem's Robin ("Holy whack unlyrical lyrics, AnDre!"), and his "Hell Yeah!" makes the track, while "Cleaning Out My Closet" is adressing Eminem's multiple personality issues, as the verses are angry and bitter, yet the chorus is almost sad and apologetic (to his mother) and, notably, the theme to Eminem's new movie "8 Mile." More? Then there's some skits ("The Kiss", "Paul Rosenburg", "Steve Berman", and "Curtains Close") which fill time between tracks. "Soldier" assures us that Eminem is with us for the long haul, despite his temper, and "Say Goodbye to Hollywood" is a token pain of fame song. "Drips" is an ode to STD's and is fairly boring, actually, as Obie isn't very entertaining, and "Without Me" you've probably heard enough to be tired of and need not my commentary. "Sing for the Moment" samples Areosmith's "Sing With Me" and retains it's dissention and hoplessness, only now tainted with Eminem's tales of despair- That's another docking of points, as it's such an obvious sample. "Superman" gives Eminem a chance to get mad at girls again in a very (admit it) funny way, while "Hallie's Song" which was originally to be backed by George Harrison's "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" (you can tell) is honestly hearfelt, genuine, and, yeah, sang... er, nice try. "My Dad's Gone Crazy" is a fun song with Eminem's daughter guesting on the chorus and a Beverly Hillbillies beat, while "'Til I Collapse" (Queen sample & token Nate Dogg guest vocal) and "When the Music Stops" are more socio-political motivated songs. Dre and Eminem collaborate on a marginal "Say What You Say". Honestly, and I wouldn't lie to you, the album's great. It's brilliant, it's wonderful. It's not the best album ever, but it definitley proves that Eminem is not the white-rapper novelty of Vanilla Ice or the weary has-been of Everlast: This is not rap-rock, this guy is as honest as he's going to be, he utilizes free speech enough to make it seem ludicrious, yet he's undeniably good, and he delivers. Get the album, and I bet you won't be dissapointed. [www.eminem.com]

In the land of power drills and sacrifice is where Cradle Filth eats dinner. "Lovecraft and Witch Hearts" is the band's 8th studio album, which says a lot in the light of label and possible fan support. They sit in a place that few metal bands can say they are. Cradle of Filth is one of the few bands these days that are actually rewarded with an MTV video ban. One of the things that makes them great is taking masochistic and sodomistic tendencies to the listener with a somewhat talented band, while putting images forth that would give 10% of the population a heart attack. Unfortunately, this review has nothing to do with Cradle of Filths visuals, and instead focuses on it's soundtrack. "Lovecraft and Witch Hearts" is a double CD with attitude and raunch, yet not only steers far from my preference, but will be lucky to find itself in the changer of most metal heads. Simply, the band name itself will cause a smirk, but once you pop this disc in, you really begin to test tolerance. I would never put down a band and judge them for a single release, for Cradle of Filth holds their place in black metal, but only a certain few would even be able to make it through the entire album because of a few key factors. What will turn people off initially is the vocal style. Some growl, some bark, some scream (Dr. Seuss?), but what we have here is pure velociraptor. If Axel Rose started a black metal band back in 1984, it would sound like this. What could stand as a very potent and deep choice of vocal tone transcends into something very silly. Silliness is what plagues this record all around. String ensembles dot the album, though they aren't real strings - they're Casio strings. This carries over to the other dozen album segues. The "inbetweeners" come off contrived, not moving. As far as the rest of the music, it's very loud and could be heavy, but the mix keeps it from anything remotely close to powerful. Every instrument is drowned in reverb, the drums are shoddily mixed, and the songs seem to hiss at you, screaming, "Turn me off, turn me off!" It's much more noisy than powerful. The good points in the album lie in some of the composition - for this is not a simple album. Orchestration is rampant, and the drummer is quite talented as well. He's very fast and fluid, and his choices are nice choices. Too bad his drums sound horrible on the CD. I can't dig "Lovecraft and Witch Hearts". It wallows in pretension, from the white make-up and bad clothes, to the "Boo! Did I scare you?" lyrics, to the chainsaw vocals and fake instrumentation. The album as a whole is very artificial, and I would consider it just as "processed" as most of the pop these days. Cradle of Filth's new adventure will only appeal to the chosen few. They hold their position in black metal, but that position is nowhere near the discs spinning in my player. It will appeal to very few. 1.5 manstyle points. [www.cradleoffilth.com]

