Concerned that the blistering white light of New Wave has forgotten its gloriously dark and simmering melancholic majesty? Frausdots knows how to make it come alive. Brent Rademaker (The Tyde, Beachwood Sparks) and Michelle Loiselle (find her on the new Guns-n-Roses as back-up vocals) conjure up bittersweet melodic pop gems on their latest release, "Couture, Couture, Couture" (Rocket Girl/SubPop). The album revives rarely crafted dream rock reminiscent of The Church and Joy Division, and The Cure's Roger O'Donnell even lends his finger-magic on the keyboard. "Couture" is music that offers quiet intellect and a graceful balance between the vast sadness and the conquering...of love, death, and fashion. Call it fashion-rock for the terminally hip! "Couture" moves from being right-on with "Dead Wrong" to being vividly grand on the final track, "Tomorrow's Sky". All the songs--audibly or emotionally--are high class, and conquer, conquer, conquer. Whether it be by tamed drumming, or yielding expressions of the guitars and bass, they offer sensations that rest you back on the solid frames of your mind until the next track knocks gently at the door. Must-hear tracks are "A Go-See", "Broken Arrows", "Contact", and "Fashion Death Trends". Also, look for the video to "Dead Wrong", directed by Robert Schober (Holopaw) and more info on SubPop and the band's website. Enjoy! [www.frausdots.com]

It seems odd that a band with a catalog consisting of only one full-length would release a collection of B-sides. It could be a way to cheat the sophomore slump, or maybe they’re just way into full disclosure. Either way, I’ll admit that listening to an assortment of B-sides and rarities (if you can already call them that) is a poor way to be introduced to a band. But they say you can learn a lot about a person by going through their garbage, so lets see if we can’t learn a thing or two about Mae by going through theirs. Destination: B-Sides is a batch of remixes, alternate-takes, live cuts and unreleased originals drawn out of the band’s (deep breath) three-year existence. Everything sprouts from Mae’s foundation of earnest indie-pop, leaning toward the more temperate side of the genre. Acoustic reworks “Sun” and “Giving It Away” (both originating from 2003’s Destination: Beautiful) and most of the new tracks center around somber piano melodies, of which the new track,“Awakening”, stands out per its shrewd use of slow dynamics. As for the live tracks, the instrumental “Futuro” is a bit of a departure due to its progressive, spacey feel, and to that point it might be the best track on the disc. The others, “Sun” and “This Time is the Last Time,” suffer from live recordings that could be considered too clean. Little “live” energy (and absolutely no crowd noise) make it through to the end product, which comes off sounding flat. These could easily pose as studio demos. It’s hard to get too down on the band considering that these are all B-sides. The fact is that unless you’re already a big Mae fan, you’ll probably find little on Destination: B-Sides that will move you. If you are, this one’s for you. Otherwise I can’t recommend this. Go for one of their full-on studio efforts instead, then maybe you’ll want to come back for it. [www.whoismae.com]

That Saddle Creek Records sure attracts some well read folks. While Bright Eyes enjoys the socio-political depth of Don Delillo, The Good Life ruminates over the vivid prose of John Fante and Charles Bukowski. Good news: neither Bright Eyes nor The Good Life’s music is as complex or indigestible as the books they choose to read. However, like a Bukowski diatribe or nice single malt scotch, Album of the Year grows on you over time. All three delicacies or vices, whichever you prefer, are moody, insightful and brutally honest at the same time. The Good Life, like Bright Eyes, is the summation of one artist. Album of the Year is Tim Kasher’s introspective recollection of lost love and the aftermath that plagues the soul. If you’re a male, “Your No Fool” and “October Leaves” should strike the wrong memory chords. Both melancholy tracks chronicle male mishaps in the minor key, and the consequences that inevitably follow ( i.e. no lovin’ & family betrayal). C’mon, we’ve all been there. While “Notes in His Pockets” and “Lovers Need Lawyers” express the same relational problems, the message is delivered in a poppy The Shins like manner. “Needy” is punctuated by reverberating keyboards that recollect Grandaddy’s most poetically somber moments. The end result you may ask? Album of the Year incorporates many sounds you may already be familiar with, but the songs are overwhelmingly depressing…that is you’re a male and tend to fuck up quite often. Sigh…I need to go buy some flowers. [www.saddle-creek.com]

