The Strokes’ third album, First Impressions of Earth, is a story told in two parts. Roughly the first two thirds of the album is sheer brilliance, as the band works diligently to create some of the most important and diverse music of their young career. These tracks make a convincing argument that the NYC rockers are not content to survive on buzz alone. In stark contrast, the last five or six tracks prove languid fare and dilute the album’s overall vibe (which to that point is energetic and luminous). “You Only Live Once” starts the album in fine fashion, marrying a fairly characteristic riff with a fresh dimension to the band’s music (which has been made much of in other reviews): The audible and intelligible presentation of Julian Casablancas’ vocals, which are one of the album’s most consistent highlights. “Juicebox,” the album’s first single, follows emphasizing a dramatic Nikolai Fraiture bass line and a wonderfully raw vocal from Casablancas. Tracks like “Heart in a Cage” and “Vision of Division” feature some of the most direct, aggressive riffs the band has ever employed. The latter track’s distinct sections (a faux-punk opening riff, melancholy vocals on each verse and System of A Down-lite Mediterranean metal shredding) make the song feel like a mini-rock opera wrapped tightly in a four minute package. The album begins to drag on its ninth track, “Killing Lies,” which initiates a succession of relatively similar songs that drain the momentum built up by the rest of the disc. Particularly frustrating is the shuffling “15 Minutes,” which includes Casablancas’ most consistently banal lyrics to date. After the experimentation displayed at the beginning of the album, the closing tracks just seem a letdown. While the album’s close is a bit exasperating, First Impressions of Earth is, overall, a satisfying experience. Strokes fans should appreciate how the band exhibits growth while retaining their most identifiable characteristics. Casual fans should gain a glimpse of the lasting quality The Strokes can achieve should they harness the promise displayed for an entire album. [www.thestrokes.com]

I'm not one to try bashing any compilation that benefits charity--even the atrocious Take Action collections warrant some recognition for helping a worthy cause, despite how awful the participating bands may be. Protect is pretty standard fare for a Fat Wreck Chords compilation, intertwining the label's own bands with various well-known and more obscure bands in and around the punk scene, with over half the disc comprised of previously unreleased material. Among the comp's most notable are the unreleased tracks from Coalesce ("Mouth Breather," circa '91), Jawbreaker's live version of "Want," and Against Me!'s take on Bob Dylan's "Wagon Wheel." Alkaline Trio's Matt Skiba donated an offspring of his solo venture, opener "Demons Away," as does Avail vocalist Tim Barry on the acoustic backporch crooner "Idle Idylist." Hot Cross (ex-Saetia) delivers one of the strongest songs, albeit slightly out of place, with "Tacoma," and Western Addiction's "When a Good Friend Attacks" gives the disc some gritty hardcore spirit. The Ergs stellar pop-punk makes an appearance with "Radio K," and The Mishaps did the same with their rough, melodic punk rock. Of those songs you've probably already heard via full-length releases, The Falcon (members of The Lawrence Arms, Alkaline Trio, and ex-Rise Against) and The Soviettes' new-wavy "Middle of the Night" come away as the best. Honestly, there are only a handful of throwaway tracks--MxPx has, to my ears at least, never written a song that didn't sound like the rest of their library, and the incessant, childish humor permeating from NOFX just didn't cut it for me in "Jesusland." Nevertheless, it functions well as a benefit compilation, providing enough of what the various sects of punk rock have to offer, plus it more than likely has a very reasonable SRP. [www.protect.org]

