Part 2391: Snyder 1 Rats 0. Last month went down to do some laundry and found my not so friendly 10" late night visitor sprawled dead on the laundry room floor. In the meantime the remnants of Jeane showed that my roof problems aren’t close to being solved. Now I’m looking at over five grand more to tear out the top roof and rebuild it, all without any guarantee that it will solve the ^&@#$^%! problem. Mother Nature 9 Snyder 3.

With all that’s gone on in the last year and the ongoing debate/polemics/doctrinairing (that last one doesn’t seem to be an actual word, but I like it) regarding Bush’s War I’m surprised I haven’t heard Laura Nyro’s "Save The Country" amongst all the babbling. Not that I’m willing to give Ticketmaster a drachma, so attending the big Vote For Change gig the other night with the Bright Eyes/E Street Band/John Fogerty/R.E.M. was out of the question from the start. And the littler Rock For Kerry shows have fallen into the well of my ennui. But you would think it would be floating about the zeitgeist in a noticeable fashion by now. Though by the time you read this "the masses" will have spoken.

Part 2401: Oh what a lovely voice "the masses" have. I think the most brilliant thing Rove did was to get all those anti-Gay Weddings initiatives on all those ballots. Nothing like pandering to fear, real or imagined.

As 2.8 of you might have noticed, it’s officially a year since issue 4 came out. Part A is actually complete but there is still 10,000 words to go on this Part. I did finally find a mason. So maybe that misery might lift a little. The roofer was back for the sixth time. But I won’t probably know if all the leaks have been plugged, no matter how half-assedly, until the Spring. Finally got the full compliment of paperback bookshelves, so the "guest room" is approaching habitability. But the blow up bed turns out to leak, and the receipt from nine months ago is who knows where.

Part 2416: It’s aught-five. The Mummers came down the street in 60º F weather; world turned upside down. Got the new electrical wiring in the basement done. Have a forty cubic feet pile of boxes piled up after being shifted from my office. Another 15 cubic feet to go. The odds are 7:4 on me getting fired within six months of this working-from-home scheme going into effect. Getting out of bed in the morning, hah.

Part 2431: The Hermitage has picked up some additional names in the last year, it is now also referred to as the Hellhole and the House of Smells, though with the demise of my housemate the Rat they’re not quite as noxious. Roof still doing its impression of a sieve. No sign of the ^@#*!=#$ roofer. In the meantime it seems we are getting an actual Spring. Usually it’s Winter, Winter, Winter, a week of Spring, and then Summer, Summer, Summer. But though it’s been off and on we’ve had at least two weeks and counting of nice Spring days.

Hasn’t been much to go out and see this year, so far. Best of the lot was the Brendan Benson and Stands gig. After spending the previous year producing the last Waxwings’ album and then playing in the band, Brendan has recruited mainman Dean Fertita for his backing band for the next year or so. Live the band was a little more nuanced than the Wellfed Boys were, but still energetic. They deftly carried off the harmonies and melodies, which are Benson’s hallmark, and demonstrated some subtle guitar interplay between Benson and Fertita even while the rhythm section maintained a muscularity. Though the Stands only played for about thirty-minutes they demonstrated a wider range than one gets the sense of from their lovely debut album. (They’ve finished recording their second album right before this tour started; considering the first one took a year extra to come in the U.S. of A. who knows when we’ll be gifted with it.) Mainman Howie Payne’s dulcet, reedy voice proved malleable across the Country-Rock type stuff that makes up most of All Years Leaving and the exquisite Pop-Rock of "Here She Comes Again" (see Part A), but also carried them through a bit of Blues-inflected Rock and a Dylanesque ballad to great effect. While Luke Thompson provided matching harmonies and played a clean, elegant guitar, and drummer Steve Pilgrim was both nimble and energetic, the secret weapon of the band is bassist Dean Ravera who conjures up a rooted, earth mother tone that envelopes everything in such warmth.

Part 2588: We have now officially entered the Summer of ’05 and I’ve still got 2000 words to go here. New miseries keep coming down the pike, petty and ones not so. And there’s still water dripping in through the fucking roof. Plus there’s always the innate laziness. Had a nice spurt in the end of May/beginning of June where I got out amongst humanity a bit more – the Sights are edging towards Prog, Jonathan Richman is feeling his age and Maxïmo Park was refreshingly terse and energetic-- but that has already slacked off to almost the level of this past Winter.

Oh, and those of you in the hinterlands who have not been subjected to my incessant grumblings, this it the penultimate "bastard offspring."

It’s been half a decade since Alert Today, Alive Tomorrow and Kim Shattuck seems to have matured a bit (though I’d say it’s even odds that you’ll still get a flash of panties or two at a gig). And she’s given herself a bit of space in these tunes. So while she still has her growl and strained moments those leaps into that screaming thing are minimized. As best as she can, she coaxes out the melodies with more of a caress -- augmented by many wafting, backing vocals through the magic of multi-tracking and the occasional participation of her sister Kristen. And there is a multitude of melody spread around these seventeen tracks (only three break the three-minute mark and only one of those by more than a handful of seconds): yes, the melodies will be familiar to those of you with any of the previous platters. Likewise with most numbers paced at a mid-tempo her guitar playing shows a malleability and skill that previously might have been buried under the buzzsaw. Some of this might be a consequence of how this record was recorded: It says here that the drums were done in a studio with everything else down in Kim’s kitchen, which implies a piecemeal process.

Two classic Muffs slices are "A Little Luxury" and the title cut. Both are similarly styled rockers driven by chugging rhythms. The former features a guttural vocal from Kim while the in the latter she shifts in part to an adenoidal tone with sliding syllables that flashes Melanie (Safka not Vammen). Both feature sweet little guitar solos, and the most gossamer backing harmonies. With "My Awful Dream" Kim throws the big change-up: A spare, sweet, yet forlorn ballad with just the backing of picked, ringing guitar(s) and tambourine behind her unadorned voice and which is replaced in the instrumental break by a Dylanesque harmonica. The slider, low and away, is "Don’t Pick On Me," a modified oompah rhythm with a scarified vocal that follows the ups and downs of the rhythm pattern. While right down in the sweet spot is "How I Pass The Time," a mid-tempo number with maximum vocal overlays and a simple yet succulent melody.

Some days nothing beats home cooking.

This trio from Saint Louis also have a wee bit of Bolan in them, a la track #1, "Devil" -- in the wee, nasally, semi-falsetto part in the choruses. The song itself is a rambunctious rocker strung with a fuzzy, noisy guitar, a powering, loosed limbed rhythm and idiosyncratic, malleable vocals -- think something along the lines of Dinosaur jr’s "The Wagon." Their range actually has a nice spread to it. "Lover Her Tonight" (sic) starts out rocking led by some silvery fretwork and followed by a pounding rhythm. At the 25 second point the pace drops down into a mid-tempo mid-‘60sKinks via Supergrass pop tune keyed on a casual, yet solid, vocal and backing harmonies. The pace picks up again briefly at the start of the last minute but keeping to the melody of the song not reverting to the intro section, but the final fifteen seconds is one of those petering endings. On the other hand "Fool Around" is a rhythmic stomper that fills the Rawk gap between the Cynics and AC/DC but give it a twist that involves spelling out "congratulation" in group voice and then on the second go ‘round layering on a straight, though faint, Pop-Rock backing vocal segment. The rocker "P.L.T." furrows a post-Birdman Detroit/A² groove. While the accusatory, mid-tempo ballad "Kiss My Lips" mixes acoustic & electric guitars under a kind of talk/singing that together brings up Johnny Thunders So Alone. The official final track, "Face," starts out with a pounding beat and short, repetitive, scalar riffing then in comes an even more deadpan version of the previously mentioned vocal style. At the second full chorus – the first seems to be just a warm-up – the lead vocal switches to a higher register with a melodic tone which is matched by some answering, choral backing harmonies. At the bridge there’s an even deeper toned talking part just over just a picking guitar. Then full-steam ahead back into the melody, including a sweet, wind-out guitar solo, until the closing, comedown, fadeout. Damn good shit! After another two minutes plus, there’s an unlisted mid-tempo number that once again overlays acoustic -- even more prominently this time -- & electric guitars and melancholy that brings to mind late period Dinosaur jr. That ghost also peaks out in my favorite number here, "Crazy On You," a noisy, pop-rocker with a simple yet compelling melody over a tensile, pumping rhythm that namechecks Back In Black [AC/DC, not Whodini I’m guessing].

This record showed up in my mailbox two days after I watched the first round of Bush vs. Kerry. And as I’ve repeatedly noted, I mostly live a life of isolation, but I’ve heard the musings about how this is a concept album, of sorts. Green Day pretty much spent most of the first Bush term between albums. So after the other night’s display of halting, confused monomania the first thing that leaps to mind upon reading the title of this album is Bush the Younger. I’m sure there will be, if there hasn’t already been, plenty of dissection of the literary content. But almost no matter how well turned the verbiage is, if the music sucks or plods or is overly repetitive what good is it, really.

