For those of us who can remember the early days of MTV, it seems inconceivable that there would ever be a 35 song “definitive” collection devoted to the band who uttered those four unintelligible words that preceded the song –"Rock of Ages." Just as bewildering as the enduring popularity of early MTV staples Duran Duran, the legacy of Def Leppard carries on, and their career has been summed up into this two disc compilation. Considered by some to be ultimate 80s band, Def Leppard hailed from Sheffield, England. The band actually name T. Rex and Moot the Hoople as musical mentors; although their signature pop metal sound resonates more Thin Lizzy than anything, especially on early hits represented on “Rock of Ages” like, “Bringin’ on the Heartbreak.” Other career highlights abound (“Foolin,’” “Photograph,” “Hysteria,” and strip club staple, “Pour Some Sugar on Me”) and are presented in an order that is not chronological but possibly in order of popularity. The liner notes feature commentary by the band on each song. For example, “Love Bites” made guitarist Phil Collen’s mum cry. Def Leppard essentially peaked with Hysteria, which was released in 1987, but they soldiered on much like the band did after drummer Rick Allen lost an arm in 1985 and after the death of guitarist Steve Clark in 1991; to date, they have released ten studio albums. Def Leppard can be admired for their perseverance alone, as well as for a handful of hits and perhaps for the nostalgia they may inspire; however, a greatest hits collection of this size seems like another example of rock-n-roll excess. [www.defleppard.com]

Until now, Cursive was a band that existed on the fringe of my musical consciousness. Friends raved, journalists wrote interesting blurbs and album covers intrigued me. For some unknown reason, I never invested any time in the pursuit of discovering these stalwarts of the Saddle Creek label. Comprised of out of print and unreleased material, this collection may not have been the appropriate place to start. Compilations like these are usually reserved for diehard fans. While not completely convincing me to become a Cursive follower, The Difference between Houses and Homes did go a long way in helping me see what all the fuss has been about. Recorded over a span of six years (1995-2001), the songs contained on The Difference between Houses and Homes display the unrestrained passion and raw fury for which Tim Kasher and company have become famous. Songs like “And the Bit Just Chokes Them” and “A Disruption in the Normal Swing of Things” contain an energy missing even from other bands that rock as hard. Several other songs showcase nuanced guitars and masterful control of dynamic and tempo, proving that Cursive songs are not all volume and drive. “A Disruption in Our Lines of Influence” grows from its Eastern-influenced opening riff, and “Nostalgia” employs guitar effects and white noise to great result, highlighting the band’s range. Where I lost interest in The Difference between Houses and Homes owes much to my previous exposure to Cursive. Albums of this nature tend to require a previous commitment to a band’s material as specialty tracks like these have a tendency to be sloppy and more casual. Songs like “Icebreakers” and “I Thought There’d Be More Than This” are tracks only a true Cursive fan could love; I found them almost unlistenable. Longtime fans of Cursive will no doubt derive great pleasure out of this collection. There was enough here to make me curious about the band’s body of work but not enough to make me believe this particular album will get much repeated listening time. I am thankful for the introduction to such a unique vocalist as Kasher and to the anthemic guitars that give Cursive the ability to express a sense of urgency and direction like few bands can. [www.cursivearmy.com]

