The New Pornographers, who are they? Well, they're what's typically called a "supergroup." The term gets bandied about pretty freely and sure, there's lots of names there, but the substance is a bit lacking. Not so here. The roster is as follows: Carl Newman (Zumpano, Superconductor), Dan Behar (Destroyer), John Collins (Evaporators, Smugglers), Kurt Dahle (Limblifter), Neko Case (Corn Sisters, solo), and filmmaker Blaine Thurier. If some of these names are completely foreign, well...you got a nice little list of bands to look for. If not, well...good.

I can't tell you how damn excited I am about this record, but I guess I'm trying. The title track, sung by Case, kicks things off. A beautiful gem--though, Case's country inflections are turned off--it makes me think of watching a Buster Keaton movie with Keaton all dressed up like a cowboy, swaggering down main street in that black and white kind of sped up way. Now, I don't know if he ever did that, but I do know he's not doing it now as he's no longer with us. The next two songs totally wrecked me. God damn if Carl Newman isn't the greatest singer in the world! "The Slow Descent Into Alcoholism" bounces with the best pop gems, past and present. Newman has a way of phrasing that just beckons genius. The album's centerpiece, "Letter From an Occupant," is a sonic anathema to the '60s Phil Spector sound. Think what "Leader of the Pack" might sound like if it were written today. To me, those are the albums highlights and the high standard of quality that runs throughout.

Sadly, the status of the band as a touring entity is all gonna depend on when they can make time. This is always a factor with "supergroups," but we can look forward to the fact that all of them have albums either in the can or in the works with their respective bands. Hell, the band has, in a way, been in existence since 1997. I think the wait for an album has been well worth it and I'll hold my breath for them live.

-Tiber Scheer
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Nils Petter Molvaer

Picking up directly where Khmer left off, Solid Ether builds on Molvaer's quiet, breathy style of trumpet playing, creating large spaces that he fills with the heart-breaking sound of his harmonized instrument. It's very evident that this isn't just a retread of Khmer as the first shattering break-beat skitters past you and erupts into a full jungle explosion. "Dead Indeed" most certainly is not, as you are launched into space by the rhythm section and Molvaer's trumpet caresses you in flight like the spangled tail of a broad comet. "Vilderness 1" languidly arches itself around you as Molvaer and Eivind Aarset's guitar reach toward the sky like yearning sunflowers. Continuing the late night melancholy of "Katonita," Molvaer and singer Sidsel Endresen engage in a tiny torch number for voice and piano with "Merciful 1" (reprised in "Merciful 2" to close out the disc). "Ligotage"--released as a single following Khmer--is revamped here in a slightly remixed version, not as heavy on the low end, but still an exquisite arrangement of the shuffling rhythm section behind Molvaer's breathy trumpet. Molvaer's influence from Miles Davis' On the Corner and Big Fun era can be heard throughout, but "Ligotage" as well as "Trip" and "Solid Ether" demonstrate his awareness of those historical structures where the trumpet is simply the voice that sails above the grunting, straining, pulsing rhythm section.

Solid Ether is just an essential album, regardless of when your local CD distributors decide to finally carry it. It is a breathtaking amalgamation of electronics and jazz, bridging the last century and the next.

-Mark Teppo
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Nine Inch Nails

Trent Reznor knows exactly what he's doing. The innovation that he has bestowed upon us over the last decade has come to rest in a very comfortable spot. Now Trent's job is to sit back, perfect it, fuck with it, tear it all apart and put it back together. Things Falling Apart is the scattered and remixed audio accompaniment to his most recent release, The Fragile. This is something that NIN fans have come to depend on and something he's done ever since Broken.

And this most recent is delivered with as much clanking, banging, atomizing, hum-along-to-deconstruction as he's mustered to date. However, there are too many versions of "Starfuckers, Inc." Dave Ogilvie's prowess shines on one version, as he demonstrates exactly why [Skinny] Puppy had him mix and produce just about everything they did--and Trent is lucky to have adopted him. As infrequently as Mr. Reznor likes to come out of his hole, you'd better get this. If history tells us anything, you know that we are in for another six year NIN winter.

-Jeff Ashley
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Raz Mesinai

Yes, you might call it a wee bit of an axe that I've got slung over my shoulder.

None of this should really get in the way of giving a good listen to Raz Mesinai's entry into this realm of too-spooky-for-spooky with The Unspeakable. A rather sharp turn off the straight and narrow for both Raz and BSI (both more historically known for their work in the dub marketplace), The Unspeakable finds Raz extending his palette of instruments and sonic environments. Eschewing the dub elements which flavor his other work (under the names Sub Dub and Badawi) for a range of instruments known for inspiring terror by their very sound (choirs of off-key children, detuned zithers, screeching violins, plucked pianos, thunderous timpani, and spectrally-operated music boxes), Raz explores the haunted psyche of the damaged and possessed. He (wisely) steers away from mirroring any structure of the film and builds a soundtrack to the story of a lost soul being pursued and possessed by their own demons, their life turned into a mockery of humanity by the flush of demonic energies and appetites flooding its fledgling shape. It is Raz's investigation into the pits of fear and terror in his own mind and the clattering and chattering of bats and rats that he finds there.

But will hearing this disc make fluids come out your orifices? Depends on how many nights you've stayed up way too late as a kid catching Creature Feature or if you've been "terrorized" by Brian Ladd's or Coil's "unreleased" Hellraiser themes. It's an adventurous step for both artist and label, one that speaks of their willingness to explore dark places with music. The Unspeakable draws up moments of stark bleakness and "what the hell was that?" kind of double-takes when you're alone in the house. It makes you eager to open the refrigerator in a dark kitchen or leave a bathroom light on all night. It makes you wonder if the voices you're hearing are actually on the CD or if they're coming out of the walls or that dark spot on the pantry floor which never really seems to go away. It'll spook your cat and make your landlady nervous if she hears it coming out from under the door of your apartment as she creeps around in the halls. It might even renew your faith that the lizard part of your brain which controls the flight impulse can still be reached.

-Mark Teppo
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Rhea's Obsession

The first object that captures your vision as you enter is a wide pool. You can't really tell how deep it is or how many forlorn maidens or love-stricken young men have drowned themselves in these waters but, looking into the still blackness, you can understand the seductive allure. There are thick roots which burrow under the walls, raising the huge bores of gnarled trees into the sky. Egyptian vines creep across these roots and twine up the crumbling mortar of the walls. There is a discarded necklace of garlands on the grass, dropped in haste as if your arrival had startled a party of woodland creatures. You find nightshade blooming in the darkness beneath a bower of maple branches. There is incense in the air, scents and aromas of spices found along the verdant banks of the Tigris and Euphrates.

If I had kept driving at a breakneck pace, I would have maintained my label of "Gothic" and never been in a hurry to stray down this lane again. Gothic is a style that is static, crenellated, and kept in shadow by the overwrought outline of buttresses and gargoyles. Between Earth and Sky, however, has this garden--this vibrant and energetic physical environment that is flush with elemental energies--that makes it much more Romantic in its construction.

-Mark Teppo
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The voice of Klik's muse is still female and he's forgone the traditional stringed instruments for the turntable, taking his ethereal sound down the trip-hop lane. All bitterness about Bill Leeb's attempted transformation to mainstream pop producer aside, Sugar, Spice, Saccharin & Cyanide is the elegantly crafted album that Delerium should have made after Karma if Leeb had shown the slightest interest in pushing the envelope instead of recycling the charred remnants of discarded song ideas. Scarlet Life singer Chandra Clark has a sound that is equal parts Sarah McLachlan and Beth Gibbons, her mercurial voice gliding effortlessly betwixt the two poles. The rhythm section of Zebulun and DJ Skeptik provide a soulful, funky backdrop as Klik's effects and melodies weave a magic carpet ride across the Middle and Far East, taking us on a heady pursuit of the siren call of Clark's vibrant voice.

The saccharin of the title is misleading. The other elements well up continually across these twelve songs: a tasty sweetness in your mouth from the graceful melodies and arrangements, a rich mélange of exotic flavors in the beats and vocals, and a hint of darkness beneath it all like a drop of absinthe on the tongue. But there is nothing that could be considered a FDA sanctioned substitute. All the flavors here are original, exotic, and blended together by a masterful hand. No need for artificial sweeteners.

-Mark Teppo
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Sea of Green

You know that some discs are made for driving and Sea of Green makes a really great rush hour companion. It's not so fast or abrasive that your nerves are jangled (not good for those with a nasty case of road rage), but it rocks and it's actually quite mellow and groove-ridden. I recommend grooving to "Annihilation," "Deep Inside," "Orion's Belt" and "Breathe" as you truck on down the old highway. Now where did I put those toll quarters?

-Sabrina Haines
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Smut Peddlars

Unlike their shocking and depraved video single, Porn Again, the Smut Peddlers debut album, is surprisingly good. MC Cage and Eon provide tight lyrical flows based on misogyny's dark side. DJ Mighty Mi lures you in against your will (in my case) with phat production and a bag full of turntable tricks. I really wanted to hate these guys but I kept finding myself entranced by their ability to spew forth entertaining garbage with above average mic skills and top notch musical production. If puerile language, misogyny, gore, and just plain old nasty isn't your idea of fun then consider yourself warned, this is not for you.

