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Chocolate Weasel
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Music Appreciation 101
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Terrastock II
Third Eye Foundation

Baboon Secret Robot Control CD
After one of the Baboon shows I attended in Dallas, one of their fans introduced himself to me by saying “I wish their records sounded as good as they do live.” That night I debated with him, and since then I think his words continue to ring truth into my noggin as they release more recorded material. Like their previous album, Face Down in the Turpentine, Baboon play their amazing songs through an unacceptable filter of recording/mastering. Not that I want these songs to sound slick like Janet Jackson, there are noticeable problems with the levels of some of these songs - mostly the use of too much compression. Not Baboon’s fault, but I thought I would mention it. Being a huge fan of these guys, excuse me while I suggest my favorites (and coincidentally the most melodic of tracks) “You and I,” You Kill Me” and “Nation of Twos.” These songs would make a fine emo EP or single released on Kill Rock Stars. The remaining tracks are fiery, blistering exposé’s on the human condition. Blunt hatred is exhibited on the newly recorded version of “Bring Me the Head of Jack Skinner” while “Night of the Long Knives” is a torturous noisy rollercoaster ride in the dark. Mike’s guitar style is really starting to take hold and increasingly distinguish Baboon’s sound away from previous Gang of Four comparisons. As with all Baboon releases, Andrew’s vocals croon across a chasm of melodic whispering and chaotic screaming - all the while holding the attention of the young ladies in the audience. Baboon are like the fun part of getting beaten up during sex - getting bitten, spanked, slapped, pinched, tied up, and pushed around. (Wind Up 72 Madison Ave. 8th Floor NYC, NY 10016)

Baboon We Sing and Play CD
Rarely is perfection realized, and even rarer can a band claim they did it on their own. Not since the Sausage cassette have the Denton, TX quartet ventured into overseeing one of their own releases. Connected to labels like Direct Hit, Silver Girl, Grass and ultimately "The Man," the gang has weathered the headiest storms of their career. Putting all the bureaucratic nonsense behind them, the boys have created their most telling statement yet. In We Sing and Play, Baboon leave the virgin startled questioning why they haven't come to know Baboon more intimately, earlier on in their life. Engaging, relentleess power evidenced across the whole document is the least compelling analysis of this mini-album. It is the witnessing of a band cementing their sound and vision within the confines of managing their own destiny that is truly a spectacle to behold. Musically, Baboon have shed many of their experimental toys, instead grounding themselves in their strengths at melody written inside their sinister rock dynamics. Every song an opus, a swan-song, an anthem, We Sing and Play is the defining moment in Baboon's life that us fans have always sought, and upon the delivery of this perfection we can all join in the afterglow together as this booms from car stereos and movie soundtracks, and concert venues. The Man has been defeated. The Man will never be the same. The Band has finally conquered the corporate menace that punk rock has always rallied against. The People have spoken. (www.baboon.com) – Keith York

Baboon/Rubberbullet split 7”
The ‘boon spill their crashing angst on the floor in a whopping spastic mess. Sweeping the shards together in a pile the bassline roars , pushing Andrew’s vocals into your lap. A hugely successful use of three minutes of your time. Fellow Dallas-onians, Rubberbullet, thumb their noses at the likes of Uzeda while driving their confidently acute and scissors sharp power into the air. Mid-song Rubberbullet hint at Poem Rocket songs sung by Sandra rather than Michael. Though never mining darkness, theirs is an inescapable and obtusely gray mood thrust upon the listener - as if a cloud just shut out the sun. A strange creeping sensation. (Last Beat 2819 Commerce Dallas, TX 75226)

Baby Namboos Ancoats2Zambia CD
Expect the unexpected when a Bristol address appears. Making their Durban Poison (Tricky-owned label) debut, The Baby Namboos downbeat collective provide heady skunk-infected, yet concious vibrations from the dark, cold northern hemisphere. Stripped of the dub fuel, the retail version of The Baby Namboos are comparable to Portishead (though vocals sounds more like Bjork) and Morcheeba while arguably reside even farther in left field with Bristol beat compatriots Herbaliser. In reading about Baby Namboos, few descriptions will suffice to get you in their zone, your understanding of Tricky is the real key to grasping the mood of Ancoats2Zambia. Trust me. (Durban Poison/RykoPalm 4 Columbus Circle NYC 10019) – Keith York

Badaboom Gramophone #2 128 pgs. + CD
Accompanied by a 12-track compilation CD and in its new Baffler size, Badaboom Gramophone has metamorphosed immensely since its birth. The journal published by Ben Goldberg (head honcho at Ba Da Bing! corporate HQ) collects works by friends, family and co-workers alike, building an eclectic platform surrounding the his record reviews. Along with his musical contribution to the CD, Petr Kotik’s interview takes up much of the journal. Poem Rocket’s (music also on the CD) Michael Peters penned a highly subjective eloquent biography of the post-Cagean composer and leader of Brooklyn’s SEM ensemble. Unlike other journals, Gramophone #2 contains some great humor - whether intentional or not. Chunklet’s publisher Henry Owings, offers a critique of modern music soundtracks to TV advertisements; a marketing conundrum no matter how you look at it. Brooklyn resident Jonathan Waks analyzes the temporal problems of the Star Wars trilogy and laments over wookieism and the loss of arms. Eric Gordon soapboxes about all that is wrong with the concept of Los Angeles building a subway. And Ben’s father gives a buyer-beware seminar on the exploitative motives of psychics. All of these humorous accounts make this lengthy read quite enjoyable. Some problems do exist with proofreading - now that Ben has upped the ante with his more professional production choices, so too must he wade through spell check and use editors and proofreaders - it’s not just a zine anymore! All of the articles including Mike “Flying Nun” Wolf’s self deprecating, apologetic writing style and Franklin Bruno’s process pitfalls, are written with passion for the topic - always interesting and highly opinionated. Things I know a great deal about. The accompanying CD follows the direction Ba Da Bing! started with their Follow the Bouncing Ball compilation, what with the noisy, treated, ambient sonic structures employed by a diverse cast of artists the label has an impassioned desire to be a part of. Though much of this genre has been exploited over the last two decades by labels like Staalplat, Crammed Discs, Soleilmoon, Forced Exposure, Mute, RRR etc. this compilation had its moments with the likes of Bright, Juneau, Five Way Mirror and the beginning of the Ivanovich track. (Ba Da Bing! PO Box 204 Leonia, NJ 07605)

Bagman Wrap CD
Another producer discovers the utility of the "Amen, Brother" break. Sometimes I try to amuse myself by creating genre boundaries between jungle and drum 'n' bass. I listen to recently produced dark step 12"s and compare them to seminal jungle tracks like "Bludclot Artattack." The reliance on the "Amen" snares and kick in a looped fashion becomes more esoteric in recent forays of DnB producers, while old tracks by LTJ Bukem and Goldie remind us of jungle's early roots in ragga, and dance floor. Jamaica and jungle seem a lot more akin to one another than Bristol and London in '98. While mutant techno sounds wrap breakbeats around the bassbin dwellers, folks like Bagman release an album which sounds as it hits the shelves. New software versions become available before you learn the preceding release. A couple of the harder techno approaches highlight Bagman's diversity, but don't count on getting props from the DJ-set. "Headinabag" should be remixed and stripped of the vocal sample, synth 'scapes and sitar sounds, leaving the bass-bob and snare fight alone. I also hate the artwork and packaging concept. (Invisible PO Box 16008 Chicago, IL 60616) - Keith York

Bailterspace Capsul CD
It had been some time since hearing a new piece of Bailterspace. In fact it had been a few years since I picked up a copy of an album they did for Matador. From what I remember someone telling me is that this trio of New Zealanders transplanted themselves in New York City where, after a few years, they mutated into their present form. What Capsul is, is not what I expected, a pleasant surprise lasting nearly an hour. Recalling what their songs had given me in the past, I couldn’t get past images of “wall of sound” sculptures where feedback and drone dissonance rang throughout their construction work having less in common with rock ‘n’ roll than with guitar-art. Capsul is just plain brilliant. Not drawing too much of a distinction between their flavorful guitar clouds, and their pop songs remiscent of Loop and the Telescopes, Bailterspace have grown up. Yes, I said pop songs. As an album Capsul ranks high on dusk listening, and sole listening - it ranks low in the “party album” department - as does most of my collection. With its fancy digipak and multi-colored disc, I know that Justin Turnbuckle poured more than his fan appreciation for this band into this project. A lot more. The end-product of Bailterspace’s song writing, rehearsals, live shows, touring, sweating, living on the edge of poverty and years of hard work and determination is an album that finally distinguishes them from the sonic assault bands I used to associate them with. Not that all these years Bailterspace have been trying to please me or anything, but with my appreciation and music taste as a barometer, many others will probably find this album as joyous an experience as I have this week. (Turnbuckle Records 163 Third Avenue Suite 435 New York, NY 10003)

Balanceman Well Balanced Meal CD
Jeremy Goody (AKA Balanceman) is wearing his heart (well, at least a digital artifact of someone's heart) on his sleeve and sampler. Bubbling up from a steamy tar-like surface, the bursts of hot air are slow yet explosive as their low-end growl explodes into the atmosphere. The molten bass quivers as snares fight for the forefront and hi-hats demand the front-row-dwellers attention. Horns wail in the wake of jazz explosions, while non-dance-floor skittering motions keep the listener on the edge of their seat, and their sanity. Jeremy takes those deeply rooted in the sampled paradox of digital audio, for a well-deserved spin around the block. While driving in the shadow of his contemporaries, like Mike Paradinas and Tom Jenkinson, Well Balanced Meal is a much headier affair than the recent crop of e-beats, MP3s, and turntablist mixtapes released early in this new millennium. Well Balanced Meal's concussive beats, fragile melancholic melodies, clothed in a sinister wit, put on display Jeremy's heart, his soul. (Deluxe POB 14205 Berkeley, CA 94712) – Keith York

Bangs Sweet Revenge CD
Rock 'n' roll, like jazz, seems to be a wholly American cultural by-product that, despite its heyday having passed us, continues to rear its much-feared-by-parents head and spit fire at new generations of unsuspecting teens. Whether or not it's the latest MTV rocker (Marilyn Manson, Papa Roach) or something as obscure (in the greater media context) as Bangs, the air-guitars are gonna heat up the bedroom, the bed and couch will be danced upon, and mix-tapes, CDRs or mini-discs will feature their songs just as if they were sentences in a letter to a friend. With roots in northwest combos Witchypoo and Spook & The Zombies, the Bangs trio lights up the night like Fourth of July fireworks on this, their second, album. Whether or not you hear classic Runaways or 90s grrrl bands, KISS or Sleater-Kinney, the songs are gonna make an air-band star out of you as you drive your car (steering wheel drummer), or dance about your living room (ala Tom Cruise in Risky Business). (Kill Rock Stars 120 NE State Ave. #418 Olympia, WA 98501) – Keith York

