Features &
Interviews

Chocolate Weasel
DJ Cam
DJ Method One
DJ Stratus
DJ 3D
Dwindle
Ed Rush
Electronica
Frank Lloyd Wright's California
Ganger
Gapeseed
Her Space Holiday
Holiday Flyer
ICU
Jungle Defined
Kim Salmon
King Rhythm
Laika
Latin Playboys
Lounge Lizards
Mark Robinson
Mixtapes
Monochrome
Most Secret Method
Music Appreciation 101
Pressure Drop
Terrastock II
Third Eye Foundation

Fahey, John and Cul de Sac The Epiphany of Glenn Jones CD
This is likely not the album that you expect it to be. I know that was the case for me. See, the only experience I have with John Fahey are some of his more decidedly pyrotechnic moments (albeit in a folky kind of manner) that described his work in the mid and late sixties. And if you haven't looked into any of that, then check out the compilation of his work entitled Return of the Repressed, which gives a pretty good introduction to the man. At any rate, Fahey has returned to the limelight (in the indie world) with a handful of new recordings and collaborations. This one with the band Cul de Sac, who a friend of mine described (not insultingly) as "progressive surf," working with a lot of alternate tunings and strange instrumentation, tape manipulations and electronics, but all on a foundation of solid musicianship (particularly on the part of Glenn Jones, guitarist and co-founder of the band).
If you, as I did, expect Fahey putting down brazen fingerstyle sounds over the backing work of Cul de Sac, then you're in for a surprise. What you'll find is any real difficulty finding where Fahey's contributions end and Cul de Sac's begin. It's all one contiguous whole, with both parts being integral. Electronic drones co-mingle with loops of birdsong and rumblings of heavily distorted guitar, over which come jangles of non-chord; that's what "Gamelan Collage" sounds like anyway. Actually, there's a lot of Harry Partch sound going on there, something that is off-kilter from the norm, yet still rhythmic and beautiful within the rules that it constructs for itself. Then the sound opens up to something else, one of warbling electronics under a cavern of huge, low chugging rumbles coming from Jones' guitar. There's a reworking of an old Fahey tune here, named "The New Red Pony" this time, though it's previous name I've forgotten. I must say that this was a bit of a disappointment, as the original was so very nearly perfect as a solo piece that this arrangement can do nothing but detract.
What you get in this album is real growth from both Fahey and Cul de Sac. I mean, John Fahey could probably make a bundle by simply going out and playing the stuff that (rightly) garnered him a big following in the sixties. Instead of doing that, though, he's stretching out (though he always has done that to some extent). "Nothing" and "More Nothing," which close the album out, are sparse electronic pieces with some spoken non-narrative overlaid. Not typical folk guitar (though you get some of that with "Maggie Campbell Blues") to be sure. Recommended for folk fans who think that there isn't anything “interesting” left to do with the music. Guitars aren't dead, not yet, anyways. (Thirsty Ear) - Matthew Maxwell

Faint, The Blank-Wave Arcade CD
Sounding dated (1979) but brand-spanking new on the scene, The Faint's latest release is rooted in pre-techno-pop 80s herky jerky power electronics. Showing familiarity with early releases by Human League (Reproduction, Travelogue) but with Gang of Four's attitude, Blank-Wave Arcade is the missing link between no-wave, new-wave and Richard Hell's "blank generation". It's hard to believe that 21 years ago synths and guitars were meeting in the wake of the Sex Pistols marketing of anarchy as fashion. Here we are and it's as fresh as the first go-around when I was in middle school (listening to the Ramones and Sex Pistols NEW releases). (Saddle Creek POB 8554 Omaha, NE 68108) – Keith York

Faint Media CD
Standing atop a familiar cresting butte, the new king of the hill triumphantly crosses his arms in front of his confident chest. Staring down at the bodies he hurled from his sandlot throne, the neighborhood victor smiles. Across our land, childhood successes in after-school playgrounds, vacant lots and empty meadows act as testing grounds for leadership, confidence and determinism. Many of these ruffians will pick up guitars and drumsticks in the years to come. Some of these chest-beating 6-year olds will hold sweat-slickened microphones in front of bellowing lungs and vocal chords as soon as they get past "discovering" the opposite sex.
Listening to The Faint, one can picture each of its members as a child prodigy of confident neighborhood victories. Members of this band won at kick the can, capture the flag, hide & go seek, and king of the hill. The spoils of victory in this case are acutely crisp notes and flourishes, chords and sweeps, drumhead smacks and passages. The Faint push electricity, rather than drawing it from wall sockets and extension cords. The Faint's electricity forces irony upon their choice of monikers. Record collections filled with mid-90s Dischord releases, Wire, Pixies, Gang of Four illustrate the sound, but the energetic delivery is all their own. Winner in the category of best song title for "There's Something not as Valid When the Scenery is a Postcard." (Saddle Creek 7640 Fairfax Ave. Lincoln, NE 68505) - Keith York

