After the release of Charango in 2002, British trip-hop trio Morcheeba went through a bit of a mid-career crisis. With the band pulling in different directions, Ross and Paul Godfrey put the band on hiatus to pursue respective solo projects The Jukes and Capricorn 2, during which time lead vocalist Skye Edwards left the band. Deciding that a fresh start was in order, the Godfreys ditched the downtempo scene for a sound arguably more akin to rock, with booming orchestral arrangements and some electronic filler courtesy of Rob Mullender. They recruited former Noonday Underground singer Daisy Martey as Skye’s replacement, recorded the whole album live, released it under new label Echo Records, and hey presto! the result was The Antidote. If only the end product was half as interesting as its backstory. As it is, The Antidote suffers from stutter-step melodies whose stop and go herky-jerky just can’t seem to overcome their own inertia. It lurches out of the gate with “Wonders Never Cease,” which, for all its promise of taking its listeners “on a journey / Somewhere far out east,” sounds spectacularly dull. There’s little improvement as the album progresses. The obvious nod to 60’s and 70’s pop is more like a confining exoskeleton than a groovy foundation; the ironic result being that, for all their bluster, these live instruments sound pretty darn staid. In another ironic turn, Martey proves to be one of the album’s brighter spots. More soulful banshee than sultry chanteuse, she lends an edginess and energy to an album that is otherwise just bland. But even she can’t salvage timeworn cliches like “We can laugh until we cry” or pretentious cringers like “Bye bye cabaret / Sci-fi agony,” and without the likes of Kurt Wagner, Biz Markie, or Spikey T to break it up, her voice descends into monotony after a few songs. But hey, if you happen to be a fan of the guest artist format, there’s a silver lining in all these hackneyed misfires. Martey and Morcheeba have already parted ways, and word is that they’ll use an assortment of performers on their next release. Take that however you will, but from the sound of it, I'd say the band's creative quandary is far from resolved. [www.morcheeba.co.uk]

Country and hip-hop? Come on people, don’t look so incredulous; it’s been brewing for a while now…and no, this record’s not a joke. Buck 65 is an ashtray-voiced balladeer/ DJ from Nova Scotia, of all places. Mixing pedal steel guitar and turntables and beats along with his gritty storytelling style, which is more like old rural Americana storytelling than the abomination that has become country music, think of it more like a slightly hip hop Tom Waits record (a comparison Buck 65 apparently cultivates, but who can blame him?) This Right Here is Buck 65 is a compilation of re-tooled, previous released material from his last several indie-label records. Amazingly, he’s on Warner Bros. now; although it’s hard to see how those guys will market him. Can’t see it played on hip hop stations at all. On country music stations? …it could happen. The album starts out promising with “Bandits,” a Spartan, guitar-driven tune with a vibe not unlike “Rawhide,” with only a brief moment of record scratching in the beginning to inform you of what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. Lyrics come in conversational rural American stream of consciousness: “Stunt man wife/Back alley mattress/Wrath of addicts/Underwater second language mathematics,” until a clipped, rapid fire lyrical barrage ensues, only to return to more cowboy impressionism, all propelled by a single snare. After that, Buck 65’s lyrics are more straight forward, bitter-sweet tales of everyday life, dark childhoods, oh--and what sounds like the confessions of a centaur on a psychiatrist’s couch - all with dreamy atmospherics, countrified guitar and pedal and electronic beats. A lot of This Right Here is Buck 65 doesn’t quite live up to the promise of that opening track. (maybe he has more in common with other hip hop acts after all) Not that it’s bad, just not as good. For a musical marriage with so much to prove in most folks’ eyes, the album is admirably subtle and restrained. This Right Here Is Buck 65 is definitely worth a listen for the curious. If a classic, country-tinged hip hop album is in the realm of possibilities, this isn’t quite it. But if anyone can make such a thing in the future, it could very well be Buck 65. [www.buck65.com]

