Fans of McLusky were no doubt introduced to the crazed Welsh three-some through their magnificent 2002 release Do Dallas, in which McLusky slayed rock ‘n’ roll with their absurd humor, white-hot guitars, and crazed yelps. Their follow-up album, The Difference Between You and Me is That I’m Not on Fire, is undoubtedly related to Do Dallas, but the energy here is toned down, insanity subdued, and artistic recklessness harnessed. Among the album’s 13 tracks there are a few surprises, most notably the strongly pop-inclined “She Will Only Bring You Happiness.” However, and thankfully, there are a number of moments on The Difference... that recall McLusky’s wide-eyed craziness. “Kkkitches, What Were You Thinking?” is pure chunky, feedback-driven rock ‘n’ roll while “Slay!” does just that with outbursts of noise. There’s even great song titles such as “Falco Vs. The Young Canoeist.” Unfortunately though, this album is a let down. But at least we still have Do Dallas to cure us. [www.toopure.com]

It is not a secret what A Rare Sensation, the debut full-length by The Chinese Stars, a band that features members of the now dissolved Arab on Radar and Six Finger Satellite, will sound like if have heard the two aforementioned outfits. Weird, off-kilter electronics, no-wave screeching, dance-inducing rhythms, and searing guitars are just a few of the attributes that A Rare Sensation exudes. Unfortunately, The Chinese Stars are relatively tame on this release, as they stick to the predictable and rational where they previously were qualified to pack many surprises and bits of absurdity into their recordings. Fans of Erase Errata, the Red Light Sting, and Numbers should take note, however, as A Rare Sensation is a kindred spirit of these angular punk outfits. [www.thechinesestars.com]

A meltdown of hardcore bursts of chaos, weird anthem-inducing choruses, and punk ethos, Sex Positions spend 27 minutes in the form of eleven tracks shouting aloud and screaming freely. Yet their self-titled debut album says nothing new whatsoever. Give Up the Ghost, Breather Resist, and Some Girls are all notable cohorts of implosive hardcore noise, yet Sex Positions feels as if they are just going through the motions of what it takes to be a punk/hardcore band instead of truly meaning it. “Worse Than the Plague” features sputtering electronics to keep the interest, and “We’ve Already Went Over This” slows the mood a bit in an attempt to transcend Sex Positions’ one dimensional nature. But ultimately, this is a musically immature and stereotypical release only recommended for the most loyal Deathwish fans. [www.deathwishinc.com]

I expected to regret having to torture myself during this review, and for once, all expectations were met! As far as I can tell, Eighteen Visions is largely to blame for the fashion that crept its way into hardcore in the past few years, and though I hadn't really listened to them prior to this record, I don't care to hear them ever again. This is truly a radio-ready psuedo-hardcore/metal album, and nothing more. Not the slightest shred of ingenuity, just a lot of guys wearing black clothing, donning expensive haircuts and playing to the best of their mediocrity. A good deal of weak "jud jud" guitar, double bass drumming and generic sing/scream vocals make this one stomach turning ride through a fashioncore wonderland. Not to mention lyrics that could have been ripped out of a fifteen year old girl's diary. How can I sum up a review of something like this? Eighteen Visions comes across as a band out, well, to get girls, and to make enough money for new clothes every week. But, I'll say they deserve a 2.0 for making it this far off of others' ignorance of good music and the fact that they aren't terrible musicians. Keep it in mind when you see this garbage on the record store shelves. [www.eighteenvisions.com]

Time in Malta is a band that really skates the edge between hard rock and hardcore. Their sound isn’t as much a homogeneous mixture of the two styles as it is a chunky stew stirred over medium heat with the wrong end of the spoon. They seem to neither have the aggression to tackle hardcore full on, nor the loose chops to go metal. They have instead, on Alone With Alone, created an album that would serve nicely as a transitional piece for a rock fan curious about the hardcore side of the playground. Alone With Alone jumps between each of the aforementioned styles throughout its 48-minute running time, often painting entire tracks from either palette. “Bare Witness” blows up an acoustic intro with double kick drums and shouted vocals, a theme that is continued in the equally intense “Tightrope.” “Louder Than Bombs” and “Ghosts” follow with very conventional song structures and anthemic choruses. Repeat this pattern (and throw in the love song “Fused As One” that you could just FEEEEL coming), and you have a pretty good idea what the rest of the album is like. Time In Malta feels quite comfortable in these shoes, and to their credit, they never try to do too much. But in the end, their non-committal style just doesn’t deliver the goods. Sometimes the middle ground is where a band can etch out their-own unique sound and make the genre tags that surround them meaningless. Sometimes. [www.timeinmalta.com]