Fall-outs s/t CD
Steve Turner of Mudhoney told me of this band he moonlighted with back when I was in college and he was staying at Jay Hinman’s house. Jay was a great guy, did a great punk rock show on the radio station and was friends with Mark Arm and Steve. I bought a couple of records with Fall-outs songs on them - a single on Regal Select, Puget Power comp., Here Ain’t the Sonics comp., Estrus Lunch Bucket comp. All of these records are fine, and this CD is too. Bluesy “garage rock” of an angrier Billy Childish fashion - but not nearly as rip-off “Estrus Retro” as some of the 60s garage bands are. This is just raw down home fun. Not as drunk as Thrown Ups, not as anthemic as Mudhoney - but Steve provides a hell of a bass wallop for a moonlighter.
(Super Electro PO Box 20401 Seattle, WA 98102)

Family of God Exiter CD
Having just listened to Clinton's Disco and the Halfway to Discontent, the freshness of France's new wave reverberated through my assessment of Exiter. Psychoses adorn melodic synth lines as coochy-coo beats get the spine jiggling. While the coyness in the French (Daft Punk, MC Solaar, Clinton, Pills, Air) music seems only to mask the real attitude, the water-wake left behind (listening to) Family of God is honest. Chug-chugging basslines, flying guitar licks, and the constancy of mid-tempo drum-kits reminisce with 80s synth-pop (Depeche Mode circa A Broken Frame), while the kitsch remains hidden in the fresh approach. Much like how a good film erases thoughts of the real-world outside of the theatre, fictional characters and storylines envelope you, surround you with audio and visual input, that until "The End" is displayed, you have forgotten your troubled life. There's enough clatter and melody to shake you free of all that ails you in the real world, allowing even amateur escapists to revel in the fantasy of Exiter an hour at a time. (Sugar Free PO Box 14166 Chicago, IL 60614) – Keith York

Family of God Exiter CD
Aside from Track 1 “Dull Star”, Exiter is a delightful romp akin to the Bronski Beat’s uplifting mid-80s synth-pop. While the comparison isn’t all that fair – considering an 80s backlash, techno is the proper terminology – it is subjectively accurate. Hell, I can hear Real Life’s “Send Me an Angel” in “Funny Love” despite the weird Frogs-like vibe you get from the creepy oeuvre (the carrot artwork is only the beginning). Exiter however presents me with one of the most intriguing love/hate reactions to a CD in a long while and continues to manifest itself on my speaker cones as my head nods numbed by the macabre Depeche Mode tones intertwined with lo-fi casio stylings (FOG was raised listening to The Residents perhaps?). (Sugar Free POB14166 Chicago, IL 60614

February even the night can’t tell you from a star CD
Pleasing in its sincerity, this CD captures the twilight’s last glimmer as the sun fades. A woman’s voice holds us firmly as the band surrounds us with clouds of sound. Lying somewhere near the Cocteau Twins more recent releases, while distantly reminding of us of Mazzy Star - February put their own stamp on a European aperitif. (band: 1107 17th Ave. SE Minneapolis, MN 55414)

February Tomorrow is Today CD
God this got to me. This album is like suiting up in Getaway Cruiser’s clothes swiftly extracted right out of Suzanne Vega’s dryer’s oven heat. Suit up and walk around the house in adult-sized feet-pajamas until the clothing and your skin temp. match. Melodies stirred by keyboard strokes, a young woman’s voice, a guitarist that writes passages not guitar lines. Smack. Two sets of soft lips touch as hands run through one another’s hair like kids playing with army men in tall grass. Kids. Kids see right through everything. All is translucent. The relevant opacity of Tomorrow is Today is nothing like my scattered thoughts but the reactions are genuine - - what do you do when moved by meaningful music - where were you when you first heard Portishead’s Dummy? I know exactly where I was and who I was thinking of. I know who I am thinking of right now. Back to Tomorrow is Today, I am thinking about the woman I kissed last night. Knife-like winds stabbed our cheeks as we held one another on the tallest point above the city - though since we were staring at one another we could’ve been anywhere. God that was a long kiss, and goddamn if this isn’t an album adhering memories like that to the inside of my eyelids for a while. The singer, the drummer, the guitarist fluidly run together like hot molten steel. The fluid, like mercury, washes across you like those funny Moroccan waiters that wash your hands for you...imagine that. Yeah, scattered thoughts...one either babbles or stands aghast, speechless. Which are you? (Carrot Top 935 W. Chestnut Ste. LL15 Chicago, IL 60622)