The latest release from Dios (Malos) is at once refreshing and original, but just scraping the surface for what I feel this band is capable of achieving. Poppy and easy-going throughout, many of these grooves grab, but don’t sink the hook in quite deep enough. Originally known as Dios, the band’s second full-length is a melody-laced collection of mostly acoustic ballads that refuse to take themselves too seriously. Using distorted guitar riffs and jingly percussion to round out the short acoustic sketches, many of the songs flirt with a range of music styles recalling psyche-pop, folk, country, and a tinge of electronica. Drugs play a huge role on the record (I don’t think there is a song on here that doesn’t at least mention marijuana), and, amazingly, the lyrics convey as much humor as they do longing for something else. “I get high/but don’t remember why/some drugs good/some I never understood/I’m away and far from home,” chant the lyrics from “So Do I,” a song performed with enough strength and confidence to make it sound like a forgotten campfire sing-a-long. “Later Skater” is another one of the few peaks on the album. Using an arsenal of vocal dubs, handclaps, and electric guitar hooks to accentuate the haunting choruses, the song provides a soothing climax that rides like a tide. Nothing gets lost in the mix, and it showcases the band’s ability to create lasting and original melodies that demand repeated listens. Ultimately, Dios (Malos) is frustrating because it shows all the talent and ability but rarely goes far enough. Tracks like “Say Anything” and “Grrrl” flirt with psychedelic harmonies in the vein of the Beach Boys but never quite take off and go anywhere unexpected. Other times the band seems to meander and quickly fade when they should be just announcing their presence. I’m stoked on the next album these guys put out because I hear entirely too much promise. [www.wearedios.com]

Johnathan Rice’s major label debut is a passionate, ambitious effort that aims for greatness and hits the target more often than not. While I am not as eager as other critics to christen Rice the hope of a new generation of singer-songwriters, Trouble Is Real is a strong foundation upon which to build and certainly points to an artist with a very promising future. On first listen, Rice’s vocal quality is very reminiscent of John Mayer, and he does little to discourage that line of comparison on pleasantly melodic but inconsequential anthems like “So Sweet” and “Leave the Light On.” However, after multiple exposures to the material, one begins to notice a worldly quality to Rice’s voice that suggests a maturity and complexity unusual for someone of his twenty-two years. Rice’s songs work best when he uses that worldly quality to energize ballads of reflection and regret. Songs like “Break So Easy,” “City on Fire” (with its blend of electronic, Celtic and folk elements) and the album’s highlight, “The Acrobat,” are presented with a sincerity that seems effortless. Rice sounds less comfortable when he quickens the tempo but does manage to pull off a wonderful Springsteen impression on the shuffling “Kiss Me Goodbye.” The major fault of Trouble Is Real is its ability to sound overproduced and self-important at times. With such a young artist, I expected a gentler treatment from veteran producer Mike Mogis (Bright Eyes, Rilo Kiley), but several tracks falter under the weight of their aspirations. For example, the good in a cut like “Stay At Home” is lost in the busyness of the arrangement and the oddly unsettling appearance of a children’s choir. Mogis and Rice also attempt to bring interconnectedness to the tracks by using interludes, outros and song fragments that prove mostly unnecessary and distracting. Had Trouble Is Real been a bit more concise (there are sixteen tracks in all), the album would have been an exciting picture of a songwriter with a great deal of natural talent. As it stands, this effort should definitely create excitement over Rice and will hopefully serve as a pledge of what listeners can expect in the future from this young troubadour. [www.johnathanrice.com]

Lest the approaching days of winter bring about the malaise and apathy so easily felt during the season, The Oranges Band have provided a perfect escape. The newest record by the Baltimore quartet is the musical equivalent of a lazy summer day at the shore and should provide ample medicine for anyone wishing to hold winter at bay, if only for a few more days at least. The Oranges Band has been compared to artists like Spoon (for whom frontman Roman Kuebler once served as touring bassist) and The Shins, and they certainly employ the same sense of melodic ease as those bands. In their harmonic progressions and guitar riffs, however, there is a kinship to groups like Weezer and The Strokes. The World & Everything In It intermingles all of those elements to create a highly sedated and delightfully tuneful approach to garage rock. Kuebler once dubbed the band’s sound as “pop surf music with vocals,” and his description rings true. Tracks like “Open Air” and “Ride the Nuclear Wave” discuss the themes of summer with a carefree abandon that is appropriately refreshing. Kuebler is a gifted vocalist, and the harmonic support his bandmates provide contributes to the album’s tone and overall attitude. The group displays musical diversity on “The Mountain” by letting the surf tones of the opening guitar riff evolve into an up-tempo New Wave rocker. Closing track “Evil’s Where You Want It to Be” proves to be the most interesting and enjoyable piece on the album as the band meanders through several textures on their way to achieving a retro, psychedelic rock vibe. The only downside to The World & Everything In It is that the monochromatic nature of the material causes the album’s second half to drag a bit. Fortunately, the album is not long enough for this to be a major issue. The Oranges Band has put forth a highly enjoyable album that is unpretentious and uncluttered. Like a perfect summer day, there is nothing substantial going on here, and like a perfect summer day, that’s alright. [www.theorangesband.com]

