Upon my first listen of Of Writing/Of Violence by Richmond, VA's The Silent Type, I thought I was listening to Elbow. Now, I happen to like Elbow, so this wasn’t off-putting in the slightest. Add to that sweet backing female vocals and an organic, earthy quality, and I think The Silent Type might just have the perfect college music here: It’s thoughtful; it’s deeply felt; and it’s saccharine as all hell. For instance, songs like “Soon Enough We’ll Be Found Out” and “ made me feel like I was listening to the soundtrack to Felicity or something along those lines. Everything is SO SERIOUS, isn’t it? I’m not knocking the musicianship here, nor am I saying there aren’t redeeming qualities. What I’m saying is that it’s just, well, boring. In songs like “Vacant Hotel Lobby,” singer/songwriter Nathan Altice is obviously straining to convey some deep emotion, and he almost does it. But like the rest of the album, it just never quite goes far enough to make it interesting. It’s a soft album, musically and in terms of what it delivers. Despite the utilization of nice acoustic guitars, cello, piano and many other good musical touches, Of Writing/Of Violence fails to capture my attention. And believe me, I want to like this record. I really do, but I just can’t. It’s too close to Elbow and too close to Kings of Convenience yet lacks the originality and depth that make what those groups do work. [www.thesilenttype.org]

In the circles which artists and devoted consumers of art travel, no term has quite as much stigma attached to it as the most dreaded of all three-letter words: Pop. Anything popular or exhibiting characteristics of something popular, as the logic goes, must be devoid of integrity and, in all likelihood, inherently evil. Music snobs time and again have had to invent genres and employ a host of adjectives that will allow them to enjoy their favorite pop records without succumbing to the judgment of their peers (see any artist who’s ever been labeled “power” pop). Fortunately for those of us who have ever wilted in shame at the thought of our musical duplicity, Brendan Benson has come along and made The Alternative to Love, an album of pop gems even the most superior of indie rockers can listen to guilt-free. Much has been made in the rock press of Benson’s friendship with fellow Detroit resident Jack White. If White has been heralded as the 21st century equivalent to the guitar rock gods of the late 60’s, then Benson is the successor to the same era’s throne of sad-eyed pop. Benson sings melancholy lyrics of romantic failure and confusion with such spirited melodic energy one will be apt to forget that the sprightly tune they find themselves whistling throughout the day is one of love lost. In fact, Benson delivers lines like “You love me and I love you/So what's the problem?/Can't you see that I'm sinking fast/And I'm near the bottom?” (from “Get It Together”) so cheerfully, it’s tempting to give in and adopt his decidedly charming view of heartache. Standout tracks like “Gold Into Straw,” “Spit It Out,” “Cold Hands (Warm Heart)” and “The Pledge” (the last recalls Phil Spector at a time when he was more musical genius than alleged criminal) are buoyed by lively guitars, cleverly double-tracked vocals, and a percussive drive that keeps the record from lagging at any point. For those looking for a fresh, inspired record to raise the bar for (insert your favorite adjective here) pop music, look no further than The Alternative to Love. Go ahead and tell your friends about it, too. It’s ok. For once, nobody’s here to judge. [www.brendanbenson.com]

