Everywhere* in the world, Robbie Williams is a pop star without peer. When placed next to the Britneys and J-Los of the world, it's easy to see why; Robbie shines head and shoulders above most Top 40-dwelling dreck, thanks to his intelligent, finely-crafted tunes and - most importantly - a refreshing unwilingness to take himself too seriously. Miss that little asterisk that started the previous paragraph? It's going to prove important. You see, I meant "everywhere" to exclude America, arguably the single most important market for popular culture worldwide, a place where most consumers like their entertainment easy to digest and irony-free. Oh, and if possible, as non-British as you can get. As such, Mr. Williams has quite the formidable task ahead of him. Unfortunately, in his desire to "crack" the US, he's submerged a little too much of his natural appeal, hedging musical bets via midtempo, Adult Alternative Radio jams, like the weak "Feel," that wouldn't sound out of place following up David Gray on your local lite music station. But it's not just the mellow stuff that disappoints. Clever, self-deprecating numbers like his past album's "Rock DJ" are eschewed in favor of (relatively speaking) bland rock riffs, inspired by Robbie's recent residence in Los Angeles, a place that's world renowned for (ahem) inspiring creativity. Fortunately, all is not bleak. Genius songwriting partner Guy Chambers is still in top form, and is able to infuse numbers like "Me And My Monkey" with a sophisticated musical sensibility falling somewhere between Beatles and Bacharach. And even subpar RW tunes are better than most "pop" music currently clogging radio stations. If Robbie really wants to make it here, he's going to have to realize that watering down his biggest strength - subversiveness in both music and attitude - isn't the best escape route to American success. [www.robbiewilliams.com]

I once went to a Ramones tribute concert. It was at CBGBs, Joey and Marky showed up (it was right before Joey got sick), and everything was in place for a memorable night. I was right - sort of. 15 different bands each played a four song set of Ramones covers; give or take a few technical mishaps cutting some of the bands short, that's 60 songs...each using the same three chords. By the end of the evening I never wanted to hear a Ramones song again. You CAN have too much of a good thing. While at first, the thought of Guitar Wolf - a 50s-styled Japanese punk band modeled after the Ramones - sounds pretty damn cool. And on the first two tracks, they do. The feedback noise and mangled "wontoofreefaaah!" that kick off the jams exhilarate - briefly. After 13 nearly IDENTICAL versions, all with incomprehensible lyrics (save for the occasional "ufo," "jet," and best of all, "beer"), the novelty of a Hives-by-way-of-Sanrio punk band wanes. LOTS. You can't blame Guitar Wolf for trying though. Along with his bandmates Bass Wolf and Drums Wolf (I'm not kidding), they truly believe in the power of their punk-in-drublic rock abandon, and taken one-on-one, tracks like "Taxi Driver" and "Jett Beer" offer an amusing rush. However, brevity is the soul of wit, and over the course of a full LP (even with songs barely cracking the 2-and-a-half minute mark), even the best of Guitar Wolf's cross-cultural sonic attacks can seem a little tedious. [www.guitarwolf.net]

I try not to be mean when writing album reviews, but I do strive to be brutally honest. By glancing over Pillar's bio which compares the band to P.O.D., Linkin Park, and Incubus, I'll admit that I wrote this band off as crap before I even listened to them. Basically, if P.O.D. had a child out of wedlock with Linkin Park, it would be the Oklahoma-based Christian band Pillar. This child would lack any sense of creativity, inhibiting it's growth among it's peers, or, in other words the band sounds like every other "modern rock" band all over the radio. In fact, I'm on my third listen of this album, and I can honestly say that I still don't like anything about it. While Pillar can play their instruments well, the songs are reminiscent of every other song in this genre and are totally uninspiring. The lyrics are simplistic, the vocal patterns aren't original, and the music brings nothing new to the table with the band sticking to the same burnt out formula of rapping through the verses and rapping over sung chorus. The only reason this album is even getting a 1 is because the band does posses a level of tightness that is somewhat honorable. I would normally try to go into more detail about an album, but with "Fireproof" there's just not much more to say. If you are into generic sounding 'nu-metal', then by all means, go out and support the band. Or better yet, just stick with your Linkin Park album. We here at Silent Uproar yet, prefer music that doesn't suck. [www.pillarmusic.com]

"Rest assured, this is sincere, this is true!" That Within Blood Ill-Tempered has been one of this year's more highly anticipated albums for me, ever since having a friend convert me to Hulud-ness in late 2002. Over the years the former Floridian (now NY based) band has seen more line-up changes than Michael Jackson's face, but luckily has still managed to keep their sound relatively the same. Case-in-point: New Found Glory guitarist Chad Gilbert was the singer for Shai Hulud on their 1997 debut album Hearts Once Nourished with Hope and Compassion. Didn't' know that now did you? I'm going to flat out say that I think Shai Hulud has the coolest lyrics of any hard-core band I've ever heard. I can sit and read their entire liner notes without boredom setting in, and to give you a taste of what I mean, I quote: "If a human's nature is to war, this song is a battleground!", taken from my favorite song, "This Song: For the True and Passionate Lovers of Music". Just as strong lyrically, the album opener "Scornful of the Motives and Virtue of Others", kicks off the album quite well (and features the lyrical line that begins this review). My only complaints with this album is that there are points where a song will get a little stagnant, and sometimes the songs seem to sort of blend together. Fortunately this doesn't happen that often and doesn't really detract from the quality of the album, but it was noticeable. Strange as it may sound, while most of the songs on the album are great, the album as a whole falls slightly short of that status. I can't really describe why, maybe it is just the arrangement of the tracks or the previously mentioned fact that the songs can begin to sound repetitive, but I think once the band finds a way to throw a little more variety into their songs, they will be putting out 5.0 albums (hopefully less than 6 years apart). I recommend you go buy That Within Blood Ill-Tempered. It has amazing lyrics, great guitar work, throat searing screams, and at the same time the band manages to do it all in an original fashion. It is refreshing to see a band in the hard-core scene that's doing something a little different. [www.hulud.com]

They talk shit. They wear insect suits. Their songs rarely break the minute marker. You can’t understand their lyrics. They sell make-up compacts at their shows. Yet, the Locust has created a label (Three One G), sold 25,000 copies of their self-titled full-length (multi-platinum status by indie standards) and resurrected legions of rabid fans (and even more haters) across the country. But why? With The Locust and Flight of the Wounded Locust, the four-piece cross pollinated Moog synths with grindcore violence to arrive at a sound that corroded punk rock from the inside out as their illustrious stage show began to gather circles of indie followers. Now, with an inflated studio budget that’s resulted in production infinitely better than before and the backing of Epitaph Records, the Locust have accelerated their sound to a point where theatrics, shit-talking and costumes take a backseat. With Plague Soundscapes, the Locust expand and explode their Moog-riddled grindcore past with an album that finds Joseph Karam’s synths in the same sights as the noise puked up from their standard bass/drum/guitar ensemble. The indiscernible vocals smother Plague Soundscapes as drums misfire at machinegun pace while synths suffocate you beneath a wall of ear-rotting noise. Yeah, the album’s 21 minutes rarely deviate from this formula in its 23 tracks, but this is sound accelerated so far past the radio-rock world of today that Plague Soundscapes’ noise-induced ear lashings actually feel good. [www.thelocust.com]

Since their debut, Behind The Front, the Black Eyed Peas have existed in hip-hop limbo, a place where certain groups float somewhere between the underground and the mainstream. For better or worse, no matter what critical success came their way, they just remained there. BEP had developed the credibility of an underground artist, but at the same time constructed music that should've been as hypnotically catchy as any top-40 smash. Then, with BEP's sophomore effort, Bridging The Gap, the hip-hop world took notice, and the album featured appearances from Mos Def, De La Soul and Wyclef, among others. Yet, now, with their new album, Elephunk, it seems that something has just made the Black Eyed Peas snap creatively. It's always been Will.I.Am, Apl De Ap, and Taboo, but now they've thrown in "tough girl" Fergie (no, not the Dutchess of York). Since I haven't seen anything explaining the new addition, I think it's safe to assume that BEP were probably persuaded to add in the female demographic… umm, I mean vocalist. Though, Fergie can hang with the best of them, so she is actually a nice surprise. So, what's wrong with this album? The set kicks off with "Hands Up" and it's a trademark, brilliant BEP cut - live instrumentation mixed with samples, vocals and digital effects. Yet, as "Labor (It's A Holiday)" spins, the originality that people have come to expect from BEP begins to fade. The occasional "ooh, ooh" comes off like a marketing ploy to rekindle early-90's hip-hop nostalgia, while the chorus is somewhere between a bad rip of Kool And The Gang and Madonna. "Let's Get Retarded" is a little hard to swallow in the lyrical department. No matter how much I want to enjoy the music, I just can't sing, "let's get retarted!" The rest of the album fluctuates up and down - with the standouts being the "Putting On The Ritz" chorus of "Smells Like Funk", the N.E.R.D-esk chorus of the "Sexy" salsa, "Fly Away", and everything except Fergie's verse on "The Boogie That B". For the most part, where BEP might have come with something fresh in the past, they've fallen back into the same popular, quirky, kitchen-sink styles that Busta Rhymes, Timbaland, Missy Elliott and The Neptunes have pioneered. It's easy to be torn over to this record. For those with no history of the Black Eyed Peas, there are no expectations and Elephunk will probably be an enjoyable album. While a bit derivative in the style, it's a solid set of songs with immaculate production. Yet, the album doesn't deliver compared to BEP albums of the past. The set of songs comes off sounding like a by-product of major label sales expectations and a lucrative top-40, hip-hop market created by token hip-hop producers. Hell, they even got Justin Timberlake on their sugary, hip-pop single, "Where Is The Love". It sounds selfish, but, how am I supposed to ignore that? [www.blackeyedpeas.com]

Aaron Perrino's new "band", Dear Leader, has some big shoes to fill. It's a pretty daunting task to start out fresh after having your former band, The Sheila Divine, implode suddenly. In fact, it would probably have been easier to just give up, get a day job and forget about music for a while. Thankfully, Mr. Perrino didn't. Instead, he holed himself up at a studio in Cambridge, MA with friend Darren Ottaviani and emerged with his new solo project's first release, the War Chords EP, now available on Lunch Records. What's even more incredible is that he's not in a real "band", so to speak, but he's doing this all alone. The trademark Sheila Divine sound is missing from this one, which is both a good and bad thing. First, it's strange to hear Aaron's stellar vocal work over music that isn't TSD sounding. The songs are very different from what I was expecting to hear; there are a lot more acoustic guitars, jazzy drums, loops, effects, and keyboards. After settling in, this CD began to sound really natural. It's good to hear that Perrino isn't living in the past and is instead stretching his songwriting ability. "Rivalry" is the first song that really stood out to me with its beautiful lyrics, rolling bass, and crazy drum beats. The we have "Last One In", which is a beautiful, dark song with an ending featuring soaring vocals that are bound to give you chills. My personal favorite is "Flames", a sad/sweet song with lyrics that seem to be about how trying and tough a relationship can be. I also like "Weakness", the only real "rocker" on the disc, which has one of the most twisted sounding lead guitar parts accompanying a great screaming-sing-along chorus. The one place where War Chords suffers is in the sound of the production. I just don't think it is as big sounding as it should have been, but then again it's not as though Perrino had the bankroll of a major label at his fingertips this time around. While distribution of this disc to stores is limited geographically, I HIGHLY recommend hopping over to the Lunch Records web site at www.lunchrecords.com and getting yourself a copy of War Chords. Great songwriting, great vocals, great lyrics: what more could you ask for? Aaron Perrino sounds as though he'll escape the ghost of his old band and find himself in something great with this new one. If this EP is just a taste, then I'm starving for the full-length coming this fall. [www.dear-leader.com]

It's been over a decade since Jane's Addiction declared that "nothing's shocking" - however, that hasn't stopped countless underground rappers from trying to prove them wrong. Louis Logic is the latest to lace his complex, multisyllabic battle-rap flow with tales of cannibalism, perverts, murder, and Bugged-Out Shit^TM in general. His formula seems to work well at first (especially with the choice selection of beats, boasting production far above-average for an indie release), even resulting in a few truly memorable tracks; yet shock value alone can't carry a 17-track LP to classic status. Sin-O-Matic definitely remains worth a listen, however. With a brainy-yet-skewed charisma eerily similar to pre-platinum status Eminem freestyles, Louis is more than able to drop a clever couplet or hysterical punchline every rhyme or two, and even when at it's most stereotypically "indie rap," the disc never loses momentum. Highlights include "Postal," an ode to soul-sucking dayjobs that rides a Dirty South bounce throughout; the freakout Latin guitar on "Diablos;" and "Idiot Gear," an absolutely infectious track which could EASILLY be a hit single in some alternate universe. Yet without a doubt, Sin-o-matic reaches its peak on "The Ugly Truth," a brief respite from the comically gory mayhem and backpack-rap boasts. On the track, Louis spits hateful stereotypes one after the other with unbelievable, literally jaw-dropping venom, only to reveal the voice of the narrator in a twist ending that must be heard to be believed. The song is thought-provoking, darkly comic, and above all, completely captivating in a truly original way. With such a creative and striking song, Louis Logic proves that he's still worth watching, even once the sound of his other shock-factor rhymes fade out. [www.louislogic.com]

Welcome Interstate Managers is exactly what you'd expect from the third Fountains of Wayne disc. The band proves that they are the reigning kings of power pop. They have the ability to write incredibly catchy pop songs with big hooks, lush harmonies, and fun keyboards. For the most part the album sticks to the same formula as the previous two releases from the band. A handful of very rocking pop songs intermixed with the slower laid back pop numbers, and the occasional very off-kilter style song or extremely laid back track. You've got "Mexican Wine", "Bright Future In Sales", "Stacys Mom", "Bought For A Song", and "No Better Place" cover the rockin pop rock ground. "Hung Up On You" fills the slot for mildly awkward off-kilter style song with it's slide guitar country ways. "Halley's Waitress" has the market cornered on slowest song on the album. Pretty much the rest of the disc consists of the slower laid back pop style. Which wouldn't be a problem if the album wasn't 16 tracks long. The pop rock presence is just a bit lacking overall, but that's the only complaint that could be made. The pop structure is just as it's always been - very successfully pulled off. The lyrics are hit and miss, "Stacy's Mom" is just a wee-bit too juvenile for me.. yes, pop can get too juvenile, but this isn't a disc you're hoping to find life introspection from. Welcome Interstate Managers is a fun listen. Expect more from Fountains of Wayne and you'll find yourself disappointed. [www.fountainsofwayne.com]

The release of New Sacred Cow is somewhat of an amazing achievement. Definitely not something I thought would ever happen. Initially, Kenna was signed to Fred Durst's Interscope imprint Flawless Record - and even released a video for "Hellbent" that got some generous airplay on M2. That was two years ago. Eventually Kenna was dropped from Flawless and picked up by Columbia Records. Much to their chagrin, the album has been available online in some form or another that entire time (damn those promo copies). Fortunately for them, New Sacred Cow is not an album that wears thin even after two years. Nor is it an album that should be restricted to the compressed sounds of MP3s. The album was produced by Chase Chad of The Neptunes (the guy that isn't in every other rap video, but is in that Sprite commercial) and it's enormous bass sounds, clean drums, and subtle electronic touches just can't be properly enjoyed by anything but a proper stereo. Don't be fooled into thinking this is a hip-hop or pop-trash record just because of The Neptunes involvement. Think of it more like the N.E.R.D. sound getting busy with classic Depeche Mode ("Sunday After You" has some instrumentation that I would swear is Depeche Mode). The album shines during it's more upbeat moments - "Freetime", "Man Fading", and "Love/Hate Sensation" - but consists more of a mixture of mid- to up-tempo beats mixed with Kenna's vocals, creating a solid groove. Not to say that these moments aren't enjoyable as well, as in the build-up of "Vexed and Glorious", or the minimal yet heated "I'm Gone." In fact, the song that garned Kenna the most attention, "Hell Bent" is actually an excellent choice of a single (way to go Fred) as it encompasses the slow heartfelt style with the irrestibly head-bobbing building beats. Aside from being smart enough to actually pick Kenna up from possible musical obscurity, Columbia Records was smart enough (and nice enough) to include the additional track "Siren" on the disc (which name drops a Depeche Mode song, natch). That fact combined with the rad clear red packaging, and the full appreciation of sounds from Redbook Audio standards (CD) makes it a worthy purchase. That is, if you like the idea of N.E.R.D. mating with Depeche Mode and having its own creative baby. [www.kennaonline.com]

I had a chance to see this band play the other night, but happened to be hanging out with two Silent Uproar executives, so I gladly skipped out on the performance. Anyways, better start the review before I ramble… Atlanta’s youthful Copeland play pop-rock similar to Jimmy Eat World or maybe, dare I say, Dashboard Confessional. Some may call it indie, some could say emo, or, heck, I can just invent another meaningless term and call it “mainstreamo”… whatever. This four-piece got their start by recording a split 7" with Pacifico in early 2001, then eventually ended up being scouped out of gummy, pop-rock masses and picked up by California-based The Militia Group. Beneath Medicine Tree is a flat-out catchy album, but not in that annoying way. Copeland writes stunning melodies and develops harmonies that one couldn’t help but love. Aaron Marsh has a beautiful and distinct voice, and even though all these songs are about the stock topics of love and girls, the lyrics are much more mature than your typical band in this genre. From the piano-driven opener, "Brightest," to the relaxed closer, "When Finally Set Free," Copeland will most likely keep your attention. Every song on the record is solid, with the first place awards going to “Take Care” and “When Paula Sparks”. Yet, what makes this album even more unique is that, without a doubt, it's a perfect album to fall asleep to. All the songs are written with a certain ambient softness, and there is nothing aggressive in the least bit. Overall, minus a couple tracks near the end that get a little dull, it's pretty much a flawless pop-rock record, and an album that will reveal more and more goodness every time through it. With the recent mainstream success of Jimmy Eat World and the like, expecting Copeland to get signed to a major soon wouldn't be too absurd. So, look for these guys on the shirts of 13 year-old girls everywhere (the real measure of success) in the near future. [www.thecopelandsite.com]

The name Fall Out Boy just reeks of pop-punk and, surprise, that's exactly what Fall Out Boy is -- nothing more, nothing less. The quartet composed of Peter Wentz, Andrew Hurley, Patrick Stump, and Joseph Trohman (they actually put all their names on the album cover) write the same generic crap that defines the sound of every Drive-Thru Records act. I’m actually a little surprised that Drive-Thru didn’t jump on these 18-19 year-old kids from Illinois before Fueled By Ramen picked them up. But, nevertheless, this kind of shit is just getting annoying. Take This to Your Grave starts out with a halfway decent song sporting a homoerotic title, “Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to do Today”, (ok, you can stop laughing now) but the album goes downhill from there until it reaches the only other tolerable track, “The Pros and Cons of Breathing”. All the other songs sound like other bands, and Fall Out Boy writes the same hackneyed lyrics that the rest of their peers write. Is there an unwritten law these days that pop-punk bands can only write about growing up and girls? The only thing that slightly sets them apart are the sporadic hints of violence tucked into their lyrics. For example, “His smile’s your rope, wrap it tight around your throat,” but that certainly isn’t redeeming or cool. And what’s with talking about burning bridges and hearts on your sleeve these days? Or putting back up screams on pop-punk records? Fall Out Boy has taken all of the most annoying things about that whole scene and crammed them all into Take This to Your Grave. The only positive thing that I can say about this record is that it's catchy, but that’s what pop punk is anyway. Also, the singer has slightly more range than the typical pop-punker. Everything else is completely unoriginal and void of any artistic integrity. Even the disc itself is a rip-off; at a glance it looks exactly like Glassjaw’s Worship and Tribute. Hopefully these guys can grow up and write something that people out of high school can actually take seriously. If not, they'll still have an audience with the 14 year-old “punk-rock” kids decked out in Hurley shirts and brand new Converse All-Stars. I'm not sure what exactly these boys fell out of, but it certainly wasn't the talent wagon. [www.falloutboyrock.com]

Former Buried Alive singer Scott Vogel and crew sure know how to make a hardcore album -- fast and hard. You could say they're kind of a hardcore band's hardcore band, and these guys appear to be making a lot of waves in the scene. The five-piece from California exhibits exuberant talent here, and throughout all the screaming, the fist pumping shout-along choruses, the pit-inducing guitars, and the double bass drumming, the band seems to be lacking only one thing: versatile songwriting. Don't get me wrong, I like this band quite a bit, but most of the songs on here sound the same. While Vogel has a perfectly brutal voice and pens well thought out lyrics, at some points he throws in unneccessary profanity which turns me off; it's rather childish, actually. The only song that I would label as "great" on here is "Push it Away," which is the one tune that really stands out in my mind. However, each song on here is an adequate track, and there is not a boring second on the record, though the entirety clocks in at under 17 minutes. Terror lacks some variety on Lowest of the Low, then again, if I was a hardcore kid, I'm sure I would soil myself over this record. Basically, if you dig hardcore artists such as Hatebreed, Throwdown, and Give Up the Ghost, you'll enjoy these nine acts of violence quite a bit. If you are the occasional hardcore listener, make sure you hear the whole record before throwing your hard-earned cash away on it. [www.terrorhc.com]

After being introduced to Pleasure Forever through their self-titled album, I had them penned as a hedonistic, decadent band, whose sinister members lurk around in the night crafting drunken, cabaret styled 60's-pop epics. While Alter doesn't put them too far off from that idea, for better or worse, it kicks the debauchery up a notch. The set opens with "White Mare," and as the sound slowly clears it's as if you're descending the steps of cavernous basement for a night of psychedelic pleasure. The song then kicks into a 70's rock rumble as Andrew Rothbard's bluesy, distorted vocals cut into the mix. "Czarnia" treads similar ground for the band, with its bar room piano shuffle and backbeat. While, "Aeon Flame" suggests The Doors, but with a bit more bounce -- less whiskey, more wine. Yet, as the album continues Pleasure Forever begin to squander the best parts of their own songs: "Draws an 8" hides the first truly haunting piano melody of the album behind a less-enchanting distorted guitar, "Rider's Roost" is lost to the vocal distortion covering Rothbard's vocals on every song, and the closer, "Gideon & Goliath," leaves something to be desired. Nevertheless, it's best not to get hung up on the fourth of the album that doesn't match to the rest. The ghostly waltz, "Hymn Harmonia," is first song on the album the band displays their ability to truly play off each other. With its many starts and stops throughout the verses, and the rising choruses wrapped around off-kilter melodies, the song shows what makes this band unique. "Tempest II" is a definite change of pace, as it's half light-hearted, bar room scuffle and half bar mitzvah dance-a-thon. "This is the Zodiac Speaking" is another captivating 3/4 adventure, with its driving choruses and ethereal interlude. Though, perhaps the best cut, "Axis Exalt," features a nice playoff between the guitar and piano. Throughout this song Rothbard voices his most alluring refrains, and it's here that band, as musicians, push their own boundaries the most. There's something ominous about this band. Perhaps it's the line from their biography that states: "Pleasure Forever is a declaration of will; an incantation of transcendence; a celebration of human desire and the evisceration of excess." Or, perhaps it's that Alter just happened to be Sub Pop's 666th release. Any way you figure it, you probably haven't heard a band like Pleasure Forever. [www.subpop.com]

Immediately upon hearing that Forget Cassettes was a two piece consisting of guitar and drums, I was skeptical. All of the other bands I've heard that fall into this category (White Stripes, Lightning Bolt) make some interesting music but it gets repetitive and somewhat predictable after awhile. After all, there's only so much you can do with the guitar / drum combo. Or is there? As with alot of my preconceived notions, I have been proved dead wrong. Forget Cassettes merge guitar, drums, AND Rhodes keyboards (see? the variable switches things up) into a stop-start flurry of sound. Shrewd guitars intertwined with a full frontal onslaught of drums, mixed into minimal hushes of constrained anticipation. A perfect example of this is "Ms. Rhythm & Blues" - rolling, building guitars stop short of an explosion at the chorus, then settle down until exploding back. "Bruce Wayne" starts off no-bullshit with big guitars and the unrestrained scream of vocalist Beth Cameron. This epic journey of rockness continues throughout the majority of the album - "Instruments of Action", "Accismus", "Like Tiny Swords" (etc) all draw the listener along through the starts, stops, swells, and outbursts. However, the album does have it's moments of not-so rock that help to break up the pace of the album. "German Girls", "A Legacy's Demise", and "Talking Big" don't stop the album short, but simply provide a breather and showcase the diversity this duo is capable of. Instruments of Action is one hell of a strong debut. The songwriting is intelligent, it provides a compelling listen, and it's great to throw the devil horns to. Fortunately the lyrics and vocals are just as strong as the music, a factor that most typically ruins a good thing. This is one of those albums that flirts between being commercially accessible with it's big riffs and being adored by the underground for it's indie-emo-math-rock sensibilities. [www.forgetcassettes.com]

The reliabilities of Weird Al: You know he has one ear to the studio of pop culture, one ear to the wall of bizarre, and both eyes on the ridiculousness of both. You know he watches a lot of TV (his spoof of Eminem's "Loose Yourself"/"Couch Potato" is about reality TV) and that his dead-on video interpretations of his parody work is uncannily good while being simultaneously hysterical. Basically, Weird Al is that guy at carnivals and amusement parks who does the caricature portraits, and he knows exactly what features of an artist or song to exaggerate, and he knows which nuances to keep. The portrait will look like its subject- you are able to instantly recognize that "It's Gettin Hot in Here"/ "Trash Day" is Nelly- but it's also undeniably far enough from the real thing by Al's creative twists that it's accurately fiction. A posed candid. An excited whisper. So- Poodle Hat. Not the pinnacle of artistic vision, no doubt, but original and creative and utterly hysterical. Making Billy Joel's "Piano Man"/"Ode to a Superhero" into (chorus): "Sling us a web/ You're the spiderman." Making Avril Lavigne's horribly annoying "Complicated"/"A Complicated Song" into "How was I supposed to know that we were both related" (the "constipated" version of the chorus is almost gut-wrenching), a by far better, catchier song (Just check out the bridge: "I sit and I wait/ and I strain /And I sweat and I clench/ and I feel the pain") The parodies, to be sure, are super on par and riotiously funny, though I think the Dylan cover ("Bob"/ "Blah Blah") works better with the video. Al is able to morph his voice into a nasal-yet-good mimic of the original artists (remember "Taco Grande?" or "Amish Paradise"?) and, as usual, make you realize how ridiculous some of rock and rap's pretentious preening really is. Al's regular originals are fine and creative, but if you're like me, you'll find that you're skipping those in order to hear the covers. Why you should buy the CD, however, lies in the song "Angry White Boy Polka." Word- This is one of the funniest songs I've ever heard. Ever. Al's medley of those sometimes insightful songs (System of a Down's "Toxicity") and those unnervingly bad songs (The Vines' "Get Free") and then just the already laughable (Limp Bizkit's "My Way or the Highway"), is SO FRICKIN' FUNNY. You gotta hear/get/pirate this song because I guaruntee laughter. To make it short- Al always makes great CDs that are funny, and this one doesn't falter in the pattern. But more parodies, please? I think that's where the more creative Al really shines- You know Al's the genius when you're humming his choruses instead of the originals ("I got it on Ebay" - "I Want it That Way"/"E-bay"). [www.weirdal.com]

There are some bands/artists/people who have great "voices". And by voices I mean that they have something to say, something to convey, and they are so original about it that whenever they have something to relay to their audience, it's somehow important or large or obvious or meaningful. People like Bob Marley, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell- You can fill in your own list. The point is, these people are traiblazers and so original and alive that their message, be it just a bassline or a lyric, is powerful. Copying these people's formulas, however, may make a good album in terms of craft, but not in terms of importance. Ben Harper used to have wise, shaman-istic things to say. He used to have a really rocking, slide-guitar spiritual style that made you wanna move, made you want to change something ("Fight For Your Mind", "Excuse Me Mister", "Faded"), or at least made you feel some real nasty, don't-want-to-stay-here emotions ("Another Lonely Day"). But now Ben has mellowed, now Ben has gotten bitten by the Biblical snake- And that's not bad for him, but it appears to be not so beneficial to his music, because it's gotten a bit preachy ("Amen Omen", "Blessed to Be A Witness") a bit slow-waltz falsetto ("When She Believes"). "Diamonds on the Inside", the title track, is pretty hummable, but it's nothing like the booming meaningful stuff of the Harper of yore. While the better songs on the album are jammin', to reach back to words I used to describe the first time I saw Ben Harper live, they're, well, not really that original. "Brown Eyed Blues" is rad with the wah-pedal, but it sounds like Parliment, and while "Temporary Remedy" rocks the CD off its otherwise sleepy bed, it sounds like B.B. King crossed with Black Crowes. "With My Own Two Hands" has some of the most self-propelling lyrics, but it sounds like Marley, and Bring the Funk" sounds like Stevie Wonder. Point: It's great to pay homage to your predecessors, but when you sound like them too much, it's no longer your music or even good music necessarily. Ben Harper's a great musician, he's got a terrific vibe, and he puts on a wonderful live show. He seems like a nice guy, a genuine good spirit. But, sadly, that doesn't redeem Diamonds on the Inside. When your most spiritual song, "Picture of Jesus" is earnest but reminds your listeners of a Lifesavers commercial, you need to find some ingenuity. Harper's sincere and talented, but this album really doesn't break the mold he previously made for himself. [www.benharper.net]

From the beginning tribal toms of "Seven Nation Army", you know that the White Stripes have made yet another unnervingly good album. You know, you just would rather not admit it. The hype around the White Stripes annoyed me, the idol-worship, the pictures of them with a monkey, the red and white clothes. It's too much, isn't it? They can't be that good, right? So I buy White Blood Cells so I can hear what this band has to offer instead of the Lego song ("Fell in Love With A Girl"). Okay, so everything on the album's pretty good. Better than the Strokes, so sometimes hype is warranted. But they can't top "Hotel Yorba", can they? They can't come up with anything else with this Delta blues/punk hybrid things, can they? They can't be more than this fluke of red and white brothersistercousinwifedivorees, right? Wrong. Elephant is a pretty kick ass album. From the "Ah-ah-ah-ah"'s in "Black Math" to the surging pulse and lip-curled spit of "The Hardest Button to Button" to the silly, Beatles-esqe run-out of "Well It's True That We Love One Another" (with special guest Holly Golightly, who, by the tangent, is nothing compared to Capote's character). They also stay sweet, moving their "I Can Tell That We Are Going to Be Friends" relationship to the lovesick "You've Got Her in Your Pocket." Meg sings on "In The Cold Cold Night", and they cover crooner Burt Bacharach on "I Just Don't Know What to Do With Myself" but those songs seem to just kind of move you to songs likethe blues-tinged, cocky-grained "Ball and Biscuit". The tongue-sliding spoken bits (the superb "There's No Room For You Here"- "I'm only waiting for the proper time to tell you that it's impossible to get along with you... Unfortunately I have come across an answer/ Which is go away and do not leave a trace") with the rollicking beat, choral belt, and reeling feedback. This is an exciting album, a good album, an album that has pieces of serious wrapped around a fun core. Jack White's voice is an urgent wail and the music throttles forward like The Who's resurrected guitars ("Girl,You Have No Faith In Medicine"). With all this...energy, the Stripes come out without sounding like they're ripping anyone off, that they enjoy what they're doing, and that they've just GOT to play this music. It's something that I feel bands like Radiohead have lost- The urgency. My hope is that the White Stripes don't run out of this seemingly pressing push to make their excellent music, because they are good, they are, perhaps, the lasting sweethearts that they dedicated Elephant too. [www.whitestripes.com]

Kid606, after tearing electro, noise, IDM, punk and hip-hop into tatters on his mindfuckingly brilliant 2000 album Down With the Scene, is back with a brand new batch of genre-bending songs that have been swirling inside the Kid’s laptop for some time. And they’ll have to sit and smolder there for awhile longer. Although Kid606’s latest full-length, Kill Sound Before Sound Kills You, is scheduled to be released in the coming months, he adds this five-song teaser to his wrath of EPs and singles to mount anticipation as much as it pleases your audio appetite. The Illness begins with the dance floor detonating glitched-out grooves of “The Illness 12” Mix,” a track that promises Kid606 has only sharpened his sonic scalpel that melds sounds into a beautifully chaotic mess. The opening track is the highlight of the EP, but the nine-minute, epilepsy-triggering “Ecstasy Motherfucker” is a close second as the track twitches violently at 160 beats per minute with enough body-writhing venom to make any DJ drool. The Illness may only be a teaser EP for an upcoming project, but Kid606’s chaotic musical meltdowns shed more sparks and ignite more excitement than nearly every other laptop-totting IDMer. If one thing’s clear, it’s that Kid606 prescribes an illness that I certainly don’t want to find the cure for. [www.tigerbeat6.com]

If one didn't know better, having listened to The Sounds debut album Living In America you'd think once 1987 rolled around Sweden just stopped receiving new music. This album is the epitome of the return of the 80's sound. Forget about all that lo-fi 70's throwback stuff, this is 1985. Fortunately it's the kind of 80's keyboard pop-rock that hadn't completely lost it's punk roots. The chanting chorus, inciting dance filled fist pumping, is prevelant and ready to go. From the first track "Seven Days A Week" to the final track "Riot" you are hit with the onslaught of keyboards, simple driving drum beats, straightforward guitar chords strumming, and a female singer bringing it all home. In fact, the sound is so dead on it almost seems like a joke. "Hit Me" has the essential horns, "Dance With Me" is from a brat-pack movie you just somehow forgot about it, "Reggie" is the ska influenced track, "Mine For Life" has the mind melting keyboards racing around your brain, and the ultimate party jams - "Seven Days A Week" and "Living In America." Even the hidden track, that I assume is called "The S.O.U.N.D.S.", is a classic rawkus jam with the chorus gleefully spelling the name of the band. This album is fun. Period. It's a great addition to your stockpile of summer CD's perfect for busting out on warm days and throwing the volume up. At first you may be disoriented by the raw 80's power of Living In America but you'll eventually grow to appreciate it, even if it's just for the summer. [www.the-sounds.com]