Yet another interesting band out of Montreal, the center of the indie-universe for the moment. We Are Wolves make cacophonic, angular, angst-riddled, post-punk noise rock. Comparisons to Les Georges Leningrad, Clinic and strangely, even Gang of Four, abound, but these comparisons only contain a thread of truth. A more apt comparison is to the one-man industrial art/noise band, Foetus. But while Foetus’ music usually was a bombastic and unrelenting noise assault, We Are Wolves is more staccato, which may be the thread in the Gang of Four comparison. But all comparisons aside, We Are Wolves is a trio made up of guitar and bass player Alexander, synthesizer/keyboard player Vini and drummer Antonin. But these guys can make quite a freakin’ racket. Cold and mechanical sheets of old school keyboard noise—and I do mean noise, no pretty synth soundscapes here----buzzes and spews over strong, hooky guitar lines. The listener would almost expect the vocals to follow suit in a cold, mechanical style, but no, not these guys. Instead bassist/lead vocalist Alexander barks out his bursts of angst like a rabble-rouser heralding a new totalitarian art regime. It’s tough to get a handle on what these guys are singing/screaming/bitching about, but whatever it is, it has greatly upset them. Song titles are in French and Spanish, as well as English, but the vocals are so buried in noise and/or effects I can barely make out any lyrics. In the song “Snare Me,” they yell something about bondage and (perhaps) borrowing a line from the Cramps, “…the smell of female.” And on the opening track lead singer Alexander insists that he “ain’t no little bird.” Indeed. But I think it’s safe to say that it isn’t about the lyrics. It’s about sonic Shock and Awe. If We Are Wolves comes to your town, bring ear plugs and maybe to be on the safe side, raw meat. [www.wearewolves.net]

Silver Lake, California’s Viva K’s eponymously titled debut record is a swirl of punkish American rock and mysterious Eastern influences, complete with sitar and tabla. These influences, along with singer Ween Callas’ vocals, instantly conjure memories of Siouxie and the Banshees, especially when she punctuates vocal lines with small bursts of falsetto. But with Siouxie, the supposed Eastern influence was pure gimmick attained mostly by expert application of eye make up. With Viva K, it’s real. All four members have a love of Indian music, and it shows. They’ve been able to synthesize Eastern and Western sounds seamlessly into an organic whole. Even the band’s name is derived from Indian Swami Vivekananda, one of the first Indian philosophers to bring Eastern thought to the West. The story goes that the band members met in a club on the first anniversary of George Harrison’s death and discovered their mutual admiration for the dead Beatle—and they all shared his love of Indian music. Viva K’s debut opens with gritty rock guitar, while Ween Callas’ vocals are crunched down with a vocal effect like a bullhorn as she warbles in near desperation before the guitar nearly disappears in the mix and sitar riffs bubble up from below in a dance/trance. And so it goes for 45 minutes. Is it a punk record? A dance record? Traditional Indian record? Well that depends on where you dropped the needle on any given song. It’s hard to imagine any sub-genre of adventurous music listeners who wouldn’t like this: Goth chicks? Check. Rockers? Check. Trance-dance types? Check. Rock and sitars could have easily been a transparent gimmick in someone else’s hands. But Eastern music is no passing fancy to the members of Viva K. They’ve taken rock guitar, dance beats, tabla, and sitar and made a clear, albeit shifting musical vision by a band you probably should be hearing from soon. [www.vivak.net ]