Mercury Rev is often compared to their stylistic brethren, The Flaming Lips, and for good reason. Singer Jonathan Donahue spent time as the Lips’ lead guitarist in the early 90’s. The bands also have producer Dave Fridmann in common (Fridmann was one of the founding fathers of Mercury Rev). However, if the Lips are the sci-fi loving darlings of the current psychedelic rock scene, Mercury Rev are their Tolkien treasuring comrades. Pastoral images abound on The Secret Migration and lush, ethereal soundcapes are fittingly married with tales of black forests, white horses and the changing of seasons. The best songs on Migration (“Across Yer Ocean, “Black Forest” and “My Love”) start simply and then evolve into a potion mixture of swirling, spinning guitars with just a hint of electronica that serve to carry both the song and the listener off to a fantasy land. Donahue’s airy vocals can become grating after a few songs, but on the record’s stronger material, his vocals aren’t the point. On the aforementioned tracks, he simply provides a narrative to enable Fridmann’s excellent production and the incredible rhythm section, which I found to be the collective unsung hero of the album, to take the songs to their mystical climaxes. Unfortunately, the lofty moments don’t last forever. Migration’s highlights are obscured by several tracks that are much muddier, and frankly a little confusing. “Vermillion” and “In the Wilderness,” for example, sound eerily like tripped-out imitations of Coldplay and seem inconsistent with the overall vibe being pursued. There is also a sense that the band only has one trick and the “too much of a good thing” principle kicks in about halfway through the record. The album’s two most interesting moments, “Moving On” and “Down Poured the Heavens” only last around ninety seconds, which seems to say something. These tracks piqued my curiosity and left me wanting to hear more, a phenomenon I did not experience throughout the majority of the record. To use a metaphor consistent with the themes of the album, had Mercury Rev worked on pruning the trees a bit more, The Secret Migration could have cemented a position for the band as a unique and exciting musical force. However, the forests seem overgrown, and they kept me from seeing the intended beauty of this record, which I found average at best. [www.mercuryrev.com]

Wow, what can I say about Kasabian? I’ve been living with this disc for a while now, and I still maintain that it will go down as one of the most important releases of the year. The Leicester quartet has put out a truly brilliant record that defies categorization and stands up to the hype surrounding it. It’s hard to describe the sound Kasabian has. At certain points, they seem to flirt with influences ranging from prog-rockers Yes to more recent icons Primal Scream. The music is full of psychadelia with a decidedly modern twist, and from the first time I heard “John was a scientist / He was hooked on LSD,” (“Cutt It”), they had me. The album opens with the hard throb of “Club Foot,” and rolls right into the loping rhythm of “Processed Beats.” One thing you’ll notice on this disc is that the transitions are easy and natural from one song to the next. My favorite track on the disc is “I.D.,” which proclaims, “Music is my, my love.” (I couldn’t have said it better myself) “Running Battle” opens up with an Orbital-esque keyboard rattle and then slides into an ambient groove with singer Tom Meighan’s dulcet vocals oozing along on top. A grand, sweeping instrumental, “Ovary Stripe” carries you off on a magic carpet ride above rolling green fields dodging puffy white clouds, landing softly at the feet of the final song, “U Boat.” Despite being named after one of the Manson family members, you’ve got nothing at all to fear from Kasabian, unless, of course, you’re afraid of hearing one of best albums of 2005. [www.kasabian.co.uk]

The US-only EP I got my hands on by the band Nine Black Alps is the perfect taster. It’s short, sweet and can be savored over and over…oh, and it definitely makes you hungry for more. (The full-length will be delivered this autumn) Just the latest big buzz band to come from the über-musical town of Manchester, these four Mancunians deliver guitar and melody-driven rock’n’roll but not always the way you might expect. I was immediately thrown into the sparse rock frenzy that is “Cosmopolitan” with its banging guitar riffs, hard driving drum beats and spat out vocals. Then came “Over the Ocean,” which surprised me with some vocal harmonies and a really nice melody in the chorus. Hmmm, depth… nice touch. “Shot Down” could almost sound like something from Sum 41 or other bands of that teen pop-punk ilk, but it’s just still too good to fall in that category. Great chorus too: “Shot down, spun round, strung out / Still around somehow.” With “Ilana Song,” we get a little feedback with our rock, calling to mind something from Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, which isn’t a bad thing in my book. There is even that one song that doesn’t fit with the rest of what a band is putting out on the EP. “Attraction” is a cool, acoustic song that’s a lot more down-tempo than the rest of the tracks. Fortunately, however, it’s still just as good as everything else. I have to quote the press release to tell you about the intangible thing was that I couldn’t quite identify that makes Nine Black Alps so good to me. It says that the band “…tread down a path of desperation, death, love and desire, giving each of their songs a ferocious urgency.” That’s it…ferocious urgency! When I listen to it, my stomach gets a little tight, like when you’re anticipating something, and you’re not sure if it’s going to go the way you want, but you want it so badly anyway. Pretty exciting, don’t you think? [www.nineblackalps.net]