Three years have passed since Elliott Smith (apparently) took his own life and exited this world, leaving a gap in the independent music scene that has yet to be filled. His knack for penning gorgeously honest odes to life and all that comes with it was uncanny, and rarely, if ever, did he come across as pretentious in his craft. As one of the most deservingly celebrated songwriters of the past decade, Smith was bound to have a tribute album bearing his name eventually, and now it's here, delivered by 15 of the brightest groups Portland has to offer. Some of the artists you're undoubtedly familiar with--The Decemberists, The Helio Sequence, The Thermals, Swords...but you've probably never heard of Knock-Knock, Sexton Blake, We Are Telephone or Crosstide unless you just happen to be exceptionally well-versed in the music scene of the Pacific Northwest. Obviously, tribute albums aren't the easiest to master; you either have to tinker around and re-interpret the song within your own style or you attempt a precise cover. The difficulty comes in re-creating the original song so that it not only sounds fresh, but maintains the spirit of the original, so as to not disrespect the creator, nor to alienate said creator's long-time fans. It's not an easy task, as 2005's This Bird Has Flown (Beatles tribute) proved, and To:Elliott From: Portland demonstrates that for every impressive take, there are a handful that don't make the cut. The selection covers most of Elliott's career (save for Roman Candle), with the most obvious tracks, "Needle in the Hay" and "Between the Bars," making appearances courtesy of Eric Matthews and Amelia, respectively. Colin Meloy and pals take a shot at "Clementine," ultimately making it believable as one of their own. The majority of the disc, though, just doesn't hit the spot. Kathy Foster's vocals simply just don't work when The Thermals attempt "Ballad of Big Nothing," and while Swords do a decent job of "I Didn't Understand," it's attributed to the fact of sticking more to the original than straying into experimental waters--or, playing it safe. Crosstide gives "Angeles" a laptop-pop makeover, which isn't necessarily bad...but the urgent yearning of Elliott's version is entirely lost. Portland duo The Lifesavas boldy turn "Happiness" into a charming hip hop number, adding in their own rapped verses. We Are Telephone pick up the highly underrated "Division Day," but unfortunately follow the track's regular formula. Those who come closest to nailing it--Jeff Trott's beautiful reproduction of "Wouldn't Mama Be Proud" and Sexton Blake's "Rose Parade," are instantly recognizable, and though neither fiddles with expansion, the two are the closest to Elliott in spirit. The bottom line--Elliott Smith's emotion was most easily conveyed in the nervous wavering of his vocals, as he often seemed on the verge of a breakdown; few of these renditions capture the essence of the originals. Smith was an artist you didn't simply listen to; you became enveloped in the songs, attaching them to yourself. It's difficult to hear anyone but Smith himself doing these songs, as he transcended comparisons to most everyone. Still, some of them are fairly interesting, and the tribute itself is, of course, an honorable deed done in the highest respects towards Smith. And it's worth mentioning that 10% of the proceeds go towards the Elliott Smith Foundation charity, Free Arts for Abused Children. Overall, it's not bad for a couple spins, but that's it. [www.sweetadeline.net]

There are various levels on which to attack the band for ever having done this record. First off, there's the terribly unfunny play on album titles and the disc's cover; second, to reunite for two shows after having only put out two mediocre records seems a bit ridiculous, but I won't question their motives. Fenix TX were a decent band--when I was in high school. Breaking up in 2002, members went on to do nothing really worth mentioning, save for William Salazar's project Denver Harbor. That a band comprised of guys who have to be in their mid-to-late twenties sees it worth their time to re-group and play songs that can't really be embraced by anyone over the age of 18 truly irks me--having an infatuation with Phoebe Cates and "tossing off to her pool scene" or fantasizing about threesomes are totally easy to relate to when you're a horny teenager, but it's really tough taking it seriously when it's coming from grown men. Some of the songs are pretty much in the same park as early Blink 182--silly and immature but only aiming for fun. The between-song banter is childish, making the musicians seem giddy to be able to use the word "fuck" without a risk of losing playground privileges after lunch. On the upside, the songs are performed as well as they were in the studio, so if there's a bright side to the disc, it's that anyone who finds these guys worth listening to will be more than happy with the outcome. They do cover CCR's "Fortunate Son"...eh. But for everyone else, feel free to pass it up. [www.fenixtx.com]

