More recently, Williams' charmingly dirty-minded small label recordings have earned him, if not a cult following (which might be overstating his popularity), then at least the interest of a small group of independent aficionados. Last year's Silky (for Red Dirt Records) provided such guilty pleasures as "Bonin'," "Looking Down at You--Looking Up at Me," and "Pussy Stank." Red Dirt continues in a similar line, only rather than the garage rock of the last outing, the Sadies provide Williams with a country backdrop for such typical (for him at least) musings as "She's a Bag of Potato Chips" and "My Sister Stole My Woman."

But Williams is no mere novelty act. He embraces his songs with such aplomb (the unapologetic vulgarity, the nearly misogynous attitudes), one almost can't help but watch (or listen as the case may be) as Williams walks a tightrope, teetering between trash and camp.

-Brian Cassidy
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All instrumental, Galactic Supermarket's drum 'n' bass underpinnings are postitioned perfectly against spacy, dark-wave digi-noise that will have your head reeling with intoxication. And again, Daniel proves that he is at the top of the heap of electronic artists when he creates soundscapes that drive themselves deeper into your psyche than you thought possible.

The disk is a futuristic drug of sorts as track two, "Postgate," opens with washes of warm drones that instantly put you afloat. Machine layer after machine layer of space goo gets painted into huge canvases of pure euphoric dope. Track 4, "Random UFO," will abduct your perception of reality with its complexity and structure and before you realize it, seven minutes of your life is gone. By the time it all ends, you're gonna need to pinch yourself to make sure you're still real.

The packaging for this disk is the single best use of a jewel case that I have ever seen. I would own this just for the artwork. The sleeves are clear plastic; this coupled with translucent green ink and ultra high-tech clean line design perfectly portray the nature of the music within. Check out mail order catalog Isolation Tank for the easiest way to procure this disk. It is a must have for any Daniel Meyer fan.

-Jeff Ashley
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Links:
Art of Noise

There is a certain lasciviousness spilling throughout the liner notes, a charge to understand the fire which infused Debussy's music which has touched The Art of Noise as well. You get the feeling that this was a reunion prompted not by greed or desire to recapture the past (Dudley has been busy since '87 scoring films and finally won an Oscar for her work on The Full Monty in 1997). This is The Art of Noise looking to the future with "the heart of the nineteenth century on a twentieth century sleeve with a twenty-first century gleam in the eye." Their reworking of the present to make way for the future has moved beyond strict sampling to the collation of musical ideas and memes to craft something grander. Sure, they use just enough of a house beat on a few tracks and a brief flirtation with drum 'n' bass to tie them to the current "electronica" vogue, and the inclusion of Rakim on "Metaforce" might smack of an attempt to gain cred with the hip hop community, but this is The Art of Noise, for crissakes! It is a fine line between indulgent wankery and striking out on a new path. John Hurt (the celebrity voice) reminds us that Debussy was "the revolutionary who started 20th century music on its way." Who's to say that The Art of Noise isn't doing the same for 21st century music? This is Heraclitus' river: you can't go back and you can't stay in the same place, you can only go forward. You can only build on what has passed prior, you can only be pushed onward by the weight and tide behind you.

-Mark Teppo
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"I really enjoy musical situations where I'm the wild card..." Bill admits on the First World web site and his first album under his own name exploits that jack-of-all-trades streak in him as he sings, drums, percusses, organs, and probably dances around the studio as well. Getting assistance from other improvisational rascals like Robert Fripp, Trey Gunn, Chris Connelly, and Mark Walk only improve the mix. This is the type of album that relishes listing the instrumentation in the liner notes: the "paranoid guitar," the "drunken siren," the "drum warpage," the "freight train guitar," the "earnest vox," and the "disco organ." This is the sound of a bunch of guys having a great time in the studio.

The tracks focus around driving rhythms, naturally, realizing Bill's handiwork these last ten years. But the pleasant surprise is his laconic voice. I'll admit a lack of time spent wading through alterna-rockers du jour to be able to give up a more specific reference point for his voice (though it does remind me a great deal of Chris Connelly's), but let's just call it warm, moody, and reminiscent of Bryan Ferry and David Bowie. Throw in a couple of funky little instrumentals and you've got the ingredients for a superb little album, perfect for long drives along the coast when the sun threatens to shine. Rieflin has patiently crafted a great album to bear his name and for his first, it is a definite landmark. This giant has sprung forth fully formed.

-Mark Teppo
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-Sabrina Wade-Haines
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Links:
The Donnas

-Hope Lopez
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Links:
Evil Tambourines

-Hope Lopez
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Links:
Haslinger

And this is only the first song.

