Any band that "first appeared on Emo Diaries No. 6" instantly is going to create some skepticism to me. I mean who doesn't hate the word Emo these days? Yet somewhere along the line, the definition of emo went from describing hardcore bands with a sense of melody to describing whiny songwriters who saw the marketability in crooning about last's years lost love. Fortunately for my ears, the type of emo described for Desert City Soundtrack is more along the original definition than the pasturized MTV type. This doesn't mean that the vocals are predictably cracked or screaming and just a tiny bit over the top, but it means it carries an emotional force with it that's hard to ignore. It also means the lyrics are overall indecipherable unless you're sitting there with a lyric sheet (which fortunately you can do over at the Deep Elm site). Musically the album definetly carries a dark feel to it but it's pulled off with driving keyboard, some subtle guitar work, and the ever constant driving drum beat (and the occasional trumpet solo.. nice touch). The musicianship is excellent, and the band is quite tight in their playing - no doubt there. When I read this described as "a pandora's box of content, consequence, and unprecendented musical theater" I laughed, because hey.. that's an intense description. But it does have a bit of truth to it. Desert City Soundtrack don't appear to the standard fair of hardcore emo bands - very little reliance on intricate guitar parts or super speedy noodling to grab your attention. Contents of Distraction is a pretty tongue-in-cheek title for an album that requires your attention to really grasp all of what is going on. [www.desertcitysoundtrack.com]

My first impression of 5ive is definetly a profound "what the fuck?" as this disc contains two songs, "Part I: The Hemophiliac Dream" and "Part II: The Hemophiliac Dream (James Plotkin Remix)." So really, it's just one song - as the second track is just a remix of the first. I am also informed that 5ive is "ultra-unaccessible pop tunes geared for audiences age 1 through 100" and "goes well with excess dosages of vicodin, xanax bars, oxy contin, and other pharmeceutical-grade chemical enhancements." The first track is 24 minutes long. This is not something you pop in your CD player for your friends and say "Hey guys! check this out!" unless you're already in a drug-induced haze and have nothing to do for a good half hour. 5ive is very reminescent of the longer songs by Mogwai or Godspeed, You Black Emporer!. Lots of building up, exploding, dying down, staying low for awhile before building up again, etc. It's not a new formula but that doesn't mean that since you've already heard Mogwai you don't need to hear this. It's got it's own twist on things and makes for some excellent background music (or even some forefront music for those in a blank stare / drooling state of mind). Some of the guitar tones are reminiscent of Queens Of The Stone Age dirty fuzz, or your favorite meandering squealching yet controlled feedback band. The remix of "The Hemophiliac Dream" just extends things further and in a slightly different direction. Strangely enough, it makes "Part I" appear to be the more straightforward approach. To put it simply, this is where the trip goes bad. The remix isn't bad, but the state it puts you in could be a very scary and unhealthy place. Lots of bizarre screeches, left-to-right-and-back speak phasing, haunting type howls, and an ominous heartbeat-esque thumping. 5ive is worth looking into but don't fall asleep during "Part I" because when "Part II" kicks in and invades your REM sleep you will be ravaged by hellspawn and raped by demons. Alright.. maybe not, that's a bit intense. It might just wake you up and make you feel a bit out of sorts with the world. [www.tortugarecordings.com]

Somewhere in the mid-90s hardcore got mixed up, torn apart and recalculated in Harrisonburg, Virginia. Nobody knew what to make of it, what to call it or how to define it; it was a dynamic composite of dissonance, beauty and honesty that unshackled genres and freed emotion. Of course, I speak of Maximillian Colby – a collective of seemingly incongruent members that regrouped on the campus of James Madison University to overhaul hardcore by altering it between a split personality of beauty and mellowness and tenacity and jaggedness. Sadly, this near-legendary outfit is no more and their eulogy rests peacefully with this album, the appropriately titled Discography, and assures its place in underground rock history. The material here varies between the clean, hypnotizing plucks of the eight-minute opener of “New Jello” and the bruising frenetic journey of “Coughin’” – but the real magic is Maximillian Colby’s ability to combine the two extremes into one taut package of pure rock intensity and unadulterated emotion. Discography won’t change the musical world or alter the state of its dynamics, but what it does do is give an appropriate conclusion to one of the most revitalizing bands in the mid-90s hardcore scene. And if this record changes just one person’s perspective on the confines of anguished hardcore, alters just one person’s point of view on the captivating possibilities of sonic extremes and enables just one person to remember this artistically cathartic outfit, it was all worth it. [www.lovitt.com]