If there's a way to write new rock/punk while steering clear of all the SOS*, Thrice will pioneer it for sure. Finch claims to be the "Perfect mix of pop-punk and hard rock". I argue that Thrice's "Illusion of Safety" is what Finch was going for. I wouldn't go as far to call the style original, but the songs are for sure. Combine the right amount of hooks, changeups, and fancy song-writing, and you come out with a very solid album. There are so many things I love about Thrice. Most rock albums have a tendency to trail off near the end, becoming more mellow and less interesting. Thrice steered clear of that, placing some choice and energized tracks toward the end. "Where Idols Once Stood" (track 9) and "To Awake And Avenge The Dead" (track 11) are two of the strongest tunes in my opinion. An album that ends strong, is strong. It makes you want to just start it over again, and you will. "Illusion of Safety" was produced by fancy-pants Brian McTernan of Cave In fame. Needless to say, it's well mixed and damn powerful, yet doesn't over compress itself and remains nice and live. Slips here and there by the guitar players, singer, and drummer only add a rawness to the album that sends me back to the days of Weezer's Pinkerton - an album that can take credit for being so raw. These flaws only strengthen the album, and keep reminding you that you're listening to humans. Harmonies are common, the lead guitar player is as smooth as soapy plastic with his melodies, and while the choruses are hooky, they aren't cookie cutter. Key changes, unexpected bittersweet breaks, and an occasional prog-rock breakdown tie this album together, and for me, is one of the must buys for the year. If you're a fan of nice guitar work, if you follow what's going on with new rock music, or if you're a survivor from the mid to late nineties era of melodic punk (Bad Religion comes to mind), go buy this album now! It's slightly short, but you won't be sorry. 4.7 manstyle points. *same ol'shit [www.thrice.net]

I feel bad for Audiovent. Everyone knows it's made up of younger siblings of Incubus. This would not be important if they didn't sound exactly... like... their older brothers. But, they do. The album is quality though. Every song is gorgeously produced, the vocals are top notch, the hooks are overwhelming, and between the quality of the record and their relation to an already thriving band, they will see their success soon enough. Most of the time, bands that are big before they're big can create an unstable future for themselves. Let's hope this doesn't hold true for Audiovent and their new experiment. On with the CD: I was able to get my hands on the Audiovent demo about a year and a half ago, and many of the tracks on "Dirty Sexy Knights In Paris" were carried over from the Vent demo (Vent is what they were called previously). The best way to analyze the talent of a band is to compare the songs with their demo counterparts. I must say this the band is very tight, and Jason Boyd's vocals are almost to die for. His voice has deepened significantly in a 1 1/2 years, but other than that, the songs carry over to the full production quite well. If I said that Audiovent doesn't sound just like the nu:Incubus and Hoobastank, my nose would grow. Audiovent is obviously made up of very talented songwriters that choose to write pop songs instead of the more eclectic songs they might compose on the side. The songs on "Dirty Sexy Knights In Paris" are somewhat formulated, especially the ones that are destined for the radio. Choruses repeat at the end of songs for emphasis, some of the vocal clichés will make you shake your head and sit tight for the next change-up, and the end of the CD is protected by trippy and sitar laden ballads that show off Jason's voice, which come off very weak. Most tracks though, are slick and well organized, and few could be huge hits. Overall, I'm impressed with Audiovent's album, and if anyone is into the rock n'roll sounds of Hoobastank, Audiovent is for you. 3.9 manstyle points. [www.audioventmusic.com]

Everyday it seems there’s another “next big thing” or “new Nirvana” to watch out for. Correct me if I’m wrong, but very few have made much of an impact as of yet (unless you count “lots and lots and LOTS of articles” and “heavy MTV2 rotation” as a big achievement). The Vines are the latest addition to this lot, and while they’re the most blatantly derivative (Kurt and Co., Bowie, the Beatles, etc), they’re also one of the most fun. Anguished screaming? Check. Detuned riffs? Ditto. Melodic sensibilities? You bet. Highly Evolved is a suitably ironic title for a disc so heavily influenced by the past. From the heavy duty flannel riffage on “Get Free” to the White Album bassline of “Factory,” every track on the Vines’ debut seems to one rock and roll movement or another. But you’ve gotta admit, these kids do it with style. The energy level stays nice and high throughout, and the production values have just the right amount of FM radio crispness - just in time for summer! This is a lofty comparison to be sure, but I am reminded a lot of Pablo Honey when I hear the Vines’ record. No one could have predicted that Radiohead would follow up “Creep” and the rest of Pablo’s borrowed alternarock by becoming the best band in the world, but the fact remains that they did it. Could lightning strike twice and do the same for The Vines? Who knows. While the disc says nothing new (seriously, though), I continue to be struck by how much I continue to like it. These Vines may just be growing after all. [www.thevines.mu]