Once more they’re back working with their A&R man/compadré Rob Cavallo and his miasma of reverb. And that does make a blur, to some degree, of its fifty-seven minutes. I do find myself missing the cleanliness and articulation of Warning:, the one multinational-funded album done without Cavallo. But they still rock! The title track, and first single, leads off. It alternates loud, hazy guitar lines with isolated, megaphone-like vocals over semi-hollow kick & toms for the answering lines in the verses and then goes pedal-to-the-metal with a sprinkle of sweetners for the choruses. Those toms are key and the guitar solo is as lyrical as it is swift. This is 2’54" that is honed to a knife’s edge. (It seems to me that Billie Joe is making some kind of allusion to the third Buzzcocks’ album, A Different Kind Of Tension, in starting the chorus with the line "Welcome to a new kind of tension" though I’m not sure I know what it is.)

There are two nine-minute suites: "Jesus Of Suburbia" and "Homecoming." While very tightly arranged they both come across as medleys than something more intricately woven -- and thus greater than the sum of its parts, along the lines of the gold standard for this kind of thing, the Who’s "A Quick One, While He’s Away." But there are intriguing things going on: In the first one, the title segment is inlaid with pure Beach Boys-like backing "oooh"s. In segment 2, "City Of The Dead," Cavallo plays a clear, kind of delicate piano which combines with the rhythm guitar riffs – and even Billie Joe’s phrasing somewhat – to raise the ghost of Mott The Hoople in its verses. Segment 3, "I Don’t Care" (not the Ramones number) brings a Rottenesque sneering vocal, though efxed up, and the return of those backing vocals at the end. "Dearly Beloved" segment four, is slightly more than a minute long and chorus-less, with a pared back sound led by an acoustic guitar – once past the intro – a little shuffle beat, some lovely, uncredited, chimes and a more ethereal version of those backing "oooh"s -- more like out of some ‘50s Pop-Vocal record. The last segment, "Tales Of Another Broken Home," is an average rocker for them, most notable for its dulcet guitar solo which leads into a relatively quiet voice and piano coda before the big Rock ending.

Things drag some in the middle where they approach a little too close to Modern-Rock clichedom with the ponderous power ballad "Boulevard Of Broken Dreams" and the portentous, mid-tempo "Are We Waiting" with its choral backing vocals. But the decks get cleared out by the galloping Punk-Rock of "St. Jimmy" (a reoccurring character – shades of Quadrophenia) with guitars revved into the red and the occasional gang backing vocals which turn back into those "oooh"s on the second go round in the last minute. That’s followed by the gentle, acoustic guitar verses & bit more frantic, electric guitar choruses of "Give Me Novacaine" (sic). The most curious as well, possibly, my fave number is "Extraordinary Girl" It starts with a bit over 30 seconds of African drums and some very feint, textural guitar, then it slams into a great, fuzzy Pop-Rock tune, with the lead vocals double tracked, Tré Cool’s beats are powerful and as solid as a Peterbilt 358A, and then at just the right spot comes a series of handclaps – like the grenadine in a Tequila Sunrise.

This record entered the charts upon release, first in the UK and now, here in the U.S. of A. at "#1 with a bullet" – though at 256,000 units sold it’s a middlin’ #1. That took me by surprise. And somehow it makes me feel a little more hopeful.

Another record that has sat here for the better part of a year while I try to get back to my usually mundane life. While the first part of the Fall were the loveliest days we’ve had all year October has brought the leading edge of Winter. And once again a tendency towards isolation seems to be its companion. Playing into this with its overriding airy sense of melancholy is this album.

On this their second set Pat Sanone and John Stirratt, ostensibly Autumn Defense, are joined by that mark of refined excellence, Brad Jones, on bass (and other items) and the understated percussionist Greg Wiz. Both principals have those high, reedy, breathy voices with Sansone a bit brighter and Stirratt a bit more resonant. But it is in harmony that the magic happens. At the rare moment there’s a whiff of Simon & Garfunkel, more frequently it’s traces of the Veis brothers (of Fantastic Something fame), while at others a breeze of Carl & Dennis Wilson carries in. Meanwhile the general tenor of the songs themselves derive from that aspect of Pet Sounds encompassed by "Let’s Go Away For Awhile," "God Only Knows" and "You Still Believe In Me."

I’m not making a case for the quality reaching those heights. But many are quite lovely and delectable. "Written In The Snow," piano led with organ superstructure, wafts on an airy melody that hits its peak of succulence as the chorus floats in. "The World (Will Soon Turn Our Way)" is carried on a clip-clop Country rhythm and is iced with delicate, euphonious faux(?)-strings. Stirratt’s lead vocal matches them as it rides the melody along. In the choruses Sansone joins in, first in harmony and then for just a snatch of call-and-response. There’s something overtly familiar about the melody of "Some Kind Of Fool," falling between the (relatively) quiet bits of early Badfinger ("It Had To Be," "Midnight Caller," "We’re For The Dark" and "Without You") and early Bread ("It Don’t Matter To Me"), but the bullseye is eluding me. Stirratt’s employer Jeff Tweedy co-wrote and appears with his treated, diffuse electric guitar on "Why I’m Like This." The melody is supple and beguiling with Stirratt’s vocal faintly resembles, at points, Richard Manuel’s from "I Shall Be Released" (guest drummer Ryan Rapsys even plays a couple of subtle martial rolls similar to Levon Helm plays). In the last minute the combo is joined by a melodious, reverbed trumpet that overtakes Tweedy’s guitar thing and brings a heightened sense of melancholy. I like that word "beguiling," I think it says it all here.

Fancey are masterminded by one Todd Fancey, a Vancouverite who has done time in Limblifter and the New Pornographers, thus the presence of Kurt Dahle as his right-hand man on this project (with his left-hand man being one Doug Nadler [see Hybrahma]). But there are a boatload of other contributors, most notably a coterie of female vocalists: Sara Wheeler [Cunts], Monica Chattaway [Streels] and Sara Lapsley [Vancouver Nights]. The sound of the band is a light, layered, keyboard-led and harmony-filled Pop-Rock. Predecessors span from the relatively recent like that hometown bunch Zumpano and the latter Mommyheads to the Millennium and a portion of late ‘60s Beach Boys.

This record came out in the Spring of ‘04. There is a certain emulation of that season contained within. There are songs that are ebullient like how you feel those first few days when the sun is bright and temperatures stretch beyond 60º F. Then there are tunes that impart a sense of those still occurring overcast, barely making it out of the 40s days when you need to turn the heat back on to take the nip out of the air.

The lead off track, "Carry Me, once past its spare, solo electric piano intro brings the aforementioned ebullience. Vocals are piled upon piles and the melody floats and wafts like a sparkling Chinese kite. As "Rock And Roll Rhythm" starts you’re thinking Supertramp and "Dreamer." It turns up-tempo as the rest of the band works their way in but steps back on the entrance of the vocals, a male/female duet with breathy lilts like early ‘70s AM radio. For the chorus everything swells up, taking its lead from the title. Coming out of the instrumental break for the chorus repeat a counterpoint female vocal adds in "Give Me" to each "Rock And Roll Rhythm" line as a tangy dessert. "‘Til The Morning Comes" rides a bouncing synth as slivers of a twinkling harp flash by and then into the concoction comes a few scurries of buzzing fuzz guitar and an echoey, crystalline pedal steel.

On the melancholic, pensive side of the ledger we have the lightly shimmering, male/female duet "Autumn Music." In the chorus a second male voice is inlaid, with a wisp of a second female voice also underlaid. All those voices waft around the electric piano in as gentle a yearning melody as one can bear on some days. "Strayed Out" is another cut with a prominent female voice, here in a rising, crystalline form in the chorus working as counterpoint to the subdued, breathy male harmony leads of the verses. The pace is languid with touches of slide guitar slipping through the rhythm heightening the traces of regret.

It might just be me, but this album seems a bit of a reversion to the of Mods Mayday of Chisel. Partly it might be because over the course of his post-Chisel records he’s been pruning back the catch-as-catch-can contributors that he broke out with. So this album is, once more, principally the work of a trio – including drummer & producer Chris Shaw. Nothing above should be taken as a complaint, just a fuzzy observation. After all, this is one of brightest lights of ‘04, tightly arranged and full of warm and vital vocals from Leo.

Right from the top, the discoursive "Me And Mia" is a marvel of shifting dynamics: It starts with just Leo’s ovoidal, quasi-Blue-eyed Soul vocal and a slightly distant, picking electric guitar over in the right channel throughout the first verse. The rhythm section comes in with the chorus and a sustained power chord for some "loud" and tension. The pace and tautness is maintained for the next verse though everyone is a bit quieter. After the second chorus there’s a sudden, yet congruent shift into a Reggaeish rhythm for two-thirds of the bridge, then a seamless transitional line leading into a blending of the chorus and a verse – where it shifts from the "loud" of the first two lines to the guise of the opening with just vocal and guitar for the next four then powering onto the end picking up even more steam (and a second guitar) as it heads towards the end. Where it finds a reprise of the first line of the Reggaeish bridge.