Though it’s her first release on Records of the Damned, People People is actually the second of many albums Eel has released in Japan. It’s a mishmash of practically everything imaginable, featuring toy horns, bagpipes, guiros, steel drums, and xylophones alongside samples from horse race announcers, yowling cats, people eating, and (if memory serves) Atari’s Combat. Calypso, polka, lounge, and a jig are mixed indiscriminately with 8-bit sound effects. Hell, there’s even a slightly altered version of the Chipmunks’ “Witch Doctor” on the torturous title track, as well as a song solely devoted to promoting Eel’s debut album. Sound nutty? That’s because it is. But what’s nuttier still is that it works. Most of Eel’s songs are nice little pop confections: They’re so light and sugary, you’ll grow giddy just by listening, even if you do find yourself questioning your own sanity by album’s end. [www.recordsofthedamned.com]

Schoolyard Heroes takes all the styles of teen-angst music -- nu-metal, emo, pop- and post-punk -- and channels it through a very angry young woman named Ryann Donnelly. The result is a hyperactively aggressive collection of songs on the band's second album, Fantastic Wounds. The album opens with "Body Shots," in which Donnelly invokes Melt-Banana frontwoman Yasuko O with her choppy, energetic screaming. This song sets up the rest of the album, diving right into the darkness with raging guitars courtesy of Steve Bonnell, sinster bass lines by Jonah Bergman and Brian Turner's assaulting drums. The album is definitely carried by Donnelly, and her voice will make or break the album for listeners. She does have a tendency to descend into annoying cartoon voice modulations, but in her best moments, her pouty voice sounds like an evil Gwen Stefani, and it's nothing short of a joyous experience to hear someone who sounds girly also sound so scary. With song titles like "Serial Killers Know How to Party" and "Funeral Parlor Tricks," it's pretty obvious where the band's collective mindset is. With an almost giddy appreciation for horror movies, the band's lyrics come across as more theatrical than serious. "We live like creatures/We love like homicide" Donnelly wails on "They Live." Still, the album does make an emotional connection. When on "Centaur: Half-Man, Half-Motorcycle," Donnelly purrs softly, "If you could live 1,000 lives, I'd watch you die 1,000 times," and it's not hard to imagine some kid sitting in his dark bedroom agreeing with the pain behind the sentiment. For such a young band (all members are in their early 20's), Schoolyard Heroes is impressively tight and confident. Fantastic Wounds shows promise of what's to come, and hopefully, the band will continue to scare and delight everyone for years. [www.schoolyardheroes.com]