Bardo Pond Lapsed CD
I say unabashedly that this is one of the releases that I most eagerly awaited this year. Bardo Pond doesn't work in layers, they work in atmospheres, and I'm not talking ambient, wispy stuff that often gets lumped in with that label. I'm talking atmospheres, stuff that's so pervasive that it gets in your pores and your lungs like coal dust. Sure there were a couple of tracks that made me scratch my head in puzzlement ("Be a Fish"), but if I have to deal with one of those and get winners like "Limerick," "Tantric Porno" and "Yellow Turban" in exchange, that's a deal that I can live with.
Lapsed continues much where the promise of Amanita left off, with the twin guitar squalls of the brothers Gibbons right out there in the forefront, blanketing you like an asbestos duvet. They come from everywhere and nowhere, not really possessing attack or decay, but
maintaining a physical presence that the other members of the band navigate the ins and outs of. The deft and talented rhythm section of Bardo Pond is a force to be reckoned with (if not a little left out of the mix at times, dominated as it is by the guitar sound.)
As much as anything, Lapsed is an album of extremes. The guitars are more present, probably owing to the higher quality of the recording. Isobel has never seemed so ethereal as she has on "Tommy Gun Angel," nor as fucked as she appears on "Pick My Brain," which is equal parts acoustic pastoral and toxic shock. Bardo Pond hasn't rocked as hard as they do on "Straw Dog," which is still a little surprising, since they're usually much more into the pounding, head-bobbing-while-tongues-loll stoner sorts of grooves (and believe you me, there's still no lack of that on Lapsed).
This extremity probably grows out of the growing confidence of the players as much as anything else. Bardo Pond is a band that continues to grow and to refine their sound, spinning themselves onto higher planes (as evidenced by the spiraling upwards [ and far too short to my tastes at only 6:08] "Green Man").
One of the few records about which I can say that it was worth the wait and that it lived up to my expectations. Not always an easy thing (ironically true for the Bardo Pond/Roy Montgomery [great musician: don't get me started or I'll babble until you're bored to death] collaboration Hash Jar Tempo. Though I'll have to say that my expectations for that were astronomically and unfairly high.) Lapsed is highly recommended if you're already a fan, and it is encouraged that fans of heavy psych should give it a spin. Four point five out of five glazed-over eyeballs. (Matador 625 Broadway NYC 10012) - Matthew Maxwell

Bardo Pond Lapsed CD
I had to fight with my hands as they offered cliché phrases trying to put into words what Bardo Pond exemplify. Draft after draft the hands’ words kept winning; since they thumbed through many publications praising this collective on a multitude of levels, across a variety of emotional responses. Bardo Pond depend on guitars; broad sweeps of distorted guitar passages that move slowly across hot desert sands - the immutable arid conditions of this sound are tiring. Walls of guitars, tidal waves of effect-laden six-string chord damage ring the air dry of other sounds - vacating your neighborhood like a western gold mining (ghost) town. As the guitars weigh heavy upon my shoulders her vocals lead me by the hand through the darkest of dark nights where even the moon cannot be located. Bardo Pond excite you, they drain you, they push you down on floor and sit on your back like your big brother used to. Bardo Pond would delight in duct taping headphones to your timid skull and play Lapsed so loudly that even your dad’s audiophile system starts distorting. Distorting your senses of smell, touch and taste in an evening environ where even the moon cannot be located. (Matador 625 Broadway NYC 10012)

Bardo Pond Set and Setting CD
A surface created by glueing tiny rocks to a sheet of paper is rough to the finely honed nerve endings of an index finger. The channels, or grooves, cut in the skin at the fingertip follow unimaginably tiny abstract paths upon sandpaper surfaces registering to the brain a diorama-like scaled version of Mars' topography. Within the landscape of the closed-eye dreamer, people and highways inhabit the surface of sandpaper, ruling out the uninhabitable stereotype of difficult places and difficult textures. Humans inhabit arid deserts and lunar-cold arctic tundra, so why not the rough textures of urban landscape that mirror the touch of an index finger to 100-grade sandpaper where one can distinguish fossilized ancient tidal pools and rocky canyons. Bardo Pond's latest foray into mixing desk landscapes provides the pop song dreamer endless opportunities to imagine desolate landscapes as well as crowded urban drama where inhabitants can feel alone in the desolate coldness of feedback, or as part-of-a-whole with the fiery rhythms and bass lines that weave the architecture together into something beautiful. Dwellings on the moon are only decades away, and Bardo Pond is already writing the soundtrack to the hammering, filing, and sanding that will make it inhabitable. (Matador 625 Broadway NYC 10012) – Keith York

Bassholes Long Way Blues 1996-1998 CD
Gibson Brothers freak out. Solemn guitar voices in rooms of reverb. The lo-fi quality at par with any Fireworks "session." Bob Dylan would be proud. Short sentences punctuated. Abbreviated like Don Howland's songs. Guitar and man, sometimes with drums. The best songs have drums. Drum power. Pounding sounds add a ferocity to what is otherwise rather stripped bare and quiet. Like a naked man just hanging there to be judged. Dangling like Don's skewed humor. Stabbing sarcasm from amps and vocal chords. Oddities are sometimes the most memorable part of visits to the county fairgrounds. (Matador 625 Broadway NYC 10012) - Keith York

Bassholes Long Way Blues 1996-1998 CD
Can you believe Matador Records has released 305 albums? Has it been that long since I first spun OLE-009, Unsane's debut full-lengther? Like its release number, 305, this record by the Bassholes doesn't weigh as significantly in the mind as the milestones 300, 1000, 714 and surely the catalog number of the next Jon Spencer Blues Explosion release. Sad, but true in today's media marketplace. Like a double-A level shortstop in Kansas who just played in his thirtieth consecutive errorless game, this fine collection of noisy, straight blues lo-fi-ness will make not a ripple on the hype-o-meter. Like the shortstop's streak, Long Way Blues is a product of sweat, hours of hard work, and a spirit hardened by endless traveling by bus or van from city to city, to perform for a crowd of 25. The Bassholes would probably make more playing the blues on a Chicago street corner dressed like a hobo than from touring and releasing records. The ballplayer might have a better shot of earning a living playing the blues in rock clubs across the country than from baseball. Why then? Why suffer the anonymity and the abuses of the road? The answer can be summed up in one word: Passion. It's evident in every fuzzy, thin guitar pluck and clutched foul-pop. Rich boy, in yr corner office, on yr cellular phone- you should be this lucky. Brother, can you spare a dime? (Matador 625 Broadway NYC 10012) - Steven M. Brydges

Beachwood Sparks Beachwood Sparks CD
Admittedly, country twang from the heart of Sunny SoCal has to have a different feel to it. Brent (ex-Further) and his gang have a different filter to run their twang through, one steeped in the traditions of Beach Boys pop dynamics, Bacharach drama, and the wit of Beck mutating from hip-hop psychosis to twang superstardom. The kids at No Depression will likely have a field day with this for its slide-guitar banter and leaving town and loved ones behind lyrical bent, but it is tracks like "Old Sea Miner" that may confound anyone who hasn't heard the Further, Summer Hits, and Cherry Smash sounds that creep out of the mixing console. Wilco meets the Lilys Perhaps. (Sub Pop POB 20645 Seattle, WA 98102) – Keith York

Beanie Sigel The Truth CD
Philly's Beanie Sigel hooked up with Jay-Z (who also contributes to The Truth) in NYC to create a street-wise collection of urban stories. Herein, the stereotypes all represent, and the production elements are as crisp as newly printed cash. We get Curtis Mayfield bobbin' basslines and Sly & The Family Stone style melodies throughout the dynamic northeastern street style. From Pac Man to thug life, and sex with all the "hoes" in between, Beanie sees himself as on top of his game with this, his debut album. The posturing and machismo is supported with sharp-witted lyrical skillz from the dark side of hip-hop. (Roc-A-Fella 825 8th Ave., 19th Fl. NYC 10019) – Keith York

Beanpole Toss & Turn b/w Our Life 7”
As Beanpole readies herself for college exams and course work, the rest of us get to delight in her near-twee 4-track recorded documents. With or without her flute stylings, the fast Wedding Present jangly guitar strum (lacking the distortion) or soft vocals, Verna has established herself as an entity within the indie pop community. In her post-Rocketship (bass) recording duties for Holiday Flyer (bass, cello and piano), Verna’s song writing has only existed via her Beanpole activities. With a slew of releases planned and in existence, this single will probably be dwarfed by better efforts later on, but in itself is a timeless document of Verna’s craft.
(Goodbye Virginia 47 Robin Court Middletown, CT 06457)

Beastie Boys Anthology: The Sounds of Science CD
More than a greatest hits collection, Anthology is an explanation of the Beasties complicated and influential career thus far. Destined for legendary status, this double-disc compilation of 42 tracks defines how the Beastie Boys have evolved from NYC hardcore to one of hip-hop?s most sampled musical forces. Whether or not you shook your rump to "Brass Monkey" or "She's on It" back in the day, you undoubtedly laughed out loud while viewing the "Sabotage" video, had sex to "Son of Neckbone," danced in your living room to "Intergalactic" and/or air-guitared and rapped along to more than half of these tracks spanning the last couple of decades. They are pop culture. They define the crossover. They give the underground hope. Whether your favorite album is Paul's Boutique, Ill Communication, or Hello Nasty, there's plenty of definitive Beastie moments and no filler on Anthology. Crossing hardcore, dub, and hip-hop into their own style, Anthology is easily THE document to explore, research, and define the legacy thus far. Having forgotten most of these tracks, and their impact over the years, this collection rekindles memory after memory that I would never have connected to the parallel course of AdRock, MCA and Mike D's musical career. (Grand Royal/Capitol 1750 Vine St. Hollywood, CA 90028) – Keith York

Beat Down Sound Echo Box CD
The Beat Down (Three) trio stew up a hearty sound-jumbalaya using 60s ska, Holland Dozier Holland songwriting, and the spicy texture of Booker T & the MGs' "Green Onions." As if an outtake from the Beastie Boys' Paul's Boutique sessions were on the hi-fi, this post-funk outfit has all the right moves (and sounds) on this debut long-player. A perfect prescription for readers of High Fidelity and lovers of the antiquated turntable, Echo Box is full of funky, mid-tempo, old-skool, rare grooves (sans the turntablism of the late 90s), while mixed with the heart and soul of every James Brown samplin' hard-disk jockey. Easily one of the most surprising packages to hit the shelves in recent months (you know, those bins filled to the edges with post-rock, punk-rock, clap-trap clatter). This is refreshing, without being airy. Comforting, without being derivative. Stimulating, without being too "out" for its own good. Pleasant, while hardly complacent. With Echo Box on your hi-fi, all those black 'n' white spy films, mob movies, and made-for-TV cop show themes melt away into kitsch-ville. (Noon Thirty, no address given) – Keith York