Fierce Crystal 12”
Having owned this for some time now, it was funny to learn the song’s name when it reappeared on the “Torque” compilation (also on No U-Turn). The liner notes of the aforementioned collection read Fierce * Nico - so I assume this went through the same rinse and spin cycle at Nico’s eight track sampler den as the Ed Rush/Nico stuff does. By Nico acting as a “producer” and as label executive - much of the label’s releases have the same dark hard step qualities - thus if you hate one of the releases you may hate ‘em all - - and consequently I love all the science these headz drop. Crystal and its unnamed flip side are movements in dark hard step that light up as the flame hits the green. The tracks begin slow, dark, deformed even malformed cymbal crashes with whirring synths and lotsa bass! Occasionally the oddly sampled word “Crystal” appears in a mysterious male’s voice - he is gone as soon as he arrives. For some reason one of the samples reminds me of an old Prophet patch used by OMD 13 years ago - but who knows where these minds found these sounds. Again, if you like Nico’s sound you may want to investigate all the beats the professor is releasin’, especially with his 18 year old prodigy Fierce. (No U-Turn)

Film School Brilliant Career CD
With the librarian quieting down every conversation in her environment, Film School manages to perform an album’s-worth of songs between stacks of periodicals and ancient texts. Softly swept snares cradle bass and key tones as (Oakland, CA’s) Krayg Burton’s guitar and vocals whisper to those onlookers all to afraid of being reprimanded with the eternal “Shhh” from the elders. With help from members of Pavement, Fuck, and Glitter Mini 9, Krayg’s bedroom drone-pop flickers softly, yet dangerously, all to close to a book collection (by authors My Bloody Valentine, Starflyer 59, Sunset Valley, Sparklehorse, Paik and Grandaddy) that inspired these numbing tones. (metoorecords.com) – Keith York

Fireside Fantastic Four CD
Having been tagged time and again as latter-day clones of Quicksand, I just hope this quartet of young men can hang in there for a while longer. Noticing that only a band's early material gets tagged as "heavily influenced by," I am always optimistic that maturity over time will allow two things: a band to better develop their own unique sound, or fans don't know of the band's influences because they are too young to have heard the multi-decade lineage of rock bands that form today's sounds. Fireside are quite thrilling, especially if you enjoyed Quicksand's tenure and agreed with the critical acclaim. What Fireside do on their own (and quite well) is play loud rock 'n' roll songs that have little to do with a genre that includes Chuck Berry and Guns 'n' Roses and more to do with raw emotion spoken with guitar strings and drum sticks. (Crank! 1223 Wilshire Blvd. #823, Santa Monica, CA 90403) – Keith York

Firewater Psychopharmacology CD
With the black comedic stylings of early Foetus and the poised-for-critical-acclaim antics of Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Tod A. (ex-Cop Shoot Cop) and his crew enjoy the Americana as seen through Wes Craven’s eyes. What feels like a drone is a caucophony of keys, guitars, drums and haunting lyrics (ya know, covering the usual: suicide, death, plane crashes…) that brings dusk light to whatever environ this soundtracks. Tod is joined on “Bad, Bad World” by Jennifer Charles (Elysian Fields) for what sounds like the cebratory drowning of Mazzy Star. Not for those afraid of their own nightmares. (Jetset 67 Vestry Street NYC 10013) – Keith York

Fireworks Lit Up CD
Lying somewhere on a continuum with the Gories and the Blues Explosion on either end, Fireworks outwit the lo-fi post-garage blues intelligentsia with quick tempered monochromatic assaults. Throughout this collection is evidenced a dynamic range of ideas rather than the one-track patterns of like minded pessimistic posturing pioneers. The listener can identify Psychocandy moments while the final track tips its hat to Baboon and Bedhead’s more straight pop ideas - all eliciting a unique facet to Fireworks complex persona. While their coves and originals blend seamlessly, this album and the live show I witnessed are at odds with one another - creating yet another confusing dimension my definition of who and what Fireworks are. A few songs on Lit Up recall the heartless chain-smoking, spitting, foul-mouthed banter I witnessed from star performer Darin Lin Wood. The trio catapult simplistic song structures into boundless exercises of relaxed proficiency and agitated skepticism illustrating a sub-community they reside in; a state where John Spencer is a media icon and the blues are an untested domain ripe for exploration and exploitation. On its face the genre may be seem stagnate, that is until you put Lit Up on the stereo. (Last Beat 2819 Commerce St. Dallas, TX 75226)