Albums like House on a Hill's Ladyslipper are frustrating. The music is lovely and moody; there's obvious talent in the band, but there's just something missing. It may be a good album, but it's the sort of album that not only could be better; it should be. The instrumental "Arcadia" opens the album and while the meandering tune is pretty enough, it's about three minutes too long. This is the ultimate problem with much of Ladyslipper -- the good moments get dragged out until they no longer exist. Songs become wandering meditations rather than cohesive units. Guitarist Sara Kermanshahi and bassist Cedar Apffel trade vocal duties on most of the rest of the songs on Ladyslipper. Both of their voices are slightly melancholy, matching well with the emo-inspired sound. Neither is particularly distinctive, however, and they are often overpowered by the music. Only snippets of the band's typical indie-rock lyrics can be understood, as if what is being sung doesn't matter too much. And honestly, it doesn't -- House on a Hill's strength, if there is one, is in its skill as musicians. The rest of the elements still seem to be under development. "First/Last" is the best song off of Ladyslipper. Slightly brighter in sound that most of the rest of the album, it's the clearest example of what House on a Hill can do, given the chance. It's a tight song, allowing all the band members to shine, including House on the Hill's backbone, drummer Carlos Moncada. Sadly, whatever momentum the album gains by this song is immediately killed by the excessive "China Walls." Ladyslipper never quite finds the energy to carry it all the way to the end. The music may be pleasant and played well, but there's no drive to anything better. It's appealing enough in limited doses, but in the end, it's almost completely forgettable. Once House on the Hill learns to add a few hooks into its music, maybe the band will be worth talking about, but Ladyslipper is little more than background music. [www.houseonahillband.com]

Even though Al Jourgensen handpicked most of the tracks for Rantology, it feels more like a promotional album than any sort of “Greatest Hits,” but fortunately, there are enough re-mixes to please old and new fans alike. The purpose of Rantology seems to want to attract a new generation of Ministry fans, and it may actually succeed. Jourgensen created the heaviest (yet undeniably melodic) band on the planet throughout the 80s’, and he seems bent on teaching kids today who’s still the boss. Part political concept album, part re-mix collection; Rantology features one new song, a collection of “update” mixes, and a few live tracks from the Sphinctour album. The new song, “The Great Satan,” sounds like Jourgansen is still on track, mixing his trademark sounds of flying shrapnel and teeth-shattering drum crashes with melodic, thrash guitar riffs—sounding somewhere between Slayer and classic Ministry. Perhaps more exciting, however, are the “updates” of classics like “Stigmata” and “Jesus Built My Hotrod.” Some of the tracks aren’t so much as re-mixes, but re-recordings with modern equipment to sound noisier and all-around more aggressive. What was once an industrial dance club favorite, “Stigmata” now seems more appropriate for background music at an underground dogfight. The new “N.W.O.” disappoints with no notable musical differences, but the samples of George Bush Sr.’s proclamations of a “new world order” are combined with our current Commander-In-Chief’s to further confirm the song’s political potency. At a time when Bush bashing seems redundant and too easy, Rantology punches a bit late, but all the songs remind us Jourgansen has been politically awake from the beginning, and it looks like he plans to keep writing heavy tunes and having a few laughs along the way. [www.ministrymusic.org]

I’d been waiting for the debut record from Staines-based (yeah, I said Staines…as in Middlesex, UK) band Hard-Fi to come across my desk for literally three months. So when Stars of CCTV finally did hit, I was as happy as a little girl…well, mostly. I say mostly because there are a few songs on the album of eleven that don’t necessarily float my boat. “Move On Now” sees frontman Richard Archer whining a bit about a dying love in a falsetto that generally grates my nerves. “Better Do Better” is less catchy than a lot of the tracks, but it still has some really good hooky bits - “I could not eat for days / I cried so much my face / Has never been the same and now you’re back here with your lies / I hope you realize …” I can appreciate the willingness and desire to branch out and cover all kinds of different emotions and tempos, but save that for when people already love you, not your first trip out. That all said, there are, in my opinion, eight solid tracks on Stars of CCTV: The first six tracks and the final two. Some may argue that, but I’ll stand by it. Hell, at this point, at least three of those have already been singles in the UK. By drawing on The Specials, The Clash and, even more bizarrely, certain electronica influences, this record is something you need to hear. “Cash Machine” gets the record started in gritty fashion detailing all the rotten ironic things that happen to the guy in the song, culminating in him walking out on his girlfriend whom he’s gotten pregnant. Doesn’t sound like the makings of a pop song really, and that’s not what it is, but it is a damn good song that might just get you in the gut. “Hard To Beat” is a bouncy tribute to going out and hooking up in working class fashion. “Tied Up Too Tight” is an almost angry tribute again to working class life. “Straight out of west London / Just like a loaded gun.” “Middle Eastern Holiday” features rapid fire machine gun rhythms that sound appropriate for this song that is unmistakably about what’s going on from a soldier’s perspective in Iraq right now. Hard to make a political song that’s energetic without being trite, but they’ve done it. By using horns, harmonicas, the usual musical instruments, clever lyrics, and excellent basslines, Hard-Fi have made my one of my favorite records this year, even considering the few missteps on it. It’s a return to the essence of what Britpop has come to stand for. [www.hard-fi.com]