It’s no secret that I am a Jimmy Eat World fan. I discovered them in college and continue to drink up almost everything they pour me. Now the boys come out with a five-track EP put together while on the road touring in support of their latest full-length. In most cases, a disc compiled while on the road touring falls into one of two categories: Either the band is hitting a creative streak and just couldn’t wait to get the new material out to their fans, or the band is just throwing out some b-sides and leftovers trying to strike while the iron is hot. I am glad to say this is very much the former. The title of the disc, Stay On My Side Tonight, comes from the bridge of the opening track, “Disintegration,” an epic seven and a half minute track that builds slowly to a great crescendo. “Over” could have very easily been included on the last album, as it follows the sound and tone to a tee and flows perfectly into its musical companion on the EP, “Closer.” While a bit more up tempo than its predecessor, “Closer” builds on a foundation of drums and bass with a mellow melody and slowly picked guitar to gradually creep in your head. After the three new original tracks comes a cover of Heatmiser’s “Half Right.” Long acknowledged as a primary influence on the band, the boys do a great interpretation of the song, sticking to the soul of the original while giving it a bit of their own touch, resulting in the most emotional track on the disc. Wrapping it all up is the “Styrofoam” remix of “Drugs Or Me.” I have to admit that on the first listen I didn’t care for this track, but then again I rarely care for remixes on the first listen, finding it hard to stop the original from playing in my head. After a few listens though, the track began to grow on me, and while I still consider it the weakest cut on the disc, it is an admirable remix and worth giving a try. If nothing more, it does an excellent job of making you want to pop Futures in your player to immediately follow this disc. Simply put, this is textbook Jimmy Eat World. They aren’t reinventing their sound or trying to make a huge musical statement. This is exactly what I have come to expect from this band, and they never disappoint. At only five tracks in length, the album leaves you wanting more and more and more. Hopefully it won’t be too long until the band pours us another full-length, but until then, this will more than quench your thirst. [www.jimmyeatworld.com]

Stellastarr* are undoubtedly New York Hipster. The have all the earmarks of the Village. So its no surprise when they are oft compared to that other New York Hipster revival band, Interpol. Singer Shawn Christensen shares that same baritone croon, and penchant for all the things wrong with love. Where this four-piece does differ from their hipster brethren is the preference for soaring melodies, approaching (dare I say it) anthemic proportions. It’s really a shame that they can’t capture the same passion as say The Cure or Echo and the Bunnymen. Maybe it’s the production values, or Christensen’s voice and lyrics, but Stellastarr* never quite seems to capture the je ne sais quoi of their many and obvious influences. Bassist and backing vocalist Amanda Tannen may as well have studied under Tina Weymouth and Kim Deal. I had hopes for Harmonies For the Haunted, the group’s second album, that they might throw off the constant comparisons and become something of their own. Unfortunately, like their debut we hear more of a series of very strong impersonations. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but flattery will only get you so far. They may have begun really finding their own voice by reaching across the pond from New York for inspiration. But it seems unlikely that many will wait around for a third album hoping for these hipsters a voice to truly call their own. [www.stellastarr.com]

It's good to hear Poe's voice again. Hers is the first one you hear on Conjure One's Extraordinary Ways. Even masquerading as "Jane," (which probably has something to do with Poe's music label troubles) her powerful voice is unmistakable. Both vulnerable and strong, she grounds opening track "Endless Dream" in the real world, giving a point of reference for the soaring, swirling instrumentation and electronics. "Endless Dream" makes a promise the rest of the album can't live up to. It's really too bad Poe only sings on three songs. How Rhys Fulber went from the cold industrial sounds of Front Line Assembly to the cheap L.A. spirituality that permeates most of his work under the name Conjure One is hard to fathom. Songs like "Pilgrimage" and "Dying Light" try to evoke exotic lands and times but really only get as far as evoking a movie set. Other vocalists such as Tiff Lacey, Joanna Stevens, and Leah Randi all have sort of the indistinct, airy voices that tend to dominate a lot electronic music. They are pretty enough but virtually interchangeable and forgettable, much like the songs they sing on. Fulber taking vocal duty on a cover of The Buzzcock's "I Believe" works better than most other songs since he takes the material and makes it his own without overpowering the original. The song is presented in a fairly straightforward manner with some good contributions by Fulber. With his vocals, it's one of the most memorable on the album. But Poe's songs are the ones that truly stand out. "One Word" and "Extraordinary Ways" complete the trio that began with "Endless Dream." Theses songs are just more vibrant and alive than the rest of Extraordinary Ways. She and Fulber truly shine together, each complementing the skills of the other. If the album was just the two of them working together, it would be amazing. But Extraordinary Ways isn't worth it for just three songs. Here's to hoping Poe will be able to release another album soon, and she'll be able to bring Fulber along for some of it. [www.conjureone.com]