Beatnik Filmstars In Hospitable CD
Music reviews often contain a slew of numbers. The counting of songs, of albums in a band’s discography, or the number of band members or remixes often adds up to little. Equaling too little information for the reader. This is the third album in my collection by the Beatnik Filmstars, a band I have been slobbering over for nearly four years. Bristol upstarts, these boys have been at it for a few years longer than I have known of them, despite having the odd Groove Farm flexies and such that pre-dated formation of the Beatnik Filmstars. Young upstarts approaching 8 years of age. In Hospitable continues documenting the Beatnik’s sound. A sound not too distant from that produced by The Fall, Pavement, Hood, and Boyracer - except for track eleven (I honestly cannot read the title in the artwork) which sounds like a TransGlobal Underground downbeat track. When I bought the “Summer Babe,” “Demolition Plot J-7” and “Slay Tracks” singles, I thought Pavement was finally paying tribute to the Fall. Mark E. Smith didn’t have US bands rockin’ his style. The Beatnik Filmstars have deposited quite a legacy of import and domestic singles, EPs and albums on us to remind us not only of their potent damaged pop songs, but how important The Fall really are. Pavement only remind us of Pavement anymore. Much like Hood and Mogwai’s dissonant trebly guitar lines, the Beatnik Filmstars’ bleach the tones of six string instruments and cry their vocals through cheap microphones. And thankfully they will continue to do it to us past the millennium. Signed, the proud new owner of a ‘97 model Beatnik Filmstars album. Stop kicking my tires and start kicking my butt. (Merge PO Box 1235 Chapel Hill, NC 27514)

Beatnik Filmstars Off-White Noise EP 7"
What for some bands might be an album's worth of creativity, Beatnik Filmstars cram on two sides of a seven inch single. These eight songs, or more accurately song ideas, squirm around on the living room floor as if chasing their own tails. While not fully realized in some instances, the songs presented here showcase the no-wave pop The Filmstars have become regarded for across several albums. (Merge PO Box 1235 Chapel Hill, NC 27514) - Keith York

Beatseed Boombox Theory CD
Boombox Theory showcases the techno, trance, drum ‘n’ bass, and acid talents of Tacoma’s Black Brick after a switch-stance to less industrial leanings. As Stephen, Shannon, Rob and DJ Tear-EE revel in their newfound home at Journees (having recently left the Thrive label), the high-octane output places them rightfully at the helm with Crystal Method as the leading-edge stars of the live-band techno circuit. Scattering breakbeats and spine-numbing sequencer lines on the crowds, like they were Johnny Appleseed, the quartet are poised to grab the underground by the pants-seat and jerk ‘em onto the floor. (Journees POB 2531 Cupertino, CA 95015) – Keith York

Bedhead Beheaded CD
As soothing and startling as the massaging heavy droplet rush of an early morning shower. Sometimes starkly chilling and scary, the burst of cold air hits the skin as we exit the stall, the last clinging droplets of shower water hold on with a death grip. Beheaded is full of warm sentiments, tight goodbye-embraces and tears being smeared across quiet faces. Soundscaping scraping guitar notes babble like streams as you hike through lush foliage and step over exposed roots and rocks that the rhythm section’s torrential rains washed from their cloaking dirt. Exuding the textured aesthetics of drone, the sentiments of pop, and the physical power of rock, Bedhead quietly clutch you and wrap you in blankets of their sound. Beheaded is about making friends from strangers, and lovers out of enemies. (Trance Syndicate PO Box 49771 Austin, TX 78765)

Bedhead Transaction de Novo CD
A decade ago I discovered the Velvet Underground through an appreciation for Galaxie 500's reminiscent musings. With each new release by Bedhead, I wonder how much Lou Reed & Co. really mean anymore. Despite excusing bands of their (doubtlessly endless stream of) possible influences (musical and otherwise), I stand in amazement at how a boiler plate for rock music can be tossed aside so effortlessly to create such mood-representative brush strokes from a palette still comprised solely of guitars, drums and vocals. As expected, Bedhead keep tempos staggeringly slow to evoke spirits of yesteryear as well as today. Relaxed about history, and the present, this quintet offer a cogent work of slow, quiet moments punctuated by Slint/Engine Kid-like flux. While falling far outside the sense of urgency that pop culture dictates, Bedhead, their guitars and songs should prosper amongst the bedroom listener and lounge chair & ottoman settler. Headphones on. (Trance Syndicate PO Box 49771 Austin, TX 78765) - Keith York

Beekeeper Anywhere Will Do CD
After releasing a single and a split single (with Ida), NYC’s Beekeeper emerge on the digital frontier with six songs teetering with emotion. Like the last bubbling gasping whimper before you break down and cry, these songs exemplify that last moment of hiccuping emotion where you are unsure of your next move. The delusions of being in a crush, the disbelief a loved one has just passed away - these are moments when we reel unable to grasp our surroundings, our emotions, and certainly lacking a sense of balance. The compositions are partially contextualized by members also having taken part in Ida and Mommyheads songs. I myself must reach for comparisons but among the first I drew were Retsin, Gang of Four, and Tsunami. By no means should the music of Anywhere Will Do be mistaken for copping such bands as anchoring influences but more likely striking relationships as kindred spirits. I kept thinking of flickering candlelight, of walks alone on the moonlit beaches, of crying and weeping aloud at your favorite black & white film. Sometimes these films are so gripping and real your mind adds color through your tear drenched eyelids. Curled up in your couch the quietly important pop songs make you wonder about the hows and whys of your human relations, and to consider spirituality. Consider how three people have just entered your life as Beekeeper certainly to leave as lifelong companions. (Muss My Hair PO Box 1266 Canal St. Station NYC 10013)

B'ehl Bright Eyes CD
Mixing up the twee-pop-isms known to the indiepoplist inhabitants, B'ehl approaches the rest of the world's headphones and car stereos with a tender smile and a new album. Musically, Bright Eyes is a mix of Holida Flyer, Bunnygrunt, Honeybunch, and Suddenly Tammy, with someone akin to Amelia Fletcher on vocals. The sound of stones thrown by giggling pig-tailed pre-teen girls skipping off wind-blown lake surfaces near summer camp hot dog roasts. (Endearing POB 69009 Winnipeg Manitoba R3P 2G9 Canada) – Keith York

Belle & Sebastian Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant CD
Becoming analogous to Scientology's semi-cult status among the religious-set, Belle & Sebastian are captivating the hearts and minds of youthful music fanatics in the same manner The Smiths became difficult to avoid (a decade ago). Mining the elitism of teen music culture, B&S Glaswegian obscurity, and near-hermitic lifestyle becomes ultra-chic only adding to their ability to magically woo even those "agnostic" toward indie rock/pop/folk. Sounding more and more familiar as they continue their path of perfection, the B&S sound is part Monochrome Set, part Momus and Monterey Pop. Fold Your Hands is nothing short of generationally definitive, inspiring, timeless music. (Matador 625 Broadway NYC 10012) – Keith York

Beneath the Surface Subterranean CD
When the blunt smoke clears, the swinging pendulum light-bulb & cord hanging from the ceiling appears. Shaking your head violently to and fro, you try to force the wake-up. Your ears lead you to throbbing PA output, as if infected with narcotics. The downtempo kick drums revolutionize the dream-state. Hurriedly you run from the police investigator interrogation to hypnotic club-sway outside a bass bin. Thankfully, O.D. (Omid Walizadeh) has produced the soundtrack to your delusional half-sleep 'mares with vocals by MCs from Alien Nation, Freestyle Fellowship, Of Mexican Descent, Darkleaf, Dilated Peoples, Brothers Manifesto, Shapeshifters, Hip Hop Klan, as well as Global Phlowtations. The noir-ish drama unfolds growing increasingly complex as the audience is never too sure if the soundtrack or the dream is leading or following the other. Keep an eye or two peeled around each dark corner. (Celestial 1933 Grace Ave. #6 L.A., CA 90068) – Keith York

Ben Folds Five Whatever and Ever Amen CD
80,000 screaming fans jammed into a crackerbox of an outdoor auditorium, awaiting the appearance of their hero. The band plays the obligatory warmup music, pumping more life into an already ecstatic crowd. Our apparent protagonist saunters up to a gorgeous white piano. He flips up the tails of his tuxedo jacket, cracks his fingers together in one stretching, forward motion, and launches into song. The crowd roars approvingly, then quickly quiets, thoroughly confused. They check their ticket stubs: Tonight Only! Elton John! General Admission, $35. “This doesn’t sound like an Elton John song?!?!” they mutter. “Maybe, it’s a cover?” “Or a new song?!” Hiding behind white sunglasses with stars for eyes, and wearing a matching white, sequined tuxedo with tight bell-bottom cowboy pants (akin to Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader leggings), Ben Folds bangs-out his best Elton John. Soon, he and his brand of lush, over-the-top pop win over the sellout crowd, and he stands and struts in place behind his piano, playing and singing in his sweet falsetto. Once he and his cohorts let loose with a grand “Ba ba ba, Ba ba ba,” chorus, the packed audience is his for life. His ballads bring tears to the eyes of those too drunk to read into the songs’ silly melancholy. His uptempo songs rock comically, just like the way Elton’s classic, “Saturday Night” cracks me up. The thought of Elton, adorned in full make-up and brandishing some godawful outfit, engaged in fisticuffs with barroom heathens, makes me chuckle. At the very least, this record will always draw a smile to the corners of yr lips. How many encores tonight, Ben Folds? Remember to always leave ‘em wanting more. (Sony Music (via Girlie Action) 550 Madison Avenue NYC 10022-3211) - Steven M. Brydges

Ben Folds Five Whatever and Ever Amen CD
I was appalled to learn of my husband's thoughts on Ben Folds Five (above) . The title Whatever and Ever Amen
suits the album - this band lacks originality. How could you, Steve? Elton John set standards in the music industry of the 70's. He possessed talent, as well as a great sense of fashion. Who else could have gotten away with wearing sequin jumpsuits with flames running up the leg and platforms, and still garner respect? Not many! Some people can't hide jealousy well. While I do see the potential in Ben Folds' "occasional" musical ability, I don't understand their tedious concept of lyricism. Every word on the album could be tallied by any computer as this generation's most popular and over-abused. "Over-the-top pop" I can agree with. Now Elton, on the other hand, commands respect when he performs, not only from a lyrical standpoint, but a compositional one as well. I'll admit that when Steve first played Ben Folds Five for me I was interested. However, the more I listed to the album, the more I found myself becoming frustrated with each new track. Wasn't that the same song as track two? Oh I see... different tempo and key. Got it! In one song (the title slips my mind), within the first 5 seconds I was too irritated to continue and pressed on to the next track with hopes. Sadly, I rejected this moment of endorphin release. OK - get out of my system, and don't even think of trying to get into my collection. I won't have you fraternizing with real music. With my luck you'll taint the whole thing. Fortunately for me, it never got that ugly. Steve, on the other hand isn't going to be so lucky... Enjoy sleeping on the couch, babe! (Sony Music) - Rhonda Brydges