The D4 might hail half a world a way from 8 Mile Road (New Zealand, to be exact), yet they specialize in Motown-approved Deeeeeeetroit garage rock, speedy and dirty as the "Rocknroll Motherfucker"s their songs are (ostensibly) about. Which isn't bad in and of itself. 6Twenty chugs along sturdilly, replete with the oil-stained distortion and bluesy howls their Michigan forebears made standard issue. From "Party" to "Get Loose" to (my personal fave) "Pirate Love." Yet the world already has a Jack White. And a Dirtbombs. And a Pattern. And a Hives, and a so on and so forth - not to mention countless imitators of each of those acts (or, might I add, the original Motor City madmen who influenced all the previously-mentioned dudes). This is not to peg the D4 as less-than-capable copycats; it's just that what they do has been - and still IS being - done many times already. I certainly have no beef with well-done, straightforward garage rock. You certainly have to give any band credit for just plugging in and rocking with the aplomb D4 spews on "Exit To The City." Yet with so many permutations of stripped-down, punky garage to chose from already, there's no real excuse for the D4 not to add something new. [www.thed4.co.nz]

While they might have started out with sugar-rush singles like "Caught By The Fuzz" and "Alright" (the latter appearing in everything from Clueless to Intel computer ads, not to mention being catchy enough to inspire Steven Spielberg to try and woo the group into doing a Monkees-like television show), Supergrass have grown up over the course of four albums. Or, at the very least, smoked more than a fair amount of their namesake. One way or another, the classic-rock infused Life On Other Planets strikes a rare balance; it's sonically mature and diverse, yet no less infectious as the 'Grass' past output. The signature rave-ups are still in fine form, as apparent lead-off single "Rush Hour Soul" and "Never Done Nothing Like That Before" attest. However, this time around, the amphetamine drumming is enhanced by washes of atmospheric organ and keyboard fills (thanks to Beck and Air cohort Tony Hoffer manning the boards, one might reckon). Supergrass prove just as adept on the leisurely haze of "Evening of the Day" - yet don't peg this for a weeded-out jam session though. "Grace" and "La Song" rock out on some serious Bowie/T-Rex glam sheeeit, and help propel the disc to spaced-out orbits worthy of it's title. Gaz and co continue their streak of solid, enjoyable discs with Life On Other Planets, proving that artistic growth need not be synonomous with "boring." Praise be 'Grass - these kids are more than "Alright." [www.supergrass.com]

I don't know where you are in the world, but in the piedmont of North Carolina, USA, today was a beautiful day- The sun finally came out. And if you're anticipating any beautiful days soon in your neck of the woods, go out and grab The September Sessions: It's a soundtrack filled with some of the best groove outside of a Ben Harper concert, and there's no specific genre for the album to get caught up in. All around good fun for all, and perfect for riding around in the sunshine and letting that vitamin D sink into you- Hell, let your spine unwind as you sing along. Okay, tracks- right. With the beginning and the end of this album featuring songs by The September Sessions- the movie- filmmaker Jack Johnson's laid back vocals, you're already primed for the treat. The first song is a mirthless, smile out of the side of your mouth cover of Jimmy Buffet's "Pirate Looks at 40", ringing with the wry and sheepish wit found in such literary greats as Nick Hornby's High Fidelity. Skipping to G. Love and Special Sauce's groovy "Willow Tree" on track four doesn't necessarily kindle any love for G. Love- It's a typical nice track, but it's before Ozomatli's awesome "Super Bowl Sundae", a track worthy of George Clinton purportions with a slice of lemondade pie... "Bombay the Hard Way" by Ganges A Go-Go makes you wanna boogie, and the Princes of Babylon bring down the Sun with the impeccably catchy boogie "Meaningless Conversation." The only drawbacks to the soundtrack are the somewhat plodding instrumentals, which are only thus when given multiple listens. But The September Sessions Soundtrack is a keeper; It's a wonderful, groove-laden masterpiece, this album, and one hopes that the film is as good as the soundtrack. [www.themoonshineconspiracy.com]