When indie rap luminaries Rawkus Records signed a deal with megacorp Vivendi Universal for all their future releases, many in the hip hop community cried foul. At first glance, the tracklisting for Rawkus’ Soundbombing 3 compilation seems to reinforce these worries: the indie MCs the label was known for are placed side by side with platinum hitmakers like Method Man, Missy Elliott and Noreaga. Yet as De La Soul once put it, “we might blow up, but we won’t go pop.” Any fears that Rawkus would be aiming for the MTV crowd are allayed once the gritty snare of “The Life” (by Pharoahe Monch and Styles P of Ruff Ryder affiliates the Lox) starts to kick. Despite Rawkus’ definite affinity for bigger-name, more mainstream artists, the discs lyrical and musical aesthetic remains strongly rooted to the label’s underground history. Like many compilations, Soundbombing 3 has it’s share of fast forward moments. Fortunately, there are more than enough highlights to sustain the album throughout. With it’s unique meld of 80s metal guitar and new-school rap beats (courtesy of Rockwilder), Mos Def’s “Freak Daddy” proves “rap rock” can be much more than some backwards-hatted fat guy and a DJ yelling about their feelings. Tribe Called Quest’s Q-Tip abandons his recent jazz excursions with the surprisingly hardcore return to form, “What Lies Beneath,” and fellow traditionalists The Beatnuts and The Roots shine on their respective efforts as well. What’s most interesting about this compilation is that its strongest moment comes from perhaps it’s least well-known artist. RA The Rugged Man comes through with “On The Block,” a clever twist on the back-in-the-day theme that mixes genuinely clever wordplay with boom bap production that is mercifully free of the polish that clogs so many of today’s built-for-TRL rap singles. As long as Rawkus continues to let gems like this shine through, they should have no problem maintaining quality throughout their major label partnership. [www.rawkusrecords.com]

I was born too late to have firsthand memories of the 1970s. If I did, however, I can only hope that my personal experiences of the decade could at least be half as cool as the Dogtown and Z-Boys “O.G. Motion Picture Soundtrack” suggests. The era’s supremely pimped-out custom vans (with dragons painted on the sides! Shit yeah!) alone are enough to make a younger dude jealous, but the heavy-ass, weed smoke guitar riffs that stomp throughout this album only adds insult to injury. “Missed out” is an understatement! The Dogtown soundtrack handpicks the finest moments of pre-punk 1970s rock, straining out all the bloat and leaving nothing but ten tracks of “classic” rock in every sense of the word. The album blazes Jimi Hendrix’s supreme “Ezy Ryder” and the James Gang’s aptly titled “Funk 49,” gets down and dirty from the legendary Iggy and the Stooges, glams up with T Rex and Alice Cooper, and even goes out on a soft note by way of Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May” (which never sounded less corny then it does closing out the disc). Surprisingly concise (10 songs, a miracle these days, proving just because you CAN fill a CD with 70+ minutes of music it doesn’t mean you should). What’s most striking about this wonderful album is how incredibly fresh it sounds. By eschewing hits and big singles for the most part (as well as songs that have been used in car commercial after car commercial), many of the songs sound as new as the day they were recorded. Just as the film aims to rekindle interest in the Dogtown team’s history as skate innovators, this CD will hopefully get a lot of folks to put down whatever flavor-of-the-month rock they’re currently listening to, and get a little more knowledge on the roots. Which - while not as cool as a custom van - is still a very good thing. [www.dogtownzboys.com]

Throughout the recording process of Gravity, the fifth notch into Our Lady Peace’s discography, fans were warned of a different direction for the rock sculpted Canadian quartet. After its precursor – the much-loved Spiritual Machines – a change was thought unnecessary. The band were at their climactic pinnacle of artistry and had evolved to etch their prog-alterna-rock niche into the hearts and minds of fans who want their rock a bit below the procured cut of mainstream radio but still afloat well above the undertow of indie seclusion. But, with Gravity, something has indeed changed. Perhaps it was due to the fallout of their longtime guitarist and the advent of an unfamiliar bandmate; possibly it was because of being holed up in a Hawaiian studio with a hard rock/metal oriented producer. However, I can’t stop myself from thinking that Columbia Records – their respective label – may have put a tweak in their accessibility and a stomp on their creativity. Apart from Raine Miada’s easily perceptible voice, much has been altered. The guitars brim with pseudo-epicism, the lyrics lose the mysterious swagger of subtlety for shades of linearity and it all fits into a tidy package palatable enough to run the radio-ready circuit. Not that those factors would instantaneously deduce Gravity down to, say, Nickelback-esque standards, but with such sound staples as “All For You” pleading its ugly case, dissenting such obtrusions is not simple. Tightening the cracks of the previously spacious alternative prog feel with decidedly rock-ready guitars may not sound disheartening in theory, but in practice it lacks everything that made Our Lady Peace, well, Our Lady Peace. However, there are vague remnants – most notably Raine’s voice – that flicker with haunting nostalgia of their past magic and “Bring Back the Sun” even offers a serene orchestral confluence among emotional drowning, deeming it as Gravity’s most prominent moment. With Our Lady Peace now sadly dialing into radio touchstones, they become a mediocre band that neither aggravates or bewilders. But what is aggravating is the fact that Gravity relinquishes much of the growth and potential that Our Lady Peace spent the last seven years nurturing. Let’s hope this four-some has some anti-Gravity experiences to leave their sixth studio effort lingering in galaxies far apart from their current orb of congeniality. [www.ourladypeace.com]