"Counting Down The Hours" starts out as soulful, acoustic guitar and voice ballad. Then at the 44 second mark a switch is flicked for the full-on band to kick in, first with about nine seconds of a quasi Irish reel instrumental intro and then into a sprightly, Jam-like rocker with Leo playing ska chords and Shaw topping it will a ringing glockenspiel. It shifts a bit with the reel part vaguely echoed in the chorus, the instrumental break featuring a loosely vibrato’d guitar solo, the bridge sung in a kind of hushed tone and the disappearance of the glockenspiel to be replaced by a mimicking second guitar in the second verse.

"Criminal Piece" is led out of the gate by Dave Lerner’s fluid bass for eight rumbling, counting bars, and then it’s off into a jangly mid-tempo rocker. Leo’s keening vocal skates deftly on top of sharp rhythm play, with a hint of a Badfingeresque warble on the third line of the choruses (more so the second, third and fourth ones). A great 2’42" down to it’s stomping, rock-out ending built on intro pattern.

Almost every track is finely constructed with counterbalances and notable elements: The falsetto vocal of the chorus in the solemn "Better Dead Than Lead," the mixture of ‘70s guitar riffs and filigree in "Shake The Sheets," the Folkish vocal lament in the hardest rocking number, "Bleeding Powers," and the rolling, Dexy’s soulboy vocals in "Walking To Do" which are accentuated by the exuberant "party-vibe sing-along" backing vocals of the run-out.

The Smallgoods are a four, five or six-piece (depending on when you caught up with them it seems) band from Melbourne. In two or more of those configurations they contain two sets of brothers. Which gives rise to the harmonies, gorgeous harmonies, layers of harmonies. Twelve Pop-Rock tunes, generally airy and tasty, demonstrate a commonality with that Elephant 6 bunch, in particular the late, lamented Beulah.

The album starts with the number "Intro." A peculiar two-minute, plus, thing that opens with what seems like a bit of airport noise. That segues into an opening verse of just a treated vocal and an acoustic guitar after which the full band comes in for an alternating rocking and lilting mid-tempo continuation. Then there’s a sweet, fluid instrumental reprise. Finally comes a relatively long, wordless harmonization section from which the instruments fade away leaving just the harmony that then itself pares away. Not really a song, not sure I get the point, but its final sound is the ticking of a clock and then the ringing of it’s alarm bell at which point the next number, "Get Up," blasts away. A jaunty, catchy tune with a decidedly British inflection located near the postal code of Robyn Hitchock’s catchiest Pop-Rock work. Following on is the keening jangle and harmony touched loveliness of "Capricorn" that raises up the ghost of the Choo Choo Train.

When they slow things down a bit you get the languorous Beatlesisms of the one-time single "Abraham Lincoln" which at nearly five minutes wears thin. Or the plodding ballad "Travesty," which comes across as a bit directionless and lugubrious. Or the stretched out, slightly over arranged with horns and synths and things, six minute "A Bad Case Of The Wilsons," which has a two-minute sound collage of what sounds like mostly radio fragments appended to its end.

But these are outweighed by the preceding as well as other charmers: There’s the mid-tempo, synth lined, undulating "Junior." "Baby Grand" with its layered harmonies and acoustic guitar, electric piano & horn tinting. And the closing "Take Your Bow" with its spare acoustic guitars and voices -- led by Gus -- construction (plus what sounds like a glockenspiel in the later stages) creating an enthralling melody reminiscent of the best work of such ‘80s UK cult figures as the Hit Parade and Fantastic Something.

A year goes by and we’re still stuck up our ass. And arrives This Is The Show, a mini-album with Concept Record pretensions. Between the guitar work, larger emphasis of the synths and temperate rhythms I hear echoes of the Pop side of pre-’76 Progressive-Rock, in particular the vibe – not a copy -- of Supertramp’s Cirsis? What Crisis? (Speaking of which has anyone else noticed the history-repeats-itself relevance today of "a Soapbox Opera?"), if you subtract the horns, substitute the synths for piano and add in many more layers of harmonies.

Opening is the title track which takes a similar role to "Intro" above. Once past its expositional opening lyric, and the fake crowd noises, it’s a semi-Boogie with a light shuffle rhythm topped by harmonized refrains of the title and such, It features a guest guitar solo from Even’s Andy Naylor and then some retort from Ben in its last 40 seconds. It ends abruptly, like someone cut the tape at that point, making for a disconcerting segue into "Round And Around." A fetching Pop-Rock tune driven by crackling guitar and whirling synth, both playing sinusoidal rhythm patterns with matching yet buoyant vocals. The choruses flatten the plane with a bit more forward motion and those harmonies. Coincidentally the bridge features a very Supertramp-like electric piano, in place of the synth, upon which things are rebuilt with one, then two then three voices joining in as well as in conjunction comes the bass with voice 2, percussion with voice 3 and then the rock rising until the end.

"Who’s Never Seen The Sun?" is a 5’43" mid-tempo tale seemingly about one of the problems of being in a rock band. Right from the start are the harmonies -- though a bit buried in the mix -- along with a larger portion of synths and a gently rolling rhythm. "Spending The Morning" is intro’d with rising, echoey keyboards which give way to a gently picking, jangly electric guitar and then a Spectorish blend of castanets, faux-horn synth sounds and the Big Beat (which reappears). When the song itself enters it’s a breezy, winsome singer-songwriterly (see the rush of words in the third line of the chorus – an acute and rarely used hook) Pop-Rock number à la the Dunhill days – and Lou Adler’s boys weren’t against appropriating the Big Beat themselves on occasion. "8 Times" is a sweet acoustic ballad similar to "Take Your Bow" from the first record, though with noise and faux-strings in the second half, and these distant drums composing the closing 15 seconds. The last song proper is the rocking "This City’s Lights" complete with quasi-Farfisa, stompin’ 4/4, fuzzed guitar and a credible ‘67 Who instrumental break. The lullaby outro segment (entering at the 2’ 34" mark of a 4’ 13" cut) and the final coda of synths and layered harmonies seems misplaced to me. The actual final number is "This Is The Reprise," which is a 1’ 50" extension of the quasi-jamming, instrumental ending of "This Is The Show" – what was left on the snipped off piece of tape I guess.

Oh, and at the 18" 35’ point of that last track is a hidden, "bonus cut." It’s a backward version of some song, my guess is it’s "Round And Around."

As I intimated back in issue one this Australian band first caught my eye due to being three-fourths once and future Pyramidiacs (with Michael Carpenter doing double duty as producer). Lead man, Charley Nicholas Deloitte Davis, is still the mysterious one, though it says here he was previously in a band called the Stereos – but the all-wise, all-knowing Google failed in uncovering any details of said band.

The song that caught my ear, "Fallen Stars," reappears here as the lead off cut. And as throughout most of the rest of this album you can hear the echoes of the "three Bs" (Beach Boys, Beatles & Byrds), in the various harmonies, guitar riffs and rhythms. Also seeping in at points are extra percussion, keyboards (notably the glockenspiel) and strings (faux they may be) of Brill Bldg. Pop-Rock. But idolatry is not the order of the day, making some great tunes is.

Cut no. 2, "Up & Out" is a ringing, mid-tempo rocker that rides the subtle patinas of first a tambourine, then a shaker as the straight 4/4 beat powers (with a little Big Beat & some nice swing in the chorus) along under the guitars, with the front-and-center vocal honing the melody. The extra voices come in many guises: echoing harmony, slick sheets of "ooh"s, chorale turns, rougher group vocal runs and overlapping counterpoint. Cut no.4., "I Wanna Make It With You," is another rocker, all teen dream and Mersybeat Girl Group cover style. Cut no. 7, "I Do" is all pealing bells, keyboards and guitars, carried along by a rocking, buoyant rhythm spotted at points with airy harmonies all in replication of the lightheartedness of love. When things get stretched out past the four-minute mark these guys tend to lose a bit of focus, but cut no. 12, "Oh No, Okay," breaks that trend. It’s a tight, rootsy tune impelled by a rhythm out of … (something I and my useless friends can’t quite place, but it’s very familiar form somewhere around 1962 New Orleans I’d hazard), topped by an aching vocal with matching close harmony. The bridge comes in with a pile more added percussion, particularly the jingly sort, and sheets of subtle wordless backing harmonies. For the last go round of the verse the latter stick around and after the last chorus we’re back in the bridge, which is extended for the final minute-and-a-quarter runout. For that a dollop of liquid, treated guitar is added then replaced by your basic spaceship sound effect, synth whirls – but oh so subtly. Go back to how the guitar solo slides right out of the bridge carrying the continuing melody -- just about everything about this is as close to perfect as my little heart can take.

It’s been a few years between albums for this British trio. Understandable, to a degree, what with guitarist Alessandro busy in London helping crank out National Health Service fodder, and Lois & Mole doing whatever it is they do down by the seaside in Folkestone. But here they are once again under the auspices of Toe Rag maestro Liam Watson, benefiting from the improvements he’s made in the intervening period due to his White Stripes affiliation. Thus the sound here is cleaner, more solid and fuller. They have truly become a synthesis of the complete Nuggets II box: the Move, Misunderstood & Motions to name some Ms they’ve encapsulated. [Consumer warning: Beware the forthcoming Nuggets III box, someone is pulling the taffy awfully thin, playing fast & loose with the facts.]

Of the twelve tracks one third are covers (Gary Walker & the Rain’s "Francis," Turnstyle’s "Riding A Wave," Attacks’ "Feel Like Flying" and Mike Stuart Span’s (not a person but a band) "Children Of Tomorrow") yet unless you had a complete set of Rubble volumes – which I don’t, since years ago Mr. Smee joined the hiorde who have stopped talking to me – you’d probably be oblivious to this. And yes even their originals have familiar bits incorporated into them: the chorus of "Nothing’s Gonna Work" bears some similarity to the bit at the end of the bridge of "Walk Upon The Water" [Move}. It is the rare band today who’s own material easily sits side by side with covers, and here has been formed a solid, cohesive album. They maintain a verve and acumen throughout. Where others might have brought in some synths for the cover of "Riding A Wave" they recruited a two-person string section, cello and violin. The streaks and tones of the strings lay in-between the powering rhythm section and Mole’s echoey, rapturous, engulfing vocals taking it beyond the expected. The stringed duo also appear in the lilting, mid-tempo original "Show Me A Little A Smile." Mole’s vocals are multi-tracked in the chorus bringing to mind Days Of Future Past-era Moody Blues, with the strings kind of filling in for the London Festival Orchestra and the building rhythm of the beginning of the chorus also nodding towards the Moody’s98. But the break has a decidedly Rock and Roll nature and the verses are sweetly succulent. In a world full of recurrence and recycling this trio has elevated it to a breathing, living thing.

While there has been some cool stuff in his Girlfirend-and-after period (I won’t go into the earlier synth/digital epoch), my general

view of Mr. Sweet has been that he’ll take a good 2’ 30" tune and worry it into 4’ 30" of "when will this end?" His latest album, Living Things, is a prime example of this. It averages out at just over 4’ 30" a cut with almost every other one being over five minutes. The lead off number, "The Big Cats Of Shambala" is an airy, charming, mid-tempo tune that even integrates steel drums in a relatively unintrusive way. But at the 2’ 50" mark it switches over to this funereal tempo and temper, and peters on for another 2’ 40" of penance. Added to the usual crew (Menck, Marsico & Leisz) for this set was Van Dyke Parks on various keyboards. He brings an intricate counterpoint that is the most interesting aspect of some of these songs. For instance, his piano in the pounding, bass heavy, wearing "Dandelion" and his expanded palette of harpsichord, organ and piano (have no idea what a marxophone is) in the plodding "Sunlight." Does make one wonder "what if?:" As in, what if Parks had actually been part of band way back in the day?

Not that they aren’t some memorable moments here. "Push The Feelings" is a snappy number powered by Menck’s nimble beat, topped by a high Sweet vocal that edges into a swooping falsetto and answered by Leisz’ slide guitar. And "Tomorrow," jangly and ringing, driven by Marsico’s acoustic bass and augmented by Parks’ accordion has a lovely, soaring vocal melody, with ample multi-tracked backing vocals sprucing it all up.

It was Kimi Ga Suki Raifu that is the exception that proved the rule for me. Basically 12 tracks with an average length of a bit over three-and-a-quarter minutes, and that’s skewed by the last track being over seven minutes (actually it’s only about five minutes followed by some dead space and then some "hidden track" mishegaas). Written for Japanese release, where it came out about year before, his booklet notes declare a desire for spontaneity and a lack of "worrying" by writing everything in one week and then getting right into cutting it all. And I think that produced one of his finest works. Done at his home with assists from Menck, Leisz and a passing through Richard Lloyd, it’s more mid-fi than usual, but that just adds to its charm.

Opening number "Dead Smile" is a furious rocker that more closely resembles the work of Velvet Crush than anything Sweet’s done previously. You’ve got a driving, pounding rhythm (Menck in all his glory) that overruns Sweet’s slashing guitar and an emphatic, coursing lead vocal. Layers of multi-tracked backing vocals are sharply intertwined, particularly in the choruses where a seeming chiming glockenspiel also peeks through. Then at the 1’ 40" mark it stops on a dime, for just a lightly strummed guitar and relaxed vocal verse, at the end of which comes the first ghost of McCartney (who to my ears is the patron saint of this album) in the stacked, reverbed harmonies that lead us back to the race. Brilliant!!!

The following number, "Morning Song," is a luscious, lilting, mid-tempo ballad with dirtied up guitar and what sounds like another uncredited keyboard, organ. "I Love You," an overly distorted, Blues touched number that has White Album written on its name tag, spins on for four-an-a-half minutes while all three guitarists slice and dice the Rawk. "Love Is Gone" is only guitars and vocal, brightly ringing guitars and many savory, resonant, overdubbed vocals and harmonies. This whole album is stuffed with memorable melodies. Brought forth with a carefree energy and concision.

Where’s Pete Frame when you need him. These two outfits come from the ever-branching Further family tree. This limb is the one marked Beachwood Sparks. The first duo -- both acts are two-person outfits though they had various helpers -- are Brent Rademaker and his lady friend Michelle Loiselle. The sound, as been noted in many places is pure early-to-mid ‘80s UK post-Post-Punk Pop, in particular that period New Order via their throbbing rhythms, Rademaker’s breathy vocals and keening, efx touched guitar (though that might be more Cure-like). Echoes of others are raised in spots like the post-Clarke Depeche Mode in the intro to lead off cut "Dead Wrong" -- where they also twist of America’s "Horse With No Name." But it’s more of an absorption thing than a rote reiteration.

But this record is also one of those albums that has a great Side 1 and a miserable Side 2. The first five tracks are sown with affable melodies and a firm sense of themselves. The title track "Fashion Death Trends" is a barely three-minute rocker just laden with hooks from the pulsing bass, to the edging into falsetto in the choruses and more particularly the bridge, and the closing harmonies. It both brings up those memories of yore and shines greatly on its own. The ballad "Soft Light" is one of the few numbers where Loiselle’s voice comes to prominence in both harmony and duet, while the synths and reverb approach overwhelming they recede in time at points letting the beauty of their voices to radiate.

Part of the problem is probably that this imagined first side has an average song length of not quite four minutes, while the ostensible Side 2 averages one-an-a-half minutes more. But more importantly they shift towards all mood leaving those flowing, sweet mostly melodies behind. "Current Bedding," another tune with Loiselle more up-front, tries but the snare stick its thumb in and Rademaker has this disjointed phrasing – the Delmontes-like keyboard is nicely nostalgic.

The second duo is Dave Scher and Jimi Hey, the latter Aaron Sperske’s replacement in Beachwood Sparks. Their music isn’t too far removed from B.S, but it is lighter in nature –almost ethereal -- and contains more coherent melodies – even though they are created out of a bigger jumble of efx, sound effects, a pervasive watery reverb, a multitude of electrical and acoustic instruments, and multi-layered vocals. Thus its finest moments bring joy where B.S. tended to bring disappointment. I’d say they share a tone and nature with Autumn Defense from back a number of pages, but also recall aspects of Love’s classic Forever Changes, even though overtly it seems so gimmicky with the "everything and the kitchen" construction (for instance "Anchovya Suite" is a not even one minute interlude composed for cat and keyboards) yet it holds together as one… long, gentle excursion.

The lead off cut, "Daylight Till Dawn," is a spirited pop tune that most recalls Forever Changes with its insistent rhythm sections, slightly askew "bum-bum"s and harpsichord-like keyboard, but there is also a keyboard & guitar veneer right out of In Search Of The Lost Chord [Moody Blues] inlaid. "Sad K." is a pretty, mid-tempo number, strung with a distant vocal and piano and cut with snatches of classic Garage-Rock fuzz guitar and a mourning steel guitar in the bridge, that again alludes to F.C. this time via the chorus harmonies and melody. "You’ll Be On Your Own" is the rockingest number featuring a prominent, buzzing, Psych-tinted lead guitar which gets panned about during its solo. At points it’s swapped out for a delicate acoustic but underneath it all is a pulsing rhythm while on top rides a heavily reverbed yet sweet lead vocal and airy harmonies. Not everything is perfect, like Frausdot they’ve stretched out some numbers too much. "Fall Down 7" at over five minutes is one. At first it is an intriguing composite of an undulating, slacker rhythm, a mixture of Spanish and English vocals, a subtle horn section and all the swirling efx. But by the three-minute point the focus just drips away. And the closing, self-named number, clocks in at 7’ 40" of which only the first 3’ 25" resembles a tune – a marvy, chiming, roiling Pop-Rock tune – but by the above mark it has just petered out, leaving just these patches of sound that goes on and on.