Language.Sex.Violence.Other. is the fourth studio album from Welsh rockers Stereophonics, a band who have always been respected in the UK but have yet to really achieve fame in the US. This is unfortunate, and I for one can’t figure out why. They have always put out solid records with at least two good singles. Unfortunately, despite this latest release being a damn good one, I still don’t have faith that it’s gonna happen. The first time I heard “Dakota (You Make Me Feel Like the One),” the first single, I was blown away. It’s one of their strongest songs to date, and that’s really saying something. It feels like a driving song with flowing tempo changes and an urgent chorus. Equally impressive is “Superman,” which finds singer Kelly Jones actually trying out a falsetto of sorts. Wasn’t expecting that from him, but it fits right in and is pulled off nicely. There’s something slightly hair band about “Doorman,” but it totally works. It’s dirty sexy with the chorus of “All I wanna do is get closer to you / Cause all I wanna do is make a mess out of you.” “Brother” sounds a bit like another Alice in Chains wannabe clone band we’ve seen so much lately, but that being said, it’s still original enough to keep it from being average. One thing Stereophonics seem to have mastered on this record is hard-driving rock that isn’t boring. And while it does initially appear to be like a lot of the stuff flooding the American rock scene, they infuse their music with quirky tempo changes and unique intonations that make it strong enough to defy being written off as predictable. Also, this is the first release by them that I think defies requiring you to love Kelly Jones’ raspy vocals. The music is stronger on this album than on previous records, and I think that his voice works more with the new, harder edge the band has achieved this time out. It is more a combination that compliments rather than one that tends to wrestle with finding a balance. Overall, I think this is probably the most solid, accessible and engaging album the band has ever released. They have grown musically. Kelly is showing real versatility. And if enough people get off their butts and check it out over here, they might just hit America with the same force they’ve been hitting in the UK for nearly 10 years. [www.stereophonics.com]

On a drive with my girlfriend to a graduation party, I popped in The Runaway Found. Her first observation was that the lead singer (Finn Andrews) sings like Rufus Wainwright. The next song, the guy from Coldplay. Track three, Dave Matthews. A track or two later, I found myself asking “Is that The Strokes?” In addition to a mild case of vocal schizophrenia, some of the songs do have a tendency to drone. You keep waiting for something to break out, but it usually doesn’t. “More Heat than Light” kicks it up a notch, but the result feels a little contrived. However, all is not lost. Whimsically reflective, “The Wild Son” and the slower-building “Talk Down the Girl” are sure favorites. As for the less immediately accessible songs, there is a good chance they will grow on you as well. The album literally has a cooling effect on the body, like drinking a tall glass of iced tea on a hot day. Hard to explain, but true. The same elements that originally come across as flaws turn into strengths. The music sucks you in and relaxes your breathing. Gentle strings and British crooning are likely culprits. [www.theveils.com]

In between the first track, "Prelude" (a three minute instrumental that breaks down into strange, sporadic space noises), and the “hidden” opener to last track, "Robots" (replete with vocal distortion sure to creep you out if it just wasn’t so goofy), Pitty Sing offer a handful of decent 80’s new wave songs. The self-titled album has a sing-along quality that is sure to leave you mildly embarrassed when caught by friends. “We’re on Drugs” is a good example of this. The anthemic chorus of this relationship song will likely have many of its listeners adding their voices to the mix. What grates on the ears though is the weirdness that indubitably creeps in. Cheesy effects and space sounds pepper the songs, and overly-dramatic vocals ham up just when you might be getting into it. To use “We’re on Drugs” as an example again, just when you thought it was smooth sailing, the lead vocalist apparently decides to sing through a piece of wax paper strapped over his mouth. Fans of the new wave movement may garner some enjoyment from this disc, but for others it would probably sound more appropriate in a coming of age movie starring Molly Ringwald than left in the car stereo. [www.pittysing.com]