Josh Davis features a variety of elements on The Private Press, jumping from Depeche Mode-ian techno pop to ancient library samples, mixing up old soul recordings with atmospheric instrumental passages. Yet for all the expansion and experimentation, the album’s most enjoyable listen comes a few songs in, when Shadow simply drops the PERFECT breakbeat while while scratching “I’m a BAD…motherfuckin DJ! This is why I walk and talk this way.” Unfortunately, the brief joy is squashed almost as soon as it began. The Private Press is a “good” album in every sense of that word. However, it often feels forced, like a musical science experiment. Shadow has admitted in recent interviews that he made a conscious effort to reinvent his style on this record, but after multiple spins, one gets the nagging feeling that the baby was thrown out with the bathwater. Fun moments like the one described earlier are few and far between, replaced by ambient stretches that, while interesting at first, end up putting the listener to sleep in the long run. In the aforementioned interviews, Shadow also stood firm on the fact that he doesn’t want every track on Press to end up, Moby style, in advertisements and commercials. Yet that would be a match made in heaven, since the tracks too often fail to captivate after a listen or two – they would be the perfectly unassuming backdrop for a Fruitopia or something. Is Private Press a sophmore slump? Perhaps. It’s just a shame that DJ Shadow followed up his unbelievably dope Brainfreeze and Product Placement mix compilations with a CD that’s just like most of your classmates at school – pleasant, functional, somewhat dull, and more or less forgettable once the class is over. [www.djshadow.com]

From Chaos marks the first album from the rap-rock-reggae-metal band on Volcano Records, their sixth studio album to date. The album’s single, ‘You Wouldn’t Believe’, is probably the most appealing song on the disc on first listen. Furthermore, "Champagne", "Amber", and "I’ll Be Here Awhile" stand out from the standard 311 riff-rap songs. However, the album isn’t going to win them any new fans. To be honest, I had to listen to this album about 10 times before I started to get into it. I love it now. 311 are probably one of my favorite bands and I will always love them no matter what critics say, no question. On the other hand, I think that after the masterpiece that was Soundsystem in 1999, I needed something more than From Chaos to get me excited about 311 again. If you are a fan like me, do go out and buy the album right away. Eventually you will learn the lyrics and grasp the beauty of 311 in every song, but it won’t happen right away. The one thing that makes 311 stand out from the other rap-rock bands out there is that they have been making music like this for ten years. This album is another dose of the same kind of music. It seems that this decade will be about pushing boundaries and making “new” music, but 311 have stayed true to themselves. That might make this album seem trite and stale compared to other 311 albums, so I’ll give it 3.0 manstyle points. But before I go I have to say, “fuck the bullshit, it’s time to throw down!” [www.311music.com]

What happens when a mildly underground rock band becomes super famous and is hailed as "the next big thing" by all kinds of press, television, and mixed media? Two of the members quit, that's what happens. At least in the case of At The Drive-In that's what happened. The band was getting loads of press, having their video on MTV.. hell, they had a video! But the pressure proved to be too much. So Omar Rodriguez and Cedric Bixler walked. So what the hell does all that have to do with Sparta? Though you may have already known, Sparta is the remaining members of At The Drive-In (Jim Ward, Paul Hinojos, and Tony Hajjar) joining forces with longtime friend Matt Miller (and ATDI manager Blaze James). Amazingly enough, Sparta is not exactly like At The Drive-In. It is, however, similar. The vocals are quite reminiscent just in their overall sound, but the band has taken a more melodic approach. The screaming has turned into singing and got alot of emotion behind it. Not like whiny-emo emotion, but honest feeling. "Mye" (the lead off tracK) has Jim repeating over and over "This time I'll get it right..." A sentiment probably more than inspired by his experience with ATDI. "Cataract" is the more mellow of the three typically structured rock songs (the final track "Echodyne Harmonic" is more of a downbeat Radiohead Amnesiac-esque kind of experience). And then you've got "Vacant Skies" rounding it out with some more straight ahead rock. It's a four track EP so it's really hard to get a grip on what Sparta is going to eventually become, but if the experimentation with programmed drums and keyboards continues it will definetly make for an interesting full-length. Don't get me wrong, it has it's fair share of guitars and beating drums, but the band is spreading out from it's sound in ATDI. Austere isn't by any means ground breaking but it is a promising look at a group of musicians who picked themselves up from an ill-timed breakup and created a refreshing take on their old sound for themselves. The lack of one manstyle point comes from it only being 4 songs and one of those four being an out of place "de-mix." I give them credit for trying something new but the 3 rock structured songs would have been enough. [www.spartamusic.com]

