I can’t be the only one who’s noticed that what Damon Albarn is doing with Gorillaz is the most interesting and exciting stuff he’s done since Parklife, right? I mean, the last couple of Blur records, were just that…Blur records. No new ground was plowed, and the few steps out that were taken were not necessarily something I would have advised were I asked (as if). But with Gorillaz, Albarn has hit what may have been his true stride – at least his stride given what he has been about for about the last 8 years. Of course, Gorillaz is not just the Blur frontman. There are lots of other people involved and making cameo appearances on Demon Days, most notably Happy Mondays madman Sean Ryder and even Dennis Hopper, who dramatically reads on “Fire Coming Out of the Monkey’s Head.” Ryder’s contribution on “Dare” is outstanding. I’m not sure how much he himself had to do with the artistic direction of this song, but it gives us a glimpse of what the Manchester sound of the late 80s/early 90s might be if it had been allowed to progress naturally without altering its core psychedelic groove. Since Demon Days is the sophomore release from the animated quartet, I’m not going to spend time talking about how cool the characters are or how much Murdoch, the bass player, resembles just about every lanky, cool-as-shit bass player I can think of. You can Google that if you need to. This review is about the music. You should already know who they are by now anyway, and if the first single from the disc, “Feel Good Inc.,” hasn’t already made its way into your veins, you have issues. In addition to the obvious nods to hip-hop, courtesy of De La Soul in “Feel Good Inc.,” there are reggae beats (“Last Living Souls”), techno blips (“O Green World” and “All Alone”) and chilled ambient rhythms that are an absolute pleasure to experience. My personal favorite tracks are “Dirty Harry,” which alternates between a falsetto’d bounce with 80s throwback keyboards and a hot rap from Bootie Brown, the lopingly cool “Every Planet We Reach Is Dead,” featuring an unlikely piano solo from Ike Turner (what the…?), and the aforementioned “Dare.” You have to give them tons of credit. Gorillaz are a band who are not afraid of quirky breaks, unusual parings and who don’t take the easy way out to make a good song, and it shows. Demon Days is a brilliant album, and although I rarely give perfect scores, I just don’t see any way around it this time. If you love music, experimentation and art, you need to hear this record to hear a perfect blending of the three. [www.gorillaz.com]

The West. The great unknown. The gateway to quick riches and none of that city living. Dysentery, caddle, and fools gold. A bastardized ideal that eventually mutates into modern day country music without looking back at the songwriters that forged the path to riches and glory. That is, unless you're Mayday. This album is a tough one to swallow if you find yourself investigating it due to the association with Saddle Creek Records and, more specifically, Cursive. Bushido Karaoke evokes the Old West and the mentality of wide open spaces, storytelling, and the occasional bar brawling good time. The musicianship and instrumentation on this disc is top notch if you're a fan of slide guitar, viola, mandolin, and the occasional horn. Every song seems to reach back to some mostly forgotten genre of music - bar bands ("I'm Not Afraid To Die"), country crooning ("Billy Boy Blues"), geetar pickin' ("Old World New World"), or even the oft-overlooked Western soundtrack ("Father Time"). Okay, so that last one isn't really a forgotten genre but the drum part is undeniably Western. Bushido Karaoke is a bit of a curveball for those expecting some side-project similar to The Good Life, as this bears little to no resemblance to its parent. That doesn't make it bad - in fact, it's probably better at capturing a modernized country sound than the majority of "country" artists out there. So fear not, it's country but it's not Shania Twain or glammed out Garth Brooks - it's great songwriting with instrumentation that your indie rock brain may not be completely prepared for. The country genre has earned itself a bad rap, but this record shows that its possible to be redeemed and redefined. [www.bushidokaraoke.com]

