Corvus Corax, The Best of Corvus Corax (Pica Records)
A great idea whose time… well, came about 500 years ago, but you can’t keep a good pack of leather-toga-draped medieval minstrels down. Historically correct in every aspect, Corvus Corax has been a fixture at German ren fairs and the like for twenty years, playing extinct music on painstakingly researched hand-made instruments. Whereas bagpipes are the weapon of choice for the front quintet, fearsome kettle drums hold down the percussive fort in the primal tradition of Stomp, Blue Man Group or like concepts geared more toward mass hypnosis than intricacy – the included 9-minute video is indisputable evidence that this is one Godzilla of a live show. Hyper-retro Latin prayers serve as lyrics, although even the boldest 2nd-century friar would prostrate himself for impending death at the hands of such a spectacle. corvuscorax.de
Vaux, Beyond Virtue, Beyond Vice (Lava Records/WEA)
Finally an indie (wink) band steps up, sneers at the obscurist-press insomniacs and parks one in the cheap seats. A vision of civil war between all of underground rock’s current excuses for relevance, the album ends up littering the field with the corpses of emo, nu-metal and snob-scenester disaffection. Right from the start (“Identity Theft”), the listener is left to fend for hirself in a scrapyard of Flaming Lips ennui patrolled by a pit bull commanding a run-like-hell Reznor bark. Zit-power anthem “Are You With Me” mixes industrial heaviness with Nirvana grunge, and over the course of the tracks the cyclone coils ever tighter until static-crawling jaguar yowls take a run at Funeral For a Friend’s mental bailiwick. This thing may have already taken over post-grunge by the time you’re reading this. lavarecords.com
Lene Lovich, Shadows and Dust (Stereo Society Records)
A cross between Siouxsie, Dresden Dolls and the soundtrack to “Wicked” – yes, the planet needs much, much more of this. With the 80s revival in full swing, it’s time to give this princess of goth the credit she may have missed out on back in the Stiff Records days: “Lucky Number” was arguably the transcendent look at schmuck-class love – its implication that any dice-roll in the hay can result in finding one’s soul-mate makes it almost worth hitting the clubs to this day. Fast-forward to “Shadows and Dust” and Lene’s still the same Siouxsie-like space shot with the same Siouxsie-like dark-chocolate-and-yodel disaffection, but this time she’s armed with sequencers, a deepened sense of theater and one or two block-rockin beats. “Craze” starts things off with a swirl of black silk and back-of-hand-to-forehead seduction that soon escalates into a patented Elvira vs Frankenstein anti-hook. “Shape-Shifter” sets all phasers to Extra Weird in a largely successful powwow between Destiny’s Child and Spike Jones, after which the off-Broadway hysterics of “Remember” bemoan Lene’s romantic misfire du jour. In case it needs to be said, sketched-out Halloween spirits never go wanting for long – “Gothica” and “The Wicked Witch” are worth their weight in strychnine-flavored candy corn, subordinate only to the bug-eyed Andrew Lloyd Webber-style “The Insect Eater,” in which our gal turns into an earwig-gobbling Renfield before your very ears. stereosociety.com
Bob Rasero, Behind the Wheel (Berger Platters Records)
Laid-back 70s country fashioned from vocal softballs that shift back and forth between Kenny Rogers and Seal, though Rasero’s core sound will bring Jonny Lang to the majority of C&W-centered minds. Title anthem tastefully relates a trucker’s tale of loneliness leading to getting lucky in his cab, its chorus a Jiffy Lube tune-up of Ozzy Osbourne’s “I’m Coming Home.” The lazy, gone-fishin acoustic-pop of “Sittin on a Stone” compels Rasero to slip into a drawl that’s neither Trace Adkins-unintelligible nor Clint Black-forced but which fits in fine with the crossover urbanity of it all. http://www.bobrasero.com] bobrasero.com
Semaphore, Make (Laughing Shadow Productions)