For a band whose very name suggests an inclination towards the quieter side of things, The Very Hush Hush certainly understand the value of a scream. Or maybe that’s just it. As any musician knows (and as the band themselves acknowledge in an interview), the fact that it stops is what makes any sound significant. And on Mourir C’est Facile, The Very Hush Hush unleash sound in torrents. The pounding of the drums, the fuzz and growl of feedback, the wrath of the guitars as they soar and pulse; most of the album plays out like a storm rendered elegantly in song. The pieces that don’t, such as the somber synth washes of album opener “Forever” and the title track, or the momentary lulls in “Every Little” and “The City Light,” provide the perfect counterpoint to the cresting melodies of songs like “The Slow Destroyer” and “Coup de Main” with their tone of hushed resignation. Sadly, the lyrics don’t measure up to the music, but then, they seem meant to play second fiddle anyway. Buried beneath the avalanche of sound, they serve a more subliminal function, indicative perhaps of how insignificant words are next to the welter of emotions they attempt to express. And the storm-tossed landscape The Very Hush Hush unveil is most certainly an emotional one, by turns angry, despondent, and contemplative, but always rich on account. In the end, that's what truly impresses about Mourir C’est Facile: its synthetic prowess. The way it fuses emotion with the environs around it, just as it blends elements of electronic music with basic drum beats and juxtaposes sound with silence, making for an album whose complex world is fractured, nebulous, and ultimately, enthralling. [www.theveryhushhush.com]

Ah, the porcupine, the most curious and indefinable of all nature’s mammals: soft and furry, it is an innocent, yet extremely vocal, loner--right up until needing protection. That’s when it gets as harsh as necessary, with quills aimed and ready to maim the unsuspecting. Porcupine Tree works in reverse: They look dark and mysterious, teething and violent. In actuality, their new record Deadwing is a far lighter affair, one capable (as in “Shallow”) of getting more rapturously rabid but more comfortable when ebbing into the nuances of harmony and vocal precision. Never erratic, even when hollering, they switch effortlessly from the aggressive mainline to the hypnotizing classic rock, replete with gentle guitar and light, tonal unison. And while the rhythm is soft, it’s also compelling: A simple drum beat often enough to drag along a guitar line left to simple echo, tremulously, in the darkness. Spinning together since the early ‘90s, they’ve managed to retain the looser feel of that era, a time when there was more room to play. A song like “Lazarus,” with careful piano accompaniment, is both poignant and full-bodied, a real joint collection, the kind that makes both guitar and heart strings warble. A lot of the shorter songs seem born of the longer ones, like excised segments: The repetition is tiring. Also, the music takes over the vocals so often that it’s hard to distinguish topics; instead, one long odyssey that, while melodious, is also not anything overly new. “Mellotron Scratch” is too slow for the song to pick up beyond the repetitive melody, too softly whispered for the vocals to have any effect. “She’s Moved On,” on the other hand, has both an affecting hook and stronger crooning. Just remember (“Glass Arm Shattering”), overuse of echo doesn’t make a song more haunting, it just reminds us how hard you’re trying. Use those quills, Porcupine Tree, let out that sense of the psychedelic that pokes around the edges of your songs. Unbound by the images of a more mainstream studio, you might at last get back to your barbed beauty. [www.porcupinetree.com]