For the better part of the the last thirty years, Gibby Haynes has earned his bread and butter by fronting psych-noise rockers The Butthole Surfers. Throughout those years, he has also been known to sprout out into different solo projects, the most "famous" of which being P, who counted actor Johnny Depp in their numbers. Johnny Depp aside, Gibby Haynes has a Probem. No matter how many years pass by, it will always be 1993 to him. Like Bill Murray in Groundhog's Day (which came out in 1993), everyday Haynes wakes up to "She Don't Use Jelly" on his alarm clock and news of the seige in Waco on his TV. But like Bill Murray, this repeated life-style has allowed him to make the most of the time in which he is stuck. After learning how to expertly play his instrument, blow off old friends turned insurance salesmen, and say all the right things to win over Andie MacDowell, Haynes set off to explore early indie and psych-rock with elements of stripped down country. So for the past four years Haynes has been painstakingly reliving 1993 to compile the best eleven songs 1993 has to offer. The results are a scattering of pop, grungey alternative, jangly acoustic, and cheap smack psychedelia. Although Haynes unique lofi Merle Haggard-esque drawl gives a continuity to this eclectic effort. So while Haynes isn't looking ready to win any charity bachelor auctions (from the look of the album cover) any time soon, it's seems that his problem is our delight. [www.hisproblem.com]

All initial descriptions of The Brazilian Girls fall short of summarizing their self-titled debut. Playing sexy electronica mixed jazz-infused world music, it doesn't seem that they would have much appeal outside of well-established bachelors and lounge lizards, but for some reason the album crosses these boundaries. Maybe it has something to do with lead singer Sabina Sciubba's voice. Slinking, soothing, and airy, her voice seems just as much a part of the Brazilian Girls sound as drums or guitar. With lyrics to match on songs "Don't Stop," "Lazy Lover," and "Pussy," the listner can't help but be lured in. But that's not to say she overshadows the rest of the band. Her voice is a natural part of their sound; without it the songs would be lacking - but only lacking one part and not the central core. But then maybe it has something to do with the instrumentation. The songs have a feel that wouldn't sound out of place at a nightclub on the lower east side or at a latin cafe on the gulf coast. Getting down to the root of world music by taking festive horns and drumbeats and then mixing in funky basslines and samples, The Brazilian Girls unearth and create something both natural and innovative. Like a Graceland-era Paul Simon spending a night out with 10 chic european models, it doesn't seem like it would work, but it does. So whether the music works so well because of Sciubba's airy vocals or the bands earthy-club sound, in the end they work well together. Blending and mashing genres together that never seemed all that particularly accessible on their own, The Brazilian Girls have created something so new out of something so old. [www.braziliangirls.info]

With a name like Valient Thorr and a back story about landing on earth by way of Venus back in 1957, how can you go wrong? Weird would definitely be one way to describe this record, but "good" and "rock" would be two others that fit quite well. Valient Thorr is speed metal (but no too fast), thrash (but not too trashy), and arena rock all blended in a way that almost feels like a joke poking fun at those genres but has enough spirit to also make it feel honest. Perhaps one of the most positive traits of the music is the storytelling that carries through the record. It is rewarding to see that the band didn't let things slip here. It should be obvious that not everyone is going to find value in the band's music. To some it will just be silly or to cheesy, or a little too Darkness-esque with much more insane (if you can believe that) vocals. However, if you keep an open mind, I think you will find enjoyment in at least the first few listens of Total Universe Man. Even though I have head the band's name for a number of years, it didn't register until now that Valient Thorr is a local band (Chapel Hill counts as local). Now that the band has been picked up by Volcom Entertainment and gotten some promotion muscle behind them, you will most likely be hearing much more about them and their mission to rock very soon. After all, according to Mr. Thorr himself, even the band's name is all about rock: "That's why there are two Rs in Thorr - It's for rock 'n' roll." [www.valientthorr.com]

The DNA Will Have Its Say clocks in just over 6 minutes with a tracklisting of 7 songs. The longest track is just barely over a minute. If this fact alone does not lay things out as to what to expect from Some Girls, allow me to shed some light on the subject. Fast, furious, intense, sharp doses of screaming, growling, crunching, thick-as-fuck rock. Yeah, you could say it's metal, but invoking the idea of Metallica, Slayer, or any other commercially viable watered "metal" band is a slap in the face to Some Girls (Made up of members from The Locust, Give Up The Ghost, and Over My Dead Body). This is one of those records / bands where if you know them, you probably already love them. It's not exactly diverse but it's a head pounding onslaught. New ground hasn't been broken since the ALL MY FRIENDS ARE GOING DEATH disc, but with a formula like this, who needs new ground? Oh, and the rainbows and disemboweled bunny rabbits artwork make it that much more incredible. [www.somegirlshaveallthefuck.com]