Except for maybe Ben Folds Five, there aren't too many rock bands in recent history that rocked the piano (and even Ben Folds isn't quite rocking like he used to). While the "rocking" element to Desert City Soundtrack's Perfect Addiction may be debatable at times, it's refreshing to hear a group of guys who let the piano take a dominant role in their music. "Last Nights Floor" opens the album on a somber note, but there's a turn toward aggression on "Lets Throw Knives" and "Playing the Martyr." The piano gives Desert City Soundtrack a sense of drama and delicacy but fuzzy guitars and angry drums keep this from descending into Tori Amos territory. Still, when Desert City Soundtrack gets introspective, they revel in it. The loveliness of "Batteries" is undeniable but sounds too much like it's hoping to be featured during a poignant moment on The O.C.. Perfect Addiction's strong start is tempered too quickly by the band's quieter songs. The darkness of the lyrics is joyfully at odds with the elegance of the music. "Mothball Fleet (Counterattack)" starts out "There are bodies scattered in the yard while wolves are screaming at the door." Lead singer Matt Carrillo's sweet voice only adds to the disjointed nature of songs like this and makes them more interesting that they are during the first impression. When the piano fades into the background, Perfect Addiction tends to drag. The band has something special and they need to utilize it more. But it's hard to find too much fault with Desert City Soundtrack. The band is strong; the songs are good. Even if Perfect Addiction doesn't quite live up to its title, it's still something to hear again and again. [www.desertcitysoundtrack.com]

As one of the more formidable and offensive acts in hardcore, Some Girls’ tenacity to continue creating deafeningly nauseating audible chaos has led them to Heaven’s Pregnant Teens. An LP at 25 minutes, but an LP nonetheless, and it even includes a PiL cover (Religion II). Pulling itself together piece by piece from the gamut of modern hardcore, Some Girls features Wes Eisold (American Nightmare, Give Up the Ghost) on vocals, The Locust’s (and ex-Swing Kids, Heroin, Holy Molar member) Justin Pearson on bass, Over My Dead Body/Unbroken alum Rob Moran (who has left the band since recording) on guitar, and The Plot to Blow Up the Eiffel Tower’s Chuck Rowell also on guitar, in addition to drummer Sal Gallegos, formerly of Secret Fan Club. If you’re expecting Some Girls to have toned itself down a bit, you’re gonna be disappointed. The band is at the top of its game, still tearing the throat of the hardcore scene with whatever dull instrument is at its disposal. The imagery of each song is as harrowing and vicious as a porno filmed on location in an abandoned cemetery, and if there’s an another San Diego band harboring as many sick ideas as Some Girls, be sure to let us know. The band is just as unrelenting in its music, thrashing their way through all thirteen songs in true no-holds-barred fashion. The record surges between spazzy blast-beats, fuzzy maniacal innovativeness, and pure adrenal aggression. Couple the description with each member’s previous affiliations, and you’ll get the idea. [www.somegirlshaveallthefuck.com]

Even if you’ve been up for three days straight snorting lines of Pixie Stix, you’re still not prepared for the sugar overload of YMCK. This Japanese trio makes pop that’s entirely composed of mid-‘80’s, 8-bit arcade noises: Pac Man, Defender, Galaga, etc. with soft, breathy, unaffected Japanese school-girl vocals and lyrics which are as sweet and childlike as the music is: “Say goodbye to Peter Pan/Say goodbye to Neverland/Say hello to your new adventure” is the English translation of the closing wish of the album’s opening tune, “Magical 8bit Tour”. Although arcade sounds are what comprise YMCK’s musical palette, this is not a techno-kinda record. It’s more like swinging lounge jazz. Seriously. If you transcribed these arcade sound-songs into piano, it would often be straight-out lounge-jazz, complete with faux-scat lines like, “Sha-ba-da-shoobi-doo-ba”, strewn about. Now, turning anything into lounge music would normally be a terrible thing, but YMCK’s musical vision is just so pure and well-executed, I gotta give them a pass. This isn’t that far from what the Swingle Singers, (a ‘60’s French vocal group who made Bach’s Well Tempered Clavier, and other classical music swing, which was wholly comprised of “Sha-ba-da-shoobi-doo-ba’s”) were doing, except YMCK uses cutie-pie video game sounds. YMCK’s Family Music will be horribly annoying to most. But if you’re the type of person who enjoys annoying your friends that only listen to stuff that Rawks, it’d be well worth your while, just for that sadistic pleasure. But besides that, Family Music is challenging listening. [www.ymck.net]