It’s funny. I’m certainly not a fan of speed metal, but put a wiry, yelping punk in front of the mic, and I’m all about frantic beats. The followup to Veni Vidi Vicious, The Hives' latest disc Tyrannosaurus Hives, delivers more of the spastic pop that the Swedish quintet have become known and loved for. There's a sort of cool that The Hives have that a lot of bands are working these days too, but The Hives have a quirkier, jerky mod thing going on that sets them apart. The guys basically look to me like a negative image of The Godfathers (ok, just the jackets really), and right there I'm interested. I'm a sucker for gangster and mod fashion. There's not a whole lot of variation when it comes to tempo, sort of fast or faster, but I'm not complaining. “Diabolic Scheme” sounds so much like “Gentleman” by the Afghan Whigs, and how can you go wrong with that? One of the hookier songs on the album is “Walk Idiot Walk.” It's got a steady beat, tight guitar and almost evokes an early Who spirit – funky, fist pumping anthem energy but in a much faster tempo. The pure early punk sound of “A Little More for a Little You” is definitely gonna get your body shakin'. Every song on Tyrannosaurus Hives is a little frantic gem. With another good album in the can, plus I hear their live show is not to be missed, The Hives are poised to take us on another wild ride. [www.hivesmusic.com]

This is an exciting review for me for two reasons: 1) I’ve now been with Silent Uproar long enough to review two new albums by the same artist. 2) I consider Mon Electric Bijou’s first album, Songs Made of Plastic, to be mysterious and promising. After listening to If Blood Could Speak a number of times, let me say that I am still excited to be writing for Silent Uproar. I’m disappointed by Mon Electric Bijou. Not only am I disappointed by the music on the album, but I’m also saddened to see that frontman Martin Saz now refers to himself as “The Saz.” Let’s be serious here people! Here are the problems with If Blood Could Speak when compared to Songs Made of Plastic. Fasten your seatbelts. 1) Lack of creativity. Before it was Martin Saz and his spooky guitar work compensating for a lack of other musicians. Now, it’s “The Saz” and friends playing uninspired garage band music. 2) Poor production. The album actually sounds like it was recorded in a garage with a karaoke machine. 3) Repetitive lyrics and inconsistent delivery. The whole Kurt Cobain voice thing isn’t working anymore. I can’t even recommend one song. If Blood Could Speak is a rushed product. Songs Made of Plastic received favorable reviews, and as a result, “The Saz” quickly scripted new songs and added new musicians to hopefully create a more experienced sound. My hope for Mon Electric Bijou is that they take a step back, take a few breathes, slow things down and go at it again. Sometimes you need to take one step back to take two steps forward, right? [www.monelectricbijou.com]

Sexy, sassy, witty – all words that describe the Scissor Sisters self-titled major label debut record. But then there's also thoughtful, beautiful and melodic – also words I find myself using when telling folks about it. True, true, there are a few people for whom this is not their cup of tea, but if you have any interest in hearing what the marriage of Barry Gibb and a young Elton John would sound like, this sort of thing is your bag, baby. Ed. note: I'm reluctant to compare any worthwhile artist so obviously, but unfortunately, it's an occupational hazard. Having been introduced to the New York-based group, comprised of singers Jake Shears and Ana Matronic, bassist Babydaddy, guitarist Del Marquis, and drummer Paddy Boom, initially through their cover of “Comfortably Numb,” I found myself falling into the common trap of thinking, “What on earth could a full-length album from such a band sound like?” But I can honestly say that to assume that this talented collective is merely a novelty act is to simply not be listening. There are eleven tracks on the US release, and they run the gamut from campy funk, “Tits on the Radio,” to psychodelic-disco, “Comfortably Numb” (yes, a cover of the Pink Floyd classic), to the beautifully poignant and socially relevant ballad “Return To Oz.” In fact, in addition to having one of the catchiest songs on the radio right now, “Take Your Mama Out,” Scissor Sisters have also produced what I think is one of the most beautiful and evocative lyrics in modern music in their gut-wrenching song “It Can't Come Quickly Enough”: Skyscrapers rise between us/Keeping me from finding you. When I hear that line, I feel a sense of lonely desperation and melancholy in the big city and have an image of buildings and of people being separated by what seems like an ocean but that is, in reality, just a matter of a few blocks. I really cannot praise this record highly enough, and as a critic by trade, I am not only impressed by their talent as artists, but I am especially grateful to find musicians who are brave enough to put all facets of their personalities out there so honestly for everyone to hear while keeping it all to a catchy beat. Vive la Scissor Sisters! [www.scissorsisters.com]

By now, we should all know Mark Lanegan as the former lead singer of the cool early `90’s band, Screaming Trees, for his guitar/singing duties in the dearly-departed Queens of the Stone Age, and for previous works. On his new full-length release, Bubblegum, the follow-up to last year’s highly impressive Here Comes That Weird Chill (Methamphetamine Blues, Extras, and Oddities), Lanegan gives you a little something-something to chew on. The album boasts a multitude of talent, like PJ Harvey providing vocals and Masters of Reality’s Chris Goss on guitar. Eleven’s Alain Johannes, Afghan Whigs/Twilight Singers Greg Dulli, former band mates Nick Olivieri and Josh Holmes, Guns-n-Roses/Velvet Revolver members Izzy Straden and Duff McKagan, and members of Earthling?, and Enemy complete the line-up. But do not let the star-studded cast take you away from the subject at hand: Lanegan gives exceptional delivery throughout the entirety of the album with his signature deep, rumbling, soul-soaked vocals. Bubblegum is a blues-infused, rock and roll extravaganza. “When Your Number Is Up” gets the album off to a perfect start, with Lanegan singing the catchy line, “They left you this/To janitor the emptiness.” “Hit the City” and “Come To Me” feature the aforementioned vocal help from PJ Harvey, and the two sing like a melodious convergence of sex and power. “Methamphetamine Blues” breaks the slow steady crawl with a wicked laugh from Lanegan. It shares blues-dipped guitars with a head-swaying rhythm and ends in A Cappella. “Bombed” is a to the point, a 1:08 tune, and is a combination of sweet-and-sour, overlaying and delayed vocals. Other tunes I absolutely cannot get enough of are the totally sex-driven and very rock-n-roll “Sideways in Reverse,” the QOTSA-singed “Death Valley Blues,” and “Can’t Come Down,” which embraces emotions just as distorted as the violins. I absolutely love this album and was not disappointed by any portion of it. Bubblegum executes passionate guitars, sharp lyrics and Lanegan’s sexy, melodic vocals that are as original as it gets. This album punctuates Mark Lanegan’s long-running career as a true artist and now as an extraordinary solo artist. From Screaming Trees to QOTSA, Lanegan has showed he has the ability and the drive, and Bubblegum shows that he has the long-term staying power. [www.marklanegan.com]

Ok, wrap your head around this one: A British Rap Concept Album. Sound impossible? Nah, it’s the new disc from Mike Skinner’s alter ego project The Streets. A Grand Don't Come For Free is the follow-up to The Streets’ 2002 critically acclaimed debut Original Pirate Material, and it gives us another view into the common life in London. Bordering on something akin to spoken word with a cockney accent, Skinner weaves a sordid tale of losing a thousand quid, meeting a girl, popping pills, battling with his mates, and brings it all full-circle at the end by finding his cash and feeling a little wiser and a little exhausted. It’s sort of hard to describe what The Streets do because the natural rhythm of Skinner’s speech is not at all like anything in American rap. (A friend of mine who's much more hip on terms than I called it "dancehall," so I'll go with that.) I would recommend that you check out the disc at your local indie store before taking the plunge if you don’t already know you like it. Save the surprisingly radio-ready “Fit but you know it,” most of the tracks are basically conversational vocals laid down over heavy beats that vary in tempo. For me, the whole record is brilliant, but there are a few tracks that really need to be pointed out. The pouty girl sharing vocal duties on “Get out of my house” trades nasty snipes with Skinner in what is easy to peg as the breakup scene in the story. This is followed by the aforementioned “Fit but you know it.” I can’t get enough of this punky song and can definitely attribute some of that to sort of feeling like I’m in on the joke. (There are definite pluses to know what to “pull” means and what the TopShop is - one of my fav stores for trendy gear) But even if you’ve not got the background in British slang, you can figure out pretty easily what’s going on. So when the chorus says, “I’m not trying to pull you, even though I would like to. I think you are really fit. You’re fit, but my gosh, don’t you know it?” He’s basically saying, “Yeah, you’re hot, and I’d like to get with you, but you totally know you’re hot…so perhaps not.” See? It’s easy. Although it would be easy to go into a grand… assuming that this is just another slice of British life, don’t think that this is simple music, or for that matter, trite. Songs like “DRY YOUR EYES” show a softer side of Skinner, and presumably all men, at the end of a relationship without being wimpy or seeming out of place. Basically, the storytelling on this record is superb, and I’m truly impressed by not only the catchiness of the beats but the quality of the lyrics. At its core, it’s Truth, and I think that’s probably the main edge that A Grand Don't Come For Free has. Strip down the cool accent, the good beats and the funky rhythms, and you’ve got one hell of a good story. Universal truths in vivid color. [www.the-streets.co.uk]

I quote for you the words of Morrissey: "I am first and only a music lover." Those words fit me so well. I don't write about music to snub others talents or discourage artists; I write to speak my thoughts as a fan of music. I've listened to a variety of artists who offer merely a collection of songs. I rarely come across musicians who release a true album, songs that stream and blend together so that I have a whole experience to remember instead of just bits and pieces scattered along the way to pick through. Then one day a band or artist comes along that, after years of collected song releases, gives you a much needed experience...and it's truly magical. The Helio Sequence is such a band. With the release of their newest album, Love & Distance, the follow-up to 2001's Young Effectuals (Cavity Search), I feel that they have found the spark that will keep their flame alive. Love and Distance (SubPop) is an album with addictive lyrics and sounds that animate your life. "Harmonica Song" features amazing harmonica playing by singer Brandon Summers and guitars and drums by Benjamin Weikel (recent drummer for Modest Mouse) that bounce off the walls of your head. And you know how sometimes you find that the lyrics and music for some songs just don't play well together? Not here. "I wanna know/When we get to the end can we do it all again/Keep on/As far as the road goes I'll go the road" allows for every freedom movement any person young of mind wants to partake in. That seems to be the overall anthem for the "new" Weikel and Summers: a new embrace of freedom and the ability to explore and create as they please. "Repeater" proves this with the lyrics "Call it all intuition/Write it all off as lost/But I know and you know and we know there's an answer." "Don't Look Away" follows suit. Other tracks on the album tell the story as well, but one song that caught my ear was "S.O.S." Every word seemed so sincere, and every note played could not have fit any better. "Drinking coffee from my cup/I was feeling down now I'm looking up/Now cars will crash and babies cry/But when you look up we're seeing the same sky." Now, I'm a huge lover of reading lyrics as poetry and not just "words to a song," so imagine my joy when these words found my ears. The closing track, "Looks Good (But You Looked Away)" is the kicker, ending the album on soft, floating notes that gather your mind for a moment to daydream and the light, ever-present touch of chimes warms the air. Writing this review for you was so wonderful because the music allowed my mind to open its doors to thought...and that's not just hippie talk. Love & Distance is an experience I will never tire of having. [www.theheliosequence.com]

If it’s possible to precisely judge a book by its cover, Mr. Frankenreiter sounds like he should be playing the accordion in a polka band. But we all know that first impressions can be misleading… …drum roll please! Donovan Frankenreiter is Jack Johnson, and Jack Johnson is Donovan Frankenreiter. But not like Garth Brooks is Chris Gaines and Chris Gaines is Garth Brooks. The uncanny similarities between the two artists rest in their happy-go-lucky acoustic guitar music, surfing lifestyle, and shared record label (Brushfire). At least Jack Johnson got the cooler name of the two. Donovan Frankenreiter’s self titled debut is a niche album that should please Jack Johnson devotees (i.e. Sorority Chicks). Here’s the business ideology: Consistent application of acoustic guitar, slow-tempo percussion, mellow drums, and sappy lyrics about love, butterflies, and sunshine will eradicate hatred and stimulate universal love. This may be a good idea for the times in which we live, but musically it won’t withhold the test of time. In fact, thirty minutes is way too long. If you’ve heard the track “Free” on the radio, then you’ve heard the entire album. [www.donovanf.com]

Remember the show The Continental? How about the sketch featuring Christopher Walken on Saturday Night Live where he plays the seedy lout getting champagne thrown in his face? Well, let’s just say that guys like that and Ron Burgundy make me so happy I was just a kid in the 70s and never had to actually worry about dating during the decade. Silly, silly men… Seriously, there’s no reason to buy this soundtrack other than the fact that Will Ferrell is hysterically funny. The songs are 70s AM radio (any of you remember that?) gold, and if you’re a fan of that stuff, you will recognize most of the tracks. Personal favorites of mine are “Cherry Cherry” by Neil Diamond and “Use Me” by Bill Withers. I could live a lifetime without having to hear “Carry On My Wayward Son” by Kansas again. But like I said, this soundtrack is not really about the music. The Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy soundtrack is both opened and closed with a sultry (read: hilarious) little dialogue from Ron’s bathtub, and each song is introduced by him with little relevant…and not-so-relevant anecdotes from his life of sexiness and good times. By far, the high point is “Shannon” by the forgettable Henry Gross. Oh god, I could not stop laughing! Several times I laughed so hard that the squishy foam earplug thingies I use popped right out of my ears. Ferrell talks over the entire song (which is a blessing – it was never one of my favorites), sobbing loudly, moaning, and generally does what he does best – cracking you up. “I was born without a spleen! How does that make you feel?” It makes me feel terrible, Will, really terrible – bwaaaaahahahahah!! This is truly a novelty record, and if you are a Will Ferrell fan, you will love it. It’s just too funny, and the man is a genius. But if you aren’t buying it simply to laugh at him, you could probably skip it. [www.anchorman-themovie.com]

With their self-titled Astralwerks debut, West Indian Girl have created the perfect soundtrack for a warm and breezy summer night. Their dreamy, ethereal pop soundscapes induce the irresistible urge to drive out into the country, lie down on the hood of your car, and scan the sky for falling stars. After meeting through joint involvement in Dallas’s rave scene in the early 90’s, core members Robert James and Francis Ten regrouped in 2002 after their paths led them to LA. The influence of both the rave culture and an easy-going So-Cal vibe are plainly evident in their music, which could be described as Spiritualized if they had written Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in California. But where Spiritualized took shoegazing to depressing new lows, West Indian Girl create an undeniably uplifting experience. Despite the rave roots and home on a largely electronica and dance-themed label, the album manages to give off a very organic feel. Piano, acoustic guitars, and real drums are staples of West Indian Girl’s delivery, but synthesized instruments and electronic ambience are found all over the place, though used only as a subtle enhancement and never becoming the focus of their sound. That delicate balance, and more importantly, the skill with which it is held is what makes this album work so well. Spaced out drug-pop is well-worn territory, but West Indian Girl have created a compelling listen that should not be ignored. If you’re a fan of Spiritualized or get down with The Twilight Singers’ Twilight, this should be right in your wheelhouse. [www.westindiangirl.com]

The scene: I am in a bar somewhere in a dimly lit part of town. I am surrounded by young emo-core rockers…rocking out and dressed to the nines in black. They shout terms like “No! You DEF rock.” I visit the bar to drown myself in my own def rockingness only to find that there are no adult beverages being sold. The first band has completed their emotionally-charged set, and it’s time for the next band to take the stage. They def rock! Ok. That never happened, but after listening to Welsh rockers, Funeral For a Friend and their debut US release, Casually Dressed and Deep In Conversation, it was obvious that I really wasn’t missing much of a show. In this metallic emo-core world of today, it’s hard to turn on the radio or the television and find bands who don’t sound like Funeral For a Friend. These bands are like rocks coated with gold: What it’s wrapped in isn’t always what it actually is. Funeral For a Friend (which I thought was a Superman reference, but is in fact an ELTON JOHN reference...Superman would have been way cooler) aren’t telling me a story I haven’t heard before with their music: Teen angst finds Teen love induces Teen break-up instigates Teen questioning the meaning of life before Teen finds love again leaving Teen to start the process over and over again. It’s Nature’s course, but must it continue? Had this album been a live show and I had been in attendance, I would be the person ensnared in awkward moments of clapping during the songs’ pauses thinking it was done. It was as if I was hearing one 49 minutes and 35 second long track! Each song was centered, somewhat, around the same theme (if not the same emotions) given the same vocal and instrument arrangement, and nowhere during my many listens did I find one song that distinguished Funeral For a Friend from every other band out there today. In a day and age where there is a fuzzy line between novel and reiterated music, Funeral For a Friend are destined to be another band who will fade with the coming years, unless they figure out a way to outlast the current trends and play genuine music. There is one exception, which is the marvelous thing about this whole quest. “Your Revolution Is a Joke” is the one tune that breaks free from all the gutteral, deep-throated screamo landscape that find itself polluting the album. This tune is actually the reason why I have decided to not totally downgrade this album, regardless of the other songs that mêlée with my sensibility. Lead singer Matt Davies, when controlling his voice, seems to have, well…feeling. He could have afforded to use this voice through out the album. Regardless, venturing out to buy this album is totally up to you, the reader and the loyal Funeral For a Friend fan. For those of you who want more form and function to your music, I would suggest you spend your money more wisely and on an album with a little thing I like to call "substance." [www.funeralforafriend.com]

It was April, and I had just moved back into my adopted hometown and was listening in to my college’s radio station where I was a former on-air personality. I thought, “Hm? When did At the Drive-In release that song?” I fell in love with what was gracing my ears: a little song by the title “Escape.” Much to my surprise, I later found out from a friend that it was not At the Drive-In, but was, in fact, a little known band by the name of Brazil. I began to question myself: Did I enjoy this remarkable song because I believed it was an unreleased track from ATDI, or did I enjoy this remarkable song merely because it rocked? After receiving Brazil’s debut album, A Hostage and the Meaning of Life, I listened to it everyday. I arrived at the conclusion that I loved the song, and this album because a genuinely amazing band created it. Scratch all the hoopla about Brazil ripping-off ATDI. True, Brazil have similar renegade and anti-system beliefs illustrated in their lyrics, and Jonathon Newby’s vocals are oddly familiar to Cedric Bixler Zavalas’s, but Brazil’s Newby keeps it organized and does not engage in the vocal-fits that Zavalas could conduct so well. And, yes, they do rest at-home on the same label (Fearless Records) that once accommodated ATDI. Comparisons, comparisons. I know. Even sometimes I can’t get over the likeness. However, I beg to question you: How many bands do you listen to that sound similar? Exactly! That’s why I learned to scrutinize this band and album for what it is and that’s enjoyable music. Brazil is worth their weight in gold. Brazil’s is truthfully a rags-to-riches story. The six-piece from Indiana had a rather tumultuous beginning. After brothers Jon and Nick found members Eric, James, Benjamin, and Aaron to complete the band, they funded their first tour with capital out of their own pockets, drained their bank accounts and nearly starved—talk about starving artists. The guys were eventually discovered by Fearless Records and were signed, showing that hard work rightly pays off. Now, they are playing the Vans Warped Tour, gaining greater recognition, more deference, and doting fans. A Hostage and the Meaning of Life is a montage of dreamy keyboard sounds woven in and through cunning guitars and catchy hooks. The track “A Hostage” begins the experience and gets immediately to the point. Fully-clad with crunchy guitars, it changes tempo and the mood mid-song but commences the dance again. Track two is “The Novemberist” and demonstrates those dreamy keyboard sounds I spoke of earlier. The hit track, “Escape,” features some magical guitar work, and Newby gives valuable advice: “Give me one thing/Escape is all I need” and “The right to make a world of your own/Escape overrides it all” and sings it very convincingly. My favorite, however, is the ninth track, “Metropol.” From its launch, it maneuvered me on waves created by guitars, keyboards, bass and drums and threw me—unexpectedly—revolving in a funky, jazzy ball, complete with fanatically, blaring horns. This album is hard. It’s mellow. It’s inspiring. It’s so tricky to place my finger on the precise reason why I love this album so very much, but I’m sure it’s everything Brazil wanted it to be. The only thing I ask—and I’m sure the band wishes the same—is that you blind yourself to similarities and listen with an open mind. This band is chock-full of talented musicians and deserves to be given props for creating such a fine piece of work. [www.braziltheband.com]