Contrary to the title of their band, Zzzz is nothing that will find you claiming boredom and turning in for the night. Raised in the wondrous musical mecca of Chi-town and donning members from two highly respected bands (Swing Kids, Sweep the Leg Johnny) in the indie world, these jazzy hipsters have issued a fabulous debut, albeit only eight songs, entitled Palm Reader. Steve Sostak’s sax lines are going to be the most memorable trait of the quartet, but Zzzz also chocks up the work of a classically trained pianist (Ellen Bunch), dual vocal duties from Sostak and Bunch, a record with unpredictable rhythm changes, frenzied shouting, and a style that’s really difficult to pinpoint. You can dance to this, but pseudo-disco/punk isn’t what the band has in mind. The moods vary from tumultuous and exhilarating to darker and denser injections of foreboding keyboards jarring swing tempos. “Assassination Polka” is a bit of a joker, as the album’s most enjoyable and upbeat track also happens to be the introduction, but that isn’t to say that the remainder of Palm Reader is unacceptable. I’d tell you what the band’s lyrical muse was, if only I could understand the lyrics. Sostak and Bunch don’t hesitate to finish each other’s sentences, spit out random noises, toy with their inflections, and so on. It doesn’t matter, though; gibberish seems to fit perfectly well on their plate. The band stretches the album over 37 minutes, and though it has its ups and downs, there isn’t a painful second to be found. The abundance of energy and ingenuity is an attention-keeper, and Palm Reader is a solvent to stagnancy. [www.zzzzmusic.com]

I’ll go out on a limb and venture a guess that the majority of the Silent Uproar audience has some connection, however limited it may be, to the world of “indie rock,” and if so, you’ve undoubtedly heard the hype linked to Montreal’s Wolf Parade. Apologies to the Queen Mary abolishes what some may consider hyberbole as a fine addition to the Great White North’s roster of exceptional indie bands—The Arcade Fire, Hot Hot Heat, Stars, Broken Social Scene, Metric, The New Pornographers, and so on. It’s true that Isaac Brock “discovered” Wolf Parade—had it not been for the quirky head-honcho of Modest Mouse, the wild canine assemblage would’ve certainly found a multitude of other labels knocking on the door. Sub Pop got lucky (who woulda guessed?) though and introduced us. The self-titled “token EP to stir up some noise before we drop the big one” was released in July; “You are a Runner and I am My Father’s Son” and “Shine a Light” made the cut this time around. That Wolf Parade, though, don’t take kindly to any label you try to slap on them. They’re inspired by decades of incredible rock music, and it’s prevalent in their sound. There’s artistic simplicity, but no hints of pretension. Dan Boeckner and Spencer King have distinct voices that are unabashedly weird, but simultaneously warm and charismatic. Lots of humming keyboards, non-technical drumming, and more than a handful of noteworthy (memorable) choruses are just a scant few of distinguishable attributes the band possesses, and if you considered that last Modest Mouse record to be too much of an attempt at popularity, take a gander at Apologies to the Queen Mary to find some satisfaction. And yeah, I'll stand by this being one of the best records released this year--it's original, it's fun, and it isn't dull in the least. Catchy, smart, and a million other positive adjectives all apply. Don't pass it up, seriously. [www.subpop.com]