It's odd--a hip hop act on Fueled By Ramen Records. A Florida-based label that's somehow made a name by releasing mediocre pop-punk over the last few years picking up these New York urbanites just escapes me. But I'm not here to talk about the politics of the business, so I'll refrain. The Papercut EP, while only four tracks (just under 14 minutes) long, does a good job of building my interest in the Gym Class Heroes. "Taxi Driver" is a witty barrage of name-dropping by vocalist Schleprock, covering everyone from Thrice to Death Cab for Cutie, to Scraps and Heart Attacks, Sunny Day Real Estate, Cursive, and Jets to Brazil. The band provides a relaxed, flowing backdrop for the rhymes, with a beautiful, low-lying guitar line. "Papercuts" is a perfect display of how hip hop can be made without the aid of drum machines and samples, and once again, Schleprock proves his worth as a lyricist/rapper. On "Boomerang Theory," he claims that he "got arrested by the karma police in Beantown," while "Makeout Club" is an ode to all the girls who the vocalist has locked lips with. More than myself, I have to say. The Gym Class Heroes aren't the Roots, not by a long shot. Neither musically nor lyrically are they on the same level. But these guys still have the abilitiy to appeal to different crowds, with their successful blending of different worlds and lyrics that, while aren't that thought-provoking, avoid much of the violent substance that plagues a lot of hip hop and relies more on light-hearted sentiment that should make the listener crack a smile. [www.gymclassheroes.com]

The only reason that I know about De La Soul is because of Dave Chappelle. In all honesty the only reason I know about most of the hip-hop artists I do know about (all 5 of them) is because of Dave Chappelle. That being said, I don’t really know how to compare The Grind Date to any of their previous ones or the works of any other rappers (unless it’s one of the other 5). So I am going to have to give you the sheltered, white-Midwesterners take on this. The beats are experimental. Often times you may find yourself bobbing along only to release you’ve screwed up and are way off beat. However this is a good thing. While not instantly accessible, they have a way of growing on you. Like trying to figure out the New York City subway system, what you used to think was impossible, you now realize you can’t live with out. The beats are also musical, taking traditional instrumentation and mish-mashing it in with effects, the record keeps a genuine sentiment throughout its play/ The lyrics prove complimentary to the beats. Intelligent rhymes with an untraditional flow bounce back and forth over top. Guest spots by Flava Flav, Common, and MF Doom (to list a few) are complimentary and stay with the vibe of the album, exemplifying but blending tracks to give you a feeling of completeness, something of a whole thought. This album might not be the album you had expected, but fortunately I had no expectations about this album, so I was pleasantly surprised. Solid beats, solid lyrics, and a solid album. [www.sanctuaryrecords.de]

When I started writing this review, I wanted to make some clever comparison of the music of Grenadiers debut, Hand Offensive, to that of the result of a live hand grenade. I was going to describe the explosive power of both band and miltiary weapon, the fact that the shrapnel from a grenade is kind of hit or miss, and the idea that if you're in the arena for a grenade to be in use you're already in some serious shit that you might want to reconsider your life choices. But then I realized that last part really doesn't apply to music, and my desire to make some correlation between pulling the pin on a grenade and the anticipation of hearing this disc was just ridiculously lame. So how do I describe Hand Offensive if I can't make some over the top, completely inappropriate, comparison to a weapon? Especially considering that Grenadier is not an onslaught of any kind - at least not in the "holy crap this is some explosive stuff that could induce fear and/or death" sense. I guess I start off by telling you that the album consists of guitar, bass, drum, and the occasional keyboard (not to mention a bit of banjo and horns). The majority of songs are midtempo, somewhat introspective, rolling tracks with a musical interlude ("Turdler") and some upbeat tracks here and there ("Powerless","Smile Away Pt 2"). Hand Offensive is self-described as "quintessentially Midwestern," which is an allusion to the idea of living a quiet life while the hustle and bustle is going on around you. However, Midwestern is often a term that is associated with being average - it's just the middle of the country, nothing particularly special. I think this applies to the first half of the disc in question, while the band finds their stride (maybe it's the acceptance of the hustle and bustle) in the second half of the disc. Grenadier has the chops to write a rather catchy pop song, but you've got to filter through the other stuff before you get there. The disc takes several listens to really appreciate the parts that should be appreciated (check the lo-fi harmonies on "Gods of Gravity") and the apparently overall flow that the album contains. [www.grenadiermusic.com]