From the land down under, Adelaide to be precise comes a three-pitch quartet. The tunes, all finely crafted runs the gamut from Garage-Rock, to Mod-Pop to Pop-Sike, etc. – some would label it retro, I just call it Rock and Roll. This is their second album, and once again I have no perspective of its relationship to their debut. From the picture in the booklet I’d venture these guys have been around a few blocks -- their web site mentions a number of former bands I’ve never heard of and one bit on it says the bass player, Billy Beaumont has been rocking for over thirty years.

The first two cuts, "Knee Jerk Reaction" and "Colour Me There," are grinding rockers, the former fuzztoned out and the latter cut with an Entwistleian bass. The following "You Think I Don’t Know" is touched with a bit of Slide and a shot of backing harmonies finds that mystical point between the Citadel and White Label Stems. "Given Time" is a reverb drenched, Pop-Sike ballad undercoated with organ and waxed with melancholy harmonies. And just so you know they’re Australian, they bring out their inner Birdman with the saturnine rocker "Love Surrender" and its ‘70s guitar leads & rumbling rhythm, courtesy of Andrew Piper. Then shifting to a jaunty bit of novelty and jangle comes "Brown House In Stepney" where singer Mark Gilbert’s voice gets the fauz-megaphone treatment for the first half, then shifts into nasaly Robyn Hitchcock for the remainder. To top it off the outchorus is kitted out with loud chimes and at 5’07" it does go on a bit. But even longer is the proceeding "Jasmine T," which approaches six-and-a-half. The main section is one of the coolest numbers here -- another jaunty melody, sing-a-long, call-and-response chorus, a dainty circus-like keyboard led bridge and a rolling, lightly wah-wah’d guitar -- seemingly ripped right out some volume of Rubble. But at exactly the halfway point it moves onto a spacey, over-efx’d coda that goes on and on. Meanwhile "(Signed GC)" – a little Love homage -- is a lilting mid-tempo Folk-Rock number with an unburnished lead and airy, sitting-around-the-campfire backing vocals. Musically it revolves around a constant, plinking banjo, unhurried, rootsy, euphonic guitars – both rhythm and lead – and those voices. "Lena" returns to the Garage. "Black Vinyl Heart" is intro by a sample of vinyl surface noise, and then after the actual musical intro – drummer Mark Sharmen welling up a big drum roll followed on by chiming guitars – a disconcerting sample of a needle being dragged across a platter is impose. After that it becomes a nice bit of Surf-Bubblegum with vibrato guitars imprinted by Chuck Berry and a series of sharp, catchy verses, but the choruses seem a bit underdone. The ostensible final tune is "Amourette" a driving, wholly ’65 Who-influenced rocker (except for Gilbert’s vocal that brings to mind Dr. Frank [Mr. T Experience] in this instance). It’s a composition of buzzing, slashing guitars, a rounded, lead bass, shimmering tambourine and that cymbal splashed, driving beat. The actual final track, "Get On The Outside Of This," a "bonus cut" of sorts is a live recording is a mouth harp led slice of Beat Group R&B over a modified "Bo Diddley" beat. I lift my schooner high in salute.

This is a curious package. Capitol passed on the last two albums, which were picked up by Island. Yet here they are again. The band has placed ten singles in the Top 20 in the UK, but never came within a light-year on these shores. I will say that after some contemplation I do think of Supergrass in terms of their singles. There are 19 A-sides, and 2 B-sides, compiled here and I own at least half of them (some in multiple configurations due to the nature of British chart hyping --there must be enough B-sides out there for two more albums). I guess someone is making an artistic statement by organizing the track listing non-chronologically. But in this downloading, random play era that’s just a lame excuse. And they make things even worse by not including any annotation in case someone wanted to follow the band’s timeline from the Buzzcocks influenced, raucous rockers of the "Britpop invasion" through to being unveiled as the expansive, bastard children of T.Rex.

A number of copies of this package came with a second "bonus disc." Which I’ll admit was my whole reason for any interest, since as you can surmise from the above, I already own just about all of the cuts here. The word was it contained live recordings. Beyond that I remained ignorant until its arrival in my mailbox. Did someone imaginatively compile a collection of contemporaneous recordings? No. Does the track listing match the studio disc? No. What it is are twelve tracks from shows recorded for radio broadcast in the last year. "Kiss Of Life," the first cut, was caught by Steve Lamcq’s BBC show. The rest is a show captured by XFM – the London Modern Rock station – including a three song segment done semi-acoustically (there is still synths in spots). It is a fair representation of their live show in recent years. I can’t say anything unexpected is revealed, but if you’re already a fan or just dipping your toe in now it’s a nice bonus.

A good while back Sundazed hit a spurt of albums by bands that never had one in their time. They gathered material from label vaults and semi-forgotten closests. These two acts each had only one seven-inch officially released. The Bruthers were four brothers, with the surname Delia, out of Pearl River, New York, over in Rockland Co. Their one single was released by RCA in 1966 and featured the title track on the A-side and "Bad Love" on the flip. Self-penned and sung by brother Alf (bass), they were classic Garage-Rock cuts with the A a driving rocker featuring an alternating spinning and bubbling Farfisa with a sneering, talk-singing vocal backed by answering gang harmonies. The B eases off the gas a bit, opening the way for some more melody via a lead vocal trying to hold its tunefulness together supported by those connate harmonies, a dash of big echoey drums, particularly in the intro, a main, scratchy guitar riff, and two key organ solos. The third track, "The Courtship Of Rapunzel," was recorded for the follow on single that never was. It’s a pumping, spitting rocker, not too dissimilar to the title tune.

The rest of this disc are basically demo recordings, though only slightly rougher sounding. Most of these have brother Frank (guitar) on lead vocals, and have a broken chronological order. They cut a couple of covers: An imitative version of "I Want To Be Your Man" [Beatles] from their formative days in 1965, that’s most notable for its plinking piano solo that seems to have a touch of Stride (courtesy of brother Joe) and the following heavily reverbed, fuzzed guitar solo that nods towards Surf. Two years later they cut a rote "My Generation" [Who] and a hepped up "Wake Me, Shake Me" [Blues Project]. The harmonies in "Don’t Forget to Cry" waver a bit much, but it is an acute cobbling together of familiar Folk & Garage-Rock bits -- a captivating 2’ 49". More wholly Folk-Rock (except for the fuzz guitar), from the same session in ’66, is the bouyant "Walk Out In The Sun" Oh, and brother Mike played drums.

From all the way across the country in Fresno, California came the Raik’s Progress. They were led by one Steve Krikorian, who would become better known as Tonio K. Their one single was "Sewer Rat Love Chant" b/w "Why Did You Rob Us, Tank," released in the Fall of 1966 by Liberty. The A is a haunting, mid-tempo lament, Psych-tinged via tremolo guitar and distant, echoed lead vocal. The song is a re-written adaptation of John Kates’ (whoever he was) "Don’t Need You," which also appears later. The flip a jangling Folk-Rock number ladled with harmony vocals, a high pitched Farfisa organ and a Raga-esque, ending, reverbed guitar solo. I have no idea what the song is about, barely being able to make out a line or two, but it’s ensorcelling.

The remainder of this disc, ten numbers, is a live set in front of a hometown crowd from earlier in ’66. It includes both sides of their single and the A’s aforementioned blueprint, as well as covers of Muddy Waters’ "Baby Please Don’t Go" à la Them of whose own "Call My Name" is also rendered, the Byrds’ "It’s No Use" and the Animals’ "I’m Going To Change The World." Except for the first named, an unsung group of covers. The three remaining originals performed that day were the organ powered, R&B raver "F in A," the extended workout "All Night Long" and the mid-tempo, fuzzed out, Garage rocker "Prisoner Of Chillon." Though they were only around for what was basically a blink of an eye this package unveils a group a cut above.

I have a French, double LP twofer of the Sunnyboys’ first two albums but haven’t listened to them in almost 20 years. The usual excuse for why I rarely get around to listening to most of the stuff that fills all the walls around me beyond the initial weeks of acquisition: the pull and guilt of the new. But listening to this new collection, a double disc set with one compiling their singles with the odd other track (21 cuts) and the other some live sets recorded for radio (another 21 tracks), after all this time places the Sunnyboys as the intervening link between Radio Birdman and the Hoodoo Gurus. Even though in the extensive and excellent booklet (compiled by Tim Pittman) they say they never heard of the Birdman out in the sticks of Kingscliff, you can hear distinct echoes in the brushed guitar chords of the verses and the vocal phrasing of mainman Jeremy Oxley in the first track here, "Love To Rule." Interestingly enough the booklet tells that when the band first got organized in Sydney they experimented with Rob Younger as their vocalist. And towards the end of the band drummer Bil Bilson was asked about joining the Gurus. Whose more heightened Pop sense (at least as regarding their classic first two albums), group backing vocals and the odd phrase from Jeremy are foreshadowed in, for instance, "To the Bone."