If you’re a regular reader here at Silent Uproar, you probably know that I’m a huge fan of British music - the more distinctly British the band the better. However, that said, with so many quality releases coming out from across the pond, I just can’t get behind London-based pop-punk band The Rakes. On their EP Retreat, The Rakes go over the old ground of touting the life of the average lad in the usual way. The track “Dark Clouds” lethargically tells the story of someone trying to “stay dry” in middle class life, while “22 Grand Job” is pretty much about what you think it’s about. Yeah, so, he’s got this job making 22K (pounds, mind you) in the city - average salary for someone with average ambition set to a jumpy beat. The best part of much-hyped single “Retreat” (and indeed the EP itself) is the chorus: Walk home, come down, retreat to sleep / Wake up, go out, again, repeat / Walk home, come down, retreat to sleep / Hook up again, this time, next week... It’s punky and has a really nice bounce, but the rest of the song doesn’t live up, so I can’t get behind it without some reservation. The last track on the EP is an ironic techno re-mix of “Retreat” that is even less interesting than the original. Who knew? Apparently adding blips and metallic twerping doesn’t help when the original is lackluster to begin with. It just ends up sounding like bad Eurotrash disco. Unfortunately, what it boils down to is that The Rakes are recycling the same story told better by bands like Hard-Fi and The Streets, but they aren’t adding anything. I’m afraid I have to give The Rakes and their EP a resounding “shrug.” [www.therakes.co.uk]

If you like Jack Johnson and Sufjan Stevens, you will want to look into Texas-born, Northwest transplant Rocky Votolato’s latest release, Makers. Pulling together nostalgia and longing, Votolato softly takes you along for an acoustic ride that reflects both of his environmental influences. “White Daisy Passing” opens the record with unexpectedly beautiful harmonies and an ambling tone fitting for a rainy Saturday afternoon. Sounding a lot like a single, the nicely produced “Tennessee Train Tracks” momentarily breaks up the low-tech vibe that covers the rest of the album while holding onto the overall tone. One thing you’ll notice immediately about Votolato is his skill as a lyricist. At once simple and complex, lines like “Love’s a train wreck you’re a mistake” (“Portland Is Leaving”) and “No I’m not doing alright / I’m just as stupid and desperate as I’ve always been” (“The Night’s Disguise”) resonate with painful astuteness. Even when it seems like the words might not fit easily, Votolato’s cadence makes it all come together within the spaces of his thoughtful melodies. Things dip a little toward the end of Makers, unfortunately, with the song “Goldfield.” It’s a little too plodding and repetitive. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t sit still through “Tinfoil Hats.” And I couldn’t even now tell you what it was about. But Votolato pulls it out in the end finishing strongly with “Where We Left Off,” a track that would have been perfect for the end of film – think 70s film director/auteurs, the likes of Scorcese, Altman, Bogdonavich. (Ok, so Makers doesn’t actually end there; the title track comes after to close the record, but it shouldn’t have.) Makers can easily be compared to Illinoise, but I offer that the former seems more organic, more rural. While Stevens’ record recalls a certain haunting bleakness of the Midwesten city skyline, Votolato’s music is so pure that you can almost smell the dusty roads of Texas, almost see wide open expanses and hear rain padding down on foggy forests around Puget Sound. [www.rockyvotolato.com]