Cave In sold out. At least, that's what I bet is on the mind of a bunch of hard-core kids that used to worship the ground this band treaded. In 2001 they dropped Jupiter into the laps of their fans and that’s when all the whiney cries of "sell outs!" erupted. After stuff on Until Your Heart Stops, it’s hard to believe Cave In was the same band on Jupiter. Now, they take the next step from that with Antenna. Now, hear me out. I didn't like their earlier, heavier stuff; instead, I really enjoyed Jupiter. In order to describe Antenna, I've put it this way: take Jupiter and its 6-7 minute songs, mix them with Tides of Tomorrow songs, and make them 3-4 minutes and ready for radio play. At first, that sounds like it would be bad. Terribly, terribly bad. But, oddly enough, it works for Cave In. It took a couple listens to grow on me, but I really enjoy this CD now. The songs on Antenna have more organized structures than the rambling ones on Jupiter and you wonder if they made the conscious effort to make radio friendly songs. "Woodwork", "Anchor", and "Rubber and Glue" are stand outs, clever songs with subtle hooks. Then they have a couple of songs like "Inspire", which have one riff that sounds like it'll be on every heavy metal radio station in the country that used to formerly play Korn and Limp Bizkit. This scares me. "Beautiful Son" is an acoustic number; strange for Cave In, but still refreshing. And if you liked the epic, rambling songs on Jupiter, there is an 8+ minute epic called "Sea Frost" to satisfy you. The sound they got in the studio is just so HUGE. A big drum sound and a big guitar sound are perfect for this band. If you were one of the fans that loved Until Your Heart Stops and have been praying for Cave In to return to that style, don’t get this. If you enjoyed Jupiter or Tides of Tomorrow, this one’s for you. If you’ve never given Cave In a chance, this is a good CD to start with, but I wouldn’t consider this their best work. Get Jupiter instead. [www.cavein.net]

RETRO! GARAGE! "REAL" ROCK! ROCK IS BACK! Aaah, buzzwords. They always seem to start out as a good idea, yet end up rendered completely meaningless through overuse. A minimalist "the" band (consisting of "VV", formerly frontwoman of Florida's lamented emo trailblazers Discount, and - ahem - "Hotel") specializing in old-school, lo-fi indie rock, The Kills are as fashionable as they come these days, and will inevitably see a slew of buzzwords slapped onto their own music. However, any and all hype-related adjectives are actually warranted in this case. Over the course of 5 tracks, The Kills burn with a bluesy sensibility and unique emotional bent that sets them apart from their fellow denim-jacket-wearing, cool haircut-ed peers. VV's voice goes from whiskey-soaked lamentation to sultry come-on (often within the same song), as Hotel's reverberating guitar lines slide and echo throughout. His joint vocals add an interesting male/female dichotomy to the tracks that is also quite good. These elements are certainly refferential of past bands - everything from the Pixies to Primal Scream to the Rolling Stones comes to mind at different points - but a skewed songwriting ear allows The Kills to become more than the sum of their parts. While many bands attempt to capture the essential sexy, dangerous, and cool elements that constitute "rock and roll", the Kills actually do it. This EP is an auspicious debut that will surely whet appetites for a forthcoming full album, and finally give us a group that's a more worthy of the "rock savior" title than most. [www.thekills.tv]

After years of paying dues, Ministry had their bigtime moment back in the early 90s. Main-stage on Lollapalooza II, creepy-ass video on regular MTV rotation, and - most importantly in this rawkenrool world we live in - iconic t-shirts on mall racks and stoner backs nationwide. And what's wrong with that? The music Al Jourgensen and Paul Barker were making was a then-fresh blend of metal guitar riffery, electronic beats, and pissed-at-the-world lyrical darkness. A hungry Alternative Nation was fiending for that stuff. Yet a decade later, the formula isn't quite as novel. Nine Inch Nails perfected the mix by adding in an incredible ear for hooks. Slipnot upped the angst-o-meter to near immesurable heights. And, lets face it, a goateed, cowboy-hat-and-skull-necklace wearing 40something is still a 40something. Ministry are still as angry as ever - "Piss," "Animosity," "Leper," et al certainly don't hide that fact - but angry has been done to death already. With each track clocking in at an average of 5 minutes each, being (literally and figuratively) stuck in a groove tends to lose whatever appeal it may have once had. I certainly give Ministry their props as originators who could certainly have just packed it in and rested on their laurels by now, instead of soldiering on. But they could have also attempted to mature their sound - especially in the world of electronic music, whose fans are far more accepting of musical growth and experimentation. This album won't dissappoint hardcore fans, but the fact remains that this has been done way better... ...by Ministry themselves. [www.darkspoon.com]