If Paper Route weren't fans of The Postal Service before they made this EP, I think it'd be a pretty fair bet to say that they'd love the unavoidable indie-electronic debut. That's not to say that the Paper Route EP is a straight ahead style rip of anything Ben Gibbard's had his hand in, but the similarities exist. Both bands make quality use of a combination of acoustic and your typical pop sounds with electronic elements carrying them along. The difference between the two is that Paper Route have an ear for integrating their programmed sounds with the instruments that they actually played. The best example of this is on the opening track "Second Chances," where the rolling drum beat sounds to be performed by a furious drummer armed with the fiercest of brush sticks. But the patterns aren't human enough to be.. well.. human. The remainder of the disc never grasps the same upbeat-yet-melancholy as hell vibe of "Second Chances," but there's certainly a lot of potential here for some quality songs. And in that comes the potential problem with Paper Route. The fusion of sliding guitars, piano textures, beautiful harmonies, and tasteful drum machine-created backbones could go down one of two roads: The first being that road that brought Postal Service to the lips of every high schooler in the country - upbeat pop songs with a bit of longing. Road two is unfortunately that of adult contemporary mediocrity. It's not that it would be bad, it just wouldn't be overly engaging. In the end, this little homespun EP has great merit, is completely worth listening to repeated times, and shows some great promise for a starting band. However, we can only recommend it by adding a plea to the band to invest more time in the stylings of their more upbeat pop leanings. [www.paperrouteonline.com]

I believe Ladyfinger have put together a 4-song EP of what the hip kids these days would call "dance rock." While I don't believe the band conciously attempted to achieve danceability through their debut disc, they did it nonetheless. And I'm not talking hippie dancing; I'm not talking some bullshit you'd do at a middle school dance when some Chubby Checkers song comes on; I'm talking about the fact that you're tapping your foot, bobbing your head, and then all the sudden your shoulders start to sway, and for those of you who let yourselves be into the music - you just start having rock convulsions. The kitschy keyboards you'd expect from something with that description are not present here. This is bass, drums, and guitar blended just right with melodic yet sometimes yelping vocals. The drawback of an EP is that you don't get much material out of a band. The benefit is that the room to fuck things up decreases exponentially. "Too Cool For School" takes you right into "Old News," and before you know it, you're finishing up "Diet Smoke" before you know what hit you. It's fun; it's rock, and it's short. [www.ladyfingersucks.com]

As one whose sound fits as comfortably with the desert sky as it does in a sun-drenched valley, M. Ward has managed to pull off three consecutive exceptional albums, showcasing a penchant for lo-fi recording, folk/country ballads, sheer pop genius, and a voice that penetrates while simultaneously embracing the listener's ears, making you question whether that larynx is shimmering with gold or covered in rust. With that aside, Transistor Radio fits perfectly into Ward's repertoire, though it doesn't expand on what he put forth in Transfiguration of Vincent(2003). Instead, the record sounds very antiquated (not outdated, though), and Ward's voice, combined with the oft-sorrowful lyrics, emanate finger-picked despair and melancholic croons far beyond his years. A sing-less rendition of the Beach Boys' "You Still Believe in Me" introduces the record, and Ward must be given credit, for while he doesn't put a completely different spin on the track, it sounds amazingly fresh; Mr. Wilson would be proud. "One Life Away" could have been on the radio fifty years ago; "Four Hours in Washington" recalls the darkness of "Sad Sad Song" from the previous album. "Big Boat" is suitable for being the album's single, with a steady drumbeat, driving piano, and Ward's warm chorus inviting a sing-along. M. Ward exemplies the lonely songwriter, epitomizing the soulful wanderer with his guitar, softly strumming in the stairwell outside the bar after the night's last call, before wandering into the night to never be seen again. So, I guess, that means this album is really fuckin' good, stylistically distinct, ultimately fulfilling, and I can't really think of any modern singer/songwriter to whom I'd rather listen. [www.mergerecords.com]