I don’t even know how many times I’ve listened to this album at this point – Maybe 8 or 9 times this week. That alone would seem to tell me, “You just found a favorite album for the summer!” But I can’t help feeling hesitant. The more I listen, the more I feel like this album is almost too good, too polished, too… something. On Your Side is a beautiful album; there is no doubt about that. But it’s beautiful in all the same ways that Kent, Radiohead, Bjork or a whole host of Northern European groups who make the beautifully pristine and beautifully melodic music are. There must be something about the North Sea that could inspire people like Evan Johansen to write, play, and produce this kind of music. I have trouble picking out a favorite track. From a subtle rework of Dylan’s “Lay Lady Lay” (with Gemma Hayes) to the quiet remorseful lyrics of “Everything’s Perfect,” there isn’t much to dislike. It’s the type of album that just fills a room. The cynic in me would even cite this as a fault for Magnet, but I can’t. It would be foolish of me to truly object to an album like this. So while this isn’t the new trendy hit from some soon to be forgot new movement in music, I can almost guarantee a spot on all my future play lists and mix tapes for a song from this album. [www.homeofmagnet.com]

I find it funny that the cover art to Crimes reminds me of the frantic crayon strokes of a kindergartner. Because if I had to describe the vocal style of ­­­­the Blood Brothers' two singers, ­­­­Johnny Whitney and Jordan Blilie, the frantic screaming children might not be far off. This certainly has to be among the most polarizing bands I can think of – you get it, or you don’t; you either love it, or you can’t stand it. First time I heard the Blood Brothers, I don’t think I could have hated it any more. I like melody. I like structure. I like singers who sing in tune – all of which this band likes to stray from. That said, I find myself coming back to this album again and again. Part of me still smirks each with each sour note and scream. Part of me is frustrated that I can’t predict where the song is about to go. But I can’t help being caught up in the energy of it all. The lyrics are abstract and surreal without reading like high school poetry. This music isn’t about anger and rage, but rather emotion and energy. Perhaps they best sum up the sentiment themselves in the lyrics of the album closer – "Everybody needs a little devastation." The band noted after touring to support their last LP, Burn Piano Island Burn, that they wanted to make an album they could better pull off live. This didn’t translate into slower time signatures or less complex arrangements on Crimes, but simply more focused and refined songwriting. Whereas the last album pushed just what a band like this could do, Crimes documents just how well a band like this could do it. [www.thebloodbrothers.com ]

The back cover of the promo for Low Road / High Road says "Like nothing you've ever heard. Quite." Which is a pretty ballsy statement to make a debut double disc. Turns out, Okay sounds like lots of stuff you've heard but only vaguely - little touches here and there will remind you of something else you appreciate, but you'd never thought to have it presented to you in this way. Though Low Road and High Road are to be considered seperate albums, they certainly consist of two equal halves of a whole. Without the darker material of Low Road, the positive outlook of High Road would certainly seem more bleak. Musically, they cover similar ground but with enough variances and commendable use of inspired instrumentation that you can tell the man responsible, Marty Anderson, was in a different state of mind when approaching them. Nailing down the specific sound of Okay is not as easy of a task as slapping a genre on it and calling it a day. Parts of both discs sound like folk music being made 2099 - guitars, drums, introspective, but intertwined with subtle touches of electronic elements, keyboards, kuzoo's, and anything else that may have been lying around the studio. Other parts sound like quality indie pop but never sounding quite like anything else you've heard. The vocal quality of Marty Anderson is often on par with a male version of Joanna Newsom or a more afflicted Sparklehorse. Touches of The Shins glimpse through at times, and the spirit of Goldcard could easily be evoked here. The list goes on and on with tiny nuances you could attribute to some other band you may enjoy, but that's all they are here - subtle nuances. Okay has created a double disc of quality songs that sound like nothing you've ever heard. Quite. [www.absolutelykosher.com]

The debut album from Autolux is an album that, for me, was long-awaited. Having released their Demonstration EP way back in 2001, I had to make due with the 5 officially released songs, 3 b-sides, and a pleathora of bootlegs. Not a bad amount of material to "make due" with, but I wondered why the full-length was taking them so long to create? Now that Future Perfect has been out for some time, I can understand why it took them so long. It's not that there are so many infinite layers of sound that it would take forever to sort them all out, or that each song is so long and epic that the simple act of recording it all would take forever. In fact, quite the opposite. Future Perfect consists of mostly 3-5 minute pop songs created in a fashion unlike most anything out there. The time consuming factor in creating it simply boils down to ensuring that every aspect of it fit together properly. The guitar sounds of "Here Comes Everybody," "Angry Candy," the bridge of "Sugarless," the perfectly reverbiating drum sound of "Great Days for the Passenger Element," or the subtle bass play on "Plantlife" could be not be achieved in a simple in-and-out recording session. Plus, the added waiting just sort of adds to the anticipation, doesn't it? Now having read several reviews of Future Perfect I see a lot of comparisons to My Bloody Valentine or Sonic Youth - neither of which Autolux sounds quite like. The comparison comes in that all these bands were innovative enough to create something very fresh that is completely worth listening to. Future Perfect is a disc of 11 pop-rock songs, but it was not meticulously crafted in such a way that any time was wasted. Everything from the seemingly non-sensical lyrics (some topics take some research), the other worldly guitar tones, the subtleties of the growing drums, the complimenting yet driving bass lines, and the somewhat detached vocal delivery were likely combed over and over until there was no further harmony between them that could be achieved. I could probably rant endlessly about the subtle sounds and songwriting throughout this album, but I'll leave it at this: Future Perfect is one of the most innovative and addictive albums that I've heard in the last ten years. The musical play between all three players creates some gorgeous results - particularly the vocal play between Carla Azar and Eugene Goreshter and the fascinatingly strange guitar sounds from Greg Edwards. If I could recommend this album more I would, but I think my level of fan-boy interest already exists at an unhealthy level. [www.autolux.net]

Browsing through my collection of compact dics, I find that all too many are "classics" that have thankfully been restored to their high esteem by Rhino Records and their seemingly neverending forays into bringing back the beatiful past. Last year, we were given the Cure's debut, Three Imaginary Boys, remastered, repackaged--revamped--and since it's a new year, it's time for more of Robert Smith & Co.'s catolog to get the same treatment. Originally released in 1981, Faith followed up Seventeen Seconds, and was at that point at a loss, with the departure of keyboardist Matthhieu Hartley. As the liner notes included with the package say, Smith was in a deep, dark place (imagine that), and the loss of many close friends and relatives in such a short amount of time prompted him to turn to the church, though he says: "I understood that, above all, people were in church because they believed in a personal 'eternity.' I began to realize that I didn't believe in this eternity at all, and I was scared. On the day I wrote the words to 'Faith,' I knew I had the title track." But what's really the point in my analysis of songs that have been critiqued for 24 years? There's no reason for doing such a thing, so onto disc two, the "rarities 1980-1981" collection. This disc is an assorment of demos, live tracks, studio out-takes, etcetera, and though I'm a fan of the Cure, there isn't much on this second disc that really, truly would make a purchase worthwhile, unless you're an absolute Robert Smith fanatic. The quality of the demos is pretty poor, which makes sense, seeing as how they are demos, but they're less than enticing. The live tracks aren't spectacular, and "Charlotte Sometimes," tacked on the very end, can only redeem the disc so much. Solid album, not their best, but casual Cure fans won't be missing anything on this. [www.thecure.com]

It's really a shame that certain UK exports that shall remain nameless steal all of the skinny-tie, suit-wearing spotlight. Especially when other bands come along, more capably filling the same shoes and deserving as much, if not more, attention. Maximo Park is just such a band. A Certain Trigger combines effortless pop songs and real-life tales with an air of recklessness not readily found these days. The band skillfully tears through a baker's dozen at high velocity, but still manage to retain a collective sound. Like the cover art implies, it's not hard to imagine a club full skirts and suits thrashing themselves around to the sounds of Maximo Park. The second track, "Apply Some Pressure," wastes no time in showcasing the band's ability to cooperatively charge through fiery and memorable tune. Whereas, "The Coast Is Always Changing" finds vocalist Paul Smith clearly dominating both lyrically and with a fervent, melodic delivery. Though, the finest example of what makes Maximo Park great comes with "Now I'm All Over The Shop." Aptly named, the band deftly navigates through syncopated riffs, punk-rock verses and liberating choruses. Elvis Costello's This Year's Model most often comes to mind while listening to A Certain Trigger (even if it could just be my mind drawing a connection to "Little Triggers"). Though, what really relates the two is the young, passionate energy that unmistakably laces each song. Spirits inevitably lift and life becomes a little less serious with each passing minute. So much so, it's disappointing that A Certain Trigger has to end. [www.maximopark.com]