The Delgados recorded their new album, Hate after what they’ve described as a time of "extreme negativity and extreme revelation". And that’s what the album is full of: negativity and revelation. After all, with song titles like “All You Need Is Hate”, “The Drowning Years”, and “Child Killers”, you wouldn’t expect a really happy, cheery audio experience, would you? Armed with the huge, sweeping trademark sound of producer Dave Fridmann, The Delgados deliver one long, dark lullaby, complete with layered guitars, crashing drums, woodwinds & strings, and even a choir. The two standouts on the CD are actually the two that break from this form slightly. The first, “Coming In From The Cold”, has Emma Pollock’s sad, eerie vocals keeping what would be a pop gem grounded in misery…and yet it’s still beautiful. The second is “All You Need Is Hate”, the band’s poke at the Beatles, where Alun Woodward sings “hate is everywhere, hate is all you need”. Genius, I tell you, genius! The rest of the album is, for lack of a better word, scary. But somehow The Delgados have managed to make some of the most depressing, miserable topics sound so uplifting. Now, granted, you have to be in the mood for this one. It’s hard to find yourself putting on a song like “Child Killers” when you’re driving around on a gorgeous day with your loved one in the passenger’s seat. That is, unless you’re planning on driving both of you off of a cliff. But otherwise, this is a beautiful album that demands attention…attention that it definitely deserves. [www.delgados.co.uk]

You’ve done it. Your friends do it ALL the time. I’m talking about the “sounds like” game. While not a bad thing in and of itself, one begins to tire of “they sound like NWA meet Justin Timberlake with a little bit of early Sabbath thrown in” after a while. Despite any initial usefulness, boilerplate descriptions inevitably rob bands of whatever uniqueness exists in their music – especially in the case of The Natural History, who are much more than the sum of their influences and similar-sounding colleagues. Like a slew of other bands calling the greater New York metropolitan area their home, TNH have a vaguely retro, garage-y sound, aided and abetted by air-filled production values, trebly guitars and an insistent rhythm section. Yet there’s just something about the group that “Interpol dry humping the Strokes while The Walkmen get that shit up on their webcam” descriptions simply fail to do justice. Maybe it’s the extra twinge of grit in Max Tepper’s vocals, or his penchant for unconventional chord changes. Could be the sense of impassioned yearning (or something along those lines) in “The Right Hand.” Maybe it’s the propulsive, reverb-drenched drumming that puts “Telling Lies Will Get You No Where” into sublime indie-Beach Boys territory. Whoops, I fell into the “sounds like” trap myself. Yet as long as The Natural History keep putting out records as impressive as this EP, I don’t think a few positive comparisons along the way will hurt ‘em. [www.thenaturalhistory.com]

Disappointment can always be expected to follow hype. For instance, Dave Grohl pumped the new Foo Fighters record to be the most rocking, best Foo Fighters CD yet. And what came of this? Another record that disappoints when it can't live up to the hype that was generated for it. The most current casualty of this: Nirvana's best-of collection. It had been purported by James Barber, Courtney Love's lawyer boyfriend, that the compilation would feature remastered versions of the classic Nirvana songs that would blow the listener away. I'm still wondering where those versions are. Nothing really sounds as though its been remastered. "About A Girl" is the studio version from their first release, Bleach. It seems odd for the inclusion of this version over the very popular (and radio-friendly) Unplugged In New York version. Another head-scratcher is the inclusion of the Blew EP version of "Been A Son", which isn't really considered by most to be a greatest hit by Nirvana. Its nice to have a version of "Been A Son", but it just seems out of place. To add to the disappointment, it feels as though there is a lack of great Nirvana songs. "Love Buzz" (their first single), Kurt's favorite song "Drain You", "Aneurysm", "Polly", "School".....the list could go on and on. For a CD that could fit 70-80 minutes worth of great stuff, the space seems very underused. And the only fitting end to a Nirvana's greatest-hits compilation would have to be "Where Did You Sleep Last Night", which is not available on the domestic U.S. release. But before you get too disappointed about the $15 you just spent on the CD, you can't overlook what IS on the album. "Smells Like Teen Spirit", "Lithium", "Come As You Are", "Heart-Shaped Box", and even the version of "Pennyroyal Tea" that Kurt liked most. And, of course, one can't forget the "new" song "You Know You're Right". Almost 10 years after his death, Kurt Cobain gets Nirvana back on the radio, on MTV, and in the media again just by screaming "PAIN!" in the chorus of that song. That says something about Nirvana. Even though I could just burn my own version of a Nirvana CD, there was nothing like the excitement I felt when I went into my local record shop and purchased a "new" Nirvana CD. Granted, it is sorely lacking and it feels like Courtney's doing all of this to cash in (much like she's doing with the Kurt Cobain Diaries). The fact is you can't forget how awesome Nirvana was. This CD is a great reminder of that. [www.geffen.com]