What Made Milwaukee Famous is quite the ambitious name for a band. Not that there is necessarily a lot in Milwaukee to compete with that I can think of off-hand (apart from Old Milwaukee that is), but that’s still a lot of ambivalence for this band to make up for. But for a self-released debut album, these boys are off to a great start at putting Milwaukee back on the map. Mixing vocal harmonies with spastic keys, running up and down the scale, WMMF blends Death Cab for Cutie / John Vanderslice rock with the swagger of Austin counterparts Spoon. The result is a delightful and dynamic 11 track venture that is experimental and varied yet familiar and accessible. Genres merge from power-pop, to surf rock, to retro revival rock, but never settle on one long enough to pigeonholed the group. Tracks drudge in the cold and frolic in the sun, back to back without an awkward transition. Through consistent leading vocals and an ever-present use of keyboards, the continuity of the album is established and driven home. Keyboards (Rhodes and otherwise) are the definite weapon of choice for the band, using guitar only for minimalistic spurts of stripped electric or the backing wall of distorted guitar when appropriate. Sometimes the mix of levels seem a little off, as vocals or keys dominate over percussion and guitar/bass, kinks that over time feel like they can be ironed out by more focused production. However, despite some of its pitfalls Trying to Never Catch Up is a refined and well-directed offering. As the band matures their sound and go into the studio with a seasoned producer it will be interesting to see the results. But until that day, this will serve just fine as a tantalize testament of what might be. [www.whatmademilwaukeefamous.com]

Minimalistic drums/percussion and a pair of guitars either stripped clean or relentlessly distorted, complimented with Dylan-esque lyricism too caught up in life to be concerned with anything outside of it (and a very distinctive f**k off to everything outside of it) make up Vietnam. Their 5 track, 31-minute debut full-length or EP (depending on your frame of reference) is a scathing criticism of where our modern life has taken us. In very much the same vein as seventies counter culture (prevalent through out the entire album), the boys in Vietnam have seen what the world has to offer them and they couldn't care less. Cynically taking on aged disillusionment, hurried modern society, and the “american dream” all in a way that would do the late Dr. Hunter S. Thompson proud, the album could not be more aptly titled than The Concrete is always Grayer on the Other Side of the Street. But more of an observation for you to do what you will with then a judgement. Once again taking a nod from seventies counter culture, lead singer Michael states “man I’m not telling you how to run your life - what’s wrong and right because I got enough wrongs and rights in me,” Vietnam gives a perspective instead of a sermon. The music is raw. Recorded in two days during a sweltering New York City summer, the album could have used a little more musical direction. Deriving comparisons from psychedelic and folk outfits of past and present, including The Velvet Underground and Brian Jonestown Massacre, Bob Dylan and Devendra Banhart but without ever really capturing any of their genius. However, the real emphasis for Vietnam is placed firmly on lyrical content, allowing the album to grow with each listen. What at first comes off at first as an incoherent rant, filled with “man” ‘s and “ya’know?” ‘s, the ideas expressed on The Concrete is… begin to make more and more sense with each listen. So despite all the phrases, cliches, and paraphernalia, perhaps ideas don’t lose their validity because of how many decades separate their origin from now but more because of our growing apathy. [www.vietnamtheband.com]

If you’re a fan of techno, ambient or any of the other categories that fall in line with that sort of music, you probably already know who Kraftwerk is. The German granddaddies of this type of music have been together since 1978, and it is truly mindblowing to realize how long they’ve been making this kind of music. Even now it’s fantastic, but then, it was so far ahead of its time that it defied any category that existed. Minimum-Maximum is a live album recorded around the world at shows from the quartet’s 2004 tour. It’s not so much of a live album, however, as it is a compilation. The crowd noise is kept to a bare minimum and limited to the beginnings and endings of songs and the occasional outburst at quiet moments within the songs. Other than that, this could be a studio album like any other comp. After all, the band is known for being exacting, so audience participation is not necessarily encouraged anyway. Tracks included on this double CD release span the band’s history. I wouldn’t even want to contemplate how they chose which songs should be included…where would you start? The first disc opens with “The Man Machine.” Machine-like vocals and early techno noises, blips and keyboards softly drive this aptly titled song. I love “Planet of Visions” with its flowing melody and even beats. There are three versions of “Tour De France,” the first is heavy and soaring and the last is light and airy, enhanced with a little heavy breathing (I’ve got a thing for heavy breathing in music, what can I say). Look, I could go through each of the 22 tracks on Minimum-Maximum and list their attributes, but that would take days. Suffice to say, the heavy hitters are here: “Autobahn,” “The Model,” “Radioactivity,” “Trans Europe Express” and my personal favorites, "Elektro Kardiogramm" (more heavy breathing!) and “Aero Dynamik.” This is a great collection, and you should own it if you don’t already have some Kraftwerk in your collection or if you just want to have some crowd noise in between your current collection. So what are you waiting for? [www.kraftwerk.com]