Local heroes currently on local worshipped label Merge, The Rosebuds have been putting out pretty pop for about three years now, give or take. The husband and wife team of Ivan Howard and Kelly Crisp didn’t necessarily set out to start a band, but they did it anyway, and it’s been a pretty good thing for music lovers here in the Triangle and elsewhere. “You Better Get Ready” pulls you into The Rosebuds’ dance-along right off the bat with a great beat and words like “When the beat goes on, get on the floor / It might be social suicide, but she’ll be yours forevermore.” It’s nearly impossible to resist shaking your whole body around; in fact, I dare you. “Edmund Street” has a slightly sleazy, gritty sound that makes me think of early Stones: Think “It’s Only Rock ‘N’ Roll (But I Like It)". It’s a good thing, this comparison…Not to mention that this song is perfect at proving something a friend of mine once said, “You know, you can twist to any song. No, really.” When “El Camino” starts, you might be deathly afraid that it is a cover of “Yellow” by Coldplay – the guitar riff is, if not an exact, a damn good copy. Fortunately, the intro is mostly misleading, and the song lumbers sexily into an early 60s, almost drag, Link Ray–sounding torch song with Howard’s earnest vocals leading the way. But oddly enough, there is another moment about three minutes into it that again reminds me of “Yellow.” They’ve got to stop that. It’s disconcerting to say the least. By far, my favorite track is the dreamy pleading “Unwind.” “If you’d ever unwind / And relax for then maybe / We could have a good time / And this will help.” I love this song and have since before I even knew who it was. It’s just beautiful. The Rosebuds Unwind is rounded out by “I’d Feel Better,” which bops along in pure Britpop-inspired glory. It’s got great breaks and a driving bounce that will have you bobbing your head unless you happen to be comatose – and maybe even then. I haven't quite figured out yet why The Rosebuds aren't tearing up the scene nationally (or internationally for that matter) yet - I've heard conflicting things about their stage show, and since I've not seen them myself, I'll not venture an opinion. But based on the strength of their music, specifically this EP itself, they should be near or at the top of every Indie list for 2005. They have a full-length out now too, but that's for another review.... [www.therosebuds.com]

Ever done one of those optic puzzles where you have to cross your eyes and stare for a while before you see the hidden image? Know how frustrating they are at first, and how you start to get that headache? But then you persevere and keep staring until finally you exclaim in delight “Oh dude! It’s a unicorn!” That is the metaphor I will invoke to illustrate how one should approach this record: At times it can be very trying, and at other times you’ll think your CD is skipping, but be patient and trust yourself to Quentin Dupieux’s distortions. And you’ll find the groove. Just like the unicorn. Opening with what sounds like a polite salutation (“Hello to everyone; this is popular music.”), Dupieux dives right into his postmodern eccentricity, with seemingly randomly placed blips and piano samples. It doesn’t take long to get to what he dubs as ‘dirty house’ with the filtered bass loops on “Latex.” Track “Nurse Bob” reminds me of fighting Bowser on my NES (except I haven’t slept in 96 hours and am running on nothing but caffeine and cheese puffs). “Drop Urge Need Elle” is a fantastic track, sampling what sounds like Dupieux channel surfing, tied together with an urgent synth loop. The album doesn’t hit its peak, however, until the grinding, bass heavy title track “Half a scissor.” As the disc nears its edge, watch out for the brief nod to the Beastie Boys. Throughout the 40 minutes, you’ll be hard-pressed to find any structure, any beginning or end (in fact, if you leave it on repeat, you’ll be clueless as to when you started over). Take first single “Stunt,” for example. While it is probably the least scattered cut of the seventeen, I wouldn’t go so far as to call it radio friendly. Your best bet is to treat this as an ‘album’ and not as a collection of club singles. Besides, some tracks, like “(e),” only serve as a bridge from movement to movement. If you were a part of the whole “Flat Beat” rage, I can’t promise you’ll love “Moustache.” There are no accessible gimmicks here, and no weird head-banging puppet. This is not comfortable house music, with a constant looped beat and predictable layers. Mr. Oizo’s sound exists on the fringes of that genre (generally reserved for the mad scientist type). Just don’t dismiss it as ‘pretentious noise’ either: Its charm is in its unshaven absurdity. That, and when Dupieux thinks of some ingenious way to achieve commercial success a la Flat Eric, at least you can say, “Yeah, well I was into him way before you were!” [www.mroizostunt.com]