Hype bands are a big turn off for some. The first thing that pops into most people's heads when they hear about another new New York City band is usually "Oh, great, another hype band from New York City." And it probably hasn't helped Longwave with this "hype band" image that they've recently opened for The Strokes, The Vines, and The Donnas (aka the hype bands of the week, to some). It's so easy to disqualify any band like this lately. If you harbor feelings like this, DROP THEM IMMEDIATELY. Longwave is the real deal; this album will prove it. Longwave has definitely grown stylistically from their first release, Endsongs, in 2000. Their songs are far better and their sound is more realized. I don't even know how to describe this album. Take all the best aspects of Radiohead-style, British guitar rock and mix in a little New York City garage rock. But even that doesn't even do it justice. The opening track, "Wake Me When It's Over" is drenched in a huge sonic wall of sound. Next up is the first single, "Everywhere You Turn", which is the closest you'll hear them sounding to their NYC counterparts, The Strokes. "Meet Me At The Bottom" reeks of Radiohead, but it's an extremely good thing. "Can't Feel A Thing" is a cute, one and a half minute ditty before you get to what I feel are the album's three strongest tracks, "Tidal Wave", "The Ghosts Around You", and the rocking "All Sewn Up". The CD closes with a great instrumental, "Day Sleeper". The verdict: this is the best band to come out of New York City. This album may not bring them into the mainstream and put them all over MTV like other NYC bands, but who cares? The Strangest Things is incredible. This album should make everyone's Top 10 for 2003 come December. I know it'll be in mine. [www.longwavetheband.com]

There should be some sort of reprieve, some sort of law, banning artists from using up the entire quota of "easy hooks" per year. Even if it's a solid effort, like Lifehouse's Stanley Climbfall, it should be released in spurts maybe, or at a gradual pace so that you don't get knocked in the head each year with a morass of banal albums. Lifehouse- The blond kids with the slightly distressed, vaguely depressed and somewhat uplifting songs. Radish? Hanson? Nope, because Lifehouse got to be slightly more careworn and gritty due to vocalist Jason Wade's Scott Stapp-ish affected vocals. But affected vocals only get you so far. Hell, even affected guitars only get you so far these days. To catch my attention, I want to hear your lowest of lows and highest of highs. And I want them all to either rock my socks off or make me wallow in my own insecurities like Nine Inch Nails on a rainy day. I want bipolar action, I want manic passion. And not contrived (Stanley Climbfall gets points here- It's sincere) like the Vines, but totally passion. The songs on Stanley Climbfall are far from dispassionate, but they're hardly the sublime Longinus escapism that great art is suppossed to promise. If anything good can be said about Lifehouse's latest effort, is that the band has found a formula and have decided to stick with it. By the book. By the letter. Every song sounds the same, and that's sub-par, in my opinion. "Wash" sports the lyrics "You wash over me/ You wash over me like rain/ You wash over me/ You wash over me like sunshine" and thus illicits instant boredom. Yo- Sing about something different and not... hackneyed. The redeeming value of the song? A fleeting, hummingbird like resemblance to A Perfect Circle- But it's too quick to even really bother with. Toad the Wet Sprocket meeting 7 Mary 3 and having vaguely disgruntled coffee doesn't cut it for more than three songs, tops. "Just Another Name" is okay, but also cymbal hell. "The Beginning" reminds me of Peter Gabriel on a Valium binge, and "How Long" is boasted to be a bonus track, but it's hardly so: How can something be a bonus when it's the same as everything else? There's musicianship, there's an element of quality, but there's no oomph. This album is destined for Top 40 radio and nagging in the back of your head, because Lifehouse, despite their lack of originality, have quite a gift for hooks, but, in my book, that doesn't get you too far. Besides being, quite frankly, tired of this sort of thing, I can see how it appeals to the more simple minds (and that's not totally bad- We all have simple days), those who desire only background music from their 9 to 5 and back. But for those of us who seek release and purging from our music? You're not going to find it on Stanley Climbfall, that's for sure. [www.lifehousemusic.com]