I remember the first time I ever heard the 2 Live Crew's single "We Want Some P***y." My parents were horrified. Overnight the group was vilified. And me, I thought it was the coolest and most outrageous thing I'd ever heard. I didn't have that same reaction when I heard the Smut Peddlers, but then I'm not sixteen anymore either. This trio of miscreants may not be Eminem cute, but what they lack in looks they more then make up for with frat house debauchery and a good dose of talent.

-Cecil Beatty-Yasutake
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Snoop Dogg

The most important thing with The Last Meal is that Snoop and Dre are jamming again. All of The Last Meal's nineteen songs ring with the irresistible sing-along swagger of "Gin & Juice." Snoop's chops have never been better, and Dre brought some of that magic over from Chronic2001 and spread it out a little wider.

More of those fat spatial mixes with every element exactly where it is supposed to be. The melodies, the percussions, the vocals are all meticulously constructed to form instant classics like "Hennesy N Buddah," "Go Away," and "Lay Low." Things sound as close as they can to a NWA reunion when Cube, MC Ren, Nate Dogg and The Lady of Rage join Snoop for a hard core gangsta romp on "Set it Off"--then witness perfect sequencing as it all rolls deep into the stoned funk of "Stacy Adams." A both integral and controversial element to this is the lyrical content, which Snoop will obviously take heat for as the subject matter here is just what you would expect from him. It's his neighborhood and his world. It's a learning experience. But no one can criticize a man for being consistent.

-Jeff Ashley
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Swell (official site)
Swell (unofficial site)

Feed's eponymous track begins with a crisp drum intro and soon drops a hesitant, convulsive guitar loop into the mix. Despite the coarse surge of the chorus, the song primarily moves forward on a funk-style melody, the latter being particularly apparent when Freel moves into an uncharacteristic lyrical groove in the second verse. Yet all this is a bit of self-conscious trial and error. The subtle sonic nuances of "Feed," and every song thereafter, are signs that Freel is still testing his capabilities as a musician and the dynamic potential of his output.

A jarring piano clip bookends the sample-heavy "A Velvet Sun," in which Freel asserts in his sardonic, hushed tones: "I want the whole world to see / You ran yourself into me." Then there's the subwoofer-rattling bassline on "Inside a Bomb," which stands in stark contrast to the bare acoustics of "Someday Always Comes"--a further illustration of the range of Feed, as well as Swell's latest sound as a whole.

The third track, "Like Poverty," reappears to close the EP as "Poverty Again," an instrumental that exposes, layer by layer, the intricate songwriting and -editing with which Freel has chosen to experiment as his career moves on. Not even the intricate "stoney headphone experience" of For All the Beautiful People (1998) could be described as an equivalent departure. All the same, one may become slightly nostalgic for the raw acoustic days of 41 (1993). The absence of Vallier and Kirkpatrick is apparent. But that doesn't mean that the band has turned away from its roots, either. "Like Poverty" is also the most familiar touchstone for past Swell listeners.

Feed precedes the late spring release of the Everybody Wants to Know LP (other tentative titles: Sleep/Drive or Someday Always Comes), which will include three songs found on the EP as well as new material. This release has once again confirmed Swell as a band of remarkable talent in perpetual flux; it's a tantalizing warmup to the full-length.

-Eric J. Iannelli
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Teenage Fanclub

Let's pause to recall that in 1991 Spin magazine picked Teenage Fanclub's sophomore record, Bandwagonesque, as Album of the Year over Nirvana's Nevermind. I don't write this with the irony you perhaps may want me to. In fact, I agree with that assessment that it is a better album than Nevermind. Not that it was the best album that year (Primal Scream's Screamadelica was), and any smug glance cast on Spin's choice leans heavily upon the retrospective benefit of the big N's mythology and canonization. Bandwagonesque was a template for 1990's power pop, wearing its Big Star heart on its sleeve yet only using that as a platform to something vital and non-derivative. The guitars were a big part of that vision, however: ragged, fat, and crunchy. Nevertheless, the group's movement to a mellower, more Byrds-ian sound seemed sealed by the last track on 1993's 13, "Gene Clark," a tribute to The Byrd's unsung hero. By the time Songs From Northern Britain rolled around in 1997, there was a laid-back, almost country rock feel at times.