Subtly ambient, often brilliant electro instrumentals excreted by Kirby Clements. Notwithstanding their vigorous breakbeats, the tracks lean toward a more dated sound on the whole, with scads of primitive synth rarely heard nowadays outside of Heart’s “Magic Man” (put less delicately, let’s leave it at Robert Moog Has Risen From the Grave). This isn’t to wave the whole thing off as anachronistic swill – the layers of Chemical Brothers/Haujobb snap-crackle-poppage are many and not un-creative – but both goth-fashionistas and couch-gangstas will be repelled by the choices in vibe and hurrying back to their chat rooms in no time. Opening gambit “Slipping South” catches Big Ben playing Tetris while striking midnight; the darkwave modulations of “Drone” bear a faint resemblance to vintage Wumpscut (or, more precisely, Diary of Dreams), eventually sliding into theta tones, muted clanging and psychedelic collisions. Thereon it’s mainly an all-noise scratch-ticket with some good picks – hardy explorers will discover man-made ocean waves and army-chopper whirr (“Gel”), a walk through menacing desert canyons (“Push”), stun-guitar-washed rasta-riddims (“Veggie”), and a humorous poke at prog-rock (“Death to Me”). (no website)
Particle Zoo, Loneliness and Strangers (Digital Butchers Records)
A near-fIREHOSE experience, this. Tent-revivalists of the spittle-flecked ska-spazzing with which Squeeze once ruled the earth, these New Jersey zekes take out their past schoolyard beatings on surf, emo, country and the Sixties. Intentional or not, “Freaky Fat Tuesday” is an astounding tune, Beatle-boot organ driving bouncy Elvis Costello geekology. Things get even happier – almost intolerably so – in “Pi in the Sky,” which involves a heartfelt (and appropriate, God help us) “ba ba ba” chorus that makes “Penny Lane” sound like the Funeral March. pzoo.com
Angela Fischetti, Enter the Light (self-released)
Yoga-centric New Age self-release emboldened by Bhakti-practitioner Fischetti’s admiration for common Sanskrit shibboleths, all contents clocked for radio in the manner of Deva Premal (Toni Braxton is a more analogous front-chick). Fischetti’s heart, soul and attitude are in the right places – the whole schmeer is very pretty. Only thing amiss is a decidedly inelegant “Amazing Grace” that isn’t of much use until the lines are hummed rather than sung. The Premal vein is sweetly tapped for a sensuous cover of meditation-class favorite “Yemaya Assessu” that follows the classy Lindsay Buckingham-like patter of “Maitri Interlude.” angelafischetti.com
Smoke & Mirrors, White Roses Painted Red (Aural Fixation Records)
Weighing in at 75-plus minutes, “White Roses Painted Red” is synth-duo Michael Ely and Spider Taylor’s well-thought musical adaptation of Lewis Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland,” demonstrated through a full spectrum of emotive bytes, classical tinkering and expressionist rock. The quality is a cut or two above B-movie soundtrack, waxed and buffed just enough to maintain its friendliness. Taking things from the top, the understated Mozart-march “Alice (Theme Song)” suggests pomp, privilege and hints of playfulness until our heroine drops through the looking glass (“Falling Into the Underground”) accompanied by kaleidoscopic clock-ticks, 12-string and found psychedelics. “Pool of Tears” adds industrial-prog rhetoric to the mix, and so on – anything goes in this fiercely innovative study. auralfixationrecords.com
Funker Vogt, Navigator (Metropolis Records)
An in-depth investigation of third-millennium EBM dance-techno that yields novel results. Forsaking the stoned-vampire playacting relied upon by half the bands in Berlin, Funker Vogt spikes their absinthe with shots of roots-disco caffeine – either “Stronghold” or “Reject” could have been Duran Duran’s contribution to the “Saturday Night Fever” soundtrack. Wobbly phase-shifted orchestrations figure prominently in the album’s front-end (“Killing Ground” in particular), the killer dancefloor cut saved for the #11 spot (“The End”). Jens Kastel’s virile but smoky baritone – effects-drenched as it is – goes down smooth (and with no small VNV Nation influence, as confirmed by the “Fearless”-like “Navigator”). metropolis-records.com