Bennison, Nicholas Precision CD
With an extensive resume under his belt, Nicholas Bennison’s relocation to LA (from the UK) has proved to be a successful leap. In speaking with Nicholas, it is apparent that he thought through the track selection and ins- and outs-, “I believe a mixtape is an original creation which demonstrates my ability to combine tracks I feel need to be heard in a way that makes sense. I think there is nothing like hearing a DJ smoothly mix in tunes in a way which creates energy and takes the listener from one place to another without even noticing, and that is what I believe I have achieved on this tape.” Labeled as “2am,” and “3am” each side of this tape takes the listener into the early morning with trance and driving hard- and progressive-house. My ears pricked up rarely to a familiar track, which encouraged me to conclude that Nicholas isn’t just following the record-buying pack, he stated “The records have to work together correctly and fit the mood I am trying to create in each section of the tape. I pick records that are on smaller labels from around the world and harder to come by rather than just compiling the latest big tunes that everyone else is playing.” And it shows. Hire this man. (Contact: 310-848-9790, nbennison@hotmail.com)

Be/Non You’re Playing With Children in the Land of the Bugs CD
Okay, Okay, OKAY ALREADY! Domestic violence, though I live alone. Strange how the knives in the drawer take on new meaning when the meat and vegetables are cut. How the steam rising from the cook’s creations dances like ghosts only to be sucked into the vent above. Smack my head against the cupboard just to remind myself I am not sleeping - hell, sleep and dreams merge too often anymore into indecipherable ‘scapes of intangible motives and activities. I yell at myself trying to hear something beside the television’s blare. I can’t drink for fear of reprisals - oh yeah I live alone. Every so often I pull out forgotten records by Surgery, Cop Shoot Cop, Rat At Rat R, Mars and Pussy Galore to see how subtle my anger is compared to others’. Be/Non capture the essence of that moment you realize you have kept your hand inside the dancing candleflame flicker for two seconds too long. That physiological jolt you cannot defend against nor predict...until it happens. I stick my hand, my forearm in the fireplace sometimes. I love watching the spark dance in the outlet when I childishly pull plugs from their sockets. It is either because I live alone or the reason I live alone that Be/Non records beat me up. Walking from the kitchen to the stereo’s room (I guess I do have a room mate) Be/Non sucker punch me. I give. Uncle. Be/Non are fierce, restless room mates that don’t pay my bills on time, that talk back to the landlord, that flip the bird to my neighborhood watch compatriots. It is they that have turned me into this. (Turnbuckle 163 3rd Ave. #435 NYC 10003)

Be/Non s/t 7”
Three recorded pieces of music. I sat and listened to these pieces of music three times (each side) before sitting down to type this. In my mind’s vault I store a plethora of music experiences, and none of them could I conjure while wondering where to place this record in my organic databank. I want to file it near instrumental rock, or midwestern noise rock, possibly near Bastro. Certainly somewhere near that damn tape I lost of the band that Ed from Gapeseed drools over that released a single on Communion like 7 years ago. Their name escapes me, but that’s the only thing that comes close. Scraping, trebly guitar running down the sidewalk like a thief chased by cops. Running, breathing maniacally, sweating pints of salty water, all the while foaming saliva running down the chin. Guitars, yes guitars in an adidas track suit running the quarter mile. They are from Lawrence, Kansas. I assume they play loud. (Turnbuckle Records 163 Third Avenue Suite 435 New York, NY 10003)

Bevel Turn the Furnace On CD
Departing for 3 months in late 1998 from his focal activity, Richmond, VA’s Drunk, and his efforts with Manishevits, Via Nuon stayed home and recorded his own music. A calmer man than Pete Seeger, a less-animated man than Bob Dylan (circa DA Pennebaker’s cinema verite excursion), as well as a more rustic sentiment than that offered by Will Oldham emerges as Via’s new persona takes hold. If only Monterey Pop was held this year in Bloomington, Indiana, the secrets of the Jagjaguwar/Secretly Canadian axis could be documented by Pennebaker’s lens. Or perhaps Frederick Wiseman would be better suited to explore music of a brave new voice in folk. Whatever gets committed to 8-, 16- or 35mm, would document the fragile state that Nuon’s talents depend on. And as amazing as Drunk is, it is held in the highest regard that Turn the Furnace On lets us in on a new facet of the personalities involved. (Jagjaguwar 1703 North Maple St. Bloomington, IN 47404) – Keith York

Big Flame Rigour 1983-1986 CD
Like The Fall on meth-amphetamines, Big Flame exercised their herky jerky guitar strangling and Mark E. Smith vocals in a frenzied lo-fi extravaganza. More than a decade ago these Mancunians pioneered a short-lived trailblazing power trio leaving several releases and Peel Sessions in their wake - the bulk of which are amassed for this 19-song document. Probably known best for their now-legendary part in the C86 compilation, Big Flame may now be remembered for helping Slumberland name their last compilation “Why Popstars Can’t Dance” - a bit of a manifesto located here between tracks nine and eleven. Also needy of a spotlight is Big Flame’s version of the June Brides-penned “Every Conversation” which is a timeless piece of pop deconstructed in their minimalist manifesto-laden scrapbook aptly titled Rigour. Though I refuse to part with my Two Kan Guru 10”, this CD should allow us to let our vinyl releases escape the wrath of the needle for a little while. (Drag City PO Box 476867 Chicago, IL 60647)

Bill Ding The Horrendously Named EP CD
Like an ever further mutated Beck, Bill Ding produce some sort of indescribable white blues funk headache. The talents of this Chicago duo are ugly, cold, and diseased with a sinister magnetism as the bass and drum machine canine-humps the leg of the singer. Dry, near-deadpan vocals crush notions of addictive fun radio songs as they slur and lurch along their indefinable paths. “Up Under Clouds With Cups,” spreads its simple wings and hovers above your head covering your senses with its repetitive sex repeating the title over and over again until the listener stares into their empty palms wondering where the sunshine and raindrops went. An EP for a sky-soaked cloudy day, preferably alone with your rain boots flooded and your cheeks chilled by the for frosty wet air. I go now in search of their other CDs. (Smilex PO Box 3662 Los Angeles, CA 90078)

Billy Mahonie The Big Dig CD
Billy Mahonie has been tagged as a London-based quartet filtering Mogwai silt from the bottom of the river Slint. Despite such attacks, harmony is the result of back-to-back listens to The Big Dig. Herein are the sounds of peaceful, tranquil tidal pools shimmering the dusk's last drop of sunset. Guitars, like soft tendrils, create the gentlest wake in the water's glassy surface. Drums of skipping rocks interrupt the onlooker's reflection while the masses keep strolling past the majesty of the "everyday." Sit. Picnic next to the shoreline as The Big Dig becomes your afternoon soundtrack to the wooded regions inside your heart. (Beggars Banquet/Too Pure www.beggars.com/us, www.toopure.com) – Keith York

Binger the Voyager Sweet Taste of Nothing CD
Hidden behind the fresh face of optimism has to be something stealthily evil in Binger the Voyager. Addictive like your favorite sugary aperitif, Sweet Taste of Nothing, is nothing short of unstoppable in its vitality, its energy, its smile-inducing seduction. Breakbeats bulge and burst open under massive internal pressure as electro lines fuel the b-boys, and electro-pop synths get the new-wavers excited. As versatile as New Order's catalog, as coy as Sportsguitar, yet as inimitably vital amongst the electronic set as Autechre, Q-Burns and µ-ziq. If Afrika Bambattaa were playing clown at a 5-year-old's birthday, he'd bring out a pack of 12"s and start cuttin' these beats. Moms, kids and family-dogs alike would groove to this amazing vibe. (Oxygen Music Works 208 West 30th St. Suite 1205, NYC 10001) – Keith York

Biosphere Substrata CD
There’s a little more than meets the ear. Biosphere are supposed to be filed under “Electronic Ambient,” I'm guessing. Slow rhythmic loops of electronics and piano over minimal bits of noise and a mannered upwelling of synthesizer. Yeah, this is electronic ambient, all right. And I'm supposed to hit on this stuff. I mean, anyone who read my review of the Stars of the Lid double in last issue already has seen sworn proof of my love of the spacious. Then why isn’t this doing all that much for me?
For one thing, it’s heavily dependent on layers of unchanging repetition. There’s little sense of true dynamics here, only the introduction/departure of subtly changing elements. There’s no particular feeling of the organic, of parts leading into other parts which all add up to a whole. The closest analogy I can come up with is instead of having roots lead up to a tree-trunk to a crown of branches to leaves (and thus a whole), you have nothing but roots and roots and roots and roots (all perhaps subtly different from each other, but the same nonetheless) which doesn’t equal a tree. Was that clear? Well, that was the analogy that they taught me in Upper-division composition, so it’s the one that you’re stuck with.
This isn’t necessarily a criticism of the album on its own merits, but rather of the whole mode of electronic music practiced today. People have taken Brian Eno too seriously when he said that “repetition is another form of change”. Sure it is, but it doesn’t always make for engaging listening. Taken as individual bits, the sonic things that are going on with Biosphere are kinda nice. I’d like to have heard more development on those, taking those fifteen second samples and doing more than tweaking the envelope with every repetition, but actually building up a larger whole.
That said, there’s folks out there who’ll probably want to have this as their very own. I’d think of people who are working in the same mode, but nothing that engaging jumps out at me right now. That said, it’d probably make a good soundtrack to turn off the sound and watch the NASA channel with. It’s very nice background music, but not much more than that. (Thirsty Ear) - Matt Maxwell

Bjork Homogenic CD
After collaborations with an impressive palette of orchestral and electronic talent, Bjork emerges with her most innovative album to date. While the Icelandic vocalist's popularity amongst international audiences has endured a 20-year long career, the strength of Bjork's solo work is dependent on competent dance music producers and lush orchestrations. Each song on Homogenic shares the qualities of a dramatic film score, which can be attributed to the string arrangements of Eumir Deodato. The album is also danceable from beginning to end, with distorted electronic beats which are comparable to those of Aphex Twin, Autechre, or LFO. Bjork's enduring vocals spark an emotional high as well, likened to the growls of a tigress. (Elektra Entertainment 345 North Maple Drive, Beverly Hills, CA 90210) -Esther Yoon