GRRRRRAAARRGGH!! If it's any indication on how violent, full throttle Striking Distance's is, I now have a bleeding mouth. While listening to The Fuse is Lit I was chewing on a pen lid, and the force I was applying to said lid slipped off and cut up my tongue and teeth. But that doesn't gross you out, does it? You listen to Striking Distance, you're ready to get bloody! Get bashed! Smack someone! Though it took me a long time to admit, I'm more of the thrashing type than the ballad type, and if you readers are too, then you'd best check this band out. Sure the lyrics aren't "poetic" or even prolific, but Striking Distance aren't out to win you over in that direction- They just want to wallop your head. You get the de rigeur lyrics of punk ("Fuck your image/What you see is not what you get/Caught in a role/Fit into the mold" from "Send in the Clones") that sound like something that Trent from Daria might have come up with, and you have the ballistic missle of machine gun toms and power rocket power chords, but it's the energy- It's the energy that's so important to note here! It makes you want to thrash around your room and break things and chew on pen lids and drive really fast. It's something that is missing in rock today- That rude, almost apalling amount of spit and vile that makes D.C.-styled thrashcore so exciting to hear. Sure, it gets old, sure, it's not sophisitcated, but I firmly believe that to reclaim your youth, you need to get down and dirty with some loud angst. I mean, with lines like "Find a way, start today, now!/No more giving up, giving in- start giving back!" ("Find a Way") smacking you in the ears, you're more likely to be proactive, right? You're not going to be depressed and introspective, you're gonna wanna do something, right? And what better way than by lighting the fuse? [www.strikingdistance.net]

Here's a review of the Lyndsay Diaries in 5 words or less: Wispy, pretty, sad, woeful, lillypad. Even hough "Lillypad" doesn't fit into the same categories as the other four, it still denotes someone romantic, someone bummed and reflective. I have never pretended to "get" emo, but I understand that it is geared to render its listeners woeful and allow them an area to heal within music. Thus is the Lyndsay Diaries, thus is The Tops of the Trees Are On Fire, where one-man ball of emotions Scott Windsor bares his wounds. It's a fairly morose album, ranging from somber to plaintively sad. Windsor weaves hope in every pause, tangles recollection into every strummy chord he can muster. It's as if he's looking at the world through a particularly rainy window, and it renders him the genius simpatico of his kingdom, allowing him to befriend one of the "pretty" girls in school and know her, then name his band after her. It allows him to lament that he cannot handle "this life" (I've noticed it's often "this life" in the frustrated songwriter world) on "Cowboy", allows him to render the world hopeless in "How We Kill Ourselves" and lament baseball cards, parents' Volvos, and the springtime youth eternal that Windsor, who's the same (young) age as me, seems to have lost. Sometimes a poet laureate, sometimes just plain honest, Scott Windsor's efforts on "Tops of the Trees Are On Fire" is sweet and charming, but you'll need a box of Kleenex if you plan to make it a repeated listen. [www.thelyndsaydiaries.com]

Just as America has imitated many, if not all, of Japan's technological advances, Japan has done the same of America regarding musical trends. Except, most of Japan is a decade behind - not to mention obsessed with poop. But, sometimes that act of imitating trends has produced some great results. If the Krush Posse hadn't formed in 1987 because of the 80's US hip-hop scene and if DJ Krush hadn't moved onto his first solo record, Krush, in 1992, The Message At The Depth would have never been created to break ethnocentric preconceptions of the Japanese hip-hop scene today. The Message At The Depth creeps into its opening track, "Trihedron", like a demon slinking back into its lair. Watery percussion highlights the sharp yet penetrating backbeat, as DJ Krush then pushes further, seemingly borrowing a beat from Mix Master Mike's Anti-Theft Device and layering it with sparse synthetic orchestration. On the next track, the cultural gloves come off as Inden breaks into some of the best Nihongo flow to make its way to the US on "Toki No Tabiji (Journey Of Time)". Throughout the rest of the album, Krush revisits themes, not to merely copy what worked, but to do more with what was thought "good enough" already. By layering extra beats or abstracting the ideas further, it's almost of if Krush is remixing and building as he goes along. The album boasts many guest appearances, but many fail to capture the respective artist's essence. If you need examples, check out "Song For John Walker" featuring Anticon and the Anti-Pop Consortium track, "Supreme Team." It's not that Krush didn't provide a beat intrinsically Anit-Pop, it's maybe that the Consortium weren't intimate enough with the beat to properly let loose. However, "Alephevo (truthspeaking)", featuring Angelina Esparza's intoxicating voice, shows that DJ Krush can't be blamed for the disappointment on the tracks that just didn't work out so well. The Sly & Robbie track, “Lost Voices”, is hot too – that production duo can do no wrong. Honestly, The Message At The Depth is nothing new. As it's been stated, Japan borrows from America. But, really, everyone borrows from everyone - as America has the UK to thank for its electronic music scene. All in all, The Message At The Depth is a nice representation of Japanese hip-hop, via an abstract, downtempo club DJ that helped to pioneer the scene. [www.mmjp.or.jp]

Like taking a tour of garage-psychedelia’s aged sounds of the ‘60s and ‘70s, Behind the Music casts vibrant rays of sunshine onto all the appropriate classic-rock pinpoints while conjuring wispy pop-leaning grooves. That’d be fine and dandy, but, of course, thousands of kids and a few decades have had that idea long before the Soundtrack of Our Lives began their pop-rock collective. And they face the now dreaded Swedish precursor. But don’t make the mistake: This isn’t the Hives arrogant-rock or the destruct-capitalism manifesto of the (International) Noise Conspiracy; instead, the Soundtrack of Our Lives careen through guitar-pop tracks and psych-rock songs that are upbeat and optimistic around every bend in the long, 15 track road. This, like the other boards retreading the garage-rock groove, is shallow on originality, but deep on catchy – if mediocre – rock songs. Behind the Music, which is equal parts Beatles bravado, Beach Boys’ fun in the sun and Oasis’s pop incentives, is ultimately anonymous and light guitar songs with a penchant for sunshine and psych. Unfortunately, it’s not quite so interesting after more than three decades of sameness. [www.tsool.com]

Chicago-bred rapper Common was formerly known by “Common Sense,” but he ditched the last part of that sobriquet a few albums back. One might wonder if he jumped the gun a little on that decision after making it through Electric Circus, an ambitious yet ultimately solipsistic “concept” album that attempts to harness Jimi Hendrix’ and Sgt. Pepper’s mind-expanding rock vibe, but really just comes off as a pretentious attempt at “artsiness.” What did you do to him, Erykah Badu? To be fair, you can’t really fault Common for trying. Much of today’s commercial hiphop is sorely in need of an injection of creativity. And Common certainly tried his best at enlisting a stellar lineup of producers (the Neptunes, ?uestlove of the Roots, and Slum Village’s J Dilla, among others) to aid him in his mystical vision quest, or whatever it was he thought he was doing. Yet when the proceedings get as anemic as “Jimi Was A Rock Star” or the absolutely lethargic first single, “Come Close” (featuring an underused Mary J. Blige), it should sound the alarm that somebody’s got to put some sense back into Common. [www.okayplayer.com]

Hard to believe it’s been almost a full decade since the Wu-Tang’s undeniably classic album Enter The 36 Chambers first blessed ears and blared from speakers worldwide. Since then, the Clan has filled record store shelves with a plethora of group and solo releases; some came close to the debut’s classic status (ie., anything by Ghostface), but the vast - and I mean VAST - majority of Wu-branded product helped redefine the term “underwhelming.” The GZA’s latest disc falls somewhere in between the sonic peaks and valleys of Shaolin. While certified bangers like “Knock Knock” (“who the fuck is bangin at my door/is it abstract, commercial, or hardcore”) and the conceptual gem “Fame” live up to the lofty precedents of early Wu tracks, the majority of the disc is hamstrung by GZA’s stuck-in-1993 lyrical delivery. Even over beats by DJ Muggs of Cypress Hill or Wu-mastermind RZA himself, the Clan’s resident “Genius” fails to amaze. Yet when lined up next to most Wu albums, one can’t help but view Legend Of A Liquid Sword far more charitably. While it doesn’t live up to the Clan’s auspicious first entry into the musical landscape, it doesn’t further tarnish the group’s legacy, either. And as the few standout cuts like “Animal Planet” prove, sometimes splitting the difference isn’t half bad. [www.mcarecords.com]