Kaki King is quite possibly one of the most inventive guitarists, male or female, to ever pluck a string. This reason and this reason alone is solely responsible for my rating of this album to be as low as it is. Her playing on this album is indistinguishable from any number of alterna-rockers from the late '90s. She plays wonderfully but the songs pale in comparison to her earlier releases. I found myself wishing that Kaki would summon the unabashed rock powers of Mary Timony. Alas, this outing seems like she wanted to show us that she could still play guitar well what with her chakras aligned and covered in crystals. Kaki King enlisted John McEntire from Tortoise to man the boards and it shows. The sparse vibraphone on the song "Goby" serves as a wonderful accent to the driving, circular guitar part. At the same time, perhaps McEntire's footprint is a little too heavy. The instrumental songs almost sound as if they could be throwaway Tortoise or Stereolab songs. "First Brain" features Kaki doing her best to make her guitar sound like a harp, while a sole trumpet seems intent on playing a whale's song. The song "Second Brain" could easily fit on a Pure Moods compilation alongside Enya and Ottmar Liebert. The opening track, "Yellowcake," harkens a little too closely to the Beatles' "Blackbird." The one song I found to be absolutely wonderful was "Gay Sons of Lesbian Mothers." The disparate introduction of plucked guitar harmonics set the tone until the drums and bass enter and transform the song into a song that Stereolab would perhaps be jealous of. Sadly, this album serves as but a footnote at the end of the album. While I have no intent of slagging Kaki King, I found this album to be missing something. That something must be the energy that is present in her live, unaccompanied performances. These songs are well-crafted but serve only to excite the listener enough to be let down when they realize there will be no crescendo and that this is as good as it gets. If you are looking for a nice album to listen to while studying or perhaps something to play quietly in your new-age bookstore, ...Until We Felt Red is right for you. Otherwise, listen to that new Tortoise boxed set, it will probably do more to serve your needs. [www.kakiking.com]

Sonically speaking, The Lovely Sparrows (no relation to Sparrow or The Lovely Feathers) share more with Canada's latest crop of hyped indie bands than the band's homeland of Austin. The city's just incessantly gravid with talent; just in 2006, the Texan capital has boasted Oh No! Oh My! (they recently relocated back to the city from previous base Nashville), I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness, Golden Bear and Voxtrot, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. Radiating autumnal, affable emotions with folk-leanings and subdued melodies, Shawn Jones and his rotating cast of musicians have created something worthy of the highest praises, in a folk/pop scene that’s rapidly becoming bloated and stale. With only one 7" out there prior to this Pulling Up Floors, Pouring on (New) Paint, the band is already leading the charge to make birds the requisite indie-animal when the bears initiate a seasonal hibernation. The comparisons seem to roll in somewhere every time the press covers The Lovely Sparrows; vocally, yes, there's an essence of Wolf Parade in there that’s all too obvious, though it's not a crime, and likely not one committed purposely. And besides, fuck it, it sounds good. Buoyant in all aspects, the five-track EP eloquently skitters around all the fingerpicking, bells, handclaps and sing-alongs that have become entirely common, but when these guys do it, everything just sounds so much clearer and better. Jones' lyrics are probably the most outstanding facet of all, sometimes oddly Malkmusian but compelling nonetheless. The sough of cymbals and weeping acoustic guitar are washed to the forefront of opener "Chemicals Change", Jones ensuring his audience that "this is not the song you begged [him] to write," and then splashing in the dewdrop breakdown. Pouring on Paint may disappoint those to whom it comes off as one long track, but it could be argued that it's simply one piece with five separate, enchanting movements. If Dan Bejar and Carl Newman teamed up with Architecture in Helsinki, they just might be able to pull this off. [www.abandonedloverecords.com]