Anyway, the band was started out composed of the Oxley brother, Jeremy on lead vocals, guitar and main songwriter, his older brother Peter on bass (coincidentally I briefly met baby brother Tim, who was sitting in with Golden Rough at a pub in Erskineville during my trip Down Under a few years back and mistook him for one of his brothers, because they were the only Oxleys I knew of) and Bilson on drums out there in Kingscliff. Once they each eventually found their way to Sydney, with Jeremy bringing up the rear in 1980, things got reconstituted with a second guitarist Peter met while doing time in the shy Imposters, Richard Burgman (who a number of years later would resurface in the TVT period Saints). As things started getting off the ground and attention was picking up at their gigs they were taken under the wing of long time Australian guitar hero Lobby Loyde, who produced the two albums I’ve had and the majority of the material on disc 1.

"The Seeker" (not the Who song) is built up with a string of ‘60s elements: from a guitar intro that echoes the intro to "Last Train To Clarksville" [Monkees], into verses that march along in thicker, later period grooves and basic Garage-Rock choruses begun by a rave up guitar, carried by a classic, sharp tipped ride cymbal and with the second go round comes the full on group chanting vocals then in the third chorus onto the end, a phalanx of handclaps. "Tomorrow Will Be Fine," a B-side form ’81, is a tight, propulsive rocker that further displays them as the connective tissue I posit, complete with swaggering, sharp-edged guitar solo, all compacted into barely two minutes. Conversely the ’83 B-side (though recorded in ’81) "Guts Of Iron" stretches out to almost four minutes, but is just as compelling with its pumping rhythm, winding lead guitar and ragged, but cute, bits of falsetto in the choruses. The ’82 B-side, "No Love Around," a mid-tempo rocker is built on a foundation adapted from the Groovies’ "Shake Some Action."

By 1983 the band had split with Loyde. The single "Show Me Some Discipline," produced by Chris Gilbey (known for his work with the Church, whose manager had just replaced Loyde), is a moody, mid-tempo rocker tinged with some ‘80s efx (see Billy Idol), a quasi-Metal rhythm, deep choral harmonies in the choruses, and Jeremy stretching & straining in an Iggy kind of way. That might not read like it, but the sum of those parts produce something preternaturally compelling. The next three cuts were produced by Nick Garvey [Motors] in late ’83, and brings the favored production techniques of that day into play even more: "Love in A Box," a dainty mid-tempo ballad, is tricked out with alternating pinging and low end, echoed guitar leads. "Comes As No Surprise," a steady rocker, has its second half nicely augmented with a bright horn section.

Disc 2’s live stuff is all from the ‘81/’82 period. The first six numbers were from a Feb. ’81 set in Melbourne. It starts off with a straightforward rendition of the Remains’ "Why Do I Cry." Then the energy level picks up with a taut version of "Guts Of Love." Included in the set is "Strategy Idol" – as best as I can tell an unrecorded number – a totally cool, peppy tune with slightly Blue-eyed Soul choruses. The second rippin’ set, of 11 numbers, is from the same month (though there is a bootleg out there that claims this was actually from back in Dec. of ’80) but back in Sydney. As best I can tell this set includes two unrecorded numbers "I Don’t Want You" and "Thrill" (leaving out the rampaging "I Want To Be Alone," this version of which came out on the Happy Birthday EP). The former is a vigorous, chuggin’ rocker in that Australianized Detroit way, with a pivotal false ending, while the latter is equally as forceful and stylized. The next three tracks are from March of ’82. And show them in a more refined form. The last number here is from a celebratory show of the 10^th anniversary of their label Mushroom, in Jan. of ‘82. It is a version of the Beatles’ "Birthday" pushed into overdrive. For those of us 11,000 or so miles away not to mention over twenty years this second disc is quite the treat.

This band is a high energy, post-Heartbreakers (actually what comes most to mind is mid-period Pyschotic Youth) quartet from France. If I knew anything about what goes on in France these days I might throw around that old rubric "Supergroup," but for all I know these guys’ other bands could have played to 10 people as well as 1000 people. What I do know is great smash mouth Rock and Roll. The tunes here are full of searing guitars, a Hemi-powered rhythm section and roughhewn harmonies (sometimes the tang of their English makes comprehension difficult, but the unusual lilt has its own charm that more than compensates) & melodies. This is a sampler with four numbers from their debut record, What’s Your Defeinition of Undergorund?, another five from the ArtRats album and four fresher cuts, all squeezed out in barely 31 minutes.

The lead off cut, "Dead Language," is a galloping number with hops enough to revive the Pogo. Next is the title track from that first record. It’s a sleek mid-tempo rocker led by a rootsy, distortion tinged, rock and roll lead guitar, a pumpin’ bass and a growly, piquant, talk-singing lead vocal that holds the melody firmly. In the second group of cuts the sound is a bit crisper. "I’m Just Losing My Soul" is a stompin’, thick and crunchy rocker marked by alternating lead vocals and a fluid, tough yet sonorous guitar solo. "Go Back Home" is a barely two-minute rampaging rocker built on a near facsimile of the key riff from Tommy Tutone’s "867-5309/Jenny" but topped with a tart, declamatory vocal. It’s more of the same in the third, newest stuff, grouping. I have no idea what they’re going on about in " ’77 " – something about "I don’t want to be in a plastic world" – but sonically this is their standard, everything any rock nerd imagines when the year 1977 is mentioned: the buzzsaw guitars, the force of the rhythm, the chanting vocals, the reaching pop sense, the magic squeezed into two-minutes.

My Backyard

This album came out at the beginning of last summer. And I would have thought that with all the "endless road" work they did after Fall Of The Plastic Empire was picked up by V2 that they were primed to for AOR glory. The lead off cut, "Heart Full Of Black," should have been all over AOR from it’s opening chord and pounding drums/panned pick slide intro to its Boogie inflected guitar, subtle tambourine and its tough yet controlled vocal all coming down the pike at about 73 MPH there wasn’t one thing that outclassed it on AOR that summer. Hell, if they used a bit of studio magic and dubbed in some judiciously arranged backing harmonies and vocals they probably would have scored an iPod commercial. It’s not like they didn’t do it elsewhere: the following number, "Come Alive," has exactly those things that were needed.

Unfortunately that’s this platter’s peak. Throughout they demonstrate their facility with the many faces of Rawk: the sludge Metal of "King Of The Demimonde," though counterbalanced by an airy verse vocal, a bit of semi-Boogie, à la Black Crowes, in "Century Song," the wailing, post-Grunge of the title track complete with guitar heroics and yon Power-Ballad, the closing "Vampire Waltz." They also extend their range with the acoustic guitar led, mid-tempo ballad "Pleasure In The Pain" in which is overlaid some of those extra vocals, some bluesy harmonica and slide guitar. The following cut, "From You" is my next favorite being as close as they get to Pop-Rock, and only two-and-a-half minutes long. It bears a melody seemingly drawn from the Dom Mariani but with a tougher, thicker rhythm, a tuneful, plaintive lead vocal by Dimitri Coats, the little ride cymbal bits and an undercoating organ, care of former Jellyfish Roger Manning. (The more I listen to this the greater the accomplishment seems, sure it’s relatively simple but oh, oh so succulent) Manning actually fills in spaces throughout this album with his array of keyboards. So its not like they were opposed to studio magic, which brings me back to the missed opportunity of "Heart Full Of Black." Maybe the failing was (co)producer George Drakoulias’ for not pushing everyone’s imagination. But here we are with Spring ’05 a month away and I’m checking out amazon.co.uk’s "3 albums for 10£" sale when I come across the inclusion of Fall…

From across the river and through the woods over in New Jersey comes the fourth Dipsomaniacs album. A solidly crafted bundle of Pop-Rock, full of winning melodies, fine harmonies, ringing, distorted, chugging guitars, tight rhythms and plenty of harmonies. It reminds me of 1974, when the bands in bars around Mercer Co. that weren’t dreaming of being Led Zepplin were still dreaming of being the Beatles. And even in as desolate a place as that was there was a good dozen bars or so that had bands playing regularly. Because in those days the legal drinking age was 18 and it was a lot easier to pass for 18 as a 16 year old than as 21 for an 18 year old, plus there was all those legal age college kids to entice. While in those days the bands might attempt a few original songs, none of them really thought of making a record on their own. But in this post-‘76 world it’s as commonplace as flies. Thus these guys are probably finishing up their fifth long player as I type this.