Sigur Ros is a mysterious band to say the least. Inventing their own language and their own musical style, they have become indie darlings and are honored the world over for producing some of the most beautiful music around. This time around, they actually use a real language on their disc, but unless you speak Icelandic, for all intents and purposes, this is really an instrumental album. Somehow instrumental seems fitting though because music this beautiful really can’t be described in words anyway. It’s pointless to talk about this album on a track by track basis because it is truly an album that ebbs and flows back and forth as a singular unit rather than dividing itself up into easily digestible pieces. The beauty of the album is apparent within the first five minutes. Close your eyes and listen and you are taken away to heaven. Where the album really shows its genius and quality is in its ability to maintain your attention and straddle the line of beautiful dream and restful sleep. Most albums that are this relaxing go to the point where you literally fall asleep or figuratively doze off so much that the album bores you and disappears into the ether, but not this album. The building crescendos and sweeping valleys keep your ear finely tuned into every note as wall after wall of sound is build up and torn down right before your eyes. Simply put, if you can listen to Takk and not float away relaxed, I am not sure I want to know you. Album after album, year after year, Sigur Ros put out some of the most beautiful music in recent memory. Having only gotten stronger, a lot of people would argue this is their best effort to date, and I would be hard pressed to refute that. This is a must own album of 2005 and a perfect centerpiece display of just how beautiful and other worldly superbly made music can be. [www.sigur-ros.is]

Aren’t inside jokes annoying? (when you aren’t in on them of course.) Everyone around you chuckles, and all you can do is wonder what they hell is so funny. “What am I missing?” is all you can say as you scratch your head. You know that feeling, right? Well, it’s the same with some bands for me. With every release, Grandaddy gets mounds of praise, and I read on message board after message board about how great the band is, but all I can say is “What am I missing?” Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate this band, or this EP, but I just don’t understand why some people love them so much. The disc starts off with a decent little rocker called “Pull The Curtains,” but this is quickly followed by a bit of a bore with “At My Post,” a watered down imitation of the Flaming Lips. “A Valley Son (Sparing)” and “Cinderland” fail to garner any attention, leading into the albums strongest track, “Fuck The Valley Fudge.” Rounding out the release is a quite/loud rocker, “Florida,” in which the band does a decent enough Pixies imitation to get by, and “Goodbye,” a slow acoustic swan song. I give these guys credit for being talented and all, but they just fall a tad short of keeping my attention. Release after release, they put out songs that have potential but eventually leave me bored. Maybe someday someone will tell me what is so funny, but until then I will be scratching my head at mediocrity and wondering if I am just not in on the joke. [www.grandaddylandscape.com]

Loose in the Air marks the first full-length from former duo, now four-piece, The Double on Matador. They certainly suit the label, and their home base of NYC well. It’s dark and moody with equal parts noise and melody, and you’re sure not to smile while listening to it. What really carry these songs are the plunky organs and keyboards and the Ringo-esque drums. The guitars are more atmospheric and noisy, adding a texture to the song. The bass usually does little more than follow the keyboard bass parts, but given David Greenhill’s dual duties as vocalist as well, its understandable, and I can’t say it detracts from the songs. The thing that keeps this album being really great for me, though, is the lead single “Idiocy.” The problem isn’t that I hate it; the problem is that it’s by far the best song on the album. It’s the most straight-ahead pop song they’ve got. And once you’ve listened to it, you’ve still got nine other tracks of moody and reverb-heavy ambiance. I want a single that’s really indicative of what a band is about, and while it's still certainly the same group, I can’t say it’s the same feel. Who really expects a track called “Dance” to be a seven-minute build up of noise rock? Overall, Loose in the Air is an enjoyable album; however, I think I’d like to see the next one go either more pop or more noise. As is, The Double is trying to do two things at once and getting caught in the middle. [www.thedoublethedouble.com]