We don’t have a whole lot of hip-hop come thru here at Silent Uproar. Personally I think that’s a shame. Judging by the prominence of Kanye, Amerie, and M.I.A. on so many Indie Rock Best of 05 lists, maybe its time we took more notice. If Rock and Roll were a person, it’d be fifty or sixty years old by now. On the other hand, Hip Hop would just be old enough to buy a bottle of Cristal. So there is a lot of room for Hip Hop to grow, to experiment, to come into its own. That said, Saul Williams is just such an innovator, promoting the very idea of Hip Hop culture, beyond even just music or rapping or what have you. Williams is an actor, author, and rapper, but perhaps best known as a poet and spoken word artist. While poetry to music and rap could have much in common, what Williams does over a beat is quite different from what you might hear on Hot 97 fm. Saul Williams is not Money and Bitches. Saul Williams is injustice, adversity, racism (from all people, not just white), and reflecting a culture beyond the banality presented in most mainstream rap. So with all this praise, why did I rate this album so low? The thing about Mash-Ups and Mix tapes is that when they are bad, they are bad. Some beats just don’t work in every situation, and more often than not, that seems to be the case on this album. Mash-Ups are great when they are seamless, and all the pieces fit, creating a new song out of two or more older tunes. When Mash-Ups don’t work, it reflects poorly, as if no one in the group has rhythm. Unfortunately I haven’t heard all the originals included on this mix. I can say songs like “List of Demands” and “Black Stacy” become awkward and clunky. Do buy a Saul Williams album (I recommend the self-titled album). Don’t spend too much time hunting this mix tape down. [www.saulwilliams.com]

With 10 years, three full-length records (one on a major label), a multitude of fans worldwide, and a brand new record on the way, the release of Boysetsfire's Before the Eulogy (the obligatory B-sides and rarities collection) is not only timely, it’s necessary. Anyone in the hardcore scene knows that those first demos and releases are low-run pressings, often poorly recorded and not up to par with what eventually garners the band the most success, but simultaneously, those recordings are from the most intimate times of a group’s career. Featuring Boysetsfire’s first and second demos, the Consider 7”, 2 EPs ( In Chrysalis and Suckerpunch Training), plus some added rarities tacked on the end, Before the Eulogy is the precursor to the ideal starting point (The Day the Sun Went Out) for new fans, and also serves as a lesson in the band’s history for those not so well-versed (myself included) in the musical background of one of the most important melodic, experimental hardcore bands of the past decade. The first 7 songs (the demos) date back to 1995, long before the Delaware quintet was being peddled to nu-metal crowds with overproduction and inclusion on the same label as Creed with 2003’s Tomorrow Come Today. Gritty and soulful, the tracks showcase what pulled attention to the band, just in much rougher fashion. Nathan Gray has been an exceptional frontman from the beginning, roaming between guttural shouts and beautiful, soulful vocals. In Chrysalis and Suckerpunch Training are found here more for posterity, to cancel out the need for searching the two down separately, and do their part in rounding out the band’s early years. Between them, you get a broad taste of the band’s influences—Elton John’s classic “Rocketman” and the Dead Kennedys’ “Holiday in Cambodia” both receive the cover treatment. While it won’t complete a Boysetsfire collection pre-2001, the disc does an excellent job of just getting all this stuff rounded up and together in one place. [www.equalvision.com]

I’ll come out of the closet right now and say that though I am an avid independent rock fan I had zero knowledge of Echo and The Bunnymen. I knew they were an influential back from across the pond, but other than that I hadn’t heard a single note of their music. I decided to pop my Echo cherry by reviewing this album, and while I don’t totally regret it, it wasn’t the experience it was built up to be. Having no previous knowledge of a band can be good and bad. On one hand it gives you no point of reference, but on the other it provides a more honest impression of the album as a stand alone piece of art. Why point this out? Basically so Echo fanboys don’t ream me for an ignorant review, and to show a method to my madness. “Stormy Weather” starts the album out very nicely as a great up-tempo opening track. It grabs you and gives a great first impression of the band and the disc. “All Because Of You Days” is a moody rocker that really reels you in and doesn’t let go. Then I was quickly awoken by the strongest song on the disc, “Of A Life,” with its great building intro to an addictive guitar hook. Outside of the above mentioned tracks, I found the disc to be decent but only slightly above average. Songs like “Parthenon Drive,” “In The Margins,” and “Make Us Blind” start out nicely but slowly fail to build to anything. Characteristic of the album, the songs just don't jump off the disc at you. Well written and moody just doesn’t translate into appealing enough to carry the album to anything more than just ok. [www.bunnymen.com]