It starts off with a set of four rockers, each with a slightly different tang (So. Cal, Ohio Valley, Upper Midwest & Southeast respectively). All flow as easy and smoothly as the best Scottish Ale and just as tasty. The first ballad, the mid-tempo "Beautiful Outside," rings with little echoes of Big Star and closes out the imagined first side (maybe there are vinyl copies out there, but I haven’t seen any). Side Two bursts opens with the Pub-Rock inflected rocker "Prince Harry" complete with a readymade bar sing-a-long chorus. The following "Always Forgetting Something" is a sweet, yearning mid-tempo number with a pleasant jangle and a sonorous, twangy guitar solo. As you get into the last four numbers things lose a little energy with three of ‘em being a bit too long ballads and the one rocker, "Little One," being more perfunctory, Bar Bandish than anything else here.

It’s been a good two years since we last heard from the Australian trio Peabody. So to tease us for the forthcoming album, The New Violence, comes Got You On My Radar (Non Zero), a four song EP. The title cut is a damn good, thumping rocker with skittering guitars -- à la Wedding Present though with more fury -- a deep, rumbling rhythm and a surging, raspy vocal with a revolving mixture of crystalline (c/o singer/songwriter Sarah Blasko) and rough backing harmonies in the galvanic choruses.

The following three are exclusive to this disc: "Killing Ira" is a mid-tempo rocker weaved with Indie-Rock guitars, rhythms and vocal phrasing – sharply honed, nicely augmented with a shaker and hitting full bloom in its ardent bridge that culminates with the lead vocal rising into falsetto that is followed by a return to the chorus reconfigured with call-and-response. "Copy You, Copy Me," another rocker, returns the band to the Mod-Punk of Professional Againster, chunky & keening riffs, gang harmonies and basic, muscular bashing coated with shimmering cymbals. "Oh Cyrano" is a moody, mid-tempo lament equal bits clangorous Post-Punk and Indie-Rock aesthetic – ragged falsetto harmony bit in the second verse adds some welcome levity.

From Columbus, Ohio comes the Tough And Lovely. Their debut single revives the tradition of theme songs: "Tough And Lovely" b/w "The Lover’s Curse" (Spoonful). Led by the big, wailing vocal of one Lara Yazvac and masterminded by Andrew Robertson, previously of Them Wranch, the A-side is a driving, bluesy, garagey slab of Rock and Roll with reeling, dicing guitars, a tight rhythm and some tinkling organ. In the bridge everything eases back into a softer, soulful prettiness. Once it amps back up for a final chorus Lara is joined by backing harmonies right out of the 1910 Fruitgum Company. Just as cool on the 58^th spin as the first.

The flip is an obscure cover that exceeds my resources to place. A bit moodier and more soulful with a great, classic ride cymbal and again spot-on male group backing vocals though this time all the way through and deeper in tone. Double A-side all the way.

Another one that’s been sitting around forever is the Frenchmen’s debut EP (Shelflife). (During my lost year-and-a-half they released an album, Sorry We Ruined Your Party, oh, and the preceding bunch also got one out, Born Of The Stars.) Two girls and two guys playing a hyped up Indie-Pop -- lots of verve and sweetness. Though they’re from out around Sacramento Leon Levy resembles Woodie (Ola) Hermanson of Sweden’s Sonic Surf City on "Powdered Blue." The same tangy vocal phrasing, though a little deeper in tone, over a thrash of some basic, buzzing chords (from Leon and Niki Ortiz) and a locomotive drummer (Charles Albright), and bouncing bass (Amy Paris). And the sum of the parts is short, sweet and dandy. The other number he fronts, "Nar Vs. The Ramones" (the former was another obscure Sacramento band), is a neat, little, mid-tempo, melancholic ballad, simple in thought but cute in execution. The other two songs, "Unlucky Day" and "Hey Amelia," bring to the fore Ms. Paris who redirects the resemblance towards Heavenly, minus the keyboards, which you have to figure they’re acknowledging by writing a song called "Hey Amelia." Anyway, both numbers are both delectable examples of C-86 rooted Indie-Pop, simple, catchy and ever so terse, and a touch roughhewn. The pounding drums and overlapping female vocals in the chorus of "Hey Amelia" are nearer to heaven than thee.

Also in the pile are two from the patient Thomas Erik of the Sneakers operation. The Carburetors’ "Burnout" b/w "All Alone" and Los Plantronics’ Calavera Dance Party EP. The former is a heavy-duty platter of metaloid Hard Rock. The A is breakneck semi-boogie with spinning guitars and a lead vocal slightly resembling the growl of Lemmy. The flip has the same the growl but the guitars dig a little deeper and the verses open up for booming beats, a little bass and a more naturalistic lead vocal. At points you can hear the best aspects of Metallica and in others a bit of slashing Tek/Masuak [Radio Birdman] guitars. (While I’ve been dicking about the Carburetors have spewed forth their debut album, Pain Is Temporary, Glory Is Forever, and another single.)

The latter is a three-song collection, all covers, all properly barely two-minutes. The A is a cover of Oslo legend Willy B’s "sidewinder," a rumbling, classic surf/vibrato instrumental. On the B is a solid, driving "Bertha Lou," originally done by Dorsey Burnette [Rock & Roll Trio], featuring a guest horn section and a vocal from Slim Slammer that brings to mind Holland’s Claw Boys Claw’s Peter Bos’ elongated, orotund style with the de rigueur Rockabilly hiccuping added. That all said it’s quite the treat. And finally a rendition of the oft-covered surf instrumental "Intoxica" done with the same verve and style as everything on this platter.

The Whyte Seeds are another of the Garage-tinged Rock bands heading West from Sweden. This A-side has been kicking around in one form or another since 2001, and for some reason was reissued in the UK towards the end of ‘04. It’s a decent Rocker brewed up from a mix of the grinding new British Rock and a bit of Mersey Beat in its rhythm section and slivers of the vocals. But it is the B-side that makes this platter notable. "Got 2 Make U Mine" -- if you can ignore the Prince-like title and opening screech -- is a cracking, breathless rocker derived directly from A Hard Day’s Night. After that into screech the drums start pounding, then after four bars a sinewy bass chimes in, then after another two bars the song proper launches in mid-stride. With the rhythm section keeping the pedal-to-the-metal, the post-Chuck Berry guitar winds out, and the vaguely distorted, brash lead vocal – somewhere between Steven McDonald [Redd Kross] & John Lennon --rides it all with extra lift provided by the occasional, heavenly chorus of backing harmonies. It’s all stuffed into 1’43".

"Emily" (Rough Trade) is a catchy, engaging, lyrically quirky (…Emily, sweet baby, won’t you be my wife/cutting me open with a kitchen knife…), mid-tempo, rootsy rocker -- similar to the stuff that used to come from the pen of Ben Vaughn but with a deeper, more mellifluous voice (that Ben would kill for) and substituting a Wurlizter electric piano for accordian– by Adam Green, one-half of the Moldy Peaches. The flip is an acoustic guitar and vocal reading of lablemates the Libertines’ "What A Waster." Slowed down and stark, the original’s venom turns to sad disappointment.

From Madrid, Spain comes this foursome. This their debut album was originally released in their home territories in 2003. A year later RQ picked ‘em up for North America and rejiggered the track order for some reason, though it’s all the same numbers.

The sound is chiming guitars, with a touch of fuzz, tight, fluid rhythms, with the occasional additional percussion inlayed in spots (cowbell, handclaps, tambourine, etc.), pure toned harmonies with a slightly tangy lead vocal. The confluence is post-‘63 Mersey Beat and its ‘70s offspring Power-Pop. Catchy and sweet in the moment, but confoundingly not particularly long-lasting.

The second number here, "Your Smile For Me," is the perfect example of all the above. It’s a peppy rocker topped by harmonized lead vocals, à la the chorus of "I’m A Loser" or some such, with a pulsing rhythm under a sonorous melody. At the instrumental break there’s a series of four terse guitar solo segments -- tougher and thicker in sound -- with each presenting a tonal shift as the rhythm chugs along with alternating segments led by a crisp, subtle ride cymbal. It all slides smoothly in and out. It would be so cool coming out of the dashboard radio but when the next song came on I don’t think it would linger in one’s mind.

Another notable cut is the similarly peppy "I’ll Be Waiting For You" but with a dash of rumbling toms and snatches of propulsive handclaps. And possibly an even more mellifluous melody with thicker layers of backing harmonies. Then there is the immediately preceding "Even More Than Myself" A fleeting (1’04") ballad constructed just of acoustic guitar and vocals, in particular the three-part harmony. "I Tremble" is a catchy, driving, classic slice of ‘70s Power-Pop with sinewy guitar solo and some augmentation by an underlying organ. This one hods on for the longest, its chorus sinking its hooks possibly deep enough.

I can’t touch the exact thing that would have these guys blowing me away – though my intuition says it has to do with personality. It’s probably only a half-turn of something. I only have the greatest hope that it’s uncovered for their next album.