Blackalicious NIA CD
For those familiar with Sole Sides, DJ Shadow and folks like Lyrics Born and Chief Xcel (Blackalicious), NIA was on their shopping list long before it makes its way to store shelves in blister packs and shrink wrap. Deep in thought, these sinista beat junkies deliver a numbing collection of skunk fueled beats and rhymes to those headz living far beyond their NorCal HQ perimeters. Taking plenty of opportunities to trick yr mind, Blackalicious drop experiments like scientists with petri dishes. Bunsen burners flare up colorfully as the chemically altered poetics hit the lab. The students stand in awe of the chemistry professor as he imparts the wisdom of his tenure and the passion of his curiosity for righting molecular wrongs. Stand back, gear up, wear eye protection and spark this one up. (Quannum Projects, no address) – Keith York

Black Box Recorder The Facts of Life CD
Laying somewhere moon-drenched in the expansive continuum between Everything But the Girl, Portishead, Hooverphonic and St Etienne, the BBR trio craft dark pop electronica. Writing one’s name in blood, songs heralding the beautiful and strange qualities of the motorway, sex in dreams, and French rock ‘n’ roll steer the audio-captive into nether-regions of their psyche to what end we are uncertain. And parents think Marilyn Manson is a dangerous influence! The subtleties are dangerously influential. (Jetset 67 Vestry Street, NYC 10013) – Keith York

Black Heart Procession Three CD
Morose post Bad Seeds piano play dominates the latest installment in Three Mile Pilot’s afterlife. Posing in the indie rock aesthetic, these Marc & the Mambas inspired torch songs wreak of pre-millennial underrated goth. While not nearly as violent as the Virgin Prunes, Pall Jenkins’ voice is right there. Eerie tones for a Halloween gathering. Eerie tones for daily living. (Touch and Go POB 25520 Chicago, IL 60625) – Keith York

Black Heart Procession s/t CD/LP
Whoever struck a knife in Paul Jenkins' bleedin' heart sure did a thorough job. His dark lyrics on The Black Heart Procession's debut release can re-open a smarting spot of anguish in us all. A fairly new San Diego
collective, The Black Heart Procession includes a shifting line-up of members from Three Mile Pilot, the now-defunct Clikitat Ikatowi, The Young Destroyers, etc. Their experimental and parameter-free approach to
instrumentation (i.e. Jenkins plays a musical saw on this one) produces gorgeous, enigmatic soundscapes in the shape of love letters. Hey, Tom Waits - EAT YOUR FUGGIN' HEART OUT... !! (Headhunter/Cargo Music 4901-906
Morena Blvd., San Diego, CA 92117) -Esther Yoon

Blakemore, Jason “Upstream/Downstream” CS
An eclectic mix of house that treats the skull to some head noddin’ ambient deep tones to hearty driving thump-thump-thump trancey disco concluding in a turbulent storm of hand drum ecstasy. Not depending on the cold steel cymbal whispering of trad-house, Jason takes us under water and through tunnels of bass and kick drum heartbeat murmurs that feel like the tempo has slowed... Soon enough a lightning rod of cymbal ‘n’ snare cracks the sky wide open raining drenched tight T-shirt-wearing girls onto the dancefloor. (contact: Champion Sound Mix Tape Distribution 619.236.8080

Blindside Slushed Puppie CD
Endearing high school punk fill akin to early Everready, Screeching Weasel and the new kids on the block, Blink-182 (...et al). Albums like this remind me of a time when seeing a neighbor's band practice their songs in
an actual garage was as important and youthful as listening to Cheap Trick at Budokan. (band: 20078 Lorenzo Ave. Pt. Charlotte, FL 33952) - Keith York

Blonde Redhead Fake Can Be Just As Good CD
When the displaying/advertising of muscular strength is absent, some of us consumers forget the power of subtlety in the arts. Whether the strength of the latest over the counter household cleansers, or the heat sparked by electrically amplified guitars, we continually seek the obvious to attach our appreciation and criticisms to. Blonde Redhead somehow surpassed my quick judgments to write them off as Sonic Youth dependent with their rich tapestries of woven notes, chords and rhythms. Male and female vocals rise and fall as guitar and bass notes collide into streaming fireworks displays. White-hot at times, Blonde Redhead discouraged me from summarizing their labors, instead inspiring me to appreciate the energy they produce as their collective temperatures rise through the extent of this album. Unfortunately I am handicapped without an experience of Blonde Redhead’s live presence but with continued sleuthing and perseverance I am confident I will witness the spectacle soon. Blonde Redhead are the obvious choice for the impulse shopper despite product placement on the shelf, end-cap displays, posters, banners and blue light specials. Attractive is as attractive does. Forgiving with its motherly sincerity, Fake Can Be Just As Good is quality time spent. (Touch and Go Records PO Box 25520 Chicago, IL 60625)

Blonde Redhead Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons CD
With French cigarette smoke flowing across the Italian suit lapels, Blonde Redhead have entered a new position in haute-couture posturing. With Kazu Makino's voice maturing and the Pace kin growing tired of their frenetic angst explosions evidenced as recent as their last album In An Expression Of The Inexpressible, the trio exude more sex appeal than ever before. Not letting go of their Sonic Youth-isms entirely, within Melody of, still remains lots of beauty hiding dangerous cliff-hangers. Pay attention to where the trees end and the forest begins. (Touch and Go POB 25520 Chicago, IL 60625) – Keith York

Bluebottle Kiss Patient CD
Laying spread eagle on the car hood, those afraid of flying watch at the runway’s end planes landing tens of feet above them. Immersed in the deafening roar of multi-engine jet aircraft, the fearful find solice in the ominous power of explosive energy within arm’s reach. Many of us lay, limbs outstretched, on the carpet or hardwood flooring of our apartments and homes with the stereo volume, like powerful wind currents, blowing across our fragile frames. The stereo experience is safer and more controllable than laying below aircraft in landing pattern, and Bluebottle Kiss are trusting pilots with only the fearful hearts in their audience in mind. From explosive roars of guitar, bass and drums, to the nearby calm tide-like drones of melodic whispers, the trio of Australians (Richard Coneliano, Jamie Hutchings, and Ben Fletcher) exorcise ghosts as wildy divergent as the Wedding Present and Quicksand. (Sponge Worthy Records, www.bluebottlekiss.com, bbkinfo@bluebottlekiss.com) - Keith York

Blue Rags Rag-N-Roll CD
We used to swagger and stumble towards the refrigerator, dancing to Pogues records en route to grab another cold ale. Laughter at those who slipped and fell on the beer soaked kitchen floor erupted from the mouths of 20-something kids ringing themselves dry of test scores and professors’ remarks. The Irish drinking songs, the hints at whiskey stained Appalachian folk songs, the bluegrass mandolins and yodeling that fueled many a party have resided in memory for years. Those events were always more interesting than turntable entertainments courtesy of Stiff Little Fingers, Black Flag and the Germs. We were in love with the times. We were in love with entertainment alternatives. The Blue Rags swagger and swing through their set as kids in ‘97 cheer with ales in each hand. They shout and whistle lacking the context I bring to bear on listening to new music causing me to wonder why so cynical have we become? (Sub Pop PO Box 20645 Seattle, WA 98102)

Bluetip Hot Fast Union CD
As fans await Bluetip’s upcoming long player on Dischord, Hot Fast Union will suffice as a wonderful appetizer. Four new examples of the quartet’s angsty melodic (J. Robbins produced) DC-rock plus a cover of the Damned’s “Anti-Pope” create the sense of a short but sweet high energy live set. Jason Farrell, James Kump, David Bryson and Brian Clancy are five years into their Bluetip lifestyle and the maturity of six-string bending hiccup rock has grown into awe inspiring amplifier pyrotechnics. (Slowdime POB 414 Arlington, VA 22210) – Keith York

Blur s/t CD
At a time in this life I loathed pop. Other than fleeting returns of that sick state of mind, I love the notion of melody and three-minute frenzied enthusiastic bursts of memorable song. Blur never reached me until now. Blur’s uniquely-British pop senses circle the carcass of 60s Brit invasion revisionism keenly eyeing the morsels that obviously nearsighted carnivores leave behind. Herein they find the jewels that bring lushly important musical ideas into our lives. From the croons of opener “Beetlebum” to the punk-fueled Sonic Youth-ly arrogant “Song 2,” Blur paint their portrait in the first two tracks - from there we float amidst acoustic guitars, organs and oscillators as the bass and drum rock forces kick our sleeping lobes ahead one step. Like learning to walk again, re-learning to appreciate pop is a course in life that we drift in and out of attendance to. Lonely, I imagine myself striding along a boardwalk or boulevard where Blur plays for money in hats. Peering from beneath my sunglasses I watch them pour their souls out onto the cement and to passersby, toiling their expertise for mere dollars and change. In a dream I can imagine a microphone recording this drama of the strumming gleeful lads, producing these 14 new gifts. Sweetly, the embodiment of youth gift wrapped for a year round holiday celebration. (Virgin)

Bob Tilton Crescent LP
The snarling, gnashing fangs of a German shepherd take up the horizon. Dog saliva drips from his blackened face as you recall the layout of the alley. He, the animal, is blocking your exit. Backed against the graffiti emblazoned bricks, the jittering jaw of the rabid creature stands to attack crotch first. In a frantic, anxious state, you awaken. Torso springing upright upon your stiffened arms, your eyelids snap open. Heart racing, you glance side to side for the beast, not yet comprehending your bedroom replacing the acrid alley. Bob Tilton teeter on the frenetic heart rate moment. They draw anxious sweat through your pores on cold days as their mania tugs to and fro. Guitars blaze across the landscape as alarm clocks break the moment. Bass pulls you into that reoccurring rip current dream that tugs your body seaward. Drums sounding like buildings artistically imploding by professional demolition engineers bring back the dream of squatting on the 30th floor of an abandoned sea front high-rise. Again, the heart rate quickens. (Subjugation PO Box 191 Darlington DL3 8YN UK) - Keith York

Bocardo Welcome to the Drum & Bass Lounge CD
Session bassist (Everlast, Neneh Cherry) Ben Bocardo strikes out on his own with highly intelligent jazzy drum & bass grooves. Along for the ride are the delightful vixen vocals by Shana Marmon taking the soulful soothing grooves to a higher level. Mining territory akin to Plug, Photek and Squarepusher’s elegant chaos, as well as more straight-forward grooves like Roni Size Reprazent, Bocardo offers his debut up to the critical ear. Judgment is in favor of treating the newcomer with the respect of his elders and peers. Having staked a claim on the D&B groove, newbies and scene vets have to give Welcome to the Drum & Bass Lounge much respect. (Topaz 110 W. 40th St., Ste.1004 NYC 10018) - Keith York

Bollocks , Andy System CS
Based in Vancouver BC, Bollocks exports one of the hottest drum ‘n’ bass mixers to the US via LA’s House Vibes label. Capitalizing on the mo’bass ideology of jump-up, the crushing snares of the tech-domains, as well as the femme vocals of the coffee-table style, Andy represents Canada’s deck mounties with pride. Andy draws flawless connections between the quick tempo’d track selection in an effortless showcase of his skills and keen ear for what the drum ‘n’ bass fan is starving for. One can only hope he will take his smarts into the studio and produce some trax himself. (House Vibes 310-859-5844)