When the Bloodhound Gang produces a new album, it might make you giggle with anticipation or cringe with disgust-- either way, there's always a reaction. These towering idols of immaturity and obscenely clever lyrics represent the few and proud who think that rap shouldn't be taken so seriously. In the past, they've paid tribute to the more old-school beat of groups like Run DMC and The Digital Underground. Hefty Fine, however, is more of an experiment in the tweeting, stylized genre of euro-pop. "Balls Out" gives us the first taste of electronic sampling, setting it against the familiar crunch of a guitar. At first the lyrics seem to be more harsh and thuggish than in years gone by, but when you hear raps about barbs of fire that "cut like a jalapeno popper fart," you feel assured that if the band is somewhat musically different, at least Pop hasn't changed his mindset. There are some more familiar-feeling pieces in this album, like the nonsensical "Ralph Wiggum" and "Pennsylvania," but you can understand why old fans might feel alienated at their first listen of Hefty Fine. Despite that, the album is entertaining and catchy, if somewhat more poppy than, say, One Fierce Beer Coaster. Some songs just fail to please, however. "Uhn Tiss Uhn Tiss Uhn Tiss" is just a rehashed version of "Bad Touch," and "Something Diabolical" is borderline boring. Overall, give it a shot: It might be a different Bloodhoung Gang album, but dammit, it's still the Bloodhound Gang! Their obscenity and sense of humor is still the most important thing about the album. Check out the foldout poster inside if you don't believe me. [www.bloodhoundgang.com]

There are, as Weird Al Yankovic might tell you, two ways to parody a song. You can rewrite the words and keep the melody the same, or you can keep the words and change the melody. So it’s with a tip of the hat to Mr. Yankovic’s once-popular “polka” remixes that Richard Cheese, a swanky, yet at the same time abrasive lounge singer, puts an eclectic variety of tunes through his Vegas grinder and comes up with Aperitif for Destruction. The result: melodies short-lived (each under two minutes, so as to be tolerable, rather than painful) yet sweet... but only if you’ve heard the originals. If not, all you get are (quite appropriately) cheesy ditties. However, if you’re familiar with the subject material, there’s something inherently amusing about hearing Cheese’s cloying voice sing words that were meant to be rapped (“Put your lips on my dick and suck my asshole too,” from 2 Live Crew’s “Me So Horny”). For the majority of the hardcore songs, it’s enough for Cheese to just focus his attention on lyrics that were inane to begin with (Slipknot’s “People Equals Shit” comes to mind), but his true talent comes when he orchestrates on two levels. “Enter Sandman” is the breakout hit of Aperitif, paralleling the menacing nature of Metallica with the light pop hit of 1954, “Mr. Sandman, Bring Me a Dream.” The result: two worlds, irrevocably (and vocally) colliding. It’s nothing new, just more of the amusing same. In the duet “This Girl is Mine,” Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney are replaced by Cheese and a faux-Stephen Hawkins - a “classic” lounge duo. As for the rest, you’ll either love the way Cheese randomly references other familiar tunes in his parodies (“The Lion Sleeps Tonight” in “Welcome to the Jungle,” for example) or hate it. Just remember: an “Appertif” (by definition) is light and superficial. If you’re looking to be deeply moved, look to the originals. Otherwise, welcome to the manically posh world of Richard Cheese: A world unafraid to proudly belt the stupid repetitions of Black Eyed Peas’ “Let’s Get It Started.” [www.iloverichardcheese.com]

The coolest cat on the block is back with a gorgeous tribute to the songs of one of his favorite record producers. On the insert of the album, Setzer writes "I've played this music for classical musicians down to teenagers who have only heard the pop they are being spoon-fed on the radio, and they all come back with the same reply... 'Damn! This is great music!'" And it is that. Setzer makes a great first impression with the loud and swinging "Red Hot," which manages to get you dancing and show you the quality of the sound that he'll be using over the course of the album. I defy you to keep from tapping your toes or swinging your hips during "Flatfoot Sam" or "Peroxide Blonde In A Hopped Up Model Ford." Not only do the songs sound terrific, but the production quality is brilliant. By using only vintage equipment (and an ancient water cistern to create a "canned echo"), Setzer has not only resurrected the songs themselves, but the way they sounded as well. It appears that Brian Setzer's goal in life is to show the rest of the world what it's missing out on. From the rockabilly strut of The Stray Cats to the grandiose swing of The Brian Setzer Orchestra, the contribution he has given to the world of music cannot be overstated. We should all be so lucky to think the way Setzer does. In the mind of Brian Setzer the world still swings; the sun's shining; and there are no pimps or hos (just cats and dames). [www.briansetzer.com]