If you want something with more of that shredding volume we have Wendy Case and Company’s second long player. Ten cuts of Rawk with a few pinches of Boogie. They transpose the late sixties of Free, Janis Joplin, Ten Years After and the 5 (though Wendy doesn’t quite have the range of any of those singers -- except for maybe Alvin Lee who was pretty limited himself -- but she trumps with gusto) into the concision and energy of the post ‘76 world. There is less melodicism than on the first album, though a few songs gather a little sweetness via backing vocals. The rhythms are generally straight ahead, more a Quarter-Mile run than the some of the tri-curved IRL tracks that popped up on the previous platter.

Lead off cut "When I’m Gone" is prime example of all of this, being a mid-tempo stomp that furrows a berm of slashing guitars, constant thwumping snare with some understated cymbal coloring and Ms. Case’s hoarse wail. A tumbling, Classic Rock guitar solo makes an entrance as the end approaches. It is the different guitar leads, mostly by Danny Mehtric, that lends in differentiating these numbers. In "Me" the guitars drop out for the verses but the leads come in various guises at the tail of the choruses, first as basic Chuck Berry. In "Scotch Love" it slices and wails. For "Jumpy" guest pedal steel player Calvin brings a sweet, Duane Allmanesque tone to the stomping.

There are two numbers where Ms. Case is joined by other voices. This seems to induce some breathing room and a bit more concern with melody. The terrific rocker "Bright Side" is elevated via a stacked chorale backing. "Today And Everyday" is a barely minute-and-three-quarters stab at Pop-Rock, thick and hearty version.

And when all is said and done we come to the closing, eleventh cut. A cover of the final T. Rex single, "Celebrate Summer," from 1977. Properly trimmed and given a thicker hide with a heightening of Bolan’s favored Eddie Cochran riffing; ‘tis a glorious thing.

Because of my miseries this LP is another that has sat around here for a good long while. Enough time for a US CD release (via Dead Beat) to also show up. This is another trio, from out by Stockholm way. The lead off track is "The American Fuse" which has more than a passing resemblance to the 5’s "The American Ruse." Also covered is the Dirtbombs’ "Headlights On" and the Dogmatics "Saturday Night Again." Thus laying out their dictate: Garage-Punk, raucous and a bit ragged & trashy. (Appended to the CD are the B-Sides of a preceding 7" which includes a stripped down cover of the Stones’ "Under My Thumb" appended with a few Stiv Bators’ yelps and an unlisted cover of their namesake song, "The Locomotion," that launches off at furious pace on the second verse.)

On their own they continue to dip into various pockets. The A-side of that 7" is "Tell Her" a chuggin’ rocker with singer Martin Savage’s scattershot yelp on top of it all throws in a direct, gender adjusted quote from the Exciters’ oldie "Tell Him." "Stockholm City Girls" is powered by solid beats from one Topi The Kat and a firm bottom c/o of Loco Lopez and guitar licks seemingly lifted from Thunders rhythm part in the new York Dolls’ "Who Are The Mystery Girls?" not to mention a bit of classic handclaps in the bridge. My fave is "Make Up Your Mind" an energetic slice of ‘77 Rock and Roll that opens with a series of tom patterns which reoccurs throughout (with some cool panning) driving the song forward and on top is a ringing, raked, Belfastian guitar (the Moondogs?) and a relatively together vocal together with group chants. Bonus points for bring in all fourteen numbers in under 36 minutes (for the mathematically challenged that’s a tad over 2 ½ per tune).

These bands are physically separated by half-a-world, and though Starky seems to have been at it a bit longer this is their debut album, while we’re onto the Libertines’ sophomore release. The connection isn’t obvious between them, some might even claim things are being stretched beyond their elasticity. But hey, to each their own weird synapse pattern. Starky’s (Indie-)Rock tends to be noisier and use less supplementary vocals, while the Libertines attempt a larger stylistic range of arrangements (not to mention the latter’s Smiths imprinting). To a degree this could be the influence of the respective hometown heroes the bands chose as co-producers, Sydney’s Rob Younger [Radio Birdman/New Christs] and London’s Mick Jones [Clash/B.A.D.] respectively. And both bring a loosely raucous demeanor.

M., S., M. starts off with the straining (in both lead vocalist Beau Cassidy’s adenoidal style and (now departed) guitarist David Simons’ Kurt Cobain influenced leads), rolling, mid-tempo rocker "Get Up." Though not ideal in tone Cassidy voice is unabashedly ductile in support of the song’s melody which is picked up by the lead guitar as the song segments run verse, chorus, instrumental break and then again. Meanwhile the rhythm is compact and vigorous imparting their energy to you. The ringing, just over two-minutes "Girl Talk" is a very Libertinesque tune with its tripping rhythm and the vocal tone and phrasing eerily similar to Doherty. That said it’s a cracking good tune. The other tune that most approaches their British cousins is the tormented, mid-tempo rocker "City Prison Doors," a minute-and-a-half of tumbling, yearning turns. And as a bit of cross-pollination the following final minute emulates the closing of the Clash’s "Jail Guitar Doors" with an instrumental coda -- though in this case starting out much quieter and being less boogiefied – eventually being topped by repeating vocal phrases, here "moaning" there verbiage. "That’s How I’ll Know You" first made an appearance on one of those comps. mentioned in Part A, Lost Weekend, Vol.2. And that’s no surprise since it’s probably their most memorable number: constantly propelling forward with only the shortest breaks for breath, a cantering, rippling melody and shaggy, sluicing, intertwined guitars. There is something about it that brings to mind the Muffs at their finest.

The Libertines starts with arguably the best number on this platter, the one time single "Can’t Stand Me Now." The song take its intro from it’s first line "An ending fitting for the start," with a two bar dénouement at the beginning followed by what would normally be the 40 second ringing guitar-led instrumental break/run-out before the entry of Doherty’s vocals and the song proper. That is a lolling shuffle that tightens up rhythmically in the chorus, led by slashing tandem guitars, which gets augmented by Carl Barât’s voice in harmony, call-and-response and cross-talk (it is possible that the verse are taken alternately by Doherty and Barât, but my Pb ears aren’t discerning enough). The proper run-out features a new element, a Folk-Blues harmonica solo touched by pathos. It for each to decide for themselves whether the lyrics relate to two lovers or Doherty & Barât themselves (which could be the same thing for all my ignorance).

"Music When the Lights Go Out" is lovely, melancholy duet backed by a mix of acoustic and electric guitars – the later mostly giving a cocktail lounge reading. Until the chorus which becomes more frantic and the guitar(s) shift into a ‘60s, Rock and Roll Movie club scene, freak-out turn. "What Katie Did" begins with some ‘60s Vocal Harmony ("Shoop, shoop, shoop de-lang de-lang") and then settles between the Smiths and Monochrome Set as the gentle, mid-tempo verses proper start. While "Arbeit Macht Frei" is a minute, plus of rampaging/galloping neo-Hardcore. There are little, seeming Jones/Clash influences that pop up throughout: the chording in "Don’t Be Shy," the low talking and "bird cries" in "The Man Who Would Be King" and the opening riffs of "Tomblands" & "Road To Ruin." Oh, and tagged onto the end of "What Became Of The Likely Lads" is an unlisted, bit over two minutes, just vocal and acoustic guitars, jazzy, little ditty.

I think these guys might have taken my steamroller comment in reference to their first album to heart. This, their second heaping, seems even more flat out, with barely a breath taken or room given to show their facility. And you know they have it in ‘em with everything played so tight that a quarter could probably bounce a foot high. Look no farther than the bridge of "Summertown Rundown:" they come out of their rampaging chug (à la the Saints’ "No Time") with a seamless transition to eight repeating bars of ringing chords and then a section of their guest cheerleaders, backing vocalists doing a fair munchkin imitation, and then a 20 second Surf touched, nimble, silvery, Rock guitar solo and all the while the rhythm section is just powering along. Oh and you can’t get away with playing this on your little computer speakers. Go borrow you’re big brother’s old fashion stereo setup with the big 10" woofers. The vocals will still come across as diffuse, but not quite as shrill and decidedly under mixed.

Choice cuts: "Do The Skin Crawl" intros with a sequence of scalar peals as the rhythmic tires spin in prep of the slingshot effect. Which is where the high reedy vocals come in. Keeping pace and spitting a bit of fire they ride the chug. In the chorus the band’s pop smarts come to the fore with a bit of movement and a harmony vocal. On the second go round the chorus is extended by adding a little call-and-response with the "response" being an echoey and distant voice. Then it’s into the bridge with a taut, low end chug, and a flattened, Brit-inflected, ‘78 throwback vocal added in a handful of seconds on. Then with no let up it’s into a scissoring, rolling, pealing guitar solo. And finally they bring it on home as they run a reprise of the instrumental beginning section into a group-chanted coda.

Immediately following is "Not for Nothing" which includes an uncredited pounding piano in the pumping rhythm. Of which it could be mistaken for the base of a slab of Heavy Metal. But the vocals twist the number into a Möbius band alloying a Freakbeat patina in the verses and sinking to their chins in ‘60s British Pop-Rock for the choruses including a tailing Hollies(?), syllable extending harmony.