Bom Bom Bom Shevaya CD
Again, I'm operating out of my element here. This is basically electronic dance/chill music, rife with the spare beats of drum machines and propulsive rhythms and tons of samples, snatches of keyboard lines here and there. The closest thing I've got to it in my collection is probably Seefeel's Quique, if you want to know how much I know about dance music (but I can program a 303, so go figure).
My problem with a lot of this stuff is its primary emphasis on this mechanical beat. Everything services the beat. Sounds are regimented, trapped in these merciless ranks of up/down beats. Nothing ever breaks free. I mean this stuff begins to make me feel claustrophobic after awhile. Even Jungle, which I don’t particularly care for (shock of shocks) has a lot more freedom in it, tossing beats where it pleases. There are times that Bom breaks past this, “Repenten Dub” and “Near Death Experience” being good examples of this, but these islands are too far apart for my taste. Well, maybe it’s not that bad. I mean, it’s not nearly as relentless as hardcore techno, so perhaps I'm being unfair. However, I think that some more stretching out in varying rhythmic directions is called for here.
There’s some interesting sounds, even beyond the surface sheen of the technology. As a sound-maker myself I can get drawn into something that I don’t particularly care for if I find the sound engaging. There’s a little of that, of the sound that makes me pause and wonder where the hell it came from. But within hearing the sample ten times I've lost that. And then there’s the rest of the song, methodically running that sound into the ground until all I want to do is find a nice corner to cry into. I realize that this is a huge part of the appeal for folks. It isn’t particularly for me.
If I'm going to listen to something like this, then I'm a lot more likely to hunt down some KLF or Orb or something. I realize that’s hopelessly dated of me, but it’s where I'm coming from. That said, there’s probably hundreds (well, at least five) of people who will want to hear this based on my description. Don’t know how hard a time you’ll have finding it, since it’s dated 1996 (and why the lag in getting it to us? I dunno, I only work here.) But something tells me that this isn’t worth an exhaustive search, since it just doesn’t really stand out from any like-sounding/categorized stuff that a hundred other people are making. (Spliffing) - Matt Maxwell

Bomb Beats 12”
A wealth of instrumental beat tracks courtesy of Mr. Dibbs and STS. With one side each to their credit, these folks create years of listening time worth of beats, samples, and bass grooves. By looping essential 909 and 808 sounds with their own mixing styles and bass/keyboard ideas, Mr. Dibbs and STS have produced an essential library item, an anthology of beats. Like poetry, these tracks seem all too brief, offered for multiple interpretations by each DJ that wears these grooves out. Buy a few extra copies and don’t leave home without it. (Bomb Unlimited)

Bomb Pops Recommended for Diversion Seekers CD
It's difficult to comprehend that as many years have passed (8 if you're counting) since much of this collection was written and recorded ('92-'94). Timeless beautiful pop songs these are, making Recommended sound as if it were a brand new release from a recently formed 3-piece outta Minnesota. Culling from the trio's archives, these songs draw together a discography released on 7" singles by Audrey's Diary, A Turntable Friend, Bus Stop and Spin Art from a bygone era in pop-song innocence. For me it's easy to draw a connection to their sound by looking at bands like Holiday Flyer who, today, employ references to Bryan Hanna's songwriting craft. Akin to Honeybunch and Galaxie 500, the reverb guitar floats in skeletal melodies as vocals plaintively tell stories of who the Bomb Pops were and why. (Grimsey POB 541 Stillwater MN 55082) – Keith York

Bones, Frankie Technolo-G CD
As the styli wobble in the grooves for the DJ set, kids in their cars on the boulevard cruise cry out for Frankie's tracks. His latest mix-CD, this time of his own tracks, Technolo-G could be the answer to their prayers.
Bottom-heavy, 4/4, progressive house tracks rain down upon the pierced-navel crowd in a deafening storm. By leaving the 12" domain, the seamless mix of tracks like "I Wanna Take it Higher" bump for those not
wrapped inside their headphones. Crisp hi-hats and rides adorn the stormin' gated kick drums as vocal samples (including Flava Flav's "Run A Power Move On 'Em") fly around above the heads of raised-armed dancers. The dozen head-bobbin' BPM vehicles turn any home into a house party. (ESP-SUN 536 Broadway NYC 10012) - Keith York

Bonfire Madigan Saddle The Bridge CD
Madigan Shive, Sheri Ozeki and Tomas Palermo gathered together around microphone, tape deck and mixing console to construct an album of beauty. With cello, contrabass and percussion as their tools, the trio try their hand at several different formulae – all of which result in an inimitable body of work. Stretching from a Bjork-like vocal magnet to Tracey Thorn and Ben Watt sultriness, to skittering indie-rock, Bonfire Madigan are difficult to pin-down, but with songs as intoxicating as these, who has the strength to worry about how to describe it. (Kill Rock Stars PMB 418, 120 State St. NE Olympia, WA 98501) – Keith York

Boom, The Movin' Out CD
Burning, searing animal fat crackles in the skillet. You stand over the flame and meat thinking about putting a finger in the center of the noisy heat. Turn the flame up until the flesh turns black and the steam changes
to acrid smoke being sucked into the overhead vent. Saxophones burn the blues-soaked mantras, the emo tumult. The Boom rock unit burns the night with their rhythm & blues and jazz-punk swagger as bartenders and baggy pants-wearing all-agers sway with the rhythm. Boom, Boom, Boom, says the kick drum. "Hey mom, we're Movin' Out," cried the band as they van-packed for the tour. Itineraries scrawled in pencil on spiral-toothed Mead® pads soaked from practice-room-evaporated sweat and steam. As a liver performance unit, the drummer exhibits one of the most captivating command of a drum kit's cockpit I have witnessed. The Boom love fire, they love flames, audiences love the crackling fire. Jazz that goes boom. (Slowdime
PO Box 414 Arlington, VA 22210) - Keith York

Boom Bip & Doseone Circle CD
Having stepped out on a ledge with the likes of Living Legends, Presage, and Black Starr, hip-hop poet Doseone took time off from working on his Them project (with Jel) to record an epic journey through experimental word- and beat-play. The beat and bass architect this time around, is hip-hop and jazz DJ Boom Bip (residency in Cincinnati). Together on this 60+ minute excursion, Boom Bip and Doseone take listeners by the hand on a journey through the paranormal and schizophrenic world that these guys inhabit. Call it the grindcore version of hip-hop, where there is no limit to where the prose may lead – from childlike rants and hissy-fits to Shakesperean narrative construction, life out here on the ledge is a heady trip. (Mush/Dirty Loop 244 5th Ave. #F212 NYC 10001) – Keith York

Bossacucanova & Roberto Menescal Brasildade CD
Of playing on Brasildade, Menescal confides, “Suddenly I, an original ‘bossa novista’ saw myself surrounded by three kids (a bassist, a keyboardist and a DJ) to record an album!” With this as the executive summary in the liner notes, I fed the disc player and 21st century bossa-nova electronica swept over me. Replete with samples, scratched grooves and big-ass jazz guitar lines, Brasildade is tireless in its exploration of the genre bending toward the DJ-set. Stunning. (Six Degrees/Crammed Discs POB 411347 San Francisco, CA 94141-1347) - Keith York

Bowery Electric Lushlife CD
Dizzying spins above the hardwood floors, arms outstretched, eyes closed yield a dream-like state. Frantic, one returns to gravity and the peaceful state of speaker cone output. Loping, looped beats straight out of DJ Shadow's record bag are dryhumped by a Portishead-like femme vocal pitterpat while synths wrap the package in a performance art Saran-Wrap dance. The sexuality of Cocteau Twins provides some contextual similarity as the Electric has far abandoned the early sounds of their feedback-drenched self-released double-7" that isn't more than a few years old (yet still getting stereo play). What they have metamorphosed into is something altogether spectacular, alluring, and addictive. In the heat of the moment, the middle of the living-room spin, think about the power of Manhattan and raise your head skyward to see the night sky as Lushlife surrounds you in its firm grasp. (Beggars Banquet) – Keith York

Boymerang Balance of the Force CD
Beg for the ‘rewind’. Boymerang acts as your apocalypse DJ while Balance of the Force screams like police sirens within your pueblo. Absent of light, the darkness of your living space is the perfect locale for the white hot sinister bleakness of this album. The Doc Scott-ish tambourines, the crisp hi-hats, the blunt snares and the Nico-esque break consistency forge a path few can manage and fewer still can mimic. Graham Sutton’s guidance of DnB-headz through his Boymerang work is a path of rocky sheer cliffs; exotic, poisonous, fanged, animals; and unstable gravel-riddled near-vertical climbs and crippled bridges. Scared, yet confident in his lead, you continue the journey. A journey into ever-bleaker drumbreak environs and dancefloor nightmares. Damn you all who sit along the periphery and scoff at the junglists on the floor screaming for Boymerang’s ‘reel up’, the ‘rewind’. (Astralwerks 104 West 29th, 4th Floor NYC 10001)

Boy Wonder Wonder-Wear CD
Sometimes maturity’s wealth of experiences and refined outlooks lend to stunted relationships where the innocence of exploration is deaf and the juvenile whimsical behaviors are blind. The Drop Nineteens had their moments. Boy Wonder weighs in as the band-from-the-ashes-of with less childlike optimism than the former Caroline stable dwellers. Elegant expensive Fort Apache production yields an album approximating the moods set by Throwing Muses, Dambuilders and the like. (CherryDisc PO Box 990424 Boston, MA 02199)

Braid Frame & Canvas CD
Lately my head has been reeling. She's been on my end tirelessly. She doesn't rest. In losing myself in thoughts of her, I also lose sleep, throw my diet into disarray and cease functioning in the tireless manner my peers
expect. That is, until Braid lit up the room with their guitar fireworks and frenetic vocals. They massaged an aching body. Braid fed me chicken soup, dressed in me in my finest and sent me to school. They shared the
adolescent trauma I still harbor in a 30-year old skull, they know where I am coming from. Braid, like a strong big brother, lifted my spirits with compliments and supportive rhetoric. They beat me up with their percussive
angst like football practice after school. They reminded me that love is something to face with fear and conquer with accepting, compromising vigilance. They urged me to rest, yet continue to lose myself in her visage
that floats at arms length above me as I type. (Polyvinyl PO Box 1885 Danville, IL 61834) - Keith York