Flak Tune In CD
Physicists report that matter cannot be created nor destroyed. Instead bands (like matter) dissolve into the mass marketplace only to reappear in another form yielding slightly different properties. In the dissolution of London-based industrial outfit, Submachine, three of its former players have mercurially transformed into Flak. Tune In being Flak’s first single, delivers their high-energy punchy tech-rock (Considering influences range from Consolidated to Pop Will Eat Itself) in the form of five remixes by Dust Brothers, Ozomatli, Michael LaManna & Robert Goodman, and Tom Chasteen (Exist Dance pioneer recording this remix under one of his many aliases Ballistic Mystic). (Restless 1901 S. Bundy Drive L.A., CA 90025) – Keith York

Flake Music 7”
The A-side is easily as urgently important as Superchunk’s “Slack Motherfucker” or “Tossing Seeds.” After their debut on a split single with Henry’s Dress, this New Mexico combo has lurked in the shadows ‘til this hit the light of day - and a nice day it is. The B-side is fairly competent indie rock, obviously outshined by the flip’s “Sue Defender.” (Headhunter 4901-906 Morena Blvd. San Diego, CA 92117)

Flashpoint On The Verge CD
Sounding like early Soundgarden fueled on hardcore, former members of STS, and I Defy have produced an epic in their latest incarnation as Flashpoint. With the requisite stop-start motion, the power-chord delivery, and the ferocity of agitated testosterone, Flashpoint land where Quicksand lightly tapped a toe. Recorded by Sacramento recording engineer Eric Stenman (Holiday Flyer, Far, Deftones, Knapsack), the star bursting guitars, gutteral drumming and emotive crooning come across well. (Atomic Pop POB 7639 Santa Monica, CA 90406) – Keith York

Flin Flon A-Ok CD
Mark Robinson's latest incarnation post-Unrest and post-Air Miami, a collaboration with drummer Matt Datesman and bassist Nattles, has yielded a stunning debut album. Ten tracks of bass-driven Factory label reminiscent (see: New Order, Joy Division) pop songs securing tightly constructed 4/4 drumming to a foundation stronger than a Manhattan high-rise. Mark's inimitable talking-vocal style and clean guitar-string picking are evident all over this collection, and thus making this a must-hear for fans of his previous career efforts. For the novice though, this is what pre- and post-shoegaze power-pop really is – think the heaviest Stone Roses, the simplest Ride songs, the most elegant gestures by Blur but with the headiest notions of a DC-area born/bred pop band. Absolutely essential, brilliant, and worthwhile of time even within the busiest of schedules. (Teenbeat POB 3265 Arlington, VA 22203) – Keith York

Flin Flon Swift Current 7"
Bass guitar as lead instrument pulls the listener along like a rip current attaching to a body surfer. Struggle. Try to shed the skin that surrounds you. Inescapable bounce produced by ex-Unrest, Cold Cold Hearts and a current member of True Love Always...yes, a supergroup. (Teenbeat PO Box 3265 Arlington, VA 22203) - Keith York

Flowchart Cumulus Mood Twang CD
Flowchart, the brainchild of Sean O'Neal and other former members of Heroine, follows the examples of other such indescribable pop outfits, including Fuxa and Laika. The band's strangely enchanting new release, Cumulus Mood Twang, casts deep spells of light, electronic pop in its lengthy cuts, and fills them out with ambient drones. Also likened to Stereolab and Orange Cake Mix (which is released by O'Neal's home-grown Fuzzy Box Records), the band has garnered more than its share of glowing comparisons.
Cumulus Mood Twang's song titles alone, including "Platform Cloud," "Rain Boa Bye" and "Icicles and Clipboards" alone convey its ethereal qualities. As if that isn't enough of a hint, Flowchart also drops in plenty of looped, breathy vocals and oscillator-produced dance grooves. Album opener "Envelopment Continuum" features a jogging disco beat, while the next songs follow up with more cheesy vocals and eternal drones. The humor in the obvious, tacky aesthetic of the album is evident, but never attains the full comical glory of other such self-effacing pop acts like The Gentle People. Nevertheless, some of Flowchart's hypnotic, orchestral samples - which are altered and repeated through some parts of the album - coupled with stellar dance beats make Cumulus Mood Twang worthy of a few good listens, particularly for those of the ambient variety. (Carrot Top Records, 935 W. Chestnut, Suite LL15, Chicago, IL 60622) -Esther Yoon