LAL, Warm Belly High Power (Public Transit Records)
Ethnically diverse island-vaykay techno resembling a staring contest between Sade and Minnie Ripperton over the last piece of mango-chutney cheesecake as a preoccupied-looking banana-republican slowly paddles their bamboo raft down the Yangtze. The unquestionably decent (if sometimes risky) melodies hawked by these purveyors of “the cross-cultural Canadian experience” (thus spake the press kit) are mint-julep-decadent celebrations of anytime-anywhere R&R, not that the latest heartwarming reports out of Fallujah call for such things. ptrmusic.com
The Absence, From Your Grave (Metal Blade Records)
Enumerating influences from Iron Maiden (“A Breath Beneath”), Ozzy (“From Your Grave”) and Ride the Lightning-era Metallica (“Necropolis”), The Absence solder unforgiving black-metal Bat Boy shrieks to the brand of Fates Warning NWOBHM that’s rightly considered minimalist by the standards of today’s slide-rule-wielding quasi-hardcore thrashers, even going so far as to magpie erstwhile gawds like Vinnie Vincent for some of the lead work (“Summoning the Darkness”). The emo-metal vocal gymnastics of “Seven Demons” make it the most vital hand on deck. metalblade.com
The Kola Koca Death Squad, The Kola Koca Death Squad (Wife Records)
It’s impossible not to hand it to these indie hopheads and their hickish, almost touching Grand Funk worship. The real chuckle will come later, after they’ve won some sort of plastic Band of the Week trophy from one of the college-music Baboon Dooleys, at which point they’ll get into their ’92 Corolla and pop Goat’s Head Soup or Paranoid in the cassette deck, same as always. Mike Brewer’s Michael Hutchence swank is a Get Out of Jail Free card for a record that might (would) otherwise have been doomed to ignominious garage footnotedom. wiferecords.com
PJ Olsson, Beautifully Insane (Brash Music)
Docile teen-pop non-sequiturs brought to you by the very neohippy who contributed “The Whistle Song” (included here) to Starburst Fruit Chews commercials, aka He Who Joyously Licks the Boots of Beck-heads Who Couldn’t Pick “Marrakesh Express” or Yo La Tengo Out of a Lineup. The bongwater runs deep within the unplugged grunge of “Visine” (picture Seal as a Woodstock-tripping tambourine-shaker) and strains the levees in “Soul Soul Superstar,” a shiny folk-rock lure certain to reel in latent Phish fans ready to wean themselves from McHip-hop. The songwriting is irresistible enough to get Olsson’s foot in any LA door, and even includes an instant catch-phrase or two (“I’d rather be Medicated than be a bitch like you”). brashmusic.com
The Warlocks, Surgery (Bird Man Records)
After three non-stop masochistic years on the road, taking their sweet time dusting off some Spacemen 3 psychedelica and putting a wall of sound to it was just what the Warlocks’ drug dealer ordered. Putting aside any indie-obscura references (since, judging by their sudden desire to do nothing but 3-minute songs, they’d be overjoyed to receive any big-league comparisons) (ah, someone in the audience might want to mumble “Radiohead circa 1995” between loud coughs just in case), The Warlocks beget early Who doing Pink Floyd slug-rock sung by a mid-range Shannon Hoon. All attempts to wax anthemic are worn well, such as “Come Save Us”, and the 10-minute indie-opus “Suicide Note,” not that the Spector-bait “Angels in Heaven, Angels in Hell” couldn’t have been replaced with any Ronettes song without anyone knowing the difference. birdmanrecords.com
Terrorfakt, Cold World Remixes (Metropolis Records)
Supremely hard collection of industrial/darkwave dance numbers from NYC-based DJ Hellraver. “Achtung” leads the instruments-only Bradley-tank invasion, churning up a scorched-earth shortcut to Anywhere through which many things dark and sinister emerge. The creatures that dismount and begin pillaging are armed to the fangs with synth-lasers, sample-grenades and indefatigable fury – a thinking townie’s first-gut response to 9-11. metropolis-records.com
Manntis, Sleep In Your Grave (Century Media Records)