"The Infinite Jest" takes you from Kabuki to a guitar riff reminiscent of "In the House" from Jeff Beck's Guitar Shop, themes and lines competing for your attention as with a street market. The only song on the album with organized lyrics (sung again--and written--by Raye), the delectable pop of "When Worlds Collide" could be the theme song to a film, worthy of any classic James Bond. After concentrating solely on Raye's stunning voice, the next track, "The Real Question (Is...)," samples her as a jumping-off point on a global journey among vocal samples.

While Score mixes samples, trance, techno, jazz, multiple world musics and hints of industrial, it's not a seamless blend--Haslinger doesn't even try to make it so (the back liner label of "rare groove/urban lounge/cine-fi/fringe-pop" gives a hint at the difficulty, and his willingness, to categorize this). These "incongruous" juxtapositions are what make this album so interesting, providing plenty of opportunity to examine the different nuances and combinations each listen brings out. Yet there is never a feeling of forced commingling, as so often happens with this many flavors; Haslinger is a master sonic chef, well aware of the subtle interactions of the multitude of spices at his command.

As indicated by the title, Haslinger's film scoring skills (as a member of Tangerine Dream from 1986-90, and continuing collaborations with Graeme Revell) are incredibly evident here; every song works its way into your awareness, and fills your senses through synaesthesia. Detailed scenes are enacted in your mind, from a chase through a Chinatown market ("Magheda") to the eruption of civil disobedience ("This Station") to the chaotic frenzy of celebration which ends the record ("New India"). This is one film which, if it existed, I would eagerly anticipate seeing solely on the strength of its Score.

-Paul Goracke
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This is the soundtrack of your mind as it drowns in the overwhelming ocean of sound which inundate us; this is the sound of your breakdown; this is the voice of shadows tittering in the corners of your room as they lie in ambush; this is the sound of Anarchy chewing at the edges of your psyche, gnawing and tearing at the collected nodules of your memory; this is the sound radio astronomers will hear as the Big Bang reaches its limit and comes rushing back at us; this is the sound of Chaos captured and mixed by the hand of man.

I found myself getting out of bed early next morning simply to listen to this album again. This is the story of a man seduced by Chaos, crawling back for his next fix.

-Mark Teppo
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Links:
Mammoth Volume

-Sabrina Wade-Haines
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Gone too would be the pleasures of reissues. And what pleasures Thirsty Ear Records' re-release of Pere Ubu's second and third albums--Dub Housing and New Picnic Time--offer. Last available on 1995's Ubu boxed set (a prohibitively expensive option for many), these recording haven't been available individually in a decade (Rough Trade last put them out in 1989). The fact that these are hugely influential and landmark recordings, however, often obscure one simple fact--these albums are damn fine, and lots of fun. Dub Housing may be the better effort (New Picnic Time is just a bit too loose and unstructured), but both are strangely beautiful and melodic despite, and often because of, Ubu's typical penchant for experimenting.

Also just out from Thirsty Ear is Apocalypse Now, a recording of a 1991 Chicago Ubu concert. Taped on only a two track digital, the CD has some rough sonic edges, but these only add to its surprising warmth. Pleasures abound here as well--Thomas' good humor (ordering a Remy Martin from the stage and dedicating "Busman's Honeymoon" to Ralph Kramden because "life is one crazy busdriver"), Eric Feldman's honky-tonk upright (a welcome contrast to the usual Ubu electronics), and even a tantalizing fragment of the Stooges' "I Want to Be Your Dog."

True, it's unfortunate these recordings have for a decade been so difficult to obtain. Yet--like the difference between seeing wildlife in a zoo and actually catching glimpses of a creature in the wild--there is much to be said for patience and effort (qualities Pere Ubu has always demanded of its listeners). As David Thomas himself has said, "We [may] have the technology," but these releases were worth the wait.

-Brian Cassidy
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They have a small still-cool-metal territory shared with contemporaries Iced Earth. Point of pride for Floridians--Jaws of Death was recorded at Tampa's Morrisound Studios.

-Sabrina Wade-Haines
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The music is undeniably good, all the members of Satyricon are accomplished musicians. Satyr's vocals are incredible--they are not the traditional black croaking/screaming, but an emotional blend of sounds that can alternate warmth with unbelievable creepiness. Intermezz takes the listener from blazing black metal to ethereal gothic to computer-driven industrial and back to the black in a cdep. Intermezzo is just a warm-up for Rebel Extravaganza which is due out in Fall. Satyricon are the smartest smirking metallers on the market. I have a feeling they are just laughing at all of us. They not only stand out from the burgeoning black metal crowd, they are laughing at them too.

-Sabrina Wade-Haines
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Email:
robinr@easynet.co.uk

"Immemory" begins with a woman's voice, a recording scratched and fuzzed beyond recognition. Rimbaud starts where we expect him to: with the human voice; but the voice is never clear, never distinct. It breaks up, dissolving under a progressive beat that builds and builds like an upthrust of volcanic matter until it breaks the surface and erupts. As if this beat, this rhythm, has been fighting beneath his skin long enough and he has finally let it loose. "Immemory" ends with a thundering rush, a rain of stars falling from the sky after the explosion, obliterating the landscape of the past. Rimbaud pushes us into the future.