Flowchart Hollow Sky 7”
Hollow Sky borrows the tempo from Sade’s “Smooth Operator” and explores lo-fi territory mined by Even as We Speak and Famous Boyfriend - a cool bop feel. Amidst the drums and vocals an Architecture and Morality period keyboard canvas appears in the dimly lit room. The b-side track Heres Whear the Story Ends is a bit more psych influenced in its stoned quiet mantra repetitions amidst some rather stark distorted analog keyboard sounds. Wafting in the air is its remaining drone left in the wake of a passing entity. As the latter track builds towards its climactic ending, the tones begin to meld and clash as if the Azuza Plane were playing guitar over a moog demonstration album from the early 70s with the 4 track in disrepair. It is always difficult to cast judgment and “evaluate” musical releases but in this case it seems as if Flowchart paired one of his best songs with one of his worst - but that’s what singles are for! I hope singles like this remain plentiful on the record buying landscape without being ruined by CD reissues, compilations, anthologies and other various ex post facto documents. (Burnt Hair PO Box 5519 Dearborn, MI 48128)

Fluf Waikiki LP
Thirteen rock songs on the fourth album by the four letter word band. Sometimes I wish they were called fluffy as in fluffy pillows and clouds - well wishes are what our hearts dream up when they lack real experience. Experiences are what we gain knowledge from. I did not gain much more than some head bobbing while this played. A few highlights are “Skip Beat,” “The Chooser,” and “Pipe Bomb.” All are classic Fender guitar driven trio rock numbers from the borrower of many an influence and guitar riff. Thanks. (Headhunter 4901-906 Morena Blvd. San Diego, CA 92117)

Foetus Flow CD
Jim ‘JG’ Thirwell is back with the Foetus banner waving proudly. Despite his MIA status for a while Foetus (or any of his monikers Wiseblood, Clint Ruin, Steroid Maximus as well as the myriad of Foetus relatives such as Scraping Foetus off the Wheel) is big with as big a sound as one would imagine. With the requisite sampler in tow, JG pushes the tempo feverishly, the limiters in the red, and the lyrics beyond the edge. More inventive than any morose goth character, Thirwell’s lyrical take on the apocalyptic, good/evil and sexuality continue to push the boundaries of the status quo. And if his return isn’t singularly triumphant enough, a tour and a Flow remix album (featuring Kid 606) are both on the horizon. Stay tuned, and glued to your seat.
(Thirsty Ear 274 Madison Ave. Suite 804 NYC 10016) – Keith York

You’ve Got Foetus on Your Breath Ache CD
You’ve Got Foetus on Your Breath Deaf! CD
The Foetus Symphony Orchestra York (First Exit to Brooklyn) CD
As if there exists a sub-genre of bands calling themselves Foetus or some such moniker, a wealth of releases hit the indie record shops in the mid-80s. And boy did I buy into it, the Foetus catalog that is. I scoured record shops for Scraping Foetus Off The Wheel, Foetus Art Terrorism, You’ve got Foetus on Your Breath, Foetus Over Frisco, Foetus Uber Frisco, Foetus Uber Alles, Foetus Under Glass, Phillip & His Foetus Vibrations, Foetus in Your Bed, Foetus Flesh, The Foetus All Nude Review, Foetus on the Beach and the huge letdown Foetus of Excellence (hey, the shirt was a medium only!). The search was on until his vibe was copped by the likes of Revolting Cocks (and others under the Wax Trax banner) that ultimately failed to rekindle the tongue-in-cheek humor that Clint Ruin AKA Jim Thirwell AKA JG Thirwell had established in his own well-conceived genre of pre-industrial sampled & synth mayhem. His dramatic baseball bat swinging live shows amidst pigs heads and DAT tapes blaring a symphonic apocalypse garnered Foetus (ad infinitum) a well-deserved seat at the throne of underground enigmas. He paired up with Lydia Lunch to prove sexuality can be ghastly and beautiful in the same gasp for air. He was full of surprises. Ache and Deaf! are supposedly the first two albums in the extensive discography, yet when they were originally released in the early ‘80s, their small pressings were too hard for a high school kid like me to find; there existed no alt.music.... I sit here over a decade after buying my first Foetus vinyl (the Scraping Foetus...double 12” pack on PVC/Gem - I still have it!) at a record shop that has since bowed to commercialism and UPC Codes, thinking back on my youthful fascination with this man’s obsession with dark sexuality, oppression, communism, fascism, history and death. I listen to Ache and Deaf! as if they were the first time I heard music that contained a synthesizer - its just odd that’s all. Foetus’ latest creation (including a reprise role for Lydia Lunch), York, is at odds with my senses today. I expected the drama and excitement of his previous outings while the carnage and selflessness of this drama left me cold, alone and asking a lot of questions. York is stark, stark and scary. Artfully dramatic, lacking in pretension while the melodrama of its free-jazz jam spirit is disconcerting and distant from my needs. I want to engage your mind, I want to ask questions dear Foetus but you are not here as I type. You must come again and visit, making that crack about “I like you, I like everything about you, I want to soak my head under your hose” always gave me a chuckle dear friend. (Thirsty Ear 274 Madison Ave. #804 NYC 10016)

