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Chocolate Weasel
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Frank Lloyd Wright's California
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Jungle Defined
Kim Salmon
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Mark Robinson
Mixtapes
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Most Secret Method
Music Appreciation 101
Pressure Drop
Terrastock II
Third Eye Foundation

Macha/Bedhead Macha Loved Bedhead CD
For Bedhead, Macha Loved Bedhead is being posthumously released, as if part eulogy and part last-gasp. Prior to their disbanding, Bedhead's Kadane brothers sent Macha skeletal frameworks of songs-in-progress with the instructions "complete at will". Such a collaborative effort was prompted by the Kadanes and the McKays (Macha's brother-members) growing up together in Wichita Falls, TX. Joining forces, the collective efforts shouldn't surprise any listener having spent time with either combo – the results are slow-mo melodic majesty in the heart of a watercolor artist with the world's oceans at their disposal. Organ tones, mix with gentle percussion, guitar whispers, marimba, zither, maracas and surprisingly – a push-button phone. Akin to Yo La Tengo, Stereolab and their ilk, the Macha/Bedhead union will wreak havoc on the space rock (motorik and non- alike) domain for some time to come. (Jetset 67 Vestry St. NYC 10013) – Keith York

Ma Cherie for Painting Salut Salut 7"
Even if you don't recognize the Krautrock references in the label artwork, you hear it in the grooves. Neu!-ish motorika akin to The Groop's explorations in a stoned haze. Absolutely engaging in a front-row at the gig ear-splitting experience would be. This one gets into your bloodstream and stays for a while. Beautiful clear vinyl with silver speckles as well. (Earworm) – Keith York

Ma Chérie for Painting Una Producion Pop LP
Lying somewhere between the drone-arific splendors of Yo La Tengo, Stereolab, and the "out" sounds of Flying Saucer Attack is the rural psychedelia of Ma Chérie for Painting. After a couple of vinyl appearances, this marks an undeniable maturity in motorik drone pop. Whether it be the sounds of lilting keyboards, washes of ocean waves, or melodic guitars slow dancing with a drumkit, they have created an artifact of beautiful tones. Pay attention, they are likely to make a splash stateside and these unforgettable imports will be ancient history. (EarWorm, no address) – Keith York

Maeda, Miles “Gee Your Beats Sound Terrific” CS
Miles has outdone himself with this mixer. By blending some of the brightest summery sunshine house trax together, this should get us all through the upcoming chilly winter with beats as hot as that flaming yellow ball in the sky. Vocal chants aplenty should get some call ‘n’ response goin’ from the floor as the best dressed kids on the block sweat to a richard simmons workout frenzy. Progressive blends, a skilled approach, a healthy resume’ of gigs, and one of the coolest j-cards to hit my desk, make this a can’t miss package. If you’ve been wondering what the champion sound is like, this defines it. (contact: Champion Sound Mix Tape Distribution 619.236.8080)

Magnified Stand in Traffic CD
Always hoping the next new band crossing my path will "wow" me, I am constantly upset by a lack of passion in recorded music. Enter my latest complainant, Magnified. With their heads on straight, Chris Lehmann left Heavy into Jeff, and Adam Aaronson left My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult to create a band who's debut album Stand in Traffic, is currently in my headphones. Over-produced, the album is readied for commercial alternative radio at a time when playlists and listening stations are full to the brim of hyped big-sound rock 'n' roll like those guys that wrote that Gatorade theme song who can forget them? I suppose at hand is my distaste in the presentation, the songs themselves if played on acoustic guitars and a 4-piece drum kit would actually quell most of my testosterone-embedded angsty fidgeting. Magnified is a rare case, I want to like the band because I hear great songs through the stupid producer-tricks (Philip Steir formerly of Consolidated was at the helm on this one). I really hate to sound so glib, but they really have talent, maybe some day Bob Weston or Larry Crane will record them and bring it out. And lastly, Magnified's version of "Is she really going out with him?" sounds more like Van Halen than Joe Jackson. (TVT 23 E. 3rd St. NYC 10003) – Keith York

Magnog More Weather 2xCD
Dare me not to call this 'spacerock.’ I know, genres are pretty silly and restrictive constructs that do more to prevent people from opening up to new music than they do to usefully describe various performers/songs. But the label so perfectly fits for what these guys are doing that it's really difficult for me to avoid the temptation. And I don't mean this in the pejorative sense, either. I'm talking about spacerock like F/I (and Vokokesh), some of that there German stuff, early Pink Floyd (always a fave), so it's not like I'm slagging these guys. Not intentionally, anyways. Lots of people don't like to be called anything, but when the name fits, I'm gonna put it on.
So what you get here are lots of simple guitar phrases/echoes/drones repeated for multiple minutes at a time, filled in with some fairly deft (and downright melodic) bass playing and aerobic drumming that isn't up front as much as it needs to be. I mean, there's some rocking moments and all, but not much here reaches out and grabs me by the throat and flings me around the room. Nothing bad or awful, either. Just kinda there, though some moments like "More Weather" from the first disc and "Ocean Floor Sleep" from number 2 get me going in a head-bobbing and rocking out inwardly sort of way, but there isn't enough of that here to make me feel good about endorsing a double-CD set of this. Frankly, it would have been much stronger had they been able to Pair down to a single disc and “maybe” an EP on top of that. But then, maybe, you like Magnog a lot more than I do and you really “need” that two discs worth. Me, I'll probably edit this down to a 90-min. cassette and be pretty happy with the results. (Kranky PO Box 578743 Chicago, IL 60657) - Matthew Maxwell

Magnolias Milan 2K CD
Time is valuable. Freedoms afforded by temporal productivity yields amongst the highest currency exchange rates on earth. Finite envelopes of time though, have as many different utilities and meanings as people that walk within the planet's time zones. In the case of Magnolias Milan, three young men got together with guitars, oscillating keyboards, and Radio Shack-quality microphones to masturbate away their musical juices on a 4-track recorder. This took time to accomplish. Not much time, but valuable time nonetheless. Three guys with a bit more time on their hands than you and I, or invariably have a lesser meaning for what artifice they could have produced or sacrificed in the hours this took to manufacture (if "Lisa" were an instrumental, though, I would eat my words solemnly). Time is almost too valuable to spend on repeated listens. Culturally, you would need a coupon to make this purchase worth the $5 asking price. (Blackbean 124 Ventura Ave. Oxnard, CA 93035) - Keith York

Magoo The Soateramic Sounds of Magoo CD
Odd, oddball scraps of refuse line the Magoo practice space. Scattered. Beer bottles, gig flyers, empty packages of condoms, guitar strings, drum heads strewn about the room as if a hurricane touched down briefly. Sounds whirring about the sky. Source: amplifiers, drums. Brilliant echoes of the past, an affinity to Beatnik Filmstars’ culinary style, Magoo are translucent. A filmy residue, a filter of songs and styles, of ideas and dreams - all of which cross from abstract to concrete without batting an eye. Magoo love the dirty sounds of recording tape and peaking meters - approaching them as tools of their trade of equal importance to their guitars, vocals and drums. A cartoon caricature Magoo are not. Magoo’s ideas are wildly diverse yet their presentation is quite static. Their songs quietly leave the speakers like cats stalking prey - striking in one bright flash that leaves the listener stunned and shaken. The Soateramic Sounds of Magoo is a piece of magic. (Chemikal Underground/Beggars Banquet 580 Broadway #1004 NYC 10012)

Magoo A to Z and Back Again CD EP
Along with Bis and the Delgados, Magoo are part of the prostituted stable of Chemikal Underground bands - the Scottish label that is built on a foundation of indie-rock guitarisms that at times yield some fantastic pop songs. More than anything, I believe this EP was constructed to give Americans a taste of the Magoo plate without allowing too much familiarity - perhaps buying time until more songs can be completed. A bit of twisted distortion-laden pop songs borrowed from the Wedding Present, while exhibiting a sense of Sonic Youth academics, Magoo have a memorable glare but not sure what the intent behind such a frightening stare is. For the past decade, bands have borrowed from the Gang of Four, Buzzcocks, Magazine, Sonic Youth and others - only to produce unsigned canvases of mimicry - and with only 5 songs I can’t really report on my impressions of who Magoo are trying to impress...themselves or us. (Beggars Banquet 580 Broadway #1004 NYC NY 10012)

Mahogany The Dream of a Modern Day CD
While it seems odd that year’s have passed since the Mahogan split-12” with Auburn Lull was released to much critical ballyhoo, the timeless qualities in ambient pop keep the sound fresh and exhilarating. With Dream of a Modern Day we find the quartet mining crystalline melodies following a magical excursion into the nether-regions of their inner beings. With cellos, melodicas, ARP synths, and heavily chorused guitars, the closed-eye listener can hear hints of Cocteau Twins and Stereolab. On occasion the dark gray clouds part and sunshine melodies pierce the sky with rainbows. The melodies strike the earth with love and force the blooms to bear fruit as animals hunt for affection. Mahogany may be comprised of human beings, but the magic of their collaboration is out of this world. (Burnt Hair POB 5519 Dearborn, MI 48128) – Keith York

Mahogany/Auburn Lull dual-group EP 12”
In his one-sheet Larry mentioned being proud this release had finally become a reality. He should be proud. When Burnt Hair released the Monaural 12” I thought the label had come into its own, but this split 12” has topped even that disc. These two bands are from Lansing, though Mahogany has a Miami address for some reason. Both are quietly lilting harmonic sessions with both residing at a Slowdive address. If the two were to compete, Mahogany would emerge victorious in my mind but only for the distance the woman’s vocals travel. An entire bottle of Mondavi Merlot, sundried tomato pasta and a tangy gelato evening with your lover. (Burnt Hair PO Box 5519 Dearborn, MI 48210)

Make-Up In Mass Mind CD
A revolution through sound, yet through a sound that is hardly revolutionary. Contradictory? You bet. But who cares? Dancing, gyrating and captivating the youths who flock to his altar like possessed hipsters, Ian Svenonious is part-Prince, part-James Brown, and part-Southern Baptist-style preacher. His gospel is of the "live sound," inspired by the passion of the common man, and consecrated by the spirit of rock n' roll. Catchy rhythms and clean, hyper guitar stylings a la 1950s garage pop, ensure his message moves the congregation. A quick crowd check reveals bouncing feet and starry-eyes. Time to pass the collection basket. The wicker shakes like a tambourine as the silver streams down from above, and I'm sold. (Dischord and Black Gemini) - Steven M. Brydges

Make-Up/Super ESP Wade in the Water 7"
THE 6Ts gospel grave robbin' hipsters are back with another platter. "Wade in the Water", while not as excitedly dramatic as other Make-Up offerings, has quite the lulling groove. The bass makes the booty quake as the shark-skin suits shimmy in the light. Beat girls smoke french cigarettes while talking about the Bergman films. Casey and Damon (see Super ESP review elsewhere) dub-ify the Make-Up by wrapping a cymbal and a bass-line around the listener and then spicing it up with audience reaction from taped Make-Up performances past. (All City 2414 Medill Chicago, IL 60647) - Keith York

Malacoda Dimmer Than Low Life b/w 23s... 12”
Now signed to World Domination, this rubber-stamped white label 12” appears to be the self-released product of the band before hitching up with their new label. As one would expect, a sample-intense techno record pushing the 130 BPM range gets one’s butt shaking from left to right. Their is no attempt to make this a dancefloor hit with funky breaks, a radio hit with diva vocals, nor an experimental track with tons of twists and turns - it’s pretty straightforward hard house techno. Both songs on this 12” are well-behaved and house broken for record collections or a DJ’s set at a desert event. Malacoda’s newer stuff courtesy of the “The Dance, Techno...Kinda Thang That Kicks” CD sampler on World Domination is much different - much more interesting, varied and architecturally accurate for ‘97. (malacoda@erols.com)

Manning, Barbara 1212 CD
Echoes. Sounds bouncing upon surfaces flat and curved alike return with a pleasant din. Vibrational energies swinging like life forms in their own unbridled enthusiastic abandon reach for one’s ear. A voice you have grown accustomed to. Your mother’s voice, your sister’s. Mood twang. Barbara has released recorded music since I left high school - a decade that seems more like a few months. The echoes of her earlier projects, and the returned energy within a rock genre rebound amongst my record collection’s near-antiquities. Flat vinyl surfaces, curved discs produce sounds that bounce from speaker to wall to ceiling to ear in an introspection few have produced and fewer still have recorded and shared. As if a friend recorded the “this is how much of a friend you are...” letter or monologue that calms you like a stone to the head; that drags tears from your face and cheeks to the back of your hand. Following a Neu! cover, Manning and Co. deliver their own bass throb akin to Yo La Tengo’s motorik beat nicks. I remember Stereolab’s first single, I remember Neu!’s 1 and 2. Remember? Mood twangs and swings that hit your soft shoulders and knees producing a vibrational calm like a caffeine buzz. Her guitar, her voice...Barbara. (Matador 625 Broadway NYC 10012)

Man of the Year The Future is Not Now CD
Songs written by Man of the Year drive us to reconnect with abandoned thoughts. Having pushed a care-free life aside for careers and schooling, many wish away the regrets they hold secret inside. Dreams, hopes, and desires that made us giggle to ourselves and occasionally laugh out loud filler our heads while The Future is Not Now is on the hi-fi. Man of the Year’s strumming guitars and buzzing keyboards drives a chuckle to burp from the smile (especially Eric Matthews’Bacharach-ian trumpet on “Toledo”) that the heart-rate 4/4 drums cough from the bottom of a lung that has since breathed since a teenage bong load filled it with glee. Relaxed, the melodies wash over the physiology as the mind wanders to those ambitions and desires long abandoned, forgotten even. The mad-capped inventions, world excursions without a dime to your name, and that next great idea to leave you flush with a worry-free lifestyle all rush to your palette. In the frenzy you hear Blur, Supergrass, Oasis, Stereolab, Superchunk and even Radiohead. Shake your head, shake your ass and hit repeat. It just may change the course of your life. (Loveless1122 E. Pike #1461 Seattle, WA 98122) – Keith York

Manta Ray MantaRay Gives The World Away (CD)
Mad crazy mod sounds from future garage heroes. Ameri-pop the Brits can’t contend with. Headlines read: Oasis looses market share to Manta Ray! Rock. Go beyond the shoddy graphics, the funky band photo in some way out get ups - get past the package cuz the ingredients are numbing. Numbing melodies and noise that ring your head like a wet towel, like the Spacemen 3, Jesus and Mary Chain and My Bloody Valentine did to the kids a decade ago. Numbing pop songs hidden in cynical architecture. Dissertation topic: Manta Ray as pop cousin to the Monster Truck Five; a Guided By Voices that is actually interesting. A now sound, a sound for now. These three guys have somehow taken everything good about the 6th decade of our 20th century and molded it, shaped it into an artifact of arcane, archaic, artistry. The Yardbirds, Beach Boys, 6Ts soul, it’s here, it’s all fucking here. Creativity in a genre lacking it. (band: PO Box 814 Wayne, PA 19087)

Mantis Going with the Flow… CS
Hailing from the 619, Greg’s debut mixer also represents his latest tastes. Having dabbled in jockeying drum ‘n’ bass and trance in recent months, Mantis’ latest foray is into hearty tweaked breaks. Using a number of tracks from the Noom label, as well as established folks like Deepsky, X-Cabs and the amazing “Freaks Come out at Night” (by Whodini vs. Jackyl & Hyde), Mantis still evokes the ghosts of his DJ past. Whether the tracks stray into a prog-house or speed garage domain, the set remains really tracky with broken basslines reminiscent of old skool electro and DnB, while the synth lines ebb and flow in a trance-like fashion. Greg’s latest record shopping sprees tell the story of his new tastes, but only listening to Going with the Flow… will allow one to behold the sparkle that his finger tips bring to the newly purchased slabs of plastic. Overseeing his decks, as well as the crowd, Greg has risen to the challenge to represent San Diego wherever he is asked to journey to. (bookings – 619.613.9523, funkcreator@hotmail.com)

Maquiladora White Sands CD
Having spent time with The Black Heart Procession (members of which contribute to the track "Termez 1936"), things have rubbed off. What we find in White Sands is a dark sultry affair that boasts a wide variety of the instruments utilized, yet focussed on a few solid items: guitar, bass, drums, and keys. The vocals are distant and ghostlike as the feeling of Appalachian mystery and melodrama unfolds with the character of American backroads black magic. Likely to be sought after by the tastemakers that illustrate the important things to the great unwashed masses, this short time prior to Maquiladora's fame seems to mark the appropriate time for fans to rabidly gain access to their magic (both performed and recorded). Take this time to drink from their wellspring of dark, dangerous sexuality. (Lotus House 4636.5 Lotus St. San Diego, CA 92107) – Keith York

Marinernine A Little Something From the Weathervane’s Perspective CD
Space allows for a single note to expand and flower. Guitar amps and drum kits stand alone in sound-proofed rooms alone without their owners. Microphones become merely a tool to document, to create the analog of the actual sound emitted from an owner striking his possession. Pennsylvanians they are, this family known as the Marinernine, committing their works to blank tapes to share with the headphone set. Insisting they are creating songs rather than extemporaneous jams, these pioneers cross stark terrain, foreboding places spiked with dangerous pretension. Tools and artistry combine to form this documents hardly shaped by genre-aping, rock band influences and the obvious hooks that folks enjoy. Instead the listener finds odd shaped molecules of ideas and moods creating tonal analogs to their mental pictures and goals for creativity. We find American Analog Set, Labradford, Jessamine links but these are stale and valueless contexts to place on something that changes with each listen. Few songs have lyrics attached. Most songs are postcards from an unknown postal address. (Miner Street 232 Krams Avenue Philadelphia, PA 19127)

Mariner 9 Spiderweb/Foggy Dew 7”
Residing somewhere in the cracks separating easily-niched, diagram-accurate portions of the rock ‘n’ roll spectrum, Mariner 9’s sunspot flickers visible in a distant galaxy’s daylight. Extremely dramatic in their quiet/loud tension, Philadelphia’s latest export resembles Cars Get Crushed’s intellect and Lenola’s ability to wrangle a melodic structure from the dust of a dry plain. Amidst the cracked earth spring forth two geysers - only one of which accompanied by vocals. These cauldrons of boiling fluids rise up with ferocity yet their nutrients bring life to the oasis. Amidst the spaghetti Western guitar damage and some softer flanger-laden licks, Mariner 9 ascend to heights few ears this side of the Rockies have witnessed. (Kingtone PO Box 49166 Athens, GA 30604)

Marmoset Hidden Forbidden CD
June Panic The Fall of Atom: A thesis on entropy CD
Intro to Airlift/June Panic split CD
Let’s play a little odd man out. I’ll talk about Intro to Airlift first. What do I hear when their half of the split comes on? Well, what I hear a lot of is the eighties. I mean early eighties punk/art damaged pop with odd, off-kilter delivery and plenty of fast, jumping guitar mixed with a little sprinkling of rockabilly bass (though that’s not all). There’s some dynamic playing with unexpected rhythm changes (though not nearly so many or so annoying as bands like Polvo). Three tracks are instrumental (which is more likely than not to endear me than anything), but nothing grabbed me by the throat and slammed me around the room and demanded undivided attention. Nothing here sounds like 1998, which is neither a criticism or praise, but a simple statement. Really, no lasting impressions to be made here.
It’s apparent from the first June Panic cut on the split that he/they, too are fans of all the new wave stuff that you didn’t hear, but you know exists out there somewhere. I mean, this stuff has all the awkwardness of adolescent punk, without any of the aggression and a willingness to look for other sounds instead of the standard power-trio. Though there’s plenty of pure pop sensibility to be had here, right out in front even. But then there’s moments of relentless amateurism, missed beats and sounds that would be more fitting in a kindergarten singalong than anywhere else. Some people dig that sort of thing heavily. Vocally, I can’t help but be reminded of both Daniel Johnston and Beat Happening, though musically there’s a little more urgency. However, I'm not a fan of that style. About as close as I come to that sort of thing is the Modern Lovers/J. Richman, but this isn’t really in the same ballpark.
The Fall of Atom is a little more diverse sonically (though that’s not hard, given the sheer quantity of songs involved). It opens up with a nice-enough crush of noise which I'm sure will appeal to some listeners, but somehow it seemed sorta tacked on for no apparent reason. (Well, actually it isn’t, since it shows up in 4 other incarnations scattered throughout the album.) What you really get here are a lot of snippets of songs, all marked by nasal delivery, drumless and toned-down guitar and a lot of the close, 4-track sound that a lot of listeners have been programmed to respond to like sharks are programmed to bite at the smell of blood. I guess I slipped my dose somehow, because what a lot of this does is really annoy me. The range that the singer chooses to work in goes directly to my lizard brain and start me twitching. Not in a good way. Musically, there’s sometimes some interesting things going on, but somehow I feel that they’re all subservient to some role that the singer feels like playing.
The real feeling that I get here is that there are so many other people working similar ground that are so much more resonant and meaningful to me that I can’t help but feel that I'm wasting my time here. Perhaps overly harsh, but true. Fer instance, the first time I heard Neutral Milