Making a splash with their auspicious self-titled EP, The Natural History became yet another band from New York City whose massive press attention was ridiculously inverse in proportion to their total recorded output (a whopping five songs at that point). Fortunately for the rest of us, TNH managed to justify the hype on their follow-up disc, an ear-pleasing delight that pads the best songs off the EP with stellar new material that paints a bright future for this young group. Propelled by Max Tepper’s just-got-out-of-bed howl (imagine a far more gravelly Elvis Costello, or maybe a pop-leaning teenage Tom Waits) and off-kilter guitar hooks, his brother Julian’s driving (and even almost-funky) basslines, and Derek Vockins vintage drum sounds, The Natural History come off with 11 disjointed – in the best way possible – songs that blend garage energy with new-wave jaggedness, and even a hint of old rock-n-soul. While the obtuse, Stipe-ian lyrics may make some listeners yearn for a little more backstory on just what the hell these great songs are about, the overall effect is still a positive one; a challenging listen is often a more rewarding one. Clocking in rather briskly, Beat Beat Heartbeat definitely leaves the listener wanting more. Yet if the wiry “Telling Lies Will Get You Nowhere” and the pop smarts of “Broken Language” are any indication, anticipation will be justifiably high for whatever this Brooklyn threesome has next up their sleeves. [www.thenaturalhistory.com]

As I stated when I reviewed the Cursive / Easter Youth split, to me the purpose of a good split EP is to introduce fans of one band to the songs of another band. The Motion City Soundtrack / Schatzi split did just that for me, and created yet another successful pairing. While more people are probably familiar with Motion City Soundtrack, I was actually familiar with Schatzi from a previous promotion we did. I own their last album, although I can’t say I pull it out all that often, and have passively enjoyed their music for a while now. However, MCS was completely new to me despite hearing their name thrown around quite a bit. From the opening track, “Throw Down” I was impressed with MCS and their poppy rock sound that kind of borders on pop/punk/rock or whatever the hell you call that kind of music these days. Basically: catchy choruses that can get kind of repetitive at times, nice happy vocals about super heroes and girls, and some sweet guitar licks including dueling guitars in the track “Capital H”. Combine that with some piano in the track “Back to the Beat”, lots of moog in the mix, and some nice vocal melodies and you have a pretty good bunch of songs. Then you move on to the Schatzi tracks. In a lot of ways, it makes perfect since that the MCS tracks came first; they almost act as a sort of intro to the Schatzi songs which have an edgier, more “indie rock” feel to them. Sadly, there are only two new tracks here and the first is under 3 minutes, so you feel somewhat cheated on the Schatzi side of the album. However the tracks that are here are true gems and are a big improvement from the band’s previous album. The album closes out with a cover of Journey’s “Any Way You Want” it, that manages to keep you smiling at the intentional silliness of the song, while at the same time rocking out and being impressed with how well Schatzi pulled it off. What I have in my hands is yet another successful split EP that will cause me to look into some albums from Motion City Soundtrack and has gotten me excited about new Schatzi material. If you are fan of either band, I think you will be pleased with this split. [www.redemption.net]

There’s a strange pulse that’s currently surging through the veins of indie-rock. Yeah, that’s right, it’s the rhythm of club culture and broken beats. Somehow, dance – once the estranged, alienated cousin of indie-rock – has somehow transformed into its close, intimate lover. But, thankfully, Dance Disaster Movement’s We Are From Nowhere exposes this Long Beach duo as a band that both stays true to their moniker and album title – they don’t merely pay homage to early ‘80s post-punk forefathers like so many other dance/punk hybrids as they focus on deconstructing punk rock to the point where dance destroys it. And the evidence splatters every minute of Nowhere’s eight track testament to the 21st century evolution of disco and dance writhing in the womb of punk rock. It’s like hearing Suicide wed in an unholy musical matrimony to Iggy Pop or the archetypal synth-punk of the Screamers fornicating simultaneously with the New York noise of Richard Hell and James Chance. But whichever way We Are From Nowhere zigzags, it’s always bent towards fun and twisted towards freeing your ass while your ears try to make sense of the sound of punk teaching itself to dance. [www.dimmak.com]

“Industry rule no. 4,080: record company people are shady” –A Tribe Called Quest, “Check The Rhyme” From Alanis to the Dixie Chicks to the Artist Formerly Known As Prince, artists railing against the music machine share a common lament. However, in the land of bling that is post-millenium hiphop, insuring proper cashflow (not to mention respect) is a somewhat higher priority. Prince Paul – one of the genre’s most innovative and legendary producers - has dedicated an entire concept album of sorts to that quandary in Politics of the Business. Splitting from De La Soul after three seminal LPs, Paul came back onto the scene with two clever and finely crafted efforts: the thoroughly odd Psychoanalysis (What Is It?), and the sprawlingly ambitious “hiphopera” A Prince Among Thieves. While both releases garnered well-earned critical acclaim, labels found the albums “difficult” to market, and as a result, fell miles away from platinum status. Politics of the Business is a dis record - a response to Paul's own shady treatment at the hands of a fickle industry. In a signature 180-degree move from past work, Paul eschews bizarre samples and experimental beats to skewer his target with a taste of it's own medicine: radio-friendly tracks and A-list guest appearances (including Erick Sermon, Chris Rock, Ice-T, Guru and DJ Premier of Gang Starr, Dave Chappelle, and many others). From the hysterical “boardroom” skits that bookend the disc, to the sarcastic voiceovers from top-40 rap radio announcers, Paul’s trademark humor remains intact, even in the more “accessible” format (which is no joke - all these songs could hold their weight with Jay-Z's latest, equally at home bouncing in the club or rattling your car's windows fa' sho). All the pointed commentary and comedy would be for naught, however, were it not for Prince Paul’s genuine love for hiphop, a love that permeates the disc; “Drama Queen,” about girls who can’t deal with being mistresses to “the music” when their men are in the studio, sums up this sentiment perfectly. Even if Politics of the Business meets the same fate as his last few albums, there’s no doubt that Paul will keep doing his thing simply for the love to create – it’d just be nice to see him get the dough he deserves this time. [www.razorandtie.com]

For those few of you not familiar with Less Than Jake, they are ska-punk kings from the underground music hotbed known as Gainesville, Florida. Over the past 10 years, the guys have gone from releasing Pez-Core on Asian Man Records to Capitol Records, where they recorded two classic albums, Losing Streak and Hello Rockview. In 2000, the band put out Borders and Boundaries, which had a more rock n'roll feel than their previous material. In total, the band is credited with over one hundred releases (albums, vinyls, box sets, etc.) on numerous independent labels. And that should bring you up to speed on an album Less Than Jake fans have been anticipating for some time. Anthem, their Warner Bros. debut, continues where Borders and Boundaries left off. Less Than Jake has continued to push their ska influences further to the background and, on this album as a whole, the horns are not featured as prominently. The album starts out with "Welcome to the New South", which seems like a filler track and not an opener; a mediocre cut at best. "The Ghosts of You and Me", lets bassist Roger take over most of the vocal duties, which gives the song a sweeter feel and makes it one of the better songs on the album. "Look What Happened" originally appeared on Borders and Boundaries, and it's strange that the band felt it necessary to re-record it, considering the first version is so much better. "The Science of Selling Yourself Short" is a straight up ska song, with a catchy horn line and with Roger, again, handling most of the vocals; the best track by far. As expected, there's a trademark cover stuck in the mix, a rendition of Cheap Trick's "Surrender" and one of the finer song choices the band has made. Yet, the album still lacks something. The single, "She's Gonna Break Soon", is among the weakest songs of the set, and gone are the sing-a-longs and energy that make Less Than Jake's live shows great. Amongst the entire Less Than Jake catalog, I would consider this to be the least impressive album to date. Be sure to check out more than the single if you are interested in shelling out the cash for this one. [www.lessthanjake.com]

Six kids from Michigan, collectively known as The Chiodos Bros., bring new life to whatever genre Taking Back Sunday, Fairweather, and Brand New could be lumped into. Their debut, 7-track EP, The Heartless Control Everything, is the first release on Search and Rescue Records, an up-and-coming label out of Ann Arbor, MI. I suppose you could call it "new school pop-punk with harder-edged lyrics and occasional screaming," but such terms are meaningless to most people. The set opens with "Compromise of 1984", which was at first slightly reminiscent of Hey Mercedes – musically at least – but turned out to be nothing of the sort. The singer has quite a unique voice, and I seem to be able to sense some Cedric Bixler (At The Drive-In) in his style. And the kid who is screaming has quite a growl when deems it necessary. The lyrics are sort of dark and gloomy, and don't fit the music in some parts, but hey, they did throw some keyboard in there. Overall, the album is very upbeat and fun. While it's nothing groundbreaking or original, it's definitely worth some time. If you pay attention, there is a quick line on track 4 that screamed "Fred Durst" at me. I can only hope it was a joke by the band. [www.thechiodosbros.com]

Greyfield is comprised of four young men from Florida, singing about normal teenage life: growing up, girls, etc. This is quite generic pop-punk, in the vein of New Found Glory or Student Rick, and while there seems to be potential within this band, it obviously hasn't been unlocked yet. Soundtrack to the Summer is a record you've probably heard a million times before, if the aforementioned bands are your thing. Despite being quite sugary, it is a catchy album and you will probably end up with several songs, especially “Note To Self”, stuck in your head. Yet, on the whole, it’s not a superb album. Hopefully in the future the band will have a bit more depth to their lyrics, and then we might see what they can really do. Stay away from this album if the pop-punk genre isn’t your thing... you won't like it. [www.greyfieldrock.com]

Reaching Forward is the prime example to why hardcore perplexes me. The genre which punk gave birth to aims to rile energy, spew nihilism and thrive off of spastic anger; yet, much of the subgenre is predictable, stale, boring drivel. Exhibit A: Reaching Forward’s Complete Discography 1998-2000. This now defunct straight-edge hardcore band attempts to scrap together forgotten extras atop their now postmortem career which began in 1995, but fail miserably as every dead end track is a bland, flavorless continuation of the song before it. Each of the thirty-two tracks presented are interchangeable replicas of each other – it’s simply arbitrary to dissect each less-than-two-minute track as this disc is nothing but a monolithic display of what happens to hardcore when given to the wrong heavy-hands. This is simply hardcore lost in a black hole of creativity and astray in inspirational oblivion. And Reaching Forward seem to miss the point: drivel is still drivel whether you play it once or multiply it thirty-two monotonous, boredom-inducing times. [www.reachingxforward.nl]

If you asked the Datsuns what was going to be the next big thing in the rock scene the answer would undeniably be "guitars." This debut stateside release from V2 Records is chalk full of big guitar riffs, swaggering solos, and a good amount of screeching interludes. This is the kind of music that incites throngs of people to throw their devil signs in the air, bang their sweaty long hair to the rythmn, and throw themselves back when the full frontal assault of the solo kicks in. It is absolutely all about the guitars. The Datsuns are the AC/DC of the 2000's generation, minus the incessant and non-so-subtle ridiculous sexual references. Bon Scott would be proud of Dolf Datsuns sometimes forced, sometimes squealing vocals. Aside from the occasional cowbell, the drums provide nothing but an appropriate backdrop for the guitar riff. The same could be said of the bass, it's an excellent compliment to the guitars. Did I mention that The Datsuns are all about the guitar? "What Would I Know" sounds dead up like a classic rock favorite from 25 years ago with just the hint of new school production values and punk rock tinged vocals. Oh, and the dueling guitar parts during the bridge are sure to get anyone to throw their beer back in celebration of the rock. You'd think that an onslaught of rock (see "MF From Hell", "Harmonic Generator", "Lady", "Sittin' Pretty") would falter for a song called "In Love" but you'd be wrong. The chorus gets a little more sing along, but it's still sweaty riff rock. It's nice to see that guitars are becoming more and more prevelant over turntables and samples but much like any strict genre style album it can tend to really wear on you if you aren't completely into it (which is quite possible, trust me). For those of you who break out your Back in Black record and wish there was someone else out there who had the rock sneer to compete with that sound, The Datsuns are your brand. The players are tight, the songs are exactly what they should be - these guys weren't trying for a certain sound, this is in their blood. These guys should hook up with the Hellacopters and tour the hell out of the world playing bars where men are men, drink beer by the pitcher (not the glass), and remind the world that guitar rock can still be done. [www.thedatsuns.com]

Lean Beat was recorded as a duo. Two guys, rock music. Musically this six track EP grabs you immediately with "Caught In The Lights." Then the verse kicks in and you're all "whaa?" This guy is singing way too nasally and adding weird vibrato occasionally. Nothing too insane, just subtle touches, but still enough to throw you off for a second. It's almost enough to hit Stop on the CD Player and chalk this one up to a nice try. But with J Robbins (Jawbow, Burning Airlines, lots of good production work) behind the boards you gotta give it at least three songs. Fortunately this is all you need. "Malaligned" falls into the same category as the first track, catchy riffs, enjoyable chorus, and somewhat awkward verses (Even though they do sing about being "wired like a Luddite" - and anyone who uses the word Luddite gains major points in my book). Then "Filthy way To Lose Yourself" comes in and you've become adjusted. The verses are a bit more melodic, the band works in some nice choral effects, and the chorus is dark and uplifting at the same time, always a great combo. So then you've got the other three songs on the disc.. which pretty much go in the same directions, though not so much that all the tracks blend together (especially with the nice forceful closer of "Unrepentant"). Overall, it's safe to say that Retisonic is going to take some getting used to on the listeners part. The vocals seem to clean themselves up as the EP hits its second half and by that time you're ready for whatever is going to be thrown your way. It's fortunate that the disc is only six tracks long or the style might drag on, but you get a good dose of rock with that indie tinge. [www.retisonic.com]

The story of The Postal Service in a nutshell is this: Jimmy Tamborello (Dntel) asks Ben Gibbard (Death Cab For Cutie) to put some vocals on an upcoming track for a Dntel album. The song "(This Is) The Dream of Evan and Chan" gets released on Dntels Life Is Full Of Possibilities and the two decide to collaborate some more. They send parts of songs to each other on CD-R via the... Postal Service... and thus, we have Give Up. If you've heard and liked the Dntel song that started this all of, you're wasting time reading this and need to go get the album right now. If you heard Death Cab for Cutie's cover of Bjork's "All Is Full Of Love" on their Stability EP and thought it would be great if Death Cab For Cutie put out a record that was a bit more electronic, you too need to stop reading this and go out and get the record. You will instantly put it into rotation and don't even have to thank me. Everyone else needs to ask themselves a few questions. Are you a fan of indie rock? Do the names Jen Wood, Chris Walla, and Jenny Lewis of Rilo Kiley ring any bells? Do you wish the Flaming Lips weren't "so weird" and would do a more accessible album without Wayne singing? Okay, so that last one is a bit of a stretch. The album starts off with "The District Sleeps Alone Tonight", a quiet song that introduces the listener to this combo of the ever-so recognizable soft sweet vocals of Ben Gibbard with the seemingly simple beats of Jimmy Tamborello. Many of these songs (i.e. "Sleeping In", "Nothing Better", "We Will Become Silhouettes") take on the 'quiet start to catchy upbeat finish' style but it never gets old. "Brand New Colony" throws in the quirky 80's video game style keyboard sounds and "Natural Anthem" caps off the record with a fantastic buildup of beats and strings. Yeah, that's right.. Fantastic. Maybe it's too easy to say that this album is a great listen. Maybe you could be the cooler-than-tho indie rock kid by spitting in the face of The Postal Service. But you'd be missing out. This record works, so well. The beats compliment the vocals every time. The harmonies and vocals of Jenny Lewis and Jen Wood fit exactly right in the setting. So chalk another review up to gushing over The Postal Service, it's worth it. [www.subpop.com]

Sometimes, I get a CD to review and I am knocked to my knees by the way that a musician, artist, or band will lay themselves out in the open for public consumption. Brutal honesty can make you small, or, in Kat Terran's case, it seems to make her bigger. Her earnest wobble of a voice gets bigger as Lion and Blue moves on, and her minstrel-ish music gets more aggressive and jagged behind her, to the point where she gargles: "I'm captive in my home" ("Boa Constrictor") and you realize this is more of a captivation inside the mind, and this music is the only honest outlet the speaker has. Powerful and vulnerable, accessing nature and bleeding folk-ish themes of self discovery and intimate pain, Lion and Blue is rich in story and far from delicate in content. Which is why Ms. Terran needs a better producer or at least a better sound room to record in. Reguardless of if I was in my car, in my room, or listening to Lion and Blue, I was put off by the lo-fi sound. Maybe I'm spoiled by the big major-label slick production, but this is just too low, too stripped. The bare-bones of the music and Terran's voices coupled with the shoddy production beget a 2nd-stage Lilith Festival song, when I think that Terran is more than that. And while Terran's haunting wail scales the lyric "My keeper's out tonight/ if you see her/ run " backed by Terran's brother's gorgeous strings (very cool in "The Sea"), the sound is somewhat lost on the muddy production. Very talented, very in need of some extra finances so this wonderful songstress can get into a decent studio. [www.katterran.com]

The bleeding starts here, which either means that there is going to be massive warfare inflicted upon me, a band chasing me with knives of mass destruction, or my eardrum will be pierced by some sort of sonic guerilla evil. Does this make any sense? It might not, but Striking Distance's latest effort does have a bit of an effect, and that would be... GRAAAAHHH! The skinny: Striking Distance hasn't improved or gotten worse since their last CD, The Fuse Is Lit, which I deemed magnificent, by the way. But Striking Distance still has the same chutzpah, the same anger, the same surging guitar and the same slaying lyrics and machine-gun fire drums. Same throbbing bass that makes the Metallica MTV Icon performance seem ludicrious, as we're obviously paying homage to the wrong band. Striking Distance are tight (just listen to "Focus" and see why James Hettfield is the cowardly lion) and this signs through on The Bleeding Starts Here with reckless energy. The band obviously inhales dynamite with its Adderol, because only a band as professional as this could start out with feedback and then assault you with the aural conciseness of "Fail Me Fail You" and the lyric "fail me/ fuck you" and mean it. If you want a hardcore starter kit and still be able to use a black-painted cinder-blocked toilet with panache, then Striking Distance is the band you should start with, as they ain't gonna get all different on you, but at least they'll maintain their angsty, seamless and jowly grunt. [www.strikingdistance.net]

2001 was apparently "the worst year of [front man Joey Duenas'] life," according to the biography on Ünloco's website. After a spin through Becoming I that fact is painfully evident, as the entire lyrical content of the album deals with anger, depression, and death. Not fun subject matter for a band that continues to rely on the same hackneyed, detuned riffs and nü-metal standards. The album starts out with "Crashing," which just seems like Ünloco are opting for paint-by-numbers songwriting, with brooding verses leading to melodic choruses leading to the fuming, climatic breakdown. The only problem is: the band hits the same dynamic peak throughout each segment of the song. The music has been normalized to the point to where there is no emotional give and take going on. And, unfortunately, the rest of the album is just 11 tracks of the same lackluster mess. The only standout comes in the form some 80's-styled keyboard overdubs on "Hands & Knees." Of course, that's not nearly enough to save the album. Aside from the music, the vocal and lyrical content is an uninspired combo as well. Duenas runs through the same minor intervals and depends on the standard "soaring" choruses in vain attempt to add creativity to an already bland arrangement. And, what's pushing those melodies? Well, just about some of the most dismal lyrics I've ever heard: "every time you're near me, I feel like crashing," "I feel so empty inside, I'm just a freak in your eyes," "there's nothing great about this life," "I've become the one thing I hate," "in my head I'm crying all the time," and "everything I know just falls apart." Seriously, Duenas could very well be clinically depressed. When Ünloco debuted, they were somewhat hailed as bringing melody to the rap-metal infested modern-rock arena, but it seems their creative growth is on the same shallow trajectory path as their music. I'm surprised major labels are still expecting music like this to sell. [www.unloco.com]

I have an itching suspicion I'm missing something here. Explain to me again why Fischerspooner is so great? Is it because I've never been much of a theatre buff? Is Fischerspooner something only to be embraced when coupled with a visual performance? Can someone help me out here? I just don't get it. To me, Fischerspooner come off like a project that Daft Punk or Ladytron would undertake, but then decide to never release because it's just not up to snuff. The sound is littered with 80's pop influences, electro-clash and the glitch aesthetic of IDM, except that they throw in this whole bizarre sexual, dramatic flair. Moreover, #1 is pretty normal collection of tracks, given the hype behind this dynamic duo. The soothing synth-pop of "The 15th" is nice, but the mediocre single, "Emerge", follows it. "L.A. Song" picks up in the later half, with a more driving beat and a female chorus to back it up. But, after that point, the only two highlights are the quirky, heavy-handed pop of "Invisible" and the closer "Ersatz," which morphs from mellow tone-arpeggios to a cut-up keyboard demo. On the quality scale, Fischerspooner is just all over the place. There's something disheartening about a group that has to print press quotes on their CD tray. It's like they're afraid that if they don't keep telling you they are "the best thing to happen to music since electricity," you might realize that Fischerspooner are just okay. [www.fischerspooner]