Talk about Dance Fest `05. When my date began with the band VHS or Beta, there was a non-stop discotheque in my living room, my car, and my work. Basically, everywhere their 2004 release, Night On Fire (Astralwerks) went, my feet caught on fire. Friction, baby! The album is worthy to be glorified thanks to glamorously wiley guitar work and disco-era vibrations. Mammoth bass lines runneth over with huge amounts of poppy overtones and dance beats-extraordinaire. And that guitar work that I spoke of earlier? Absolutely glistens, with each note grasping onto rays of charm like a prism in the sun. The drums play favorably into the blend of instruments, spooning out chunky beats to sink your auditory teeth into. While being mainly compared to bands like The Cure, Daft Punk, and even The Killers (the aforementioned could learn a thing or two), VHS or Beta plainly have their directions drawn clearly, and when given the time they are worth, will be more contrasted to Daft Punk than compared. Night on Fire evoked all frames of mind: Quietude, joy, and passion simutaneously. My most notable selections are “Nightwaves,” “Melting Moon,” and “Alive,” a song that dishes out hot-flashes of excitement-induced déjà vu on a dimly-lit dance floor...like being in a field of flowers on a warm night after the sun fades, and the moon is the only thing between you and the rest of your life. Deep, right? [www.vhsorbeta.com]

Dark Matter Moving At The Speed of Light is an eccentric blend of hip-hop and electronic-infused dance madness provided by someone often consider the Godfather of Hip Hop--Afrika Bambaataa (Kevin Donovan), founder of the Zulu Nation. Featured emcees include deadly-hip King Kamonzi, MC Chatterbox, Mustafa Akbar, TC Islam, Aghi Spirits, and the fantastically 80’s Gary Numan. Yes, Gary Numan. Every track is poles apart, and that is what comprises an enjoyable Bambaataa album. The disc begins with “Got That Vibe,” a club anthem lead by the seductive Indian sounds of the sitar spread over hip-hop dance grooves, and moves into “Metal,” with Gary Numan’s bizarrely grand voice styling over very cool electronic-driven rhythms. MC Chatterbox also grants his two-cents skillfully. The title track, “Dark Matter,” begets dance chaos with the assistance of King Kamonzi for a second time. “Almighty Rah” belongs to the dance floor and “Take You Back” whips up funky 70’s break-dancing dreams. Ok. I’ll stop there because every…song…is…amazing. “Dark Matter” is an album for the masses, and an aural festival waiting on your arrival; be late, only if you dare. Bambaataa can now be heard spinning for New York’s Hot 97, and expect to hear a remake of his highly sampled “Planet Rock” with Miami-based bass group, 95 South. [www.afrikabambaataa.com]

Unless you have been deaf or dumb since 1997, you’ve probably heard “Bittersweet Symphony” about a million times, and maybe wondered to yourself “What ever happened to those guys?” Well, they broke up not too long afterwards. Lead singer Richard Ashcroft has gone on to release solo material, but as a band, they remain pretty unknown to most Americans. Hopefully, at the very least, this disc will show some people they were more than just a flash in the pan. “Slide Away” is a good atmospheric rocker, leading into “Lucky Man,” their other “hit” or rather “recognizable” song, which still stands as one of the best tracks on the disc. The band's sound is shown most audibly on “History,” a slow jam with trademark strings (strings that got them in trouble with a certain other British band). The strongest moments on the disc come when the band focuses on a song and really builds its melody. “On Your Own” is the perfect example, with great melody and a nice mood, while “Sonnet” backs up the case, showcasing the bands strong points: The slow, moody, ballads of a broken band. The piece de la resistance is the hidden gem “The Drugs Don’t Work.” Worth the price of admission alone, it is an infectious, beautiful song that is at once timeless and will have you hitting repeat a dozen times per listen Where the band sometimes falters is when they take their eyes of the prize and become a bit dull and wandering. “Gravity Grave” is an excruciatingly long and aimless piece, and “Monte Carlo” also falls into the trap of being aimless, meandering, and very forgettable. Lackadaisical moments pepper other parts of the album and can cause it to drag during some of the more forgettable tracks like “She’s A Superstar,” “Blue,” and “All In The Mind.” Of course we can’t forget “Bittersweet Symphony,” but there is not much more to say about that song. If you haven’t heard it a million times, then you must have been living in a cave. “This Could Be My Moment” is a very good, upbeat song, the likes of which could have been on a new U2 album, and it provides a nice shot of energy, something the album needs more of. In the end, the disc wraps up the career of the band nicely. At moments very entertaining and well done and at others a bit dull and meandering. The highlights are high, and the lows are only slightly low, resulting in a disc that you will enjoy from time to time but will be no means become a classic nor have you petitioning for a reunion tour. [www.theverve.co.uk]