Kaki King is whole other breed of musician. The kind that can traverse 8 bars of a treble clef as fast you or I can read this sentence. Of course, there are popular bands that can read music, but I doubt they speak with words like "technique" or "phrasing." The fact that she can transcend her typically outmoded genre to end up releasing a sophomore album on a major label and appear a fair share of late-night talk shows is quite a feat in itself. Her debut, Everybody Loves You, helped Kaki King gain a rockstar status of sorts. Not only did the album contain frenetic, two-handed assaults on an acoustic guitar of rhythmic tapping, slapping and hitting, it was actually palatable as music. Not to mention, King entered the Big Leagues as an empowered, talented and attractive girl. Let's face it; we'd rather see her up their doing that stuff than some longhaired, socially inept male guitar theorist. With Legs To Make Us Longer, King continues down the path she started out on. The ambient strumming of "Frame" sets the pace and immediately communicates King's growth between albums. Then, with the inclusion of drums from Living Colour's Will Calhoun and upright bass, "Ingots" is the first to break the solo, one-guitar form of past material. From there on in the forward-propelled "Doing The Wrong Thing," easygoing "Solipsist," and slow-rolling "Can The Gwot Save Us?" reveal the extent to which King has pushed her sound. King's music is the sound of thought. While pop structure depends on finely tuned formulas and step-by-step process, Kaki King's music streams directly from her brain, through her fingers and out through her guitar. It's probably the absence of the vocals that allows the music to remain purely cerebral, which is why King's vocal debut on "My Insect Life" slightly mars the closer. As the preceding album and following "hidden track" show, King's strength is in her hands. [www.kakiking.com]

Without pretending to identify with the hardcore scene, it's difficult to know where to begin with The Chariot. An outsider could easily describe the music as some of the most brutal sounds ever committed to tape. In the same vein as Norma Jean (vocalist Josh Scogin' former band), Everything Is Alive, Everything Is Breathing Nothing Is Dead And Nothing Is Bleeding is a 10-song flurry of ferocious vocals and berating rhythms. Recorded live and mostly in one-take, the album drifts from structured segments into cacophonous eruptions -- the most focused being "The Bullet Never Lies, And Time Will Prove All Things (An Allegory Of Unfaithful Jerusalem)." Though the unrefined quality of the music does contrast modern, over-produced hardcore, it's the seemingly random elements that make Everything Is Alive unique. The buried vocal hook in the first track, the rock n' roll break of "Die Interviewer (I Am Only Speaking in German)", the dark metal bridge of "And Then, Came Then" or the arbitrary sound clips throughout provide an added level of interest. Like most concentrated solutions, hardcore must be first diluted with another genre for general, public use. When it comes down to it, The Chariot make concentrated hardcore music, uncut and unadulterated. So, consider yourself warned. [www.thechariot.com]

With the advent of mp3 blogs and the popularity of the Internet in general, a lot of bands garner some word of mouth buzz but often fail to live up to the hype. It's actually always been like this but seems to happen more and more now that anyone can be a mouthpiece about how amazing or groundbreaking a band is. More often than not, the band in question has some quality songs but aren't really changing the music scene. Enter Amusement Parks on Fire. Their name has been floating around on various blogs for several months now but never in the over the top manner that you hear about bands like Arcade Fire, or LCD Soundsystem. People just seemed to enjoy this debut album for no reason beyond it offering something a little different. Aside from having a fairly unfortunate name, the praise seems to be well deserved. The 43 minute disc offers up nine tracks of shoegazing goodness mixed with an understand of the proper amount of dramatics, and melody. "23 Jewels" and "Asphalt" serve as the instrumental pieces to break up the wall of guitars (one being a fantastic build up to the album highlight "Venus In Cancer," one being a strolling piano based slow build up to guitar drone... respectively). The "shoegazing" term often gets a bad rap for its indie rock pretentious association, but more often than not it's musicians making big music that has the capacity to swallow itself whole. The songs are driving, almost always building, and accompanied with earnest and sometimes detached vocals - drowning in the mix. Fans of My Bloody Valentine, Secret Machines, and Autolux will likely find something here pleasures their ears. [www.amusementparksonfire.com]