Mosh-metal reminiscent of Agnostic Front and Crumbsuckers that’s a lot meaner than what you’d expect from a California band – particularly one that got its start by placing third on MTVs “Battle for Ozzfest” reality show. With its fluttering riff and emo midsection, “Axe of Redemption” exhibits a genuine eagerness to experiment with a genre that’s plagued with more disposability than Courtney Love’s sense of embarrassment, and the sawed-off 2-3 minute song-lengths provide a thankful break from all the pit-slopping skins convinced that their oafish political ravings merit more time than it takes to microwave a bag of popcorn. These fellows are simple punks who spent time on their craft, an evolutionary step that’s cause for respect rather than grunts of dismay from jealous purists unable to differentiate coccyx from cubitis. centurymedia.com
Velvet Rut, Audiosis (Velvet Rut Records)
Intolerable Deadhead paleontology, motheaten Police-reggae hand-me-downs and assorted other Jam Band 101 spam that doesn’t make a dent until singer Jack Kennedy applies his Pete Puma voiceovers to a Chili Peppers sound-check (“Mother Mercy”). Our heroes clutch at a few Pere Ubu weirdo-blather straws in “Two Packs” but the CMJ Seal of Approval is often denied when the whatever-it-is sounds so much like Aerosmith’s “Make It” that you can smell the VO5. The one saving grace is the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club-like “Whisky.” velvetrut.com
Space Odyssey, The Astral Episode (Candlelight Records)
Woah woah woah, wait a second here – this isn’t Ronnie Dio fronting Yes? A bunch of Swedes, you say, not a one-off prog-metal piss-take from Weather Report? If all this is true, then this has to be the tightest, most talented hard rock band in history, right? Flanked by an Yngwie-like Flying-V alchemist in Magnus Nilsson, keyboard whiz Richard Andersson takes Rick Wakeman right to the boards with a blizzard of rabid-squirrel arpeggios and A-student megaprogressions, but before you can holler a jealous ad hominem about people who are light years more talented than you, along comes a Dio dead-ringer right out of “Heaven and Hell”-era Black Sabbath and you’re left with no strategy other than gawking stupidly. The highly evolved strains zing, zoom, roll over, play dead – definitely a non-starter for the Papa Roach Wannabe Award, but a serious contender for this year’s “No Way Could That Not Be Coming From a Synth” trophy. Oh, and the drummer’s 17 in human years. candlelightrecordsusa.com
Leaf, Made Into Itself (Suspicious/Hive Records)
Skulls against headboards rather than mood-noise feedback spikes are the only things sure to go bump in the night while partaking of these droid-love rhapsodies. Forged out of haunting, gawking-out-the-window-at-the-rain trip-hop, “Made Into Itself” is deeply personal, but there’s something Spike Lee about it all that harnesses big-city isolation and makes it somehow less apocalyptic. In terms of sequencer prowess this falls somewhere between Front Line Assembly’s lighter side and anything in the Warp Records stable that has a few loose ends. “Cut the Leash” comprises a rippled lagoon of summery guitar straight out of the Robbie Blunt School of Come-Hither Smolder as it tees up the Moroccan accents of “Light Blue Morning”. Later, under the quiet, psychedelic-breakbeat protection of “Lounge Dwellers”, Wick explores his Jello Biafra (actually Prince) side in a rant about artificial intelligence and God. Not that Wick is the only perpetrator of such things, but a little less Bruckheimer flash and more coherence of slant is called for here – if techno is the new underground rock, there isn’t time to spare deciphering Purple Rain babbling dressed as eggheadism. On the lighter side, “Coffee Drinker” fully embodies the subject content, Dido-esque acoustic guitars creating a relaxed drive-time ambience, while “Song of Trees” lays in a hammock of unhurried piano for its first half (since it’s the closing song, there’s the requisite 1.3 minutes of silence before a hidden trip-hop track sneaks in). hiverecords.com
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