Here at SU we try to keep our ears open for up and coming bands that are making there way into the rock scene. One band that has come up a lot lately is Earshot. I really had no idea what to expect when I received Letting Go, and was reasonably impressed with what I heard. As I write this review, I decided I would go to the band's official site to learn a little more about them. Oddly enough, as I listened to the song "Get Away", which happens to be the first single, I read the quote on their website that is from the chorus of this song. Chances are, the track is all over the modern rock radio station in your town right now, and after listening to the song my first thought was how much the singer sounds like Maynard at times. I later came across this random quote, "Earshot is to Tool what Hoobastank is to Incubus", which I agree with completely. While Earshot is good, and has their shit together, they just don't recreate the magic that is Tool. But who said that were trying to, you may ask? Well no one, but it is obvious that Tool has at least been an influence to the band. Their sound in general can be described as "rock" or perhaps even "modern rock", but not in the quite so radio friendly way that say Hoobastank is. Parallels can be drawn with bands like Godsmack, Puddle of Mudd, and the previously mentioned Tool. Songs like "We Fall, We Stand" massage the eardrums a little by adding orchestral elements, while songs like "Unfortunate" are so stripped down that they are just boring. To sum up this page full of ramblings, Letting Go is a pretty solid release from an up and coming band. If you like to really be impressed by your music, then you might feel let down, but if you just wanna hear some good rock then go pick up this album when it hits streets May 7th. [www.myearshot.com]

It took me way too long to get around to buying this album. But there's nothing I can do about that: What I can do is tell you to go out and buy it, because it rocks, it swings, it beats, it tumbles- It's everything you've ever hoped for... If you've been hoping for a female-fronted (Muffin Spencer, sister of Jon of the Blues Explosion) Beastie Boys. Brassy writes their songs, they have call and response, they have an excellent DJ (DJ Swett): In short, they are modern. But here's the catch- They're unique! They've got wonderful craftmanship. "I'm Gonna Play Some D" is totally groovy, with outrageously funky bass lines and a sweet, bratty chorus. "B.R.A.S.S.Y" is wonderful and bright, makin' your drive to... Well, anywhere, more pleasureable because you've got your own little concert in your car. "Work it Out", the title track, with its "uh-huh's" and scratch-heavy solo, is so immediatley likeable that you may get stuck on it the first go 'round. Look, even their Laverne & Shirley answering machine message tag team is endearing and vicious. The band is just great, and once you put the CD in, you rock out. You've gotta check it out, and I apologize for taking so long to tell you about this great great band. [www.brassy.com]

Pedro The Lion's latest album Control came to my attention when Jade Tree Records had a sneak peek of the album available for download. I snagged "Penetration" and "Rapture" from the forthcoming album and gave it an honest listen. What I heard was an unexpected bit of crooning rock. David Bazan's voice is distinct in it's depressive, almost drawl-like, delivery. But instead of acoustic guitars backing him up with subtle instrumentation carrying him along in the background, there was up front guitars, high tempo drums, and even the occasional keyboard thrown in. It appeared that Pedro The Lion wasn't the one-trick pony that I had pegged them (him) for. That is until I got the full-length in the mail. It's not that the songs aren't diverse or good, but they are all quite similar. The two songs that I snagged for download pretty much summed up the album - and since I heard them first they became the highlights of the CD for me. Songs like "Indian Summer" fall into the same category of rocked up songs, lyrics longing for another time, and catchy, yet somewhat droning, choruses. Control doesn't break any new ground musically. It's definetly a new, and welcomed, direction for Mr. Bazan but it easily slips into the background if your attention isn't fully focused. Even the mild vocoder effect on "Progress" can't regain your focus. What does redeem this album are the lyrics, mostly because they are the familiar element from past albums. The comparison of being screwed by a record label and being screwed by a lover has never been executed more successfully. The pain from David Bazan's recent divorce shows itself through his delivery. "Magazine" is a prime example of said singing with 'Oh my god, what have I done..' If you liked Pedro The Lion before, this is worth picking up and adding to your collection. If you've never heard him before, the mp3 downloads are well worth it. If history is doomed to repeat itself, we'll hear more overshadowed slightly dark pop songs from Pedro somewhere down the line. [www.jadetree.com]