Fonda Music for Beginners CD
Secrets are meaningless in the palms of thieves. The palette has no imagination, it only knows what reaches it - secret recipes and all. 60s pop melodies, 80s idealism, and 90s cynicism launched by Los Angeles power pop. Chefs like The Shop Assistants and Velocity Girl have been in this kitchen. Honeyrider buses tables. Stereolab, sans motorika, hosts the casual-attire evening. Very NME-British, yet like a Tea Party, uniquely American. (Top Quality PO Box 461429 Los Angeles, CA 90046) - Keith York

Fontanelle s/t CD
Landing with the gentle crash of a feather on a windless day, Fontanelle arrived into my home. Having missed out on the release of their debut (a 10" on Audra Glint), this 6-song document is my first witness into the post-mortem of Jessamine's Andy Brown and Rex Ritter. With assistance from five of their peers on farfisa, drums, electric piano and guitar, Fontanelle (the duo) outstretch angelic wings of jazz melodies that bands and critics only dream of, yet (despite applause from the "music press") never quite attain. Hearing Can in the mix is likely due to the bob 'n' weave of the snare, kick, and cymbal, but in successive listens to this disc, it's as if that is as unintentional as the direction of their live performance improvs in and around their hometown of Portland, Oregon. (Kranky POB 578743 Chicago, IL 60657) – Keith York

For Carnation "s/t" CD
From working class Louisville (Brian McMahan formerly of Squirrel Bait, Slint), to the city of industry, Chicago (John McEntire's Soma Studio), the theatrically dark sounds (Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds) that took years to craft (much of the songwriting was done written '97-'99) are now here for you to hear. The listener hears the downtempo, dropped grooves, the six-song document is steeped in. The listener feels the smoky afterglow of hotel room sex behind your partner's back, you wouldn't tell even your best friend about. There's a bit of the Slint remnants in Brian's soul, and his colleagues (Britt Walford, Kim Deal, McEntire, Rachel Haden etc.) allow it to breath deeply yet softly. If you had an indoor pool as Mr. Hearst had and you swam alone at dawn naked, this would be the sounds the water would make reflecting off the tapestries, statuary, and gilded ceilings. Magical. (Touch & Go POB 25520 Chicago, IL 60625) – Keith York

For Carnation s/t CD
In listening to most rock music, I find a parallel in watching waves crest and fall at the nearby ocean front. As drum kits mimick the powerful concussive sounds of water, guitars spray skyward and bass tones roar as the broken wave careens toward the shoreline. The For Carnation are more like the tension of 20 ft. waves on the high seas cresting yet never break apart. The constancy of the rolling thunderous energy around your tiny craft stirs you and your fellow travelers. Relief from the waves’ threats witnessed by them bursting apart into tiny shore breaks that small children toy with never comes. Nature’s power is underneath you, all around you as fear and joy cascade upon those caught up in the storm. The For Carnation are that storm; this time it’s just in your living room.
Culling from songs written as far back as ’97, recorded between July ’98 and ’99 (with John McEntire at the helm), The For Carnation have created an evocative show. As the listener is displaced by gripping slow-motion tempos (akin to Low), each note holds them captive. Notes in this case emanate from a broader array of instruments (than the usual guit/bass/drums) and notables from outside the quintet (Kim Deal, Britt Walford, McEntire, Noel Kupersmith, Christian Frederickson, Rachel Haden). (Touch and Go Records Inc. POB 25520 Chicago, IL 60625) – Keith York

4 Unusual Warmth CD
Heated debates rise high above room temperature. Sound-proofed practice space walls soak up the energy of the megawatt output by this trio of young southern Californians. At times 4 strangles some post-Albini guitar lines that evoke a sub-par art lying between Tar and Jehu’s damage. Loud, furious testerone-driven noises crash together in a sweaty mess. Young white upstarts tired and sweaty leave their instruments in their private space and resume their public lives. (Headhunter 4901-906 Morena Blvd. San Diego, CA 92117)

Four Hour Window Liquified 7”
Taking guitar tone cues from Loop, Telescopes and Spacemen 3, Four Hour Window (former Space Monkeys) create a psychedelic guitar journey as if the Brian Jonestown Massacre borrowed a Deep Purple guitar riff. Snotty, arrogant vocals remind me of early Surgery and Monster Magnet releases on Circuit Records. All laughable if taken too seriously, this drugged out psych fest was a trip through much of my record collection while adding little insight to who this band is or desires to be. Young they may be, and direction-less they could be at this early stage - but quite possibly through the cloud of bong-produced smoke a truly refined psych band will emerge to add something to a pale landscape far from the Terrascope. (Burnt Hair PO Box 5519 Dearborn, MI 48128)