Still sizzling from three well-received EPs and canonization via the blogosphere, Cold War Kids deliver Robbers & Cowards, the band’s debut full-length, on the Warner Music Group subsidiary Downtown Records (alongside Art Brut, Eagles of Death Metal, and Gnarls Barkley). The majority of the record’s tracks are culled from the aforementioned EPs, presented here in re-recorded quality, assist Cold War Kids’ unstated manifesto for itself as the ones to lead indie rock into a neoteric age. A common thread found in Cold War Kids coverage has been the irreverent evaluation of Nathan Willett’s vocalizing to that of the late, great Jeff Buckley. Lacking the latter’s range, Willett’s warbling and plaintive yowling is relatively grounded, often sounding on the verge of soulful combustion. A vocalist in his own class, Willett stealthily captures the spotlight on Robbers & Cowards, occasionally leaving the rest of the band surrendered to provisional background noise. Stripped down and inventive, Robbers may be one of the most important debuts to drop this year. The quartet doesn’t abscond from a traditional rock set-up, making the album all the more impressive. The dozen tracks comprising the album circumvent any notions that the band is one-dimensional, and make a sturdy argument for the band’s pioneering approach—basslines throb, pianos clink and clank almost at random sometimes, the percussion finds a playground to test out its limitations and curiosities. Lyrically, Cold War Kids’ songs are about life, fictional or not, like brief, vaguely detailed glimpses into short stories in the making. Blog favorite “Hospital Beds” kicks off with mournful piano chords as Willett’s character considers his roommate in the infirmary, as they’re “sharing hospital joy and misery” in lieu of recovery. “Saint John” could be a revitalized and modernized folk song, as the track centers on a death row inmate “waitin’ for a pardon.” The pre-pubescent protagonist of “God, Make Up Your Mind” reads Garcia-Marquez and listens to Nina Simone on a cross-country family trip. Kafka appears on “Red Wine, Success.” The list goes on. What makes it invigorating and vital is the presence of imagery and intimate detail, the slight character development over a track’s brevity, the empathy invoked in the listeners. Robbers & Cowards is one of those records that will be revered or shat upon, but begs not to be ignored. May its greatness not be lost on the general public reach more deeply into hearts than heads. [www.coldwarkids.com]

Many recall a time back in the 80’s, and again to a lesser extent in the mid-90’s, where the music had become so bland and uninspired that something had to change. The last few years’ popular music trends support a renewed testament to a critical need for fresh inspiration and unfortunately for Lola Ray, Liars fully supports that charge. There aren’t enough similes in the English language to describe the vanilla, one-dimensional arrangements that make up the band’s sophomore effort. And with that said, perhaps a more appropriate name for Lola Ray’s sophomore release would be Epitaph, because they are going to have a really hard time trying to come back from this. The album starts off with some promise. "Officer & A Gentleman" is fairly catchy, though probably not appealing enough to “catch on”. Immediately thereafter, the music disintegrates into a monotonous and way-too-inspired-by-recent-middle-of-the-road indie genre tunes to tolerate for too long, with lyrics that often reach the annoying and insipid (the songs “We’re Not Having Any Fun” and “I Will Make You Mine” immediately come to mind). When compared with its predecessor, one wonders how the members of this band thought that it was okay to issue this album with any degree of professional integrity. Not that Lola Ray’s first album, I Don’t Know You, fueled by the crunchy “Automatic Girl” was the stellar million-selling “new sound” that so many freshmen stumble upon and then try to spend the rest of their careers trying to duplicate. But it was at least inspired and showed promise. What a huge disappointment to read on this band’s website the references to all of the time they had on the road to compare and combine their musical influences: Motown, The Beach Boys, The Jam and The Cure among them, and really mold their sound. Because if this is the result, they must have had a serious exhaust leak filling the back of their tour van (the band did include a note referring to unrealized focus and isolation during the recording of this album in the intro to their bio…which also may have had an impact). Bottom line? If you have never heard of this band but caught enough on some airwave or web page somewhere to pique your interest, invest your time and your money on their first release. It will give you a much better idea of the potential that Lola Ray possesses. Perhaps that boost in sales will even encourage the group to return to the studio and not be so inclined to be lured by the external “distractions” that so often accompany rock ‘n’ roll success and send them into ruin…to rediscover the punch of their first album and possibly give them a future in the music industry –-or at the very least--keep them signed. Any other money spent would be a waste. [www.lolaray.com]

Now in their thirties, Ami Onuki and Yumi Yoshimura have lost none of the baby fat that defined J-pop ten years ago, when they were discovered in a talent contest and paired for the duo “Puffy,” known in the states (due to P-Diddy’s monopoly on the word) as Puffy Amiyumi. “Splurge” is a varied and exciting album that is as much a rock and roll retrospective as a history of Ami and Yumi’s personal interests and styles. It opens with references to the Knack and Def Leppard in Butch Walker's "Call Me What You Like,” a swaggering rejection of people who listen to music other than solid rock. It echoes Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock and Roll” and sets the tone for what is to follow. There is more English on “Splurge” than earlier Puffy albums, not just in language but in sensibility. “Missing You Baby” recalls the way Blondie handled the 50’s rock ballad, and Jon Spencer’s “Go Baby Power Now” weaves the bass line of Elvis Presley’s “Baby I Don’t Care” into a Do Biddley backbeat. Their cover of the Marvelous 3’s “Tokyo Radio” sounds like David Bowie one minute and ELO the next. Some of the songs are just plain fun. “Tokyo I’m On My Way” is bubblegum bliss at its dizziest. With Stateside girl groups divided between the all-media appropriation of Idol-mania (Hilary Duff, Jessica Simpson) and stale attitudizing of hard rock chicks (The Donnas, Sleater-Kinney), Puffy reminds us of the many levels of fun and seriousness that are possible in a simple rock and roll song. [www.puffyamiyumi.com]

The opening riff of Read Compare Adjustreminds me of Iggy Pop’s Search and Destroy album. But that’s where the similarity ends. The closest comparison that can be made is to bands like Fugazi and Helmet. There is a “post-punk” feel to the album, a sort of under-produced, raw feeling. Containing members of Kill Sadie, and Red Light Go, Shotgun Monday has the feel of a highschool band still under development. The band’s lineup is a straight-forward guitar, bass, drums, half-screamed, off-key vocals. The band never finds its feet on this freshman album. Although some of the guitar lines are occasionally harmonic, they are of the power-chord and Modest-Mouse lead-guitar variety. The drums are of the keeping-tempo variety, and the lyrics, themselves, are sometimes questionable, reminding me of the angsty days I spent in punk-rock clubs, smoking stolen cigarettes: “I tried to carve a bust of you out of rotten wood and your face just fell apart balancing on bayonets,” or: “wait for me to sit now proceed peel your flesh off let the skin hit the floor unleash those immaculate organs,” or: “wash your hands wash your arms wash your pussy.” I wanted to like Read Compare Adjust, I really did. I read, I compared, and I just couldn’t adjust. [www.shotgunmonday.com]

Think bizarre love child of Portishead and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Ambulette combines Maura Davis’ classically trained, silky voice, with a rich soundscape of pensive guitars, haunting piano, and jazzy drums. The Richmond, VA singer, formerly of the band Denali has hit her stride on this album, creating an Indie-rock project that is intimate and brooding a-la Kristin Hersh of Throwing Muses, and Pretty Girls Make Graves. The band’s debut EP, The Lottery (named for the Shirely Jackson short-story about fate, loss, and isolation), has a sensuous, haunting feel, and lyrics that revolve around love, and love lost. The first track “I’ve Got More,” starts with an edgy swell of guitar and drums, and the lyrics “I know you, you know me, is it something in this room, that heavy feel?” The first track sets the stage, perfectly, for the rest of the album, introducing the theme of a budding relationship, “Do you like what you see?” Davis sings, “I’ve got more.” Strong lyrics permeate The Lottery, on the album’s second track “Fall,” she sings “It’s easy to run away, or else I will fall into you, say your heart melts all you have, finish what you started.” The song “Seconds Til Midnight” features the lyrics, “What do you want, what do you need, is it something I have?” This album is more than a break-up album. This is a whole relationship in five songs. Ambulette is definitely a band to watch. This is a delicate, sentimental album is heartbreakingly honest. The final track “If You Go Away” is a cover of Belgian singer-songwriter Jacques Brel’s famous song, once performed by the likes of Tom Jones, Frank Sinatra, and Neil Diamond. The Lottery is kind of album that you will voluntarily leave on repeat. [www.astralwerks.com]

I was thrown off by the way this band is packaged. From name to CD cover and lyrics there is little that prepared me for the full-force, old-fashioned heavy metal of this band. The album, And Our Heart Beat in Our Fingertips, Without Reason includes songs with titles like “Filthy Habits of Ex Lovers” and “Investigating the Phantom Signal” and “My Wrists are Rivers, My Fingers are Words.” Not only that, but take the band’s name: Anterrabae – a name taken from a book called I Never Promised You a Garden by Joanne Greenberg (a story about a sixteen year-old girl who retreats into her own imagination, creating an often dangerous kingdom.) But from the second I popped this album into the player, I could tell that Anterrabae is more than the sum of its parts. The music is abrasive, intense, and about as volatile as a Molotov Cocktail. This is alternative metal at its finest. With most of the tracks clocking in around the three-and-a-half minute mark, the tracks have the heavy guitar, pounding drums (complete with crashing symbols and chest-shaking bass drums), and screamed vocals we expect from this genre. Included in the first track are muffled guitar solos, backing audio samples, and a break down at the end which could be the auditory interpretation of an asthma attack. The intelligence of the band’s lyrics, experiments with timing (eg.5/4 timing of “The Filthy Habits of Ex Lovers”--by all rights a stand-out track) are definite high-points, as are the instrumental track “Investigating the Phantom Signal” which has the sort of edgy, brooding drone, that makes for good movie soundtracks. In Greenberg’s novel Anterrabae is a god perpetually falling to earth in a shower of fire. I think that pretty much sums up the blaze-of-glory feel of this band. [www.anterrabae.com]

African rhythms, reggae-infused groove, old-fashioned, blues-inspired guitar, and world-beat sensibility define the catchy music of husband and wife team Amadou and Mariam. The duo may be one of the most influential world-beat groups since the invention of the Buena Vista Social Club. At the end of the 1960s, Amadou Bagyoko was working as a guitarist for Les Ambassadeurs du Motel de Bamako, one of West Africa’s most influential bands. Amadou and Mariam met at The Institute for Young Blind People in Bamako, the capitol of Mali, where they sang together in the Institute’s Eclipse Orchestra. Working their way through Africa as Amadou et Mariam, Le Couple Aveugle du Mali, the blind vocalists gained a local popularity that spread worldwide when they were featured performers on the 2000 Putumayo collection Memphis to Mali. The band combines everything from African and Indian rhythms to reggae percussion, American blues, and French folk. Diamche a Bamako, produced by World Beat giant Manu Chao, has a clean, light feeling. Although the lyrics are sung in French, the meanings and emotions of Dimanche a Bamako can be felt in the rhythms--in the rich chanting of Amadou, and the soulful voice of Mariam. The songs range from up-tempo, feel-good tracks, to the melancholic "La Fête au Village" (The Festival at the Village), and the danceable rhythms of "Camions Sauvages" (Wild Trucks). A good addition to any eclectic collection. An excellent addition to any world-beat collection. [www.amadou-mariam.com]

Lucid Dream is the perfect name for Carey Ott's new album. Like psychedelic folk music, it’s intelligible poetry with an ethereal quality of sound. Sleep-inducing sound. Sound so calm that it brings up memories of sitting on a porch, maybe in the South somewhere, falling asleep in the lazy sun. Forgive the abundant imagery: at his best, Carey Ott pulls off the effect with succinctly breezy melodies like “It’s Only Love,” supported by xylophones and harmonicas. At his worst, which is the majority of the album, his light falsetto is washed out by the blasé guitar, a dulling throb that sounds the same alone on “Sunbathing” as it does with a band in “Virginia.” Ott’s warbling notes and short breaths might be attractive for musical purists, but it’s unexciting, sleepy time stuff. If Ott really was influenced by “flower-power” rock, his songs aren’t nearly trippy enough, and tracks like “Shelf Life,” which use the same melodic flourishes (updated to the electric age), don’t pack enough zip. Soft and relaxing comes across as timid, and on a song like “Am I Just One,” it’s more frustrating than subtle. “Daylight,” the following track, gets it right by stepping off the shy notes long enough to make a pitch-shifting statement: “And/you’re still afraid of the dark/but you were daylight for me/when the sky was so black you couldn’t see/such a tiny star caught in a great big sea.” The way Ott hits that “and”—hard—makes you quiver, and gives a sign that he’s more than a thinker with a halfway decent voice. Carey Ott can get away with being quiet, but he’s got to be enticing too. The title track and “Hard to Change” both use a nifty overlapping chorus to great effect, and the distortion of the catchy beat on “I Wouldn’t Do That to You” makes for a solid hook. But on an album littered with insincere songs like “Kickingstones” or the light alternative of “Mother Madam,” there’s not enough to keep me listening. [www.careyott.com]