Now here’s a band that has been on my to-listen-to list for some years now. The Finnish five-some has existed in the periphery of my attention ever since I heard that they cover Cat Stevens in their live shows. I will reluctantly admit, however, that I never made the effort to listen to an album the whole way through until recently. Having only come across press tagging them as “love metal” and some androgynous photographs of lead singer Ville Valo, I suppose I was expecting something a little darker than what we have here. While Dark Light is not exactly a pick-me-up, there’s a certain gloom and atmosphere of which I feel ripped off. For a fifth album (and a North American debut), this is exactly what you’d expect. Right from the operatic opener “Vampire Heart,” the production is pristine, and the arrangements are extremely streamlined. They’ve got musicianship and chemistry to burn: All the melodies are clean, and Valo’s vocals (especially all the harmonies) are pitch perfect. Honorable mentions include the catchy “Wings of a Butterfly,” with the most effective hook on the whole album; power ballad “Play Dead,” with an impressive use of strings; and the first drum-heavy 42 seconds of “The Face of God.” Basically, every track could be a single; there is no filler. But therein lies the problem: There is no unsettling ambiguity nor any little imperfections, and the result feels a little sterile for something that’s supposed to be emotive. HIM’s designation as a “love metal” band originates mainly from Valo’s lyrics. He more than manages to fulfill the goth staple of heavily using religious imagery to illustrate his grand tales of heartbreak, as in the title track (“In oblivion's garden / Her body's on fire / Writhing towards the angel defiled”), or “Vampire Heart” (“Let me weep you this poem as Heaven's gates close”). In the case of “In the night-side of Eden,” it even doubles for social commentary (“We fall in love with the serpent's song, and fear nothing”). His downfall, however, is clichés. Really bad ones. Observe the chorus to “Killing loneliness” (“With the venomous kiss you gave me / I'm killing loneliness with you / With the warmth of your arms you saved me / Oh, I'm killing loneliness with you”). Yikes. As an album, Dark Light doesn’t hold a candle to their previous effort Love Metal, nor does it compare to their debut (including the absolutely brilliant cover of Chris Isaac’s “Wicked Game”). I understand they’re trying to break into the North American market, but there’s something much too safe and radio-ready about this record. At this point in their career, they’re primed for something a little more experimental, a little more conceptual. Something that doesn’t swallow this easy. As yet, they’re targeting graduated Evanescence fans as the better alternative to The Rasmus, and they can certainly do better than that. [www.heartagram.com]

They've shared the stage with big-name acts including Bad Religion and Hot Water Music; they're supposely one of Fat Mike's favorite punk rock bands; they've successfully released six albums of infectious and thought-provoking Swedish rock that suits an evening of consumption as well as it could accompany an afternoon of union rallying or a fun-filled day of anarcho-socialism. With Randy the Band, the quartet makes their first splash on Fat Wreck Chords and prove themselves to be one of the most overlooked bands in the game today. In the past, Fat Wreck bands had a certain sound that often made them indistinguishable from the rest; a lot were subject to endless NOFX references. Adding Randy to the line-up brings the label even further from that statement, as the Swedes maintain all the hooks and vitriolic views of society from punk's heyday, cheerfully setting its crosshairs on the establishment and calling out deviant cops ("Nothing on Me"), championing their animal-rights and sociopolitical views ("I Raise My Fist") and reliving adolescence in an imagined, though friendlier environment in "Punk Rock High." As catchy as The Ramones but as rocking as The Hives, and nearly as acerbic as Propagandhi but with a sense of humor akin to Screeching Weasel, Randy should be adored by any fan of punk rock's roots. The entirety of Randy the Band is an anthem for freedom and sits alongside The Human Atom Bombs as some of the group's best work. [www.fatwreck.com]