Fox, Bill Transit to Bysantium CD
Bill has previously presented us with his music via other conduits; The Mice, and Radio Flyer. With Transit to Bysantium, he presents similarly fashioned notions of pop melody as a solo artist recording at home. Cleveland. (Cherry Pop/SpinArt PO Box 1798 NYC 10156) - Keith York

Franti, Michael & Spearhead Rock The Nation 12”/CDEP
Having DJ Spooky, Bassnectar (as well as Franti himself) remixing this single from the Stay Human CD, moves Spearhead to a higher level. Heavily influenced by 80s RnB (Midnight Star, Prince, Malcolm Mclaren), Rock The Nation is a hearty piece of hip-hop. Each mix has its individual angle on reinterpreting the track, no rock is left unturned. (Six Degrees/Boo Boo Wax POB 411347 San Francisco, CA 94141-1347) - Keith York

Freedom Fighters My Scientist Friends CD
The energy of a coal mine explosion. The acrid smell of sulfur deposits rising up in the tropical steams of hot springs and volcanic riverbeds. Freedom Fighters as an energy source. Didjits meet Janitor Joe for a round of drinks. Fire. Fuel. Winning the 110 high hurdles races in a wheelchair - the impossibilities of gauging the power the Freedom Fighters hold. Magic. Sims-like tenor guitar tones set the stage for track stars and hoop dreams as the vocals lift you into adorations of teen models and watching Ally McBeal with the MUTE button on and My Scientist Friends loud on the hi-fi. (Amphetamine Reptile Records 2645 1st Avenue S. Minneapolis, MN 55408)

Freedom Fighters My Scientist Friends CD
Boom-boom baby. Flyin' scream-style with the newest 3-piece on the AmRep roster. Fresh from the stables, covered in dung. Shit flyin' everywhere. Oh yeah. Critics be damned, ‘cause I don't hear The Who or Black Flag. No, not much of anything 'cept some rocks from some spocks. Beer-can snare-crunch and kick drum, coarse cymbal flare, if you dare. Honey, how on earth can you handle guitars this hot and still stand in that makeshift kitchen? Come out here to the living room, baby. We'll turn it into a dance floor. Shake it down, way down. Fa-cha-cha. Tear it up. Rambunctious vocals bleeding through blistering lips. A cold sore on an epidemic scale. You got it? Now get it. Boom, I'm a dot. I'm gone. (Amphetamine Reptile 2645 1st Avenue S. Minneapolis, MN 55408) - Steven M. Brydges

French Kicks s/t CD
With just enough of that "fuck-you" spitting-as-you-yell spirit to catch the attention of passersby, The French Kicks post-Spencer rock-n-roll-bar routine is addictive. With a bluesy 6Ts garage punk feel (Crime, Chrome Cranks, Vue, Make-Up, Jonathan Fire Eater), this four song EP pummels all in the speaker cones path. The attitude sucks the calmness from any room, any situation, only to leave those in the audience exhausted and wondering what hit 'em. (My Pal God POB 13335 Chicago, IL 60613) – Keith York

Frenzal Rhomb Once A Jolly Swagman... CD
Sugarsmack Tank Top City CD
For the uninitiated, unsolicited material arriving in a once-dormant post office box can both illuminate and cloud a day in misery. Like my descriptions of demographic appeals to varying audience segments in the undergraduate classes I evaluate, both of these albums circumnavigated my demo- and psychographic parameters. Frenzal Rhomb have taken a liking to LA guitar punk rock circa-1984, taking it to the Fat Wreckords/Epitaph governed streets. I had an affinity to this sound during its original inception, to have it referenced in ‘98 is a bit trying for me. Sugarsmack, who have diligently tried to find value in the avant-funk stylings of the mid-80s (respects to the Durutti Column notwithstanding) also land outside of the realm of acceptable revision or reductionism that I have defined my tastes within. While I applaud out-of-the-box thinking, it seemed neither of these crews have taken influences and ideas to the next level; synthesizing a new byproduct from the found ingredients. Interesting yet not suiting my consumption-of-entertainment needs. (Liberation PO Box 17746 Anaheim, CA 92817/Sire 936 Broadway NYC 10010) - Keith York