One might ponder the relevancy of this review, as Wolf Parade, one of Canada's finest and most recent musical exports, will undoubtedly land in a vast array of Top Ten lists this year thanks to their full-length Apologies to the Queen Mary. The album's precursor, the eponymous EP at hand, can simply be viewed as an unimportant, test-the-waters project before investing in an entire record on a brand new band, and whether or not that's the case, this disc doesn't deserve to be overlooked. True, the EP is a mere four songs, two of which ("You Are a Runner and I am My Father's Son" and "Shine a Light") made the cut for the LP, but "Disco Sheets" lives exclusively on this EP, and in itself, lives up to the hype surrounding the band for the latter half of 2005. The track's sparkling, synthy keyboards and dance-floor rhythms are akin to fellow Canadians Hot Hot Heat, and "Lousy Pictures" exemplifies what was to come on the full-length--sloppy, yet admirable indie pop. As a companion to the LP, or as a less-costly introduction to one of 2005's most exciting new bands, this four-song disc serves its purpose well. [www.subpop.com]

Arena shows with Green Day, appearances on late-night television, and keeping their first full-length from 2002 in the "Top Sellers" list over at Interpunk--three years ago, I don't think anyone saw this coming. As for me, I gave "Those Anarcho Punks Are Mysterious" (from the aforementioned Reinventing Axl Rose record) a brief listen and decided that Against Me! wasn't bad. So I proceeded to order the album. Over the ensuing weeks and months, it blew me away; "Pints of Guiness Make You Strong" became one of my favorite songs of all time, and I kept the utmost respect for the band as they thrived on basement shows and tiny clubs. Fast-forward to early 2003. The band steps up their game and hops on board with Fat Wreck Chords--the label owned and operated by NOFX's Fat Mike, with an agenda that includes nabbing up all of punk rock's best and brightest--Against Me! included. The J. Robbins-produced Searching for a Former Clarity fares just as well, if not better, than their first Fat Wreck effort (2003's ...As the Eternal Cowboy), and the band's spirit is really the most direct link to punk rock they have. Musically, the record finds them expanding on their politician-agitating, angsty folk-punk, and Tom Gabel's lyrical wit is as sharp as the shards of glass it seems he's gargled over the years. While the record isn't as immediate as its predecessors (I didn't like it at all at first), there's really no denying that Against Me! is one of the most important voices in the modern punk rock scene. Impassioned and intellectual, and scene politics aside, Against Me! are at the top of their game. True, they were easier to hold dearly to our hearts before they broke big, and their older songs might be more fun to sing along with, but they're holding on to their roots and gaining popularity simultaneously. Selling out? Well, someone's gotta fill The Clash's shoes, and though it's premature and even silly to use that comparison, those footsteps are being followed... [www.againstme.net]