Ani DiFranco, let me be frank. I like most any of your albums. I discovered you when Dilate was released simply because of the kick-ass cover art and soon learned, after the first listen, that you had verve, spunk, sass, and moxie to burn. And burn you do and burn you have in a plethora of outstanding albums and you’ve done it your way, creating your own label and battling the behemoth corporate rock labels. Well done. And, my oh my, are you ever prolific. Not So Soft, Out of Range, the aforementioned Dilate (an independent release that cracked Billboard’s Top 100, which is no small feat), To the Teeth, Evolve, and on and on. You make a record quicker than most bands tune their instruments for a jam. All that said, I’m a fan--your honest, empowering lyrics, your independence from corporate greed, your feminist sensibilities, your musicianship--and yet your new live album, recorded in 2002 is a bit of a let-down. I’m not saying it’s not good, it is. But for someone getting introduced to DiFranco, you could do much better (check out Little Plastic Castle to see what she can truly do). The problem? The album rambles and shambles along and there is no cohesion, no solid musical foundation. That could simply because she’s doing it solo--just her voice and her guitar--but even so the whole album could be cleaner, a delineation between her intimacy with the audience, i.e. lots of chit chat between songs, and the songs themselves. It’s hard to tell when she’s simply strumming her guitar and talking and when she’s strumming her guitar and singing a song that DiFranco is known for. Singing, that’s what she’s good at. She should do that rather than a discussion of a poem she wrote after a visit to New York’s financial district. It’s a fine poem, sure, but, come on, where’s the shaved head feminist goddess saying, “Fuck you and your untouchable face/Fuck you for existing in the first place…”? I, for one, am glad you exist, Ani DiFranco, but don’t become invisible in guitar strums and meandering chit chat. Sing those powerful songs you’re known for and rock on. [www.righteousbabe.com]

With their second album, Philadelphia-based collective National Eye has released one of the most rewarding and clever records of the year. Equal parts earthy, patchouli-scented folk rock and melodic, psychedelic pop, the group should certainly appeal to devotees of bands such as Grandaddy, My Morning Jacket, Sparklehorse and Mercury Rev. However, with their impressive dabbling in a wide array of sounds, structures and textures, National Eye has something splendid to offer enthusiasts of almost any genre. Whether meandering through colorful soundscapes or presenting something resembling a straight-ahead rock song, the group proves consistent both in its decidedly mellow approach and the depth of sound they produce. Each of the album’s highlights provides ample opportunity for listeners to explore multiple layers of interest. “Bird and Sword”, for example, employs a fairly typical lo-fi intro and sunny vocals, before eventually evolving into a mix of wandering guitars and electronic crescendos that somehow lead back to the upbeat feel established earlier in the track. “Silver Agers” follows, continuing in this vein with its mix of driving beats and laid-back vocal delivery. In like fashion, “Lights”, while barely exceeding two minutes, manages to utilize a wealth of elements including accented percussion, horns and a multi-faceted vocal approach. “Ag1” combines gruff lead vocals with a chorus of backing hums and rootsy guitars to provide a tripped out, rustic feel. Fortunately, National Eye’s exploration and combination of differing sounds and moods never leads to clutter or pretentiousness. While the arrangements are often complex, songs like “Invisible Raincoat” and “Drowned in Bed” somehow retain a sense of innate sincerity and simplicity. If there is but a shred of justice in the world of independent rock and roll, Roomful of Lions should prove a breakthrough work and watershed moment for National Eye. With an approach to recording that achieves a delicate chemistry between the strange and the sublime, the group has exhibited an ability to harness the diversity of their ideas in a way few bands do. [www.nationaleye.com]

How’s this for journalistic integrity and being unbiased? As much as I dread writing about music that I don’t give one iota of shit about, I’m taking Coming Home and reviewing it from an entirely personal perspective. Having a stance on an album before even hearing leads to disastrous and poor criticisms, and my take on the latest New Found Glory record, before even knowing about its existence, would fall somewhere along the lines of “I’m not 17 anymore.”

Autobiographical elements inserted here: As a youth in a tiny rural town, anything that wasn’t Creed, Korn or Kenny Chesney was an alternative music choice, hence the amount of time that I spent infatuated with The Ataris, Blink 182, The Movielife, and the subject at hand—New Found Glory. Burgeoning on adulthood is a time where you can relate to these songs about heartbreak; when you’re a few years older, you can’t help but notice how un-artistic and immature those songs actually were.

New Found Glory is a band I associate with my own adolescence; they covered “Glory of Love”, didn’t they? As a Karate Kid disciple, you can’t help but love ‘em for that. Opening a track with an audio sample from The Outsiders, it’s total ‘80s nostalgia. Unfortunately, it doesn’t maintain its effect beyond adolescence, and nine years into its existence, New Found Glory is taking its sweet-ass time traveling down the road of maturation.