As each post-hardcore band with sleeved tattoos and jet-black bangs races to out-math the competition and amaze the listener with acrobatic feats both mental and physical, Bars is sneaking in the back door with a deadly weapon: Pure simplicity. Their Equal Vision debut, Introducing…, is as straight a mix of pop-free punk and no-strings-attached metal as anyone has tried in ages, and they’ve nailed it. Introducing… is the album Guns n’ Roses might have made if they met eight years earlier and listened to too much Motorhead. It’s hard to ignore the presence of their influences (their name is reportedly a reference to the Black Flag logo), but their simplistic approach and relentless energy make this feel like a breath of fresh mountain air sucked in through a sophomore dorm room window. Rather than dazzle you with varied introductions and reverse-grain breakdowns, Bars prefers to open with a meaty riff and ride it like a bronco for the next three minutes. Repeat that ten times and you have an idea of what you’re dealing with on Introducing…. Bars’ approach is so consistent that it’s hard to point out a standout track. “Up To My Neck” features a memorably staccato chorus that comes as close to a “hook” as they’ll allow themselves, and the closer, “This is It,” opens with a blazing riff that whisks you back to the Cult’s heyday. One does fall short of the rest, however, as the deep cut “Too Far Down” is a little too measured for its own good. The rest of the album thrives on its consistently high output of punk-metal horsepower. In the end, the nonstop energy gives off a very positive vibe. This is the kind of shit I imagine Andrew W.K. blasts to get himself amped up, but don’t get me wrong, they’re no angels. The opening line to “Up To My Neck” pretty much says it all: “Two packs and a bottle of Jack.” Amen, Bars…amen. [www.thebarsrock.com]

A lot of bands are doing the glammed-up garage rock sound lately, but few bands are pulling off homage to pure glam like San Diego’s Louis XIV. There’s definitely something a little special about them. They have some pure T-Rex going on (that’s never a bad thing) and even a blatant ripped lyric from the Rolling Stones’ “I Know It’s Only Rock-n-Roll” (“…take out a knife/Suicide right on the stage…” – featured in “Hey Teacher”). Bouncy beats, catchy hooks with cheeky lyrics, and double entendres only add to the kitschy vibe on the aptly named The Best Little Secrets Are Kept. Some prime examples are “Kit kat kit kat kitten you’re the kicks” and “Sing me a song/Bang me like the girls in Hong Kong…/…Politics are so much better when there’s sex.” So irresistible! And the circuitous use of the album's intro music in the hidden track at the end of the record combined with the auto-loop feature in my car’s stereo gave the album one seamless flow that worked and worked well time and again. Although I’d say I really dig 90% of The Best Little Secrets Are Kept, one place where I hit a bump is with the song “All the Little Pieces.” They slow the tempo down significantly on it, but that’s not the problem I have because the music itself is quite nice. The problem is the vocals, which at that speed come off as just a bit too nasally for my taste. Another flat point is “A Letter to Dominique.” Although there’s nothing really wrong with the song, it’s just a tad lackluster compared to the rest of the tracks despite a faithful channeling of Marc Bolan. Overall, I'd have to say that this album is one little secret that shouldn’t be kept. So go tell somebody… [www.louisxiv.net]