Furry Things Frequent Lunacy CD
Steam. Rising upward like smoke only to dissipate into the unpopulated air. Dub wavers like a junkie’s ears and your coherent thoughts streaming in conversation at them. The echoing of rhythms creating space from nothing. Virtual space defined by non-existent walls reflecting patterned song-element sounds. Sweetly spacious ambient pieces excused from falling into trite drone pass by effortlessly delighting in sound-tracking elementary school time-lapsed films of flowers blooming and sprouts growing, reaching for soil and sun. Science class entertainment. Slide shows are so ‘80s. Fragile guitars dart and stab as male and female voices pass by, windows rolled down, hand waving (welcoming) as they drive across your field of view. Absent of rock. Absent of concrete. Overflowing with stamina to create textures. If Labradford were a black & white 8 mm. film, Furry Things would be their super-16mm. cousin brimming with color. Hand claps, hands clasped, hands raised, heads raised to peer at the light shining forth from the contents of Frequent Lunacy. (Trance Syndicate PO Box 49771 Austin, TX 78765)

Furtips Stand Back, Speak Normally CD
Low tech Netherlands residents approximate the lowbrow sensibilities of Sportsguitar while quietly lamenting the passing of their youth. Buzzy little songs, 15 distant (stoner) cousins to bedroom pop - the Furtips riddle my sense of verse-chorus-verse structure and dependencies on hooky songs that linger. Akin to Mayo Thompson’s repeated material and Drunken Fish’s catalog of releases - these four guys dissect notions and expectations by plowing through the human body with a dull scalpel, half a medical degree and a ton of intuitive curiosities. Askew, yet intelligently painted, Stand Back, Speak Normally is an example of why independent music works, why it exists, and why it forges forth in search of discovery. (Ajax PO Box 805293 Chicago, IL 60680)

Future Bible Heroes I'm Lonely (And I Love It) CD
Despite the absence of Andy Bell’s (Erasure) or Jimmy Somerville’s (Bronski Beat) vocals on I'm Lonely (And I Love It), the listener is caught up in an addictive late-80s synth-pop explosion. On this little 20-minute beats ‘n’ keys jaunt, the listener joins Stephin Merritt’s (Magnetic Fields, 6ths, Gothic Archies) lyrics and vocals , and fellow Magnetic Field Claudia Gonson (also of the 6ths) as well as Christopher Ewen’s (Boston-area DJ, formerly of Figures on a Beach) sequencers for a rollercoaster ride where smiles never stop. (Merge POB 1235 Chapel Hill, NC 27514) – Keith York

Future Forces Inc Dead By Dawn/Point of Origin 12”
As the Doc Scott-ish bass and staccato snares of Lemon D erupted on Breakbeat Science’s shop PA system - I was struck by how “on” these tracks were. Dead By Dawn is well defined and fairly complacent in its rhythms and tones - much like the uniformity of Trace/Nico’s Amtrak 12”. Point of Origin washes and rinses with a scratch sample, trench warfare bass tones and a moving break that bobs and weaves along the front lines. As the sky clouds with black smoke from the explosions that surround the listener, the distant sounds of tank lines and aircraft formations ebb and flow all the while the hi-hat rattles like machinegunfire. Melodic nonetheless, the deep bass tones wiggle and work their way across your nerve paths and the scratch returns - hidden in the mirth and mire is the presence of some Ed Rush sensibilities that evolve and dissipate quite suddenly. While one side is fitting for the Metalheadz “Platinum Breaks” fan, Point of Origin is the track worth putting the bong down for. (Renegade Hardware)

Fuxa 3 Field Rotation CD
A collection of stuff released previously across a number of singles, 3 Field Rotation is an introduction to the first year of Fuxa’s life. A music that seems to live on its own, separate and distinct from the two men that made it. From a lengthy drum solo to wistful synth bleeps to cascading drones that cleanse - this compilation is a document of more than a dozen songs, but only one new way of looking inside oneself. (Che/Mind Expansion PO Box 653 London E18 2NX ENGLAND)

Fuxa/Bright split 7”
Because Bright released one of my favorite records of ‘96, I found myself compelled to hear their first follow-up since its release - here a pink labeled, pink vinyl split single wrapped in a pink sleeve with co-conspirators Fuxa. Fuxa’s track “City & Metro” must be fixed on two separate moods City and Metro. The former (first half of their side) is a fine drum kit, keys and guitar instrumental akin to the Silver Apples. The latter (or Metro) portion of their side is a quiet oscillator solo distinctly opposing the first movement of the piece. As expected Bright deliver the best rock this side of Slint and Seam with their nonchalant attitude toward developing rock masterpieces. Though slower than their contemporaries in small label rock, their energy is fueled by contempt in holding back the furious ringing-the-neck-of-the-guitar and drum destroying anthems that we so loathe. Bright win this split single’s arm wrestle partially because they have vocals and Fuxa does not. (Darla 625 Scott Street #301 San Francisco, CA 94117