But listening to Songs From Northern Britain after hearing Howdy! makes the former sound as hard as...well, Nirvana. The guitars were still there in 1997, not as muscular as Bandwagonesque but still present and gorgeous, sometimes erupting into several solos in the space of one song. The guitars are sorely missed on Howdy! The album is like cotton candy or chocolate mousse, sweet as hell, but ultimately too much so for its own good. The first track, "I Need Direction," sets the tone, with jangly guitars, layered harmonies (here's your "ba-ba-ba-bas") and cheery organ dumped like ketchup over the whole affair. If you're not so cynical or post-rock or post-modern or post-whatever that a good melody still raises the hairs on your neck, "Accidental Life" and "Happiness" will do the trick. Somewhere along the way, these guys learned to really sing, and on these tracks, they harmonize their way through hooks like nobody's business.

Obviously, there's some cheekiness involved in all this levity. The album title sets up the joke and the songs pretty much drive it home. (There are even pictures of the guys brandishing acoustic guitars and wearing goofy smiles inside the sleeve.) But I guess you have to excuse them for being contrary or ironic, Howdy! wasn't even released in the US, and furthermore the group is always cut out of the Creation Records story. (They're not as sexy or tough as My Bloody Valentine or Oasis it seems.) So God bless Teenage Fanclub--but for chrissakes lads, turn up the guitars next time.

-Erik Hage
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The musical energy in the place is pure down-tempo with a futuristic touch, set off by a live guitar performance so cool the musician should have been wearing gloves. Out the corner of my eye I spied a couple in full embrace, lips locked in passion, their intensity a reflection of the overall feeling of the performance--it's bedroom groove music. Suddenly I found myself whipping out my cell and hitting redial. On the other end a soft warm voice answers. I tell her I'll be home early and that I have a surprise for her and I can hear her smile through the phone as I hang up. My tea arrives and the waitress smiles as I drop her a generous tip. My lips go puffy instantly as I scald them gulping down my fresh brewed tea.

At a stand near coat check I purchase the group's CD. Smiling, I place it in my disc man and brace for the cold weather outside. The funky beat of "Weed on the Tree, Forty on the Floor" helps me maintain a lively pace towards home. As I near my block "RF Interference" begins to fill my head with hypnotic and beautiful sounds, a plush electronic organ plays over a funky drum track as bluesy guitar pickin's and timely turntable magic provide a jazzy hip-hop feel. As my key hits the lock I smile to myself, "This was money well spent."

-Cecil Beatty-Yasutake
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Who cares what the movie is about. Save your ten clams and instead pick up the soundtrack, because for about the same amount of money you can take a brief glimpse into the catalog of fourteen artists and decide from there if any of their music is worth perusing further. Included here are several remixes of songs by, among others, Rob Zombie with "Superbeast" (this remix has a great dance floor bump, but I'd hate to see the man disco), Static X (Ministry-lite. Al, sober up dammit and see what hell you've wrought!), and Filter (maybe I'm confused, but I thought Filter were not so pop...). Several album tracks from artists such as the Deftones, who give up "RX Queen" (from their album White Pony), and a great collaboration between aggro-industrial terrorists Soulfly and that cheeky little Sean Lennon in the form of "Son Song," which appeared on Soulfly's latest, Primitive. Marilyn Manson appears here (as they seem to do everywhere these days) and contributes "Valentine's Day." There's also some super-sexy vocals courtesy of those sultry vixens Amanda Ghost ("Filthy Mind") and Snake River Conspiracy's Tobey Torres.

In fact, for not being entirely enamored of the nu-metal scene, this soundtrack ain't too shabby at all. BT's "Smart Bomb" seems a bit out of the mix compared to the taste of the other songs, but as a whole, the soundtrack to Valentine, at about half the length of the movie and priced at about twice the ticket cost, is the better of the deal. I give it two thumbs up.

-Craig Young
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Reminiscent of Imminent's seminal Nord album (back before Olivier lopped Starvation off the band's name), Noiy applies pressure with its incessant jack-hammer against sheet-metal sound, capturing the shocking echo of the tortured metal and the spattering squeal of erupting sparks. "Signal In" comes at you like an out-of-control combine, its maw of blades shrieking against the blacktop. "Metropolis" is an over-stoked bank of oscilloscopes, their volume knobs all thrown to "11" and then snapped off. The silence and creeping pulse at the beginning of "Quest" are filled with oozing menace, making my skin crawl with apprehension.

The world is a fractured place and some find solace in the splintered pieces. ZymOsiZ finds rhythm in all this noise and the result is an extremely appealing and--dare I say--comforting shield against the more damaging sounds of destructive progress.

-Mark Teppo
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