It’s hard to pull off slightly off-key vocals. Some bands can do it. Sometimes the music is good enough to overlook whatever might be lacking in that department. Unfortunately, I’m not entirely convinced that Goldrush can. The Oxford, UK-based band, started by brothers Robin and Joe Bennett, has been compared to Teenage Fanclub and a few other bands of that ilk, and I don’t think they’ve yet done enough to eek out their own niche. Ozona is the second release from the guys, and it has a few really nice tracks on it. “All the Faces” is a good, solid pop song. “Counting Song” has a sweetness that works with Robin Bennett’s vocal style, and the musicianship is superb. It’s better than a knock-off but still has that sense of familiarity that makes it immediately a favorite. “Let You Down” is another familiar song that is easy to listen to. However, on songs like “Waiting For the Wheels” and “Jupiter,” Bennett’s vocals are just too warbled and too, well, off-kilter for me. He just doesn’t seem to be able to hold a note long enough to keep it steady. Like I said, sometimes that works…but more often than not, it just hurts what is a valient effort. There are some clearly good songs on Ozona, but it just lacks that ring of originality that I think artists should strive for. I know “it’s all been done,” but there’s enough room out there to make your own way. Hopefully Goldrush can get back to that their next time out. [www.goldrush.mu]

Who doesn’t love Culture Club? Ok, fine. I don’t want to hear it. Suffice to say, everyone I know loves Culture Club. So what tickles me more pink than to find a compilation that has all of the fab songs I remember from my misspent youth but never had the cash to purchase? Very little dear friends, very little. There’s not much I need to say. They’re all here: “Do You Really Want To Hurt Me,” a mainstay of any 80s mix worth its salt, “I’ll Tumble 4 Ya,” with its fabulous latin beat and hand clapping (the image of this total closet case doing his best Boy George impression to this song at a talent contest in school will never leave me), “Miss Me Blind,” one of my personal favorites, and, of course, “Karma Chameleon.” Could you just die!? Right, giddiness aside, this UK band ushered in a whole new wave of completely melodic yet alternative pop that appealed to kids, teens, young adults and even parents. There was nothing threatening about the exquisite songs they put out, and they stand the test of time as outstanding pop tunes that are without compare. But there are people who got hung up on Boy George and his outrageousness. Yes, we Americans do know a good drag queen when we see one (Grammy’s acceptance speech, kids), but thankfully, we were not so repressed as to deny artisanship simply because a lad liked to put on more makeup than Aunt Ethel. Bottom line is that he has one of the best voices in modern pop. What’s also nice is that some lesser known songs make it on this modest comp too, including a dance mix of “White Boys,” the poignant “Victims,” and a song I adore but rarely hear, “Mistake Number 3.” What might not appeal to the novice Culture Club fan, however is how the second half of the comp goes decidedly downtempo. The first half is amazingly upbeat, and I couldn't sit still, but the second half had me feeling really sort of depressed. There's a time and a place for both, but I felt I had to warn you that it's not all bouncy. But really, I know that you’re not going to go get this album if you aren’t riding the current (nu)wave of nostalgia anyway. If you’re a Korn fan, you will not buy this record. And that’s ok. That’s the great thing about music – something for everyone. [www.culture-club.co.uk]