Remember when Weezer was creative and entertaining to listen to and not completely forumalic? Well, I do and Moth's debut album Provisions, Fiction, and Gear reminds me of that. This Ohio-native band has created an album of quirky pop songs that are easy to sing along with on the first listen. The lead off single "I See Sound" will get your head bobbin with it's galloping drum beat, catchy chorus, random ska-esque, slightly soaring guitar at times, and fun lyrics. The same goes for the tracks "Thinkin Please", "Hearing Things", and "Burning Down My Sanity" - all songs with a strange bit of quirkiness but retaining that sing-a-long-ability. Luckily Moth isn't all about the fun pop songs with no substance, they've actually got a few songs floating around the album with a bit of emotion. And I don't mean "emo" or "so sad it makes you cry" kind of emotion, I just mean lyrics that weren't neccasarily written to make you point at your best friend across the room and sing along. "Last Night's Dream" and "Straight Line" are pretty similar in their subject matter, leaving town and telling noone where you've gone. My personal favorite track "Sleepy" deals with the denial of a crumbling relationship and the juxtaposition of the floaty verses intermixed with the snapping guitar breaks works perfectly. The low point of the album occurs on the track "Cocaine Star" where the lyrics take a real turn for the worse. Luckily, the pace is picked back up by the end of the album with "Not Really", an acoustic number that brings your heart rate down after all that silly dancing around and singing you've been doing with the rest of the record. So why the 3.25 in manstyle points? Because as entertaining as Moth's debut album is, it's one of those albums that I'll forget I own a year from now. The majority of songs are good, the performance is good, the production is up to par, but there doesn't seem to be anything so outstanding that I'll find myself burrowing through my CD stacks to relive the experience. However, as not to leave this review on a bad note, Moth's Provisions, Fiction, and Gear definetly holds more entertainment value than anything I've heard recently in mainstream rotation. [www.mothematics.com]

Jettingham are punker band. Not punk, because punk is more authoritave, more motivated. This is poolside-punk, going to the mall in a rebellious way punk. That's one thing that I lament about punk: It's not really motivated, political, or spiritual anymore. In many ways punk has adapted itself into a more nubile, perpetually immature niche, rather than an exciting, jaw-dropping noise genre. You pogo, you slam, you feel the adrenaline... Back before Blink-182 and their ilk, anyway. Jettingham have obviously taken a page from the Blink book and tried to make another offshoot of punk: Frat-punk. They tend to have "stoopid" lyrics that inspire you to do the swim anyway (Most notable: "Hardcore"), and they're also less bratty than what you'd expect from the socially distorted. But that's not their fault, as maybe Jettingham are not aiming for the crown of punk, but it sure sounds like it: Their sound is largely noisy in a way that your parents won't like (unless your parents liked Green Day) and they're heartfelt yet overdone, kind of like your aunt's pasta salad- If you can't do pasta salad right, then you're missing the point. At their best, Jettingham maintain a vaguely inspirational feel (see their koan to white-collar frustration in "Ordinary") and remain candidates for your beach trip, as they have great, fuzzy-bouncy guitar. To break it down and not walk you in circles, Jettingham are sunny and traditional in a way that So-Cal punk is, yet they are less in-your-face and interesting, which is a good thing if that's all you're looking for in music. Their album tends to sound the same the further you go into it, and they lyrics are bad answering machine messages left by 15-year-old boys, which isn't so horrible if you're a 15 year-old girl and wanting something lifelike. Don't belive me? Sample: "You want to fight me that's fine/ You'll kick my ass that's fine/ But I'll walk away and that's fine/ I'll get all your chicks/ Anyway!" Please, come up with something original, something that actually tugs on some fiber of the human mind other than adolescent bravado. "We're Through" is too polite, "The Dawn's Song" is predictable, and "Cheating" is too ambivalent: In short, Jettingham seem like they don't really care nor know who they want to be, other than their prepubescent selves. If you're trying to unearth the gem on this album, go straight to track nine ("Fred's Bus") which is Bob Seager with heart, because it's an honest and true effort. One of my main criteria for rating albums is if they made me feel anything, and I mean anything, and Jettingham, sadly, made me feel nothing other than the urge to shut off my CD player and put in something more exciting. [www.jettingham.com]