3RA1N1AC Electro Shock for President CD
Outpatients let loose in Jim O’Rourke’s engineering hands? I think not. Absent from the prescriptions dispensing line? Quite possibly. Brainiac’s latest six song adventure comes to my ownership the same week Baboon speak of their contribution to a Brainiac benefit concert in Dallas where they assisted in raising money (burial costs) for the family of the band’s most recently deceased member. Ironic as life often is. Like a photo album of rock, with each song a new page turns to elicit images of the Revolting Cocks, Legendary Pink Dots, Suicide, Silver Apples, Neu! and Six Finger Satellite without ever moistening those little corner photo-fasteners to the yellowed pages. While, some songs revel in their excited state, the final track produces a groove John Spencer wishes he had penned. Sadly missed, this combo has at least left us with a legacy we can enjoy listening to for years to come. (Touch and Go Records PO Box 25520 Chicago, IL 60625)

Brandtson Fallen Star Collection CD
Lyrics are usually more important to everyone but me. Strangled guitar/vocal melodies and percussive bass/kick antics are what I listen for upon hearing a new band. Strangely, I broke from my lyrical aversion as Brandston's "Breaking Ground" came to an end. Only after this, the second track on Fallen Star Collection, did I pull apart the booklet and follow along with the quartet's two vocalists. Certainly more than the emotive delivery of the passage "I'm always using words like maybe and someday and sorry, I'm sorry I couldn't say you remind me of everything I ever wanted to be, maybe we were meant to be." caught my attention. The honesty and shared-meaning listener and singer have for such words should make us stir inside. Memories of every lost-love and missed opportunity came to the surface as Brandtson's eleven-song album lit up the living room. Wonderfully illuminated, edgy pop songs reminiscent of Sunny Day Real Estate and Camber are hear for you to grab onto, despite my suggestions of originality, individuality, and uniqueness – you'll hear what you want to hear. One more jewel in Deep Elm's crown. (Deep Elm PO Box 1965 NYC 10156) – Keith York

Brassy Got it Made CD
Sassy, tricky hip-hop that fails to stop short of highly entertaining for the duration of the disc. Nodding to progenitors of the hip-hop-rock sound (mainly Pop Will Eat Itself) for much of Got it Made, Brassy moves considerably farther out on the fringe of freaked hip-pop. Listening deep you hear Beastie favoritism with an eye on the prize of making themselves a household name. Scritchy-scratchy turntable antics and samplers are hardly eccentric frivolities for Brassy, rooted in their hearty guitar/bass/druminterplay and hyper-confident vocal stylings are worth raving about before, during and after listening to this repeatedly. (Beggars/Wiiija 580 Broadway Ste.1004 NYC 10012) – Keith York

Brethren To Live Again CD
Years have passed since I first heard Napalm Death. Favoring instead the more "industrial" heaviness of other metal styles, the gravel-voiced quick tempo fare of the more frenetic genre always seemed to grab the kids attention. While Marilyn Manson cavorts amidst the stage lights, it is the rank and file soldiers in the trenches waving the banners for quick-witted fast, gutteral metal; and Brethren are well-equipped to wage war. (Band 1500 NW 15th Ave. #4 Boca Raton, FL 33486) – Keith York

Bright The Albatross Guest House CD
Having heard much of this from a previously released cassette album, I quickly realized the beauty contained herein had been forgotten. Intricate escapes of tone and rhythm run through this like hot blood in the veins of their self-titled debut album (also on Ba Da Bing!). Hot tones. Guitar and drum assemblages that push postrock, krautrock (...ad infinitum) out the window of a multi-story high-rise. Bright actually does push the notions of space within rock songs into a newly defined nether-region of their own design. Songs rhythmically build from tensions caused by motorik constancy, deliberate chord repetitiveness and the occasional distant vocal. As they build anxiously, each adeptly, carefully placed note or percussive hit describes their motivations. Laying on your back in the evening staring upward (with Bright on your headphones), you can see how the stars are linked by characters and plots. Myths, the stars are not. The unveiling of natural beauty is in front of you, you just have to open your heart (and ears) to it. Bright deliver yet another stunning collection of thoughts and stories for us to cherish. Stay in the guest house and get to know the locals. (Ba Da Bing! PO Box 204 Leonia, NJ 07605) - Keith York

Bright Eyes A Collection of Songs... CD
The inseparable combination of a young man, a 4-track recorder and a passion to experiment with pop is yet again evidenced on A Collection of Songs Written and Recorded 1995-1997. Many solo artists survive on low wage jobs only to service their minimum living sustenance, because their craft means more to them than consumer luxuries. Enclosed inside this Collection... are artifacts of such indie-rock passion, a Portastatic-like fever for creating, outside of the demands which bandmates foist upon a songwriter (in this case Conor Oberst of Park Ave. and Comm. Venus). By purposefully taking a lo-fi to documenting these ideas, puts this in the same realm as the many Shrimper releases and sideproject efforts by indie luminaries, yet at times breaks from the pack. "Emily, Sing Something Sweet" could have easily summarized all twenty of these songs, and boiled away the extraneous crud to have the equation read Track 12 = Bright Eyes. Take care. (Saddle
Creek 1640 Fairfax Ave. Lincoln, NE 68505) - Keith York

Bright Eyes Every Day and Every Night CD
Hauntingly melodramatic, Every Day and Every Night, exhibits Conor Oberst's coming of age. Steeped in dark image-conjuring words and music, the folk-acoustic foreground is cloaked in circus sideshow eeriness with loops, back-masked rhythms 'n' tones and psychiatrist-couch style samples. Disavowing the latest trend in rural porch Americana albums, Oberst and Co. illuminate the shadow-drenched urban core following the latest turn-of-the-century. It's all very scary in here. (Saddle Creek POB 8554, Omaha, NE 68108) – Keith York

Bright Eyes Fevers and Mirrors CD
Easily Bright Eyes' best work to date. From the child reading aloud, to the haunting radio interview with Conor Oberst's Exorcist-like alter-ego, Fevers and Mirrors is the most insistent collection of songs of self-investigation for the new millennium. This strummed-guitar melodrama is the noise of honesty and sincerity as Oberst actively searches for meaning and truth in his life. Singing atop guitars, accordions, piano, mellotron and drums, Oberst's anxieties will put the listener on a rollercoaster ride of emotions. Sometimes soothing, while at other moments frightening, we scoot from the scoop to the edge of the chair never knowing how the cliff-hanger will play out. If you haven't dipped your foot into the pond of this man's mind, this is the right time to explore the chilly, murky, dangers below. (Saddle Creek POB 8554 Omaha, NE 68108) – Keith York

Broadways Broken Start CD
Taking me back to tenth grade, The Broadways re-assimilate "1945", or "Mommy's Little Monster" -era Social Distortion vocals atop careening guitar (& chunk-chunka rhythm powered) punk. Very LA-style, mid-80s blistering rock songs replete with the fuck-this, fuck-that, and fuck everything in between attitude. (Bicycle Records 1729 W. Albion, Chicago IL 60626) - Keith York

Brokeback Returns to the Orange Grove 7”
Doug McCombs plays a couple of tracks of lightly reverbed electric guitar through an amplifier. No percussion, no vocals. The sound of a distant train does appear. Archer Prewitt and John McEntire helped Doug realize his Brokeback persona. The songs are short, solemn instrumental moods that Brokeback experienced and saw fit to record. This didn’t move me to change my ways but it was calming. Something I probably need a bit more of. (Thrill Jockey PO Box 476794 Chicago, IL 60647)

Brokeback Field Recordings from the Cook County Water Table CD
Please take a moment to imagine a 35-year old Ennio Morricone-penned spaghetti-western style soundtrack for a documentary on cool jazz bass playing recorded by Tortoise. Doug McCombs, John Herndon, John McEntire and a group of noted luminaries (including Mary Hansen's - of Stereolab – vocals on "The Great Banks") light up a western out-on-the-range campfire around the bass guitar. Not too far distant from Stanley Clarke's jazz bass antics, Doug along with Noel Kupersmith play soothing six-string lines for jazz, and post-rock/slow-core fans in movie soundtrack ebbs and flows. The rising tide of heated bass guitar hits the shoreline where the cowboy's horse cools off and steam rises from the sand. Once again proof there's (literally) "something in the water" in Cook County. (Thrill Jockey POB 476794 Chicago, IL 60647) – Keith York

Broken Hearts are Blue The Truth About Love CD
Opium Taylor Fade Machine Fade Magazine CD
I shudder to think of listening to either of these two bands one second longer. Bad- what is this, emo? Both bands feature overbearing, omni-present singers who practice vocal-masturbation. Warbling non-stop on each and every song, the two caterwaulers expel the contents of their fat, bloated sanctums of inner anguish. In defense of Opium Taylor, the musicians play reasonably well. Sans vocals, their songs rock adeptly. Unfortunately, I don’t have a mixing board in my lap. I once wondered why Caulfield Records released so few records from bands outside the label’s native Nebraska. With Broken Hearts are Blue, I no longer ponder that question. I now ask: Why them? Why now? Why ever? (Caulfield PO Box 84323 Lincoln, NE 68501) - Steven M. Brydges

Brother JT Come on Down CD
The world is very much a better place with the presence of guys like JT. He's one of those gen-u-ine originals that a lot of people claim to be, but very few are. JT may live in our world, but it only intersects tangentially with his. If you drew a triangle with the points described by the following coordinates (Syd Barrett, Trilateral Commission) (sleep deprivation, summery AM sike-pop) and (the Weekly World News, an alternate world Beach Boys who grew up in Pennsylvania) you'd find JT square in the middle of it, strumming along and singing lyrics that only he understands the Full Meaning of. Hope you followed that.
When not fronting the Original Sins (who pretty much define garage punk according to some of my friends) or Brother JT and Vibrolux, one can find JT working on one of his many tracts, a series of 29-cent stamps, or possibly turning out some really splendidly fried, fractured pop-psychedelic songs. We're talking languorous vocals (well, at least on "Lazy," which just came on), dripping with vibe and tremolo and weird reverse effects that sound like bubblegum-pop left out in the sun for just a little too long. If you've been recently digging the sounds of the Olivia Tremor Control or Neutral Milk Hotel (as I have been), then you'll find JT's music right up your alley. I know that I do. And if you find a better little freaky pop gem than "Red Cathedral" right up against the mindfuckery of "It Keeps Raining," please tell me so that I can go track it down. (Drunken Fish) - Matthew Maxwell

Brownie Fly Mutha Beatz 12”
Block rockin’ beats courtesy of Chris Brown a.k.a. DJ Brownie come at ya in four flavors: his own Original Mix, Imperium Mix, Oh Yeah Mix and some sweet Bonus Beatz. “Fly Mutha Beatz” is pure acid breakbeat with freaked loops, stutters and drumbreaks wrapped in the title’s vocal sample calling it like it is...fly mutha beats. Washington, DC’s DJ John G(oldman) runs the rinse on his Imperium Mix by utilizing the skeleton of Brownie’s original intent and taking it to the streets of the urban jungle for quick-footed drum ‘n’ bass track. John’s reworking is one extensive rising and falling drum break that skips and stutters and stops you dead in your tracks only to pick you off the floor and rush you through its boot camp beats time and again. Together with the fly mutha beatz sample you will occasionally here the Beastie’s “the new style” dropped in at just the right time. Electroacidfreakbreaks. (Rampant 1447 12th St. Ste. D Manhattan Beach, CA 90266)