I was first introduced to Gob via their cover of “Paint It Black” which just blew me away. Sadly, that is the best song I have ever heard from the band, and despite my wishes to the contrary, they still haven’t topped it with anything on their latest release Foot In Mouth Disease. Gob has a long-standing reputation in their native Canada where they have released four independent albums, (one of which has gone gold) and toured relentlessly since their beginning days back in ’96. The band has been on several state-side tours with SUM 41, and was recently picked up by Arista records. Foot In Mouth Disease is their debut full-length on the US label, and like a lot of bands that sign to majors, their sound has gone down ever since. Gob has always been a punk band, bordering on the whole pop-punk thing, but with the release of this album it seems they threw their past aside and went straight for the pop side of things. Maybe if 50 other bands hadn’t already played out the pop-punk genre this release might not be to bad, but at this point it just seems completely unoriginal. The talent is there and the band can write good songs, as is evident by the opening track “Lemon-Aid” and even the super poppy “I Hear You Calling”, the problem is they just don’t really break any new ground with their songs. It all sounds like every other pop-punk band that radio fits in between repeats of the latest Linkin Park song and leaves you wanting a little more. Despite my distaste, at least they do manage to end the album with a good song. “Everybody’s Getting Hooked Up” is clearly one of the best songs on the album, too bad by that point the listener is already bored. I read another review where someone described Gob as “Sum 41 all grown up.” If that’s the case, I am happy to be young, because being all grown up sucks. [www.gobnet.com]

I hate it when bands are advertised as "featuring members from." It's always misleading as to what the band will sound like and it usually pisses fans off. Onalaska's press release for this one, To Sing For Nights, was quick to point out that the band featured members of Botch, Minus The Bear, Kill Sadie, and Sharks Keep Moving. Before I've even hit "play" I'm expecting a tear-me-apart, indie-rocking good time. Instead, I'm greeted with a disc of eight slow, jangly-yet-comforting country songs that sound nothing like any of each of the members' bands. Strangely, I'm not marred with disappointment, but instead challenged to figure this band out. I find myself captivated, listening to songs about drinking whiskey, dealing with women, traveling, and drinking more whiskey. The slow ballad, alt-country stuff usually sickens me with its bemoaning, grieving lyrics. Onalaska's Harpel has, instead, a real tongue-in-cheek, ironic approach to his lyrics that fits the loose, bouncy feel of their songs. The musicianship is incredible, creating a charming atmosphere (but you wouldn't expect anything less from a "supergroup"). Standouts on this CD are "Airports", "Blue Reno", and "El Raval". It took a while to grow on me, so don't expect to be swept away by this one immediately. If you're looking for a band that sounds like the sum of all of their parts, this one ain't for you. If you're looking for something slow and sweet to relax to, this is a pretty good (but not great) album. [www.dimmak.com]

I'm a sucker when it comes to sugar-coated lyrics. You know those types of bands: the bands that are stuck in one genre of music and play it to death, with their lyrics as their only saviours. I know I wouldn't typically like the band, but then I make out what the singer is speaking about and I get sucked in. So starts the long life of a guilty pleasure in music. One of my more embarrassing guilty pleasures: Third Eye Blind (Ssshh! Don't tell anyone!) After understanding this, you will understand why I both thank and curse the All American Rejects in one breath. Slick guitar sounds, drum machines, and the typical anthematic choruses barely separate this band's sound from the other generic power-pop/punk stuff. It's the real lyricism that gets me and forces my attention. It has that emotive release that quite a few bands really miss; that type of cathartic quality that almost (and only almost) makes the band seem genuine. That genuine feeling, however, wears off. As a listener, after being hit with that 11-song barrage, I started to wonder how contrived this emotion really was. Starting with "My Paper Heart" and going for a good number of songs, the whole "I've lost the girl of my dreams" schtick starts strong but loses its flavor. I think with a bit more inspiration, a bit more ingenuity, less reliance on the easy-to-swallow guitar hooks, and this band could do something really worthwhile. [www.allamericanrejects.com]