Ah. The sights and sounds of the south: crazy accents, modern Southern Belles, the tradition, the music. Arkansas is included in this glorious setting, complete with Hot Springs, delicious bottled water, Evanescence, and former president Bill Clinton. Things are known to be bigger and better down here, but the south is no longer only celebrated for the humid weather conditions and funny-bone tickling Civil war re-enactments. Yes, we now introduce something more than hospitality to tickle your fancy. The Kicks from Little Rock, Arkansas, are giving the world a real taste of the south with their very own brand of southern rock: punky power pop and ultra-catchy hooks served up fresh from the Razorback state on their major label debut, “Hello Hong Kong.” Formed back in 2000, The Kicks had been rocking out a good, long while and were finally signed to TVT Records (you know, the label Trent Reznor tangoed with). Hiring producer Doug Olsen (Dwarves, Remy Zero) to help bring their sound alive, they recorded a portion of the record in their hometown at Poynters Palace Studios. The southern gentlemen even graced the north by working at Butch Vig’s Smart Studios in Madison, Wisconsin. Consisting of Scott Cook covering vocals and guitar, Jesse Palmer with the keys and lead guitar, Joshua Faulkner doing some excellent bass work, and Jaren Johnston pounding the skins, The Kicks have been discussed in rock magazines, and will be featured in up-coming issues of Elle Magazine (to reach the ladies…like their good looks and rock band status hasn’t reached them already). Hello Hong Kong is an album that offers the listeners’ ears 12 tracks of The Kicks high-quality, high-power rock-pop to love. Standout tracks include “What Do I Have To Do?,” “Mir,” “Pill,” and “Pretty One.” And as the tune “Pop Star Radio Crown” sings, “The pop star radio sound is gone,” thanks to the sounds (and sights) of five southern gentlemen in the form of a great rock band-The Kicks! [www.thekicks.com]

The first thing I have to say about The Kite Eating Tree is that their name totally threw me off. The Kite Eating Tree sounds playful and fun. I’m picturing something you’d hear from K Records, songs about picnics in the park, or throwing frisbees, innocent fun, that sort of thing. When I decided to review this band, I was very much in the mood for innocent playful pop tunes. I popped in Method: Fail, Repeat... and well, was kind of taken aback. The first term that popped into my mind? “Post-Punk.” Now, I’m not a big fan of genres, especially in this day and age when it seems people are racing to come up with the newest niche genre. (The easiest way to do so is to add “Post,” “Nu” or “Core” to a word or already existing genre of your choice.) Post-punk is a genre I feel particularly uncomfortable with. Until now, I could only throw one band into the category with confidence, that band being Les Savy Fav. I don’t know what made them Post-Punk, I don’t even know if they really ARE post-punk, I just knew that whenever I heard someone say “post-punk,” Les Savy Fav came to mind. Well, they’ve just been dethroned as “The only post-punk band that exists in my mind” simply because I like The Kite Eating Tree Better than Les Savy Fav. Anyway, “Softer Seems The Pavement,” the first song on Method Fail Repeat... came on with it’s jarring guitars and all hope of jangly, fun-in-the-sun went out the window. With a deep breath, I decided to fully embrace the world of angst and angular guitar lines. I was listening to too much happy music anyway, and with What The Heck? Fest over and done with, I figured it was time to get a little serious anyway. At first, I wasn’t really into it. Nothing about it really stood out. But soon, walking around work, I found myself singing some of these songs to myself, particularly their repeating, distorted backing vocals.. Since then, the album has been in my cd player quite regularly. Honestly, at one point I was even jumping around my room, and ok, that makes me look kinda lame, but a band that can make you jump around in your room is not to be easily dismissed. What the Kite Eating Tree manages to accomplish here, is create a sense of urgency/frustration/anxiety that many emo bands shoot for. While those bands end up sounding cheesy and contrived, The Kite Eating Tree comes off as sincere. While sometimes it’s hard to decipher what their lyrics are trying to say, the emotion is still clearly implied musically. But it’s not emo, remember? It’s post-punk. The difference? I’m not sure I could say, since both genres are a bit hazy and blurred. It’s in the attitude I’d suppose. While those in the emo crowd attempt to empathize with the sad and lonely-hearted, the post-punkers are just there to rock out with a little passion. I don’t know; I hate genres, I’m just totally digging this cd. [www.thekiteeatingtree.com]

I remember the first chance I got to witness My Hotel Year live. They were playing a club in Dallas, and I had taken one of my many cross-country adventures to get there. I had heard much about them, and what I had heard was enough to purchase a $96.00 Greyhound tickets, ride six and a half stuffy hours to downtown Dallas, get ripped off by a crooked taxi driver (again) and walk to the Gypsy Tea Room. I wasn’t a full-fledged fan yet, but it was one hell of a show, so I bought a compact disc, the 2001 release The Composition of Ending and Phrasing. Since then, there have been some changes (with the addition of new drummer Patrick O’Neal) and seemingly with the music. When I first listened to The Curse, I was torn. This is MHY’s sophomore effort, and I love to compare and contrast. It’s hard to not compare and contrast this album to Composition. Composition was a rockier album, whereas Curse is mostly mass density and weaker. My diagnosis makes me feel they are trying to come into themselves, what with the new drummer and all, but then I ask myself: Did the additive lead to a less-than-tasty sound? MHY: these guys have spunk and a good punk quality about them, but the new album found my interest waning some. Do not fret, my friends. There are shiny gems a-littering this album. Let’s talk about them now! The album commences a bit sluggish, but track four, “Not Bad (for ninja),” is a breath of fresh air and a cool-as-sin song title. The title track, “The Curse,” is also a real stand-out piece of work and sings “You’re moving too fast/Through the time of your life.” “If Seventeen Seconds Could"--or as I like to call it, the “Whoa-oh Song”--caught my attention from the start, beginning with soft vocals and then a blow to the face. The most listen-worthy tunes, and the reason I suggest this album, are the demos “Vinegar” and “Bad Radio.” Personally, I wasn’t kicking my heels up over this album and felt MHY could have done better. I am suggesting it because it gave me valuable pickings throughout. I would suggest the new listener to experiment with MHY, starting with Composition. I find that you enjoy an artist’s album more when you hear those songs played live, which is exactly what happened to my first go-around with MHY. I suggest you check out their previous work and/or live show before you buy this particular album. [www.myhotelyear.com]

So, this being my first Silent Uproar review, I should get something straight right off the bat. I don’t really like rap. I find myself enjoying more and more rap, but in all honesty I’m still at a Beastie Boys, The Roots, and The Streets level, aka the “Indie-Hipster-Dufus” level of appreciation. That being said, Ghetto Pop Life is definitely more of a rap CD than I am used to, and then that being said, I still think it’s freaking awesome. The first 3 tracks made me realize that this was no ordinary CD; in fact, it’s a very extraordinary one. "Born to MC" is a romp with some cool effects and a catchy rhythm, but it’s when the title track, "Ghetto Pop Life," kicks in that I realize that this is going to be one awesome ride. It starts off with what sounds like a church choir singing "I got a bullet in the clip, I got a lyric I can spit, I give the bitches good dick" all laid over a Portishead-esque trip-hop beat. I know. Awesome, right!? I mean what else really can you ask from a song, and I’m still only talking about the intro track! The track itself is transitioned into with flawless ease and builds emotion with each chorus. The CD then takes some indulgences with the more traditional rap formula, but then come the tracks "Copy Cats," "Don’t do Drugs," and "Medieval" - all of which are stand out tracks. "Copy Cats," featuring a very pissed off as always Prince-Po, is rather disarming when you match the lyrics to the light instrumentation, but I think that is half of its appeal. The next two tracks, "Don’t do Drugs" and "Medieval," featuring The Pharcyde, remind me of some of The Avalanches' retro quirky sampling, and these songs are probably going to be on my mix CDs for quite some time. So all in all, does this mean that I’m going out to buy Jay-Z’s latest record? Probably not. But I do think this CD has moved me up in my level of rap appreciation from “Indie-Hipster-Dufus” to just plain “Dufus.” [www.djdangermouse.com]