Sometimes the best produced music falls short on certain ears. David Levin’s self-released Stepping on my Hat is an impressive work on several counts. Smooth, clean vocals grace precise instrumentation on this easy-flowing set of catchy pop-rockers. Early standout tracks include “Demolition Boy” and “Stepping on my Hat.” The former was so good it was included on the album twice; the second version appears in acoustic form at the end. For all the extolment that could be given to these virtues, I found myself wanting more from the lyrics, and ultimately, the music in general. A little more pop-witticism and a little less feel-good preaching would have been appreciated. Minnesotan David Levin overtly emulates a certain Brit of Police fame, making this is a CD I might recommend to my aunt - a fan of the aforementioned. Personally, I felt a tinge of goofiness getting into some of the later tracks of this contemporary collection. Mr. Levin writes in the song “Blood and Feathers,” “I’d give anything for a milkshake and a burger.” And just maybe, Stepping on my Hat is the milkshake and burger of pop-rock: Tried and true, but nothing new. [www.davidlevin.com]

Eric Johnson’s Fruit Bats are unabashed children of the seventies, whether by birth or by inspiration. Given this disposition, I would rethink the title of Spelled in Bones, opting to use the title for the song “Born in the 70s” instead, the mellow masterpiece and crown jewel of the album. Not to speak badly of the song “Spelled in Bones,” It’s certainly a favorite. “Born in the 70s” is just more fitting. The Fruit Bats evoke many songwriting legends of that decade. Rather than try to name all the potential influences, I will just inform you that all the coolest ones are present. Mellow is the operative word for most of the album. Mellow, but rarely tiring. Songs crest and fall, and rise again. Beautiful vocals complement equally vintage guitar and piano. While the songs are fairly straightforward, an array of instruments and sounds are gently and effectively used in the background from bells to lap steel to the occasional space effect. Listening to “Spelled in Bones” makes me feel emotional and vaguely turbulent, despite its laid-back persona. There’s some potent stuff latent in these affable chords. [www.fruitbatsmusic.com]

There’s something inherently fun about a youthful group of garage-rockers hammering out an ultimately decent collection of songs. The energy level is high and the songwriting less pretentious, if not as polished. King Elementary are garage rock by the book. Tapping into a spate of recent derivative acts and those that came before them, the Strokes/Jet/Hives/whatever-esque music they produce is… pretty good. Not groundbreaking, not bad, just pretty good. High points can be found scattered around Kudzu like little pieces of shining glass. These shiny little moments make me interested in hearing what the band does next. At present, King Elementary is merely another faceless rock band, but one gets the feeling that with a few more miles under their belt they could produce something… great. The band pounds away from song to song tirelessly, sporting a simplistic guitar, bass and percussion approach to rock. The usual addition of a single background vox or piano part is a nice touch that keeps things from getting too obnoxious. Check out the catchy-as-hell refrain from “For the Birds,” the mystery of “Sand and Romance,” and the retro-cool of “Only You.” These bits of glass are a little shinier than the others. [www.kingelementary.com]

Pinning down The Joggers' immediate influences would be difficult, but I'll venture the guess that they're avid music fans with an affinity for record collecting. That said, their sound falls in place with the Kinsella brothers' Owls project, Wolf Parade, Faraquet, Interpol, XTC, and a plethora of the strongest bands the 1980s had to offer. They've shared the stage with Weird War, Hot Hot Heat, and Ted Leo, to name a few, and the Portland-based trio conceived one of the better albums of 2005, though too many people might not know it. The sophomore release for the band, With a Cape and a Cane shuffles between angular guitar-led numbers and pop-laden gems. You can dance to some tracks; others aren't so rhythmic. But throughout its entirety, the album maintains concise and thoughtful musicianship, with nary a moment of simplicity. Harmonies often get lost in the muddle, or weren't there to begin with, but the vocals are often shared amongst the members. The guitar interplay is woven throughout the entire record, but rarely does it wear out its welcome. Rarely does the melody carry the song; the guitars are the focal point. But on the occasions in which the group decides to write an all-out pop song ("Night of the Horsepills," for example), they do a pretty damn good job. Sadly, I've not seen an abundance of hype surrounding The Joggers yet, but With a Cape and a Cane further establishes them as a band worth checking out, and if guitar noodling and punchy rhythms are your thing, don't pass it up. [www.thejoggers.com]