I'm gonna jump on my bed! I'm gonna be politcally aware! I'm gonna run into people! Do you ever feel like that, or have you lost that thrashing feeling? A very dauntless album, very jumpy and kinetic and raw and bold. Kinda a cross between hearing the Boss forcing out his heart through his throat while some New York snot is stuck up the pipe. You rock your head back and forth- Mr. Vincent is definitely someone who can pull off a line like "Make it louder/Play it harder!/ Crank that sucker up! /...Yeah!/ Rock action!/ Chain reaction/ Breaking balls every single time" ("That Sound") without having to feel as though he has to be some sort of poet laureatue of black cinderblock bathrooms. The guitars on this album, I cannot stress the guitars enough- They fucking shred. This is a super example of what a summer should be- Loud, brash, semi-articulate, and straight legged. When your love song chorus romps "Meet me/ I wanna see you/ Tired of the telephone!" ("Tired of the Telephone") through a steel cage of guitar clamor, you understand. You understand why you don't need Billy Corgan's multi-layered quasi-art: It's not honest(ly) simple enough, because, like the old Quaker song goes, "when true simplicity is gained/ 'twill be in the valley of delight" because you don't have to be complex to make good, toss yourself around the room music. Sonny Vincent has bile, he's got balls in his jeans, he's got black leather attitude- And it's unabashedly rocking... Oh, and he's not guitar-wailing meat-head with some punky, Clash-y beats and some good riffs: He's got enough vagueness and conciseness (like opposites are cool) to construct a great shrine to the sweaty, spit hanging out the side of your mouth euphoria that is missing from just about everybody now. I like the sensitive blue-collar articulates, so thus I like Sonny Vincent. But The Good, The Bad, The Ugly is, sadly, not a good album for repeat. You're either gonna wanna throttle somebdoy or listen to something more constructed, because there's only so much exuberant hocking of "This ain't the good guy wins/This ain't the bad guy wins" ("Animal Farmers") that one can take. [www.acetate.com]

Do you remember the stupid pop-punk song that landmarks your care-free high school days? If you're not out of high school yet, then think back to middle school. You'll have one. It won't be by Green Day, probably, it'll be similar and not as eerily good. It'll have spitty lyrics and everytime you hear it on the radio, you'll turn it up. If you're in the car with other people of your own age group, you'll all sing along. You'll all revel in your not-so-distant youth and bask in the glow of the fact that you're still young enough to pull off insouciant joy in this song. This song will make you feel perpetually 14 or so, and you will forever cherish it. Say- If you're not out of high school yet, you want to get a jump start on that stupid pop-punk song? There are so many out there, why not choose one by a not yet popular group (they will be- they've got the look and the clothes and the necessary peppy musicality) and have the pleasure of first discovery? Yeah, ya wanna? Go buy Count the Stars' Never Be Taken Alive and you'll get a whole album full of those aforementioned songs. The music will be a reprieve from the idiocy of whatever you were listening to from TRL, but yet this band'll probably make it to TRL anyway, so go ahead, jump the gun. See, you'll get that fizzy, bubble pop-rocks flavored guitar with cymbal-heavy drumming. You'll get ticking bass with that perpetual loose-string sound behind it. You'll get the petulant-yet-honest lyricist with the requisite little-boy spiky hairdo that's so endearing along with the mom-friendly tattoo and always-present oxford shirt worn with just the right amount of irony. You'll get super-snappy lyrics like "You push and pull your fate/ 'til it's all you can take/ should I just stick around/ would it make you happy/ make you happy/ 'cause you were always right behind me.../just let go of all your insides". See, 'cause Box Car Racer ain't gonna cut it anymore, and Avril's too vapid to really do it for you... And maybe, just maybe, you can someday grow into the big britches of Operation Ivy, but until then, stick to kiddie pop. It's just good enough to remind you of youth, just poor enough to assure that you'll change your mind. [www.countthestars.com]