This split CD from Forge Records features Phoenix-based NES cover band The Minibosses and Brooklyn-based hardcore outfit Penny Winblood. Like most EPs, it’s a quick listen, with only eight tracks lasting twenty minutes, making it an excellent teaser for those who haven’t heard either act. This works well for The Minibosses, who are due to release their second album, Brass, later this December. It also doesn’t hurt them that the popularity of video game music is on the upsurge, as the sheer proliferation of video game cover/remix acts found on sites like Overclocked Remix and the success of concerts like Video Games Live demonstrates. But they’re not just another band jumping on the 8-bit bandwagon. The Minibosses can claim a degree of seniority here; members Matt Wood and Aaron Burke started covering video game music in 1997 when they were part of the Jenova Project. After the Project’s demise in 1999, they recruited Ben Baraldi on bass and Rich Smaldone. The band has mostly retained that lineup ever since, the sole exception being second guitar (ably provided on this album by John Lipfert). Since your average NES theme only runs a brisk minute and half, The Minibosses generally grab three or four at a time and whip them into wicked medleys whose rock’n’roll resonance dwarfs the originals while exalting their potential at the same time. “Ninja Gaiden” gets the geek party rolling here, its leisurely saunter gaining momentum and urgency as the song progresses, building (as any good video game cover should) toward the boss fight. “Double Dragon” wastes no such time. It leaps immediately into action, delivering a quick flurry of guitar licks in just over a minute. A new recording of their “Castlevania” medley caps their half of the disc. Though I found the original’s slightly slower tempo and dirtier sound more preferable, I still felt compelled to grab a whip and start destroying zombies, bats, torches, random blocks of stone, etc. It will pique your interest as well, even if it doesn’t inspire you to do the same. Penny Winblood then closes out the CD with their five song set. Filled with the cacophony of abrasive guitars, muted drums, unintelligible vocals, and spliced with the occasional sample, their experimental chaos strikes an interesting contrast to the tight arrangements of The Minibosses. Beyond that, there’s little to recommend here for the non-math metal junky other than interesting song titles like “fire is a hungry bitch” and “jc’s nuts.” In a lot of ways, their music is analogous to those cartoon fights that occur behind closed doors. There’s a lot of noise and commotion, but no one outside of those concerned has the foggiest notion as to what the hell is going on. [www.minibosses.com; www.pennywinblood.com]

The title of Straylight Run’s new EP could be a caveat to fans’ assumptions, in addition to a thematic umbrella for the six songs it represents. Given bassist Shaun Cooper’s and frontman John Nolan’s pedigree as former members of Taking Back Sunday, it would make perfect sense to expect another album of relatively straight-up emo, much like their self-titled debut. However, motivated by the current state of affairs in Iraq, Nolan, Cooper, drummer Will Noon, and John’s sister Michelle (who, like her brother, also plays guitar, piano, and sings) assume the mantle of political dissidents instead. Weltschmerz is the operative word here, doled out by the bucketful in word and in lush instrumental languor. The harsh divide between what is and what the band thinks should be is everywhere, as is their emotional response, ranging from sorrow, anger, fear, powerlessness, to downright dejection. To better reflect these weightier themes, they’ve traded in their more traditional emo for a variety of sounds. The morose electronica of “I Don’t Want This Anymore” features Michelle threading gossamer vocals through burbling synthesizers and digitized drum beats; the melancholic pop of “It Never Gets Easier” highlights the growing animosity of the political divide; and the austere minimalism of “Later That Year” is the band’s reaction to the now infamous photographs of fallen servicemen at the Dover airbase. John and Michelle then share the mic on “A Slow Descent,” a stripped down piano piece fleshed out here and there with various electronic textures. A portrait of idealism in tatters, it tours their protagonist’s mind as they tour the country, caught in a Sisyphean cycle of meaningless performances and fruitless searching, culminating in the spiral of a piano ostinato as John belts out the inevitable “It didn’t mean anything!” The original material ends with “Hands in the Sky (Big Shot)”, its tolling guitars and ticking drumbeats creating a wonderfully murky atmosphere perfectly suited to the sense of creeping doom realized in the song’s climax, where John’s plaintive croon swells to a scream as the long-feared police state comes to pass. The EP concludes with a cover of Dylan’s “With God on Our Side,” in which John and Michelle take turns singing lead, with three songs from their debut added for good measure. The inclusion of the Dylan cover is a mistake, for while it dovetails well with the anti-war message of the other five songs, the band’s take sounds particularly uninspired. Also, while promising, “I Don’t Want This Anymore” and “Later That Year” have an unfinished quality to them, like there’s more to be said than just merely repeating a few choice lines. There’s a finger pointing puerility to the entire opening trio that harkens more to the adolescent emo of the band’s past than the more mature outlook foreshadowed by “A Slow Descent” and “Big Shot.” Regardless of their missteps though, you’ve got to applaud their ambition. The overall impression the album gives off, of the pessimism caused by a crisis in values, is a tantalizing one, even if it is incomplete. Whether they’re able to refine this raw musical potential into something more polished, however, still remains to be seen. [www.straylightrun.com]

The Lovemakers, a new synth-pop group that is catchy and kitschy all at once, are enjoyable. Times of Romance, however, is a guilty pleasure that often eschews emotional intensity for entertainment. It dangles between the giddy senselessness of Freezepop and the sober mellifluousness of The Postal Service. Rather than resolve a style, the synthesized arrangements and Jason Proctor’s keyboards simply shift tone. Lisa Light has enough vocal range to banter between a striptease of the soul and the reservation of an art house darling; the final member, Scott Blonde, doesn’t. The whole thing’s mixed: “Runaway” and the titular “Times of Romance” deliver a heartier sound while “Shake That Ass” and “Prepare for the Fight” (which unsurprisingly works better as techno) rely on the vibrancy of the beats to fake it (and yes, shake it). That shows youthful variety and exuberance, a lot of promise, too. It’s only when the individual songs cross genres that things break down. (“Falling Apart” has sober lyrics and an up-tempo beat.) Stuck in the middle, between silly and serious (or a more appropriate combination of the two), the hypnotic charm of The Lovemakers will eventually wear off (or fail completely, as with “We Should Be Taking Our Clothes Off”). Ultimately, Times of Romance is a smooth seduction of sound, but still just a one-night stand. [www.thelovemakers.com]

Having the same name as an El Guapo album is no coincidence; the two bands are one in the same. The moniker change came after their departure from Discord Records, and the move to touch and go suits the band. Whereas many Discord bands are associated in style with Fugazi and the like, Supersystem is out of that loop. Always Never Again showcases ten songs that utilize electronic textures and dancy rhythms...not unlike a million other bands you probably heard this year. Supersystem isn't one of the best at doing this, but they're certainly not the worst. Where many of the songs fail as far as originality or diversity goes, they're redeemed by the few tracks which stand out. "Devour Delight," for instance, opts for chants and minimal instrumentation. "Born into the World" is a superb opener, with taut guitar and bass work; "Everybody Sings" is eerily reminiscent like former labelmates Q & Not U. Nature themes run amok on the record, with scenery or animals getting a mention in most every song. Most of the tracks are chock-full of repetition and lack the ability to go anywhere, though, and while each track has notable moments, it's not enough for complete satisfaction. Supersystem had a good run with this record but has yet to carve its own niche. Always Never Again is a solid record, for the first few spins. After that, staleness sets in, and though the band hints at the talent within, they've not let in shine through entirely this time. [www.touchandgorecords.com]

Willie Nelson once said that Johnny Cash “transcends all musical boundaries.” Of all the extraordinary feats Cash achieved in his career of five decades, the most remarkable may be how he, as a legend of country music, came to embody all things rock and roll. This retrospective highlights the most notable recordings of Cash’s career and assures that his extraordinary and enigmatic spirit, equal parts rebellion and redemption, will live for generations to come. The producers of this collection masterfully met the unenviable task of attempting to sum up Cash’s greatness on a single disc. Each of the twenty-one tracks included are significant works from the Cash canon and correspond to distinct points on the timeline of his career. All of Cash’s signature hits are represented, and songs like “I Walk the Line,” “Folsom Prison Blues,” “A Boy Named Sue,” and “Ring of Fire” remind the listener of the amazing magnetism Cash possessed in his prime. Also present are remarkable collaborations with artists like U2, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristofferson and Cash’s wife, June Carter, that point to the truth of Nelson’s above-mentioned statement. Thankfully, the compilation not only presents the glory of Cash’s past but also does justice to his most recent work with producer Rick Rubin on American Recordings. His poignant renderings of Soundgarden’s “Rusty Cage” and NIN’s “Hurt” are here along with an early take of his understated gem, “The Man Comes Around” which Cash said he spent more time on than any song he ever wrote. For Cash devotees, this album will not reveal anything new. However, for the one whose first introduction to Johnny Cash was the recent biopic Walk the Line or the one looking for a single reference point to help them uncover the greatness they’ve long heard about, this record more than does the job. [www.johnnycash.com]