A few years ago, I wrote Alternative Press a long, detailed letter inquiring on where their music taste had gone to and why they were satisfied with letting their magazine be typified by bands solely in the pop-punk and emo realm. They used to be truly, well, alternative and covered styles all over the musical spectrum: from electronica to noise to experimental to Japanese rock to dub and noise. AP even claimed the genre-corroding album of XTRMNTR – Primal Scream’s glorious masterpiece – as their 2000 album of the year. Now, we are left with this. It’s literally like a group of young, impressionable twentysomethings read a single issue of a recent AP and formed a band based on the composite of nearsighted bands found in its pages. They’re Only Chasing Safety is rife with awkward transitions between scream-riddled verses and saccharine choruses that sound quite literally like every single band on this year’s Warped tour. It is so calculated, so achingly typical and mediocre, that it’s difficult to even call this “bad.” It’s so docile, so innocent and faceless that I actually had to pause the CD to check the cover to affirm what band I was listening to. What is even more perplexing, however, is that just two albums ago this band was chugging through renditions of seven and eight minute pure metalcore songs. At least then they made a statement; now they are merely another band lost in a sea of sameness. [www.underoath777.com]

The Sun is a bit schizophrenic when it comes to songwriting. The basic jist of it is that Blame It On The Youth is a rock album. Fortunately for the band, rock is a wide landscape in which to create your work, ranging from Strokes-esque rock with a touch of pop ("Must Be You") to the melancholy ballad ("We Tried") or straight on into some frenzied acoustic number backed by a droning keyboard line and spooky vocal breaks ("2B4" - one of my personal favorites). The most accessible track on the disc would likely be "Rockstop," with its eclectic mix of spacey keys, super dirty guitar break, and dancey vocal line. But, on the whole, the record is pretty much solid from start to finish. Granted, there's a moment at about 2 minutes 15 seconds into "Say Goodbye" with a guitar squealch that sounds like it was accidentally left in - completely awkward - but if the biggest flaw on your record only lasts for about 5 seconds you aren't doing too bad. So who's going to enjoy The Sun? Basically anyone who has enjoyed a band that's been described as "Garage Rock" will probably find something enjoyable here. The songs are catchy; the music is innovative and diverse even within the "confines" of garage rock, and the lyrics are somewhat poignant at times without crossing the line of overly obtuse or nonsensical. Blame It On The Youth will probably get devoured by the complete onslaught of somewhat similar bands, but it would be a shame not to have this one in your collection to show that good rock bands are still making records. [www.thesunwebsite.com]

Okay, any indie cred that I may have established previously is about to be shot. Man-Made is my first Teenage Fanclub record. I didn't hear the previously released Howdy, never been exposed to Thirteen, Grand Prix, Songs From Northern Britain, or any of their countless number of releases. So how does this fresh new release compare to previous efforts? I've no idea. What I can tell you is that Man-Made is a pop record with a tendency to mix your traditional verse-chorus-verse structure with a few noisy guitars and harmonies. However, nothing about this album is hard-hitting or struggling for attention. The overall feel of the record is that it is quite soft - even the production values feel as if the band strove to keep things gentle and strolling along. Fortunately this tactic makes the subtle changes between songs even that much more appreciated. The dark to surprisingly uplifting vocal line of "Save," the afflicted bridge of "Time Stops," the piano of "Only With You," and the Allman Brothers-esque lead guitar on "Feel" all sort of take you for a twist when you're just expecting yet another pop song. The problem with something that has been crafted so meticulously that it appears to be overly simple is that without a few listens, some listenings where you are really paying attention, it could easily be chalked up to mediocrity. On the surface (aka casual listen) Man-Made is just another low-key, somewhat adult contemporary disc of songs. However, with a little bit of careful listening you can come to appreciate the little touches permeating every track. [www.teenagefanclub.com]