Bruno, Franklin Kiss Without Makeup CD
After a decade of community service in IndieRock City, USA, Franklin releases his most varied work to date (including his pioneering efforts at the helm of Nothing Painted Blue). Bittersweet assemblages from jazz to country and back again settle in a lounge-pop living room extending limbs in a soft warm bed. Concurrently pursuing a Phd at UCLA and constructing an album of poetic tragic humor (one has to listen to "Clean Needle" to grasp the wit instilled in Bruno's disposition), Franklin is a bit of a renaissance man and certainly has the greatest grasp on the English language of us all. (Absolutely Kosher 417 Frederick St. San Francisco, CA 94117) – Keith York

Buellton Avenue of the Flags CD
Having spent my college career in the central coastal are of California, the town of Buellton distills many memories of the afternoon 2-wheel roadtrip and the open expanse that few know of the area. Whether your route across the old Pacific Coast Highway, or San Marcos Pass, takes you from Oxnard to Monterey, from Santa Barbara to Solvang, the car stereo can effectively accompany the beauty that remains in an area as yet developed as the surroundng Southern California megalopolis stretching from Tijuana to the San Fernando Valley.
As the coast oak trees hang sadly atop themselves across abandoned vineyards and the ocean’s salty breath caresses the central coast, Buellton’s melancholy appears as a natural part of the area’s landscape. As if American Music Club, Radar Brothers and Acetone were the neighboring towns dotting the California map, Buellton fits snugly on the winding road that takes you through the destination itself. Comprised of ex-members of Brown, Buellton distills the longing of a forgotten roadside town, as well as the hidden stories and drama (ala David Lynch) that such places refuse to share with us outsiders. Take a drive along Avenue of the Flags, you’ll be amazed where it takes you. (Film Guerrero 18 SE 18th St. Portland, OR 97214) – Keith York

Buffalo Daughter New Rock CD
The Japanese have always skewed Americana through their own rose-colored glasses. Buffalo Daughter is no exception. They export their own brand of funky, indie-rock guitar songs, Cubase-inspired techno rumblings and a Yo La Tengo inspired motorik anthem, "Sky High." All of these factors allow the album necessary breathing room and freedom to stretch its paws in the air, whilst the critics tickle their soft underbelly. While thankfully
straying from the K Records tweeness, Pizzicato Five's Deee-lite slobberings and the Japa-noise constructs, Buffalo Daughter actually made me momentarily re-evaluate what Nippon rock exports can manage. Wildly
diverse, genre-boundary jumping, yet fulfilling like New Rock should be. (Grand Royal PO Box 26689 Los Angeles, CA 90026) - Keith York

Buffalo Tom Asides…1988-1999 CD
While Boomers memorialize where they stood when they heard JFK was shot, GenXers fidget over memories of liking and hating bands like Buffalo Tom, Dinosaur Jr and how many times they embarrassingly enjoyed16 Candles. Buffalo Tom songs like “Summer”, “Mineral”, “Rachael”, “Birdbrain” and so many others are part of the generational micro-culture of a citizenry that explored punk because elder siblings, listened to alternative rock because it was new (Buffalo Tom is this microcosm’s Pearl Jam to say the least), and have more recently found VH1, HGTV, and the Food Network to cater to their sensibilities . These are songs not worth discussing, they are just accepted norms that evoke nothing short of cascading memories that make us squirm and giggle. This is mighty powerful. (Beggars 580 Broadway Ste.1004 NYC 10012) – Keith York

Bullfrog Bullfrog Theme + 2 7"
Sounding more like Check Yr Head than any Canadian post-rock, post-whatever band (aka all that follows Erics Trip's career) while steering clear of the Ninja Tune camp, the "Bullfrog Theme" is a must-hear for any downbeat junkie. Sinuously snaking around your cerebellum, the quartet settles in a sixties soul groove on the flip side while Kid Koala eases back 'n' forth on the needle. "Extra track" displays Koala's skillz with odds 'n' ends found in the dusty used record bins. Hard to find, but worthwhile. (Band: Box 573 Place du Parc Post Office Montreal PQ CANADA H2W 2P2) – Keith York

Bully s/t CD
Humming along with this for days, it finally became time to write up a reaction. Of the four songs on the self-titled debut it's hard to pick a favorite – the same impasse I reached in listening to their nine-song cassette that preceded this release. Keys, guitars and drums dry-hump one another in a sexy little K-records style be-bop. Boys and girls sing to (and at) one another with teen innocence. Had Lois bought a drum machine and played hip-hop with an elephant-6 band while borrowing Heavy Vegetable's 4-track to record it all on, you'd get something close to this. (Get in the Truck 20 Hamilton St. #2 Medford, MA 02155) – Keith York

Bunnygrunt Jen-fi CD
Sitting alone. It's the weekend. Relaxing back into the chair's supportive foam, you stare at the rotary-dial phone. Neither of you willing to blink, or sound off, the duel lasts all night - the phone fails to ring. Your
eyelids grow heavy from the day's activities. She didn't call again. Morning comes. The good-morning sun bathes the bedroom in a warm bright glow forcing you from under the covers. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes,
you wander down the stairs tripping over the answering machine. The blinking message light flies from your now-broken toe, to the wall with a crash; a cracking plastic noise. The machine's hard case scuffs the wall
with a black mark. Her voice echoes off the baseboard apologizing for calling so late after you either: a) went to sleep, or b) decided "the hell with her, I'm going out alone." Stunned, your heart races to the beat of
Bunnygrunt's post-Tiger Trap, post-Crayon enthusiastic guitar-strong rock 'n' roll. The blistering air makes you cough as you rush a breath into your lungs whilst cradling the still-playing lengthy message. She fails to leave
a number for you to reach her at - instead she says "I'll call ya sometime... " Damn. (No Life PO Box 461778 L.A., CA 90046) - Keith York

Bureau of the Glorious s/t CD
Looking northward while listening to this CD, I wanted to say it reminded me of several central California combos like Land of the Wee Beasties, Buick, Bright Anvil, Crash & Brittany and even Vomit Launch. Bureau of the Glorious features Enharmonik employee and Tinfed member Eric Stenman - but other than that these folks don’t have a history I am aware of. What this dozen songs equates to though is some ringing eem rock with a confident woman singing not shouting nor screaming. At times pedestrian, while at others this CD pushes forth a geyser of rock - I continually thought it would make a really great six song EP rather than a 12 song full length containing filler like “H. Cages.” A+ given in art class for the packaging. (Sunney Sindicut Records 915 L Street #C-166 Sacramento, CA 95814)

Busy Signals Baby's First Beats CD
"Refreshing" is one of those words that is often used to describe, but rarely meaningful in a conversation about, "who's your favorite new band?" or "what's your favorite new album?" This album is a refreshing diversion from the current crop of new records, as well as a respite after a hard day of boarding. Despite the fact that lots of folks have the same ingredients contained in Howard Hamilton's bedroom recordings, no one comes close to the imaginative approach taken in creating Baby's First Beats. From Beach Boys pop songs, to Bacharach-ian trumpets, Joy Division bass lines, to the drum loop made famous by Rob Base's "It Takes Two," the music is sugary sweet lo-tech electro-pop. If the Lassie Foundation and Land of the Loops ever are in the same recording studio with free time on their hands, you can imagine what such a fictional collaboration would sound like. My vote for album of the year already. (Sugar Free POB 14166 Chicago, IL 60614) – Keith York

Buttercup Love CD
Gone are the days of searching the campus library for a vacancy on a couch. With the intention of digging deep into academia I would poise my book at shoulder height and peer across the expansive skylight-sun drenched room looking at beautiful young women. My eyes would peer upwards and then back down at the page, sometimes taking fifteen minutes to get through a paragraph. Eventually the reading would intensify but my eyes would grow heavier and soon I would be fast asleep on the couch. Awakening, the room bathed in only fluorescent light I would realize the afternoon (once again) was gone. The feeling of intent and purpose sideswiped by the physiological need to sleep. With every good intention bands still make quiet records of midwestern flavor and southern accent. Pedal steel guitars and nasal vocals. Moments brimming with every intention of getting a job done, meeting a deadline, and savoring the experience not just the end result. Buttercup write songs. (Spirit of Orr 166 Lincoln St. 2nd Floor Boston, MA 02111)

Butterglory Rat Tat Tat CD
Sincere. A collection of letters from past lovers occupies an overflowing desk drawer. Postcards, doodlings on odd scraps of paper, poems and thoughts from those that have cared for you continue to maintain the feeling of being held, being loved. Every so often you open that desk drawer and peer inside. As you hold each wilted piece of yellowing paper, memories burn your scalp. Rat Tat Tat produces a similar feeling, a thought provoking journey through the past’s archives. Like a gently embracing hand, many of these songs massage your tired limbs, your knotted shoulders and cleanse your spirit with soft smells and sure sounds. Confident like the Go Betweens, Butterglory are a salve for a tired psyche, a restless soul, a yearning heart. Guitars and drums and vocals hum together in a spirited complacent vibe; a soothing feeling. Rat Tat Tat is the aspirin for a headache and a morning cup of coffee for the sleepless. It has a multi-faceted healing power. Sincere. (Merge Records PO Box 1235 Chapel Hill, NC 27514)

Byzar Gaiatronyk vs. The Cheap Robots 2x12”
Many of us get caught up in a rat race of fast-paced beat music forgetting the intricacies of breakbeats and basslines. It is the subtleties of downbeat and ambient that remind us that the pace, or BPM, isn’t as important as a well thought out rhythm, a complex semi-melodic bass movement and the choice of deep, meaningful samples. Byzar are complex programming pilots armed with digital and analog tools and the mission to create tensions within spaces - many times in black, white and grays. Track after track of Gaiatronyk... endlessly examine and report on the dark subtleties of character and the propagandas of those sinister, cloaked personas that inhabit the urban jungle. Byzar forge electronic manifestations of dark dreams, they are not experimentalists. The latter would have pitfalls amongst the many tried combinations of elements. Byzar explore paths of unfounded (possibly some otherworldly spirituality) familiarity rather than venturing forth blindly seeking to lay claim on some unfound territory. Yes Byzar go where no man has gone before, but they have done so with an inner guidance leading them to the truth. Being led by a hand is no experiment and by no means an unwilling journey into dark, slow beats ‘n’ bass. Gaiatronyk...’s noise illustrates that Byzar are not just deck enthusiasts but instead are creators of mood, however structured or unstructured that may manifest itself in each song. (Asphodel PO Box 51 Chelsea Station NYC 10113-0051)