Ahh, the instrumental rock band. On the one hand, this is a blessing in disguise because there is no way that some snotty vocalist with the world's worst lyrics is going to interrupt an otherwise perfectly good song, but on the other hand, there is the notion that without vocals of any sort you have to push the level of dramatics within your music to really connect with your listener. This typically works itself out by adhering to the quiet vs loud aesthetic or taking the idea of full-on rock assault at all times for the entire duration of your music. The Sincerity Guild tends to go with the quiet vs. loud mindset on their disc What It's Like On The Inside (Theory 8 Records). Granted, this is certainly not a slight on the band but simply a heads up that when the band turns on the rock mode you're going to appreciate it that much more because you've felt it coming; you've wanted it; and now it's finally here. "The Keeping Room (Part 1)" opens the album with an 8 minute mini-epic of rolling guitars and enough aural peaks at what lies ahead to keep you interested. By the end of the track, they've got everything turned up to 11 and present you with big enough riffs that Hum would be proud. And at first, that pretty much sums up the band. Hum without vocals or acoustic guitars with a dash of metal inspired intricate guitar work ("Leslye's New Hairdo"), but the band keeps it fresh with their own take on things. "That The Bones You Have Broken May Rejoice" has a great drum breakdown mixed some angular guitars not often found in instrumental rock. "Tokens of Deliverance" has some caustic jagged guitars, and parts of "You Have Been Weighed In The Balances & Found Waiting" remind me of Faraquet. Overall, it's tough to be an instrumental band and not be at the top of the game (i.e. if you're not Mogwai what are you doing?), but The Sincerity Guild are keeping it fresh and appealing to a crowd of people who want their rock with an ebb and flow of dynamic sound that leans more on the rock sound than relies on the quiet side. [www.thesincerityguild.com]

Once More With Feeling is a compilation of Placebo's singles dating from 1996 to 2004. So basically, if you're not a Placebo fan (and probably in the US), it's a compilation of songs that you maybe heard once or twice on some random radio station. Or if you are a Placebo fan (and probably in the UK), then it is a compilation of all the songs that got the band where they are in terms of popularity. If you're not familiar with Placebo, it's all about the voice of Brian Molko (and subsequently his gender bending appearance); part overtly nasal and part vibrato twinged, it can either instantly turn you away or draw you in. Musically, if you were a fan of anything considered "Alternative Rock" in the mid to late 90's, there is no reason for you not to enjoy the majority of this disc. The band's guitar riffs, complimentary (not redundant) basslines, and often-times big drum sounds are hard to resist. Everything from "Nancy Boy" to "Pure Morning" to "Every You, Every Me" to "The Bitter End," all evoke a rock aesthetic that is lacking in just about any English band. Placebo manages to be artistic, somewhat dramatic, musically leaning towards a darker place, all while maintaining a melodic sensibility and larger appeal than your typical art rock band that takes things a bit too far. A singles compilation probably isn't all that great of a purchase for someone that already has all of the bands albums (especially if you have even the slightest rudimentary knowledge of CD burners) but for someone who has been intrigued by the band's sound but didn't know where to start, this is for you. Worked for me. [www.placeboworld.co.uk]

What can you say about Medulla that hasn't already been said? If you're living a media blackout environment, you may not know that this record is Bjork's foray into the realm of the instrument-less. All sounds on this album were recorded with vocals. Which, on paper, sounds like the worst acapella album you could ask for. Fortunately, Bjork was intelligent enough to enlist the help of the greatest vocal instrumentalists out there. Mike Patton (remember the dark vocal insanity Fantomas), beat master Rahzel, some Japanese guy that you've never heard of who is apparently absolutely nuts, and The Icelandic Choir. Off the bat, it's obvious that this is not your average record. This is experimental without being unlistenable. It is both ambitious and almost impossible to pull off. The fact that Elektra (or Atlantic or WEA or whatever you want to call it) actually went ahead with putting this out seriously reveals the artistic power of Bjork. And, really, that's what this album is. Artistic. Someone decided to actually let an artist grow within their own space and try their own things, regardless of the outcome. Fortunately in this case, the results are pretty much beautiful. "Vökuró," "Show Me Forgiveness," "Öll Birtan," "Submarine," "Desired Constellation," "Sonnets / Unrealities," and "Miðvikudags" are very withdrawn, filled with that sad, desperate sweetness that only Bjork is able to evoke and take up the majority of the album. "Where Is The Line,""Who Is It," "Oceania,""Mouth's Cradle," and "Triumph of a Heart" are what you would call your 'jams' on the disc, as they have the crazy vocalized beats, somewhat unbelievable at times, and actually work to be somewhat upbeat and therefore have a bit more mass appeal. "Ancestors" is just scary. So where does this album really end up? Yes, we can all agree that it's an insanely artistic endeavour, but there is no way anyone could argue that it contains the same appeal as Post, Debut, or even Homogenic. But as Bjork's fanbase continues to grow up, so does she. This album shows a maturing artist branching out into new things, absolutely defying anything stale by relying on past tricks of her repertoire, and creating something both intriguing to the non-fan and precious to the hardcores. If you're a fan of Bjork, you already own this and the 95 different singles that go along with it. If you're not a fan of Bjork, hit up iTunes and snag the hot tracks just so you aren't left completely in the cold. [www.bjork.com]

I’ve always dug Queens of the Stone Age, as I happened across “Monsters in the Parasol” on some random download search way back when, Rated R era. I thought the follow up (Songs for the Deaf) was excellent, and this time around, QOTSA proves they are have cornered the market on producing the best melodic sludge ever. Now at number five on the Billboard charts, Queens’ new album, the first without Homme’s former Kyuss partner Nick Oliveri, is a straightforward rock album that’s aimed as much for the 20-something group as well as the high school rockers. Less zany and prog/stoner original than Songs for the Deaf, it’s got more hooks (just type in the band’s name on a file-sharing program and it’s all about “Little Sister”) that make the album more commercially viable, but it’s still a pretty rad effort. Standout tracks are “Burn the Witch,” with enough indifferent fuzz effects and Josh Homme’s vocals swelling up from the bottom of a well of thick tom drumming, and the equally hard-knocking “The Blood is Love.” The slow burn of “I Never Came” shows off Queens’ forte of climbing guitars and arrangement; whereas “Broken Box” maintains that Queens of the Stone Age are one of the few bands around these days that can pull of a combination of goofy and sexy and raunchy (sample lyric: “Take that fucking pussy elsewhere.”) The “ridden-hard-and-put-away-wet” bass intro and whispered crooning vocals betray the listener on “You’ve Got A Killer Scene There, Man…” which has guest vocalists Shirley Manson (Garbage) and Homme’s woman Brody Dalle (the Distillers)… Where? The caterwauling blues guitar on this song is it’s best feature, but Brody and Shirley? Couldn’t hear ‘em. Mark Lanegan is back again, sounding like a stoned spook (and that’s a good thing) on the intro track “This Lullaby” and the loping “Tangled Up in Plaid.” And though Dave Grohl is not lending his heavy-hitting drum skills to QOTSA again, new drummer Joey Castillo is pretty good if not as aggressive, complementing A Perfect Circle/ perpetual moonlighting bassist Troy van Leeuwen’s thorough thwacking bass on tracks like “Skin on Skin.” Overall, Lullabies to Paralyze is a great album, groovy and mellow with some superb musicianship and catchy tunes, and it sounds like Queens of the Stone Age without being redundant (re: boring). Just don’t expect any “C-c-c-c-c-co-CAINE!”-esque moments, which is something I miss; therefore, demerit the album for lack of their old charming loony originality. [www.qotsa.com]

Let me get something out of the way: I am not one of the Tori army. I love her music and own about all of her commercial albums, and I’ve seen her live once. There, with that caveat in place, let me just say… The Beekeeper is not tending very exciting bees. See, that was nice. Oh, and the best aspect about the newest Tori album is its soporific effect, as not one song checks you with the old Amos fire and brimstone, like “Raspberry Swirl” and “Father Lucifer” were able to do. Scarlett’s Walk, Amos’ last studio album, was a masterpiece, but The Beekeeper doesn’t stand up to it. The music on this album ventures from gospel choirs to Jamaican beats, and the playing is solid. It’s just a bit all over the place and always complacent. Best songs? Yes, there are some. Tori’s duet with Damien Rice, “The Power of Orange Knickers,” is quite pretty and bittersweet to listen to, while the title track is magical ("I have come with my mustard seed/ I cannot accept that she will be taken from me/ Do you know who I am?/ She said I am the one who taps you on the shoulder when it's your time") and eerie. “Ribbons Undone” has sweet lyrics, and “Goodbye Pisces” is an excellent and ethereal song, turning the "bull in a china shop" similie into a great relationship metaphor. I also really like the pacing and ominious-peace (Is there such a thing? There is now) of “Parasol.” “Hoochie Woman” is the only song on the album with some sassy ass (“He said she has needs/ I said you’ll find ‘em on Barney’s fourth floor”), but it’s ultimately silly. You might notice that the majority of the songs I like are at the end of the album, which is what I skip to now when I’m listening. Tori’s latest, I hate to say, is just too timid, too languid for my taste. Hopefully next time Ms. Cornflake girl will remember that she wrote the heart-wrenching “Baker,” the super-smackdown “Precious Things,” and the unconventional musing “Muhammad My Friend,” and she could write material of that pizzazz and quality again. I promise I’d buy it. The Beekeeper is a pretty album with plenty of neat, deep lyrics, but it’s ultimately a lackluster album. [www.toriamos.com]

Fear Before the March of Flames’ debut, Odd How People Shake, flew in many different directions at the same time and had much success doing so. Still, it only seems natural that their follow up should focus more closely on a particular aspect of what made the debut work. Even though they seemed to have carved out enough sonic space to house a couple hundred thousand different sounding albums, another loosely packaged mess of noise might just sound the same no matter the direction(s) it takes. With this in mind, the band has tightened up some of the bolts and created a much more consistent sounding, and a no less effective album in Art Damage. This is not to say that Art Damage is by-the-numbers, but it approaches more of a complete thought than Odd How People Shake. For good or ill, they have trimmed some of the extra, and sometimes more compelling appendages from their franken-monster sound. Gone are the melodic vocals that often shared the stage with vocalist David Marion’s dry-throated barking, leaving this album hard pressed to be labeled screamo (though some still will). The vocals still do take many shapes - the “ladies and gentlemen / boys and girls” background shouts of “Should Have Stayed in the Shallows” and the cleanly sung but understated passages toward the end of “Consequences David, You’ll Meet Your Fate in the Styx” are both examples of this, but to much less degree this time around. The same could be said of the more experimental probings of their debut; they’re once again present (the gentle – and too short – interlude of “A Tyrant Meets His Maker” and the soft piano outro to “The Story of the Curious Oysters”) but less prominent. What’s left matches the straight ahead ideal of hardcore with heavy-as-fuck riffage that still remain very adventurous at times. When you get tired of Marion’s screaming (and you will), it’s the guitars that will save you. Either channeling Botch (“Consequences David…”), dropping some subtle touches of space rock at you or getting their nerd on with some mathy fun, the axes give your head plenty with which to be busy. What you take from Art Damage will probably hinge on how you think it stacks up to Odd How People Shake and your feelings toward the changes made between the two. But Odd How People Shake is not necessarily required listening, as Art Damage stands tall on its own merits as a post-hardcore showcase. The scaling back by no means represents regression, but rather, a band that could be inching closer to a distinct identity. [www.marchofflames.com]

Well, I guess I have to start hating this band now. With a video on MTV, attention from mainstream media, and a sound that can best be described as “poppy”, if I don’t start bashing them the music snob foundation might rip up my membership card. But frankly, I don’t give a damn. This album is great, addictive; I can’t get enough of it, and I’m not afraid to admit it. When Make Up The Breakdown came out, I instantly fell in love with it. Every song was like a dose of crack that you became dependant on and couldn’t live without. Catchy and unique, the album was just plain fun. The only fear I had was that the disc was too sugary, and in time it would leave me with a stomach ache, but years later it still puts a smile on my face. Amazingly, Elevators actually one-ups its predecessor by improving on what few flaws the first disc had. My two real criticisms of the bands debut were that it sounded a bit shallow and thin, and that it was a bit too short, both in track length and number of tracks. Addressing the latter is the fact that the album contains 14 tracks (even though a couple are tiny fillers), a few of which actually eclipse the four minute mark. The real improvement however lies in the new depth of sound the band has discovered. After gaining access to increased budgets and studio time, a lot of bands fall into the trap of overproducing their sophomore release, throwing in everything and the kitchen sink. Elevator is a lesson in how to add layers without breaking the camels back. Songs sound denser with subtle additions (claps to the beat, tambourines, background sing-a-longs during the bridge, bells in the background) and the album feels a bit darker and more guitar-driven, or at the very least a heavier guitar sound than the last album, which was keyboard centric Each track on the disc brings something a little different to the table, while all are united in the dancability and groove. “You Owe Me And IOU” is arguably the culmination of the combination of every aspect of the band making the perfect pop song, while songs like “Jingle Jangle,” with very Phantom Planet sounding verse vocals, and “Shame On You”, which harnesses Cake-like bass lines and groove to go the distance, expand on the formula that produced their debut. The Jamaican influenced “Island Of The Honest Man,” and “Middle Of Nowhere,” which builds to a nice sing-a-long vibe at the prelude to the chorus, showcase a bit of the diversity the band has discovered. Reaching the finish line in style with the albums final cut, “Elevator,” which showcases the bands movement towards sculpting songs instead of 3 minute choruses of pop, you will instantly find your finger inching towards the repeat button. Simply put, this is an album that will get into your head and refuse to get out. Normally I would approach this disc as a shooting star (incredibly bright at first, but dying in time), but with a time tested debut under their belt, I have faith this disc will sustain its luster as the months go on. Beautifully crafted by the musical candy makers, you simply can’t ask for a better or more addictive pop/dance/rock (or whatever the hell you want to call it) album. [www.hothotheat.com]

Decline Of British Sea Power was hands down one of my favorite albums of recent years, and I always felt like it never got the recognition it deserved. Suffice it to say that I was very eager to hear their sophomore effort, and here it is. Sadly, Open Season probably won’t get all that much recognition either, but this time it is perhaps with good reason. Let me say right off the bat that I really like this album. As a stand alone release it would be great, but as a follow up it just leaves me wanting. The first album was sporadic and unpredictable; it jumped around and kept your attention, making it an adventure and a rewarding quest. This time around the band gets a little tighter and more focused-in on a particular sound, but in turn they sacrifice the rawness and energy that made the first album so special. “It Ended On An Oily Stage” cruises along for an opener, and though a nice song, it doesn’t grab your attention like a first impression should and might have been better served later in the album. “How Will I Ever Find My Way Home?” is the first great song on the disc, but it is right around this time that you begin to sense that the songs are not so diversified. The first half of the disc rises to a brilliant crescendo with “Please Stand Up,” the albums best all around song, before slowing down with the beautiful “North Hanging Rock,” a hauntingly mellow piece providing a nice break in between sides. The latter half of the album kind of falls into a sound and blends together, culminating in “The Land Beyond” - very nice, flowing and mellow but sometimes too much so. The disc leaves a nice taste in your mouth with “True Adventures,” an epic and beautiful work, but one that can’t help but fall short when compared to “Lately” (the epic equivalent from the previous release), which is one of my favorite tracks. Overall, the disc just feels too much like British Sea Power, as if the band honed in on a sound and a conceptual feel and ran with it for the entire album. What results is still a fantastic album, but what is left behind is the diversity and breadth that made their debut such a scorcher. Still a disc I would highly recommend but a bit of a let down in what I think this band is truly capable of. [www.britishseapower.co.uk]

If you love sexy, garage rock, you’re gonna be very happy with the latest offering from The Kills. No Wow delivers grimy, throbbing basslines and scratchy, angrily pounded guitars. Woo, I do believe I need a towel. There seems to be a lot of comparison of Alison Mosshart’s voice to Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, but I think she stands just fine on her own. I suppose, however, for the sake of a point of reference, there’s a decent place to go. Personally, I prefer The Kills, but hey… Mosshart’s grouchy deep vocals work just as well alone as they do when paired with Jamie Hince’s lazy vocal drag, and the result is cool dirty music that harkens back to the likes of Jesus & Mary Chain and PJ Harvey. On the title track, Mosshart dares you “You’ll have to step over my dead body,” and you seriously contemplate taking that dare just to see what she might do next. The first part of “I Hate the Way You Love” is hard-driven guitars and angrily-spat vocals, while “I Hate the Way You Love part 2” is more like an afterglow musing. Oh she still hates you, but she’s too worn out just now to make you leave. So just in case there was still any question, yes, this album is sexy as hell. It’s a damn fun ride on the garage rock train, and call me shallow, but I’m just fine with that. [www.thekills.tv]