There's something familiar and foreign about Railer's Frame of Mind, which is a perfect metaphor for the state of Alaska, whence the band hails, as it's part of our 50 Nifty yet so strangely removed that it's hard to remember. Then, take into account that being a band in Alaska is like being a band from Sweden, where you're either Abba or Ace of Base, which isn't good, so if you're from Alaska you're either Jewel or... Railer? Maybe, as only time will be the bell-toller on this conjecture. The architects of the house of Railer draw from the icyness often likened to Alaskan tundra and, oddly enough, 80's wispy synth-pop, like (the familiar) Duran Duran, Depeche Mode, and INXS. Why? Because there's this gothic throbbing of bass coupled with trembling melody and desperate, pining and shaded words. Unfussy yet bleak, the lyrics weave and dip along Railer's catchy yet ruddy melodies (the foreign). Frame of Mind is undeniably easy to listen to, as it's got some goofy horror movie backdrops ("Deja Vu") to it's lovelorn songs, and there's definitely some 80's damage mixed in with some soft-core Radiohead fuselage. A bit whiny at times, Randall Scott's refrains are unobtrusive and warrant both the contrite and the glib aspects of sing-a-long pop rock, yet they don't plead anything necessarily unique or insurgent, which is obviously not their objective. "Theory As To What is Beautiful" is a dejected, iridescent piece, with a sharp recollection of early Radiohead (think "Talk Show Host"), and is easily the most pretty offering of Frame of Mind, yet the rest of the album doesn't follow suit, preferring to mimic less detached styles. "Kiss Fix" is easily the most needy (lost love yet trapped love), albeit the song most likely to be stuck in your head all day, with its "Kissy Kissy Kissy No More/ So I could get my fix / All I need's somebody / Someone to touch me / Someone who's real" chorus, with its follow-up "Crossing the Line" sporting a lively riff with scraping strings and even, "Fuckin' with my mi-i-ind" mantra: Excellent musicality on that one, both angry and blithe. "A Part of You" and "If We Could Be" are unabashedly unruffled in their sincerity, which gets too saccharine about the 8th rotation, given that you're not suffering through a breakup during your listen. "Underbelly" follows the same theme, with "[loss] of strength and weakness in [your] fragile hands" and warnings to "[not] be fooled by devils in a party dress" which is honest yet redundant. "Minor Dream" is another cast across the couch, waiting for the world to stop spinning on account of your heartsickness vibe, but it's not unlikeable, only very trite at this point in the record and also jockeys on some very self-indulgently sullen lyrics. "When I See You Again" pummels through with mediocre production, but we're finally somewhat happy in our love loss. Basically, I get the feeling that there's a morass of unrequited emotional needs in Alaska, which brings us back to the beginning: The album is foreign (rippling guitars and surging, bell-toned backdrops- Jewel with ProTools) yet similar (Love scorched lyrics, copious usage of 80's stylings). In short, not a bad album, still an exceptional album, but not really a compelling album. [www.railerband.com]

One of my favorite stories is a short by Nick Hornby (High Fidelity and About A Boy you're probably most familiar with). In the story, you have a heavyset, muscle-bound guy who drops his job as a club bouncer in order to spend more time with his family and not get knives drawn on him. He takes a job at an art gallery, and he is assigned to guard a painting of Jesus... But it's actually a mosaic Jesus, kind of like the Truman Show poster, where little pictures make the big picture, but in this mosaic of Jesus, little cutout nipples make up The Son. People are not happy and get very upset about the picture (hence our hero's vigil) but the main character actually grows fond of the picture, and guards it with great dignity. He begins to respect the artist and stick up for the painting to his wife and naysayers who visit it. Then one day, while he's distracted, someone comes in and tears the mosaic Nipple Jesus to shreds. Our hero is crushed, only to learn that the artist of the offensive painting made the painting to get reaction. She had posted a camera in the rafters and filmed the whole thing, and thus the film becomes the actual exhibit. Our hero feels disillusioned, as though the openings he found within himself through the painting have been shut, and decides he'd rather go back to nightclub bouncing, where things are at least simple. Why did I tell you this story, as it probably had nothing to do with what you thought the Lostprophets album was about? Because half the time, artists tend to make you think that they're about one thing, when they're actually about another, so we, as listeners, get kind of disheartened when we go see or hear our musicians do their thing and it's quite another side of the coin we thought they were tossing. Maybe you can judge these things by album covers or band members' wardrobes, or maybe you can't. The Lostprophets are definitely the video camera filming something akin to the noisy dissolving of what rock and roll used to be, and though their growth and advent on the ears of the needy are now the part of the focal point of rock, most of us are like the hero in the Hornby story, lamenting the state of the initial, more realized product. We already went through a process of identification with rock and it's necessity, and watching the motion picture documentary of its demise is almost beside the point and not exactly something we like to be reminded of, but there's no escaping it: Rock music is moving on without those of us in purgatory, so we might as well throw ourselves into something new. The Lostprophets are new, and they're getting fair play on MTV2, which is a good sign of their perhaps fake progress, because, as I've already alluded to, there's not much progress going on in rock music, just a duplication video of something that was already done. The Lostprophets, at best, sound similar to Make Yourself Incubus. There's the perpetual "butterflies, butterflies, butterflies... CAR!" soft-to-loud crescendo that mirrors the alterna-rock, Pixies-ish formula that has been made so popular from the gamut of Nirvana to Hatebreed, so there's nothing new there. The lyrics are easier to understand than System of A Down, but silly lyrics done with passion and persuasion are better than coherent lyrics sung with pseudo-love. "Shinobi vs. The Dragon Ninja", the single and video song from The Fake Sound of Progress is perfect for second stage Ozzfest, as it lacks the authenticity and crunch required for front-stage, and the title track is a dovetail to Incubus' "Pardon Me." "Five is a Four-letter Word" is gritty with copious scratching, with good layering and MiniVoid similarity, as "...And She Told Me to Leave" hearkens a bizarre jinx of The Calling and Incubus, but it's hook is on a surprising emotional level in lieu of the simplicity of the prose. "Kobrakai" is irreverent, with its bumpy riffs coasting effortlessly into jazzy guitar. For "rawk!" factor, refer to "Awkward" and "A 1,000 Apologies" which bring a Mudvayne meets Fishbone appeal. The only track wallowing in vice is "For Sure", which is perfect for MTV 10 Spot segues or prog-rock introductions. The Lost Prophets are likable, jangly, and good at their craft, but the only problem is that their craft has already been done, and they haven't been innovative enough yet to stand out from their predecessors, whose art was already on the wall and torn off, so watching it again is, sadly, a bit of a let down. [www.lostprophets.com]