I listened to “Flip!,” the first song from Apollo Sunshine’s self-titled debut, and felt warm and funky. This wasn’t bad at all. The album progressed, and I enjoyed the volatile mix of the rambunctiously psychedelic and the mellow. Fast forward about thirty minutes in time. The painfully spaced-out “Bed” was putting the final weights on my tired eyes and ears. Somewhere, the crunchy fun had devolved into an obnoxious combination of campy lyrics and discordant hippie caterwauling. I struggled to wrap up my conclusions of the album. Surely, I had paid audible witness to many of the merits it offered, but I still felt unsatisfied. More listens resulted in more confusion. I conceded that there were definitely some groovy, distorted jams, even further into the effort where the musical waters began to run murky. But the annoyance factor was undeniable: It kept creeping up on me. In the end, I decided to chalk this one up to taste. The influences of Apollo Sunshine are varied; the core sound is most like a modernized 60’s rock aesthetic. If you can weather the alternately campy and mildly tortured “we’re here to rock out and teach you an earthy message” demeanor, then climb aboard. [www.apollosunshine.com]

Just to put things into perspective up front, a virtual novice like me probably shouldn’t be reviewing a legendary character such as Van Morrison. I have heard some of his earlier work but am not well-versed in his entire catalog; although I recognize and appreciate his classics. “Magic Time” is undoubtedly a quality endeavor. The performance is tight all around. The drawback for me, and others like myself, is that the album is too mature. Van Morrison’s hearty delivery of classic jazz and blues is aimed squarely at the 40-plus crowd. And if it isn’t a crowd, it’s certainly one boppin’ gathering of your elders and their cronies. The 60-plus crowd won’t feel alienated either, considering songs such as “Just like Greta.” That’s Greta Garbo for you younger folks. I heard the word said by someone after a listen, and I hate to repeat it--"hokey." But the evidence builds. Check out the cover art. The album opens with a couple sentimental crooners followed by a less sedentary blues number aptly titled “Keep Mediocrity at Bay.” You have to give Van Morrison credit--he is certainly working his longevous mojo for his devoted fans, and they will appreciate it. [www.vanmorrison.co.uk]

You might not be aware of this, but The Ex has existed in some form for a quarter of a century. The Dutch Socialists are definitive of the term “punk rock,” and of course any real punk rock band has to release a portion of their catalog on hard-to-find vinyl singles. That stuff is always running out of print, if there’s even a second pressing. Plus, they hopped labels with nearly every release. This is why Singles. Period. exists. Pulling together a good deal of these obscure songs, The Ex has succeeded in not only compiling a disc of essential songs, but also in reiterating the message contained therein. If Mark E. Smith from The Fall were to form a band with members of Crass and the early Mekons, the result wouldn’t be a far cry from The Ex. In other words, this band is overt about their political ideas, which they deliver in true post-punk fashion. So is it artsy or is the musicianship just due to a lack of skill? I can’t answer that, but in any case, it’s pulled off well. The earliest (as the 23 tracks are in chronological order) harness a guitar style similar to that of East Bay Ray (Dead Kennedys), but with much more self-control than their San Franciscan brethren. Subject matter isn’t that different from the norm—the wrongs of society, revolution, corrupt Americans, anti-capitalism, etcetera. As the disc progresses, of course, you can begin to track the improvements each member is making on his or her respective instrument while you simultaneously notice the band becoming tighter and more musically diverse, delving into an early industrial sound at some points and using unconventional structures at others. Don’t expect anything bright or smooth on Singles. Period, as that’s exactly the antithesis of The Ex. I’ll go out on a limb and say this is pretty necessary, despite that the band seems to have been overlooked over and over again. [www.touchandgorecords.com]