And his future is definitely built on a graveyard of the past. "Passage de Recherche" is a lost Victorian soundtrack replete with ghostly voices and the fog of a dark landscape. "Sonnenlicht" brings to mind the atmosphere of old John Carpenter films (when they actually had atmosphere of their own) before it scuttles onto its own path. The expansive "Lithia Water" is a drum and bass excursion with symphonic overtones.

Rimbaud delivers a dark, moody environment with Lauwarm Instrumentals. He has clearly heard the music and ambience of his contemporaries and, much like his scanner pieces of old, is not afraid to appropriate what he has heard. But his appropriation is much more sublime; he takes sensations and feelings and melds them into something larger, something darker. It isn't your voice that he's captured this time, it's your emotions.

-Mark Teppo
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Links:
Sinergy

This is an incredibly talented grouping that is most likely a fleeting experience. Goss' vocals are beautiful. She is perhaps way too talented for metal. Stromblad is so seamless as a guitarist that he is almost fluid. Laiho is so speedy and flamboyant that he would embarrass lesser guitarists than Stromblad. D'Angelo is arguably one of the greatest metal bassists ever. So this should pack a wallop. Does it? It has punch, but not like Tyson, more like Roy Jones Jr. Speedy and pretty. Sometimes this gets all metally and speedy and it rocks real nice (note the nice) like in "Venomous Vixens," "Swarmed" and "The Warrior Princess". Sometimes it just rides the line between banality and sophistication like "The Fourth World," "Virtual Future" and "Beware The Heavens." Sometimes it sounds as though it was a soundtrack tune written by Katatonia and Burt Bacharach as in "Born Unto Fire and Passion," "Pulsation" and "Razor Blade Salvation." These are not all good things. But they are not necessarily bad, either. Sinergy has a certain energy and a lot of talent, but may need to develop a few more ideas before the next disc. Neat purple jewel case.

-Sabrina Wade-Haines
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Links:
Slipknot

Children of the Corn
Armed with a self-release (Mate, Feed, Kill, Repeat), a live show that can paralyze any ususpecting victim with fear, and an upbringing in the cornfield capitol of America, Mr. 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8 (those are their band names I swear) were bound for success. When in 1997 Ross Robinson signed them to his I AM label and produced their self-titled debut, which is already an automatic for metal debut of the year.

Keep Me in the Loop
Slipknot is 15 (or 16 depending on how patient you are) ungodly exercises in violence, hatred and horror. Every song is played with all the passion of a serial killer during that last second before the victim ceases to live. Freight train guitar, earthquake bass, rough and melodic singing with a hip-hop thrust, all the damn sampled horrified screeching you could ask for, and then drums up the ass. Regular drums, steel drums, bongos all played at the speed of light. Disk opener "(sic)" is a perfect inroduction to this hellish world with 8 (Corey) burrowing into you with "you can't kill me, cause I'm already inside you" and 1 (Joey) beating you senseless. And from there on all bets are off. It's pure insanity when "Eyeless" goes into incantations of "you can't see California without Marlon Brando's eyes." There is no stop to the disturbing, crushing barrage. No time to rest, to breathe or to think clearly. By the time "Scissors" collapses into utter paranoia and dissonance you'll feel like you've been hung.

Must See to Appreciate
You must see this band live. Forget the Blair Witch Project, you wanna get freaked out? Go see Slipknot. Nine red-clad creeps bound in a cacophony of hellish proportions will be permanently burned into your exhausted little cerebral cortex. Pure American entertainment at its finest.

-Jeff Ashley
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Links:
Super Furry Animals

-Craig Young
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Links:
Ween

Chronicling Ween's eight year touring history, Paintin' the Town Brown documents in glorifying (and horrifying) color, all the versions of the live band including a particularly feisty Gene and Dean playing all by their lonesome with a drum machine. If you have ever seen Ween live then you know that no matter what song they play, you can count on it being at least 5 minutes longer than the album version and injected with the standard antics and chaos. And they do all of this without skipping a beat. Throughout, the humor is intact and playing is amazing. This is the definitive Ween fan record, not including a lot of the songs that you would expect to be there, but an offering of the more obscure songs only a fan could love ("Mushroom Festival in Hell," "Awesome Sound," "Mister Would You Please Help My Pony" and a sublime "Marble Tulip Juicy Tree").

The liner notes, written by Dean his bad self, are hysterical and tearjerking. The disk even boasts an interactive website thing. Gene and Dean Ween are beautiful, they make the world a much more interesting place to be in.

-Jeff Ashley
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