Count Bass D is one of a handful of artists that at one time or another were "signed" to Murfreesboro, TN based label Spongebath Records (best known for rock band Self). Strangely enough, Count was the only hip-hop artist included on the roster. The typical indie rock crowd probably never gave him a chance. But if they had, they would have discovered that Count Bass D is incapable of being classified into any sort of predefined musical genre. His previous releases ranged from laid back jazz-esque songs all performed on real instruments (Art For Sale), to well picked beats mixed with fierce yet intelligent rhymes (the Violatin' and On The Reels 12 inches). Keeping that in mind, it's no surprise that his latest release Dwight Spitz is a whole new bag of tricks for Count. The album is laden with samples ranging from Goodfellas to obscure old propaganda commercials for pure grain sugar. The self produced beats are simple but not ignorant of the skill. "Subwoofer (Dumile)" sounds like a vintage Pac-Man game, "Sanctuary" pulls it's main beat from the vocal part of The Doors song of the same name. "Real Music vs. Bu11$#!+" is a tangy mix of light piano and ethereal vocals (Count's own in fact), The list goes on and on. In fact, every one of these 24 tracks has something interesting musically about it (more notable mentions are "Antemeridian", "Postmerdian", and "August 25th, 2001") What makes the album even more enjoyable is that Count's rhymes aren't concerned with gang violence, or making sure he's got the hottest ladies, he concentrates on happier subjects like praise for his wife ("Seven Years"), fun with his children ("Hello Test Test"), but mostly it's just stories, viewpoints, and some short anecdotes of his life. It's not all fun and games, it definetly has it's serious side, such as "My First Piece" and the title track "Dwight Spitz." And on top of all that, the guest vocalists featured on many tracks aren't featured because they will bring the album some additional press, they bring a diversity to the sound and keep things interesting. The praise for this album could easily continue for pages - intricate descriptions of what tickles my fancy on each track, but the basic point here is that Count has created an album that is unlike any hip-hop I've ever encountered. It's musical yet beat driven. It's positive, but not entirely goofy or sappy. Fans of his previous work will appreciate the slightly new direction he's taken, and the ease of which he pulls it off. And for those of you who are completely unfamiliar with any of his work, now's your oppurtunity to treat yourself to an album that is a quality listen every single time. [www.countbassd.com]

“Shake what ya momma gave ya/it took 9 damn months to make ya.” Truer words were never spoken. It’s fitting, then, that they kick off Joi’s Star Kitty’s Revenge. Like a female version of Stankonia, the LP blends hip-hop bounce with live instrumentation (and, most importantly) a willingness to experiment; the result is an enjoyable bouillabaisse of Planet Rock bass and soulful melodies. You know you’ve got a good album on your hands when even the interludes are dope. Yet Star Kitty’s Revenge has more than skits going for it. “Techno Pimp” brings Parliament-worthy space funk to the proceedings, while “Get On” freaks some churchified harmonies and kickass guitar pyrotechnics over a Timbaland stutter step. “You’re A Whore” is Dre-caliber G Funk, and the one-two punch of “Munchies For Your Love” and “Lick” slow it all down long enough to get your babymake on (if that’s your thing, of course). Damn! From track to track, Joi creates a truly satisfying beat-based album. The only frustrating thing about the disc is the fact that none of it is unrepentantly catchy enough to ever be a hit, or even get on the radio; it’s just too unique, too much of a singular vision to be palatable to the tin ears of radio programmers. Which is a genuine shame – people need to be hearing stuff like “What If I Kissed You Right Now” instead of Destiny’s Child or whatever other plastic-ass pop music is masquerading as R&B these days. Fortunately, Joi’s record label allowed this undiluted slice of creativity to get through despite such “shortcomings.” Pick this disc up and enjoy a refreshing break from any music that could be called typical. [www.joi-online.com]