The Donnas have long been lauded as rocker girl darlings, with rock magazines like SPIN almost launching parades each time the group puts out an album, and magazines like Jane fairly salivating over every word uttered from the girls’ lips. So it’s safe to say that Gold Medal, the first full-length album from the Donnas that I have ever heard, was fairly built up in my mind, as I subscribe to both of the aforementioned magazines. And it’s not bad. The Donnas play forthright, straightforward rock in the same vein as AC/DC. The guitars are warm, loud, and the licks (played expertly by Allison Robertson) are remniscient of something you’d hear blasting from the speakers of a fast-moving Camaro, driven by that numchuck guy from Ghost World. Rythym, like well-pummeled drums (Torry Castellano) and head-bobbing bass (Maya Ford), is best highlighted in songs like “Don’t Break Me Down” and “Gold Medal.” Vocals and lyrics (Brett Anderson) are solid and simple (“Is That All You’ve Got For Me” is one of the better songs that push the simplicity). The band is a tight package, and their musicianship is better than some bands double their age. I enjoyed Gold Medal, but I never bothered to really think about it because you don’t need or have to; just like I enjoy Joan Jett but I never have invested much interest in her. Good summer CD (after a few listens you can move on), good background music, but nothing on this CD lived up to the hype, even though it was quite good. Thank God my little sister likes it. The Donnas’ music and emotions are portrayed hella better than what she was listening to. [www.thedonnas.com]

Nick Hornby, author of High Fidelity and, most recently, A Long Way Down, writes music reviews, and one of the first things in his review process is to study the cover bits of a CD. Bottom Line’s Eloquence has pretty cool pop art cover art, and the band photograph showcases the cuteness, or at least affability, of the band. But as I listened to Eloquence, I noticed that the website for the band has the word “punk” after their name. PLEASE stop doing that, emo-core rockers. You. Are. Not. Punk. If you met Sid Vicious or Wendy O. Williams in a dark alleyway, you would leave physically battered and more emotionally wounded than you thought you could ever be. But perhaps a good song, about something other than your pain, your need for self-worth, or your girlfriend could come of it. Bottom Line sound just like the bands they thank in the liner notes, like Yellowcard and Story of the Year. If I really need to remind you: Lyrics with triple-syllable words interspersed (“Tasteful menagerie?!?” Dude, just stop) layered over almost every second of music. Thrashy drums and “chug-chug-chug” guitars that crescendo into melody during the bridge, soft/loud whine-bellowed singing. Add angst, stir. Oh, and don’t forget the quickly spoke-sung background poem (“I often wonder, what it would be like to drown/ Asphyxiated in a flood/ Opine without a sound” from “Blind”). And the horns on “False Alarm” would have been nice…if they were in a different song…on another album…by a better band. So, to be frank: Unremarkable, formulaic band and sound, affected lyrics lacking wisdom, the punk posturing of Avril Lavigne, an overdose of angst, lacking in originality. I don’t like this new wave of music, these Yellowcards, these Dashboard Confessionals. If you do, you’ll love Bottom Line. You can have my copy. I’ll pay for the postage. [www.bottomlinepunk.com]

Power-pop is all about short and sweet. But judging a power-pop band is to judge how well they do it over and over again. Many have produced a solid power-pop track – the one hit wonder would be nowhere without it – but it’s a difficult row to hoe if you have long-term goals. Neon’s debut EP, Hit Me Again, is a tidy package at a hairbreadth over twelve minutes so judging them along the above guideline is practically impossible. But as fun as practicality is, speculation and conjecture are way more entertaining. A three-piece out of Australia, Neon’s sound is one of few gimmicks, and that’s saying something since power-pop has become sort of a gimmick in itself lately. Bless them for not subjecting us to anything with an “emo” and a hyphen in it. Rather, they come off more like Cheap Trick if Evanston, Ill, were more like London. Take the rough and ready demo “He’s a Whore,” one listen of which will have you digging for your old Oasis CDs. “Hit Me Again” vibes a little more punk with interlocked guitar and bass, and the heavier “Dizziness” really gives vocalist/guitarist Josh Bitmead room to stretch out his pipes. Tack on the three dreamy chords of “Million Sons,” and you have a good way to kill, well, a short amount of time. Hit Me Again flashes some solid potential. While potential may not pay the bills, Neon have done more good than harm on this EP. They’ve certainly given no reasons to write them off as posers. At this point, it’s as fun to think about what they could be as it is to listen to what they are. [www.neontheband.com]