Mike Reed's musical discourse spent half a decade with one of Michigan's most under-appreciated bands, bellowing an outpour of emotion over post-punk guitars, cold winter nights, beards, and of course, I'm assuming, a good deal of alcohol. Small Brown Bike was the band, and unfortunately the group called it quits back in 2004, shortly after the release of their Lookout! Records debut The River Bed. LaSalle reunites Reed (guitar/vocals) with Small Brown Bike drummer Dan Jaquint, and Mrs. Reed herself (Katy) on bass and vocals. First and foremost, as would be expected, comparisons between the two bands are necessary. It's inevitable, though sometimes I feel as though the juxtapositions detract from one or both of the artists in question. LaSalle isn't as heavy or gritty-sounding as Small Brown Bike, but only those freezing Midwestern nights could yield songs with such a cold demeanor as these 11, though there's multitudes of beauty in each. Spry and earnest, and often gorgeously simplistic, Expedition Songs is at its best when the band ponders alt-country textures with steel guitar. Mike Reed succeeds once more, proving that he's superb songwriter--one step above the rest in most of the bands in LaSalle's genre, if you can pinpoint one that suits them. A fantastic record, but one that you probably won't be pulling out when the sun is shining. [www.lasalle.com]

I try my best to keep an open mind when getting discs like this. A band pops up on alternative radio with a hit, and the jury immediately goes out on whether they are a one hit wonder or the next big thing. Ninety percent of the time they are a flash in the pan, but I remind myself that a lot of people thought Radiohead was a one hit wonder, so I listen to the album with open ears. After more than a few listens though, I am confident in saying these guys are not the next big thing. It’s not so much that The Autumn Effect is a bad album, so much that it is simply mediocre. The lead off single is the albums stand out track, and though the first three or four songs will hold your attention for a while, you will drift off and stop paying attention shortly thereafter. If you are a fan of Seether, Disturbed, or bands of that ilk, then you might want to pick this disc up; otherwise, just enjoy this band on the radio. 10 Years are far from the worst band I have ever heard, but they are far from the best. This is an average rock album from an average rock band. [www.10yearsmusic.com]

Mazarin’s We’re Already Here could be highly recommended on the strength of its opening track, “The New American Apathy,” alone. “Who wants to be oblivious?” Quentin Stoltzfus inquires: “The news,” it seems, “so safely keeps you occupied with lies some political way.” This searing indictment of the current political climate is couched in a musical framework that perfectly captures the soma-induced coma that the majority of Americans have been slumbering in ever since (and no doubt before) 9/11, complete with sleigh bells. What a rare treat that the rest of the album that follows is just as solid. Nearly two and a half years in the making, Mazarin’s third outing features Stoltzfus’ languid and frequently gorgeous pop as well as guest appearances by Lily’s Kurt Heasley, the Icarus Line’s Don DeVore, and Walt Martin of the Walkman. Heavy on the Kinks vocally and occasionally falling on the XTC, Squeeze, and solo careers of both Paul McCartney and John Lennon side of Beatle-esque, Mazarin is far from derivative (save for the near Strokes rip- off “For Energy Infinite”) but simply appreciates what is beautiful about pop music. The drone of a drum machine may add some technological edge but really only serves as a spring board for which Stoltzfus to launch—or possibly ground—one of his near perfect, delirious melodies (“See You in the Evening”). If this is the future of modern pop, will we have to wait another two years for another installment? [www.mazarinband.com]