That said, Coming Home boasts the strongest songwriting of any New Found Glory release. “Hold My Hand” is the disc’s most radio-ready, its solo piano notes accompanying Jordan Pundik’s still-nasally singing; the handclap breakdown is a welcomed nuance and Pundik’s echoed “do-dos” are wholly reminiscent of ‘80s pop, and the title track’s chorus has the same effect. The majority of the record—the whole record, in fact—never strays from accessibility and engaging melody, and while the songs don’t home as simplistic structures as the band’s previous work, the band’s mission-objective is the same as all the groups creating similar music—keep it catchy. Except, the members of New Found Glory are raising families and are far-removed from the high school drama in which most of the band’s fans dwell. Musically, there’s more exploration on the record, but it only roams from one corner of a box to another. The puerile lyrical approaches are the most appalling facet of the disc, often as though taken from the love-letters of any enamored young man.

On a lighter note, if substance isn’t requisite to your listening fancies, then Coming Home delivers. Where New Found Glory fails in prose, it flaunts a learned expertise in the school of melody. Coming Home is a tiresome portrait of a few artists who have kept the minds of young men for far, far too long. [www.newfoundglory.com]

Billy Talent wants to be the next Green Day: their sophomore release, , pushes past punk and cries for action. It’s not about breaking the rules; it’s about coming up with new ones. But a rule only works if it's understood, and this quartet’s up-tempo rock is doomed by lead singer Ben Kowalewicz’s unintelligible roar. “Where is the Line” is a great song that rebels against both the establishment and the counter-culture. It preaches that “to be yourself is not a crime,” that “magazines from overseas/won’t teach you how to feel,” and a some other stuff that's really hard to understand without a copy of the lyrics. Falsetto screams may be a necessary sacrifice to the gods of punk, but at what cost? I listened to the line “govern and governess” over and over again; out of sheer frustration, I finally looked up the name of the track: “Covered in Cowardice.” Why would you want such lines to get lost in the murk of production? Music is more than the music; it’s the message, too. While we’re speaking of murky production, there’s a lot of undercut volume on tracks like “Perfect World.” Maybe it’s because the song itself is childish (despite the swelling final repetition of “she pulls the trigger/until the gun goes click”), but songs like these seem aimless and emotionless. This may just be an overexposure to Kowalewicz’s voice (he works far better when supported, like on “Sympathy”), but the last thing you want to do to a punk rocker betrayed by his jibber-jabber is take away his energy, too. A song like “Devil in a Midnight Mass” may be nothing more than catchy electric currents, but when the wailing suddenly turns into a raspy whisper, at least you’ll feel something. Make no mistake, though: Billy Talent is crystal clear when it comes to the next generation, as in “Red Flag” (“The kids of tomorrow don’t need today when they live in the sins of yesterday”) or “Burn the Evidence” (“Ever feel like you’ve been cheated/following what they believe”). Catchy, correct, and presented with real attitude and husky rhythm, these kids almost swagger into adulthood. But for the most part, this band has a lot of growing up to do. [www.billytalent.com]

From a historical perspective, The Slits may have made more of an impact than all of the early British punk bands--save for The Clash and Sex Pistols, of course. As an early punk/dub hybrid and as forerunners to the riot grrrl movement, The Slits helped to pave the way for innumerable acts. Never a band to stay within the oft-accepted confines of the punk scene, The Slits were preoccupied with reggae, dub and other forms of music that weren't in tune with what the band's peers were doing, and eventually With only two proper albums, 1979's Cut 1981's Return of the Giant Slits. Ari Up and her crew made an enormous and lasting impression, and a quarter of a century later the band (or, actually, just Ari Up and Tessa Pollit) is attempting to stage some sort of a comeback. Revenge of the Killer Slits is as unbalanced as EPs come; its three songs form no cohesive unit, and over the ten-minute course of this disc, it's difficult to recognize the output as that one of band. Though only two actual Slits members appear here, the guests are culled from a Who's Who of early British punk rock--Sex Pistol Paul Cook and ex-Sioxsie and the Banshees/Adam and the Ants guitarist Marco Pirroni round fill in the instrumental duties, while backing vocals are provided by a younger generation of punkettes--Phoebe, Holly, and Lauren (daughters of Pollit, Cook, and Mick Jones, respectively), and UK television personality Miquita Oliver. "Slits Tradition" is droning, foreboding hip hop, with Ari Up laying down rhymes with both the flair of Cut and modern urban music, her trilling laid on a second vocal track as she warns that "it's a Slits tradition with a vision for a mission." As an unrecorded track from the band's early days, "Number One Enemy" sounds like a femme-Sex Pistols. Probably penned before the band found its niche, the track offers some singificance in the sake of understanding The Slits' progression, and doesn't come across as outdated. Closer "Kill Them With Love" rounds out the disc's diversity, sounding like a cross between dance, hip hop, and pop. The track showcases Up's unique and bizarre vocal talents, and she sounds more confident in actually singing than ever before, her trademark warbling at its most entrancing. Revenge of the Killer Slits doesn't do a whole lot for The Slits' legacy, but it contradicts any statement saying that everyone from those early days is a washed-up sellout. [www.safrecords.com]

Take Action Volume 5 is the latest in a series of compilations produced by Sub City Records supporting organizations that engage the social issues affecting the label’s youthful base of listeners. Benefiting Kristen Brooks Hope Center/Yah! The Youth America Hotline, the project contains two discs of material from many of the most notable acts in rock, punk, emo, indie and hardcore. While the tracks featured contain an energy sure to resonate with their intended audience, the album suffers from a lack of sustainable originality. For every song that burns with a spark of invention, three or four sound-alikes are sure to follow. Though Disc 1 starts admirably with Underoath’s “I Don’t Feel Very Receptive Today”, and features quality tracks by Sugarcult, Amber Pacific, Plain White T’s and Cartel, it is by far the weakest of the album’s halves. Consistently disappointing cuts from bands thought to be on the forefront of alternative rock (Panic! At the Disco, Hawthorne Heights, Emery) inhibit any otherwise initiated momentum. A trio of sub-par cuts from Horse the Band, The Number Twelve Looks Like You and As I Lay Dying close the disc, causing one to wonder if the lag would seem as pronounced had these similar tracks been spaced throughout the track list. Disc 2 fares better by comparison, opening with “The Warrior’s Code” from the always-entertaining Dropkick Murphys. This portion of the project is paced more evenly and features more variety. For example, the fury of Against Me!, indie drive of Lucero and throwback charisma of The Horrorpops each fare well when positioned sequentially. While the disckk contains a few throwaway cuts (see tracks by The Briefs, The Vacancy and the AKA’s), they are balanced out by quality songs from artists like Darker My Love, Maxeen and The Loved Ones. As a social project, the album succeeds in giving artists an opportunity to participate in outreach to fans. As a musical project, it fails to show the diversity and structure necessary to be artistically memorable. Still, with forty-three tracks (and two PSA’s), fans of the included genres should find enough to be satisfied. [www.takeactiontour.com]

The most impressive facet of Motion Commotion isn't its level of musicianship, it's the fact that its members have pulled together so tightly in a sub-year existence. Then again, the band's members have undergone the grueling curriculum of musician's school, so on a second thought, the skills are simply second nature. In addition to the typical guitar/bass/drums, Motion Commotion brings in clarinet, violin, accordion and tape loops, creating a collage of classically-inspired composition and indie aesthetic. Three part harmonies and progressive songcraft are at the forefront throughout most of this EP's seven tracks, and each song carries the snowflake-like quality of uniqueness--"BBC Sue" wounds a thick bass groove around manic drumming and an impressively pretty melody, while "Make Love" nods its head to the dreariness of chamber music. Disparate tastes and educational backgrounds in music are the key factors in Motion Commotion's rise, and while they've not yet conquered the music industry, the tools are in their pockets. Niche-less and eclectic is the way to be, and these guys have nailed it. [www.piermontrecords.com]

Bears, bears everywhere. We know that Stephen Colbert doesn't like them, and there are so many to be found in the indie rock world--Bears, Panda Bear, Grumpy Bear, Grizzly Bear, Black Bear, Bear vs Shark, et al. Austin's Golden Bear is a welcome addition to that list, and while our secure little independent scene is being overrun by these ursine furballs of rock, we're content as long as the trend doesn't turn to shit. Golden Bear's shit is approximately of the same value as its name suggests... The third release from the Austin-based C-Side Records is Golden Bear's eponymous debut, and while the band shares sonic similarities (and some members) with labelmates The Channel, the outcome is more sweet and lazy. Floating somewhere in between lo-fi and crisp production, and blatantly flaunting an admiration for The Apples in Stereo and Built to Spill (amongst many others), Golden Bear thrive on huge hooks, gang vocals, and aural charisma. "Ten Thousand Orchestras" is the band's anthem, its chorus calling for fist-pumping and sing-alongs, a brass section in the backseat. "Golden Bear Revival Stomp" is exemplary indie-pop, bubbling along with precious bounce, oohs, ahhs, and vocals that sound like a less cartoon-ish Robert Schneider. The refrain of "I'm just a golden bear/flying through the air" manages to be completely silly and uplifting at the same time--a concise dichotomy of what Golden Bear is. "The Saddest Songs" adds in vocals from Austin favorite Pink Nasty and pedal steel from guest Lloyd Maines, implementing a country twang that works seamlessly with the Texas band. A splendid debut from an excellent band, Golden Bear's debut sets up a high hurdle to jump for the sophomore record, but at least it puts them at the head of the pack...or whatever you'd call a group of bears. Do bears travel in packs? I think they're solitary, except maybe during hibernation. But, Golden Bear doesn't need that lengthy rest. Anyway, all stupid bear jokes aside, it's good. [www.c-siderecords.com]

Most people with working ears and/or MTV will remember Kelis (pronounced Kuh-Lease) as the artist behind 2003's megahit "Milkshake." That song and the album it appeared on, Tasty, were Kelis' mainstream breakthrough. Previously, she had released two albums, only one of which had been distributed in the United States, and she was primarily known for singing choruses on a handful of Neptunes-produced hits for other musicians. For her first effort post Tasty, Kelis returns with Kelis Was Here, a solid album which proves to be an exciting exercise in her diverse musical talents. Thanks in part to the successes of "Milkshake" and Tasty, Kelis appears ready with this album to continue her trek toward the privilege that is becoming a household name. Kelis Was Here's first single, the sassy, attitudinal "Bossy" featuring Too $hort, is a fun and empowering number that will do little to convince skeptical buyers that Kelis is more than bitchy R&B and milkshakes. Let it be known, however, that Kelis is not an artist to be pigeonholed. Aside from the radio-ready urban shakers like "Bossy" and "Aww Shit!" (featuring rapper Smoke), the album offers a diverse array of genres from rock-tinged pop numbers ("'Til The Wheels Fall Off" and "I Don't Think So") to mid-tempo pop and soul ("Trilogy" and "Living Proof"). One of Kelis' main assets as a predominately urban artist is that she refuses to conform to the styles set by popular urban radio. Kelis' music stands out from most other modern R&B because it is far from becoming formulaic. Of course, it also stands out because of Kelis' distinctive smoky vocals that allow her to successfully crossover between genres. Pop, rock rap, soul: Her voice will do it all, and chances are you'll never mistake her voice for someone else's. Kelis' willingness to dabble in colorful music allows her to create an album that plays well because no song really sounds like the one before it. When she was working exclusively with The Neptunes her albums suffered when songs would begin to resemble one another and, even more frustratingly, other Neptunes-produced songs getting massive airplay on the radio. Kelis Was Here avoids this pitfall and manages to remain fresh from start to finish. Not every song is repeat-worthy. The flat "Weekend" (featuring Will.I.Am) grates slightly on the ears and is not especially interesting. Of course, it doesn't help that it precedes the frenetically operatic and fantastic "Like You," which makes it almost too easy to skip. "What's That Right There" is a decent track, but it, like "Bossy," fails to showcase the diverse talents of its artist. But Kelis makes sure to go out on two extremely high notes with "Appreciate Me," the album's absolute best track, and "Have a Nice Day." In the intro to Kelis Was Here, Kelis explains that she wants to make music that will leave a mark for generations. Though this record might not make its way onto any "Best Albums of All Time" lists, it should, if it is given its proper accolades, resonate loudly through speakers and headphones for a good while. [www.kelis.co.uk]

Guess what? Beach Boys-y pop isn’t the only thing that Athens, GA has to offer in the way of independent music. Of course, the southern city can claim the B-52s and R.E.M. as its own, but these days any mention of Athens is bound to have kids dreaming about Of Montreal or the Olivia Tremor Control, not the craftily orchestrated, hushed pop that Venice is Sinking lay down on Sorry About the Flowers. On its cover, Sorry About the Flowers depicts a frightened woman and baby on an angry sea; we’re led to believe the two are mother and child, and that the harsh waters on which they’re boating are apt to pull them to murky depths. The music that follows is the polar opposite of these sentiments—serene vocals lulled out between Daniel Larson and Karolyn Troupe, peaceful strings, and ambient atmospheres—none of which would coincide with the foreshadowed troubled on the sea. The tranquil quality of the album is its most rewarding asset, and what the record lacks in energy is reimbursed by a lot of ambition and meticulous melancholy. Honestly, Sorry About the Flowers is a mood album. It’s weepy and sleepy, which don’t tend to be feelings that one carries throughout each day. But, it’s also quietly gorgeous, floating on an incandescent cloud above the rainbow on which so many of their fellow Athenians find comfort and influence. [www.onepercentpress.com]