With even a little knowledge of past releases from Texas' Spoon, it's pretty clear Gimme Fiction isn't breaking much new ground. Though with an extensive back catalog of releases, for any band to remain as consistently relevant and prolific is no small feat. Gimme Fiction runs the gamut of the Spoon repertoire. From the rolling, piano-driven opener "The Beast and Dragon, Adored" to the sparse "Merchants Of Soul," the sound drifts from falsetto-laced R&B (" I Turn My Camera On") to straight-ahead pop-rock ("Sister Jack") to awkward, acoustic love song ("I Summon You"). Yet, all roads inevitably lead back to the distinctive sound Spoon has built over the past several years. And, repeated listens reveal that Spoon enjoy hiding rewards for keen ears. While there's the guitar, drums, bass, piano and various other instrumentation thrown into the mix, it's Britt Daniel's voice and his ability to shape it to each song that makes Spoon. Even if Gimme Fiction is familiar musical ground, it's Daniel's soulful wails that push "My Mathematical Mind" and his vanilla tone that sell the narrative of "The Two Sides Of Monsieur Valentine." The thing that keeps Spoon significant is that they are "indie-rock," but they aren't. Spoon is undoubtedly more "It's Still Rock And Roll To Me" Billy Joel (sans saxophone solo) than Ben Gibbard. Even if mainstream stardom were never in the cards, I'd doubt anyone involved would be too upset. It's highly likely that most would rather Spoon be awarded "Most Likely to Appear On 'The OC'" than actually be the next to appear on The OC. [www.spoontheband.com]

One of the most frustrating things that can happen to a band is to have to change your name after seven years of marketing yourself to the world. Unfortunately, Smoke or Fire was forced to do this upon the release of their latest album Above the City. So while the band may seem like a newbie to melodic punk rock scene, they have actually been going at it for some time. After a couple EPs and a folded indie label or two, the band has finally released their debut full-length via Fat Wreck. As much as I hate using generic terms like “melodic punk rock,” I think that probably best describes Smoke or Fire’s sound. Short songs (the entire 12 tracks only last 24 minutes), predominantly full of energy and aggression, but just enough hook to make it sweet to the ears. The band manages to avoid the common punk downfall of having all the songs sound the same, and instead creates enough variety to keep you interested the entire 24 minutes. The problem is this is almost too short to really critique the band’s sound. The production of the record has a somewhat rough (yet quality) sound that I think the band was obviously going for, and the vocals seem to stick to the punk formula of putting feeling before pitch. Don’t get me wrong, I quite enjoy the vocals, but the range is definitely limited and the frequent comparisons to Hot Water Music are very warranted. Overall this is a great record from a band that I think fits into the Fat Wreck roster very well. The only complaint I can come up with is that when all your songs are only 2 minutes long, you may need to put more than 12 on an album. [www.smokeorfire.com]

Why do all punk rock records have to be so short? Is it because the songs themselves are short and people don’t like putting 30 songs on one CD? The Soviettes continue this tradition by releasing their new record LP III, which clocks in at right around 30 minutes. The one thing about having a short album is that you better have some damn impressive songs if you are only going to give people 30 minutes of music. Unfortunately, the tunes on LP III don’t really stick with you after the CD comes to an end, and the band is easily forgotten. The problem doesn’t lie in the songwriting in so much as in the lack of variety within the record. Most songs stick pretty close to the pop-punk-rock formula of fast power riffs and bouncy melodies (along with pretty decent female vocals) that sound good for a song or three but start to cause a loss of interest about halfway through the album. It is kind of disappointing because you really want to like the band. Almost any of the songs on their own are enjoyable and an EP of the songs would get a pretty strong rating; but a full-length (even only 30 minutes worth) is just a bit too much of the same. If you have the patience for an album full of decent songs that all sound a lot a like, you might want to give this record a shot. Otherwise, chances are if you make it all the way through the record, you won’t be in a hurry to put it on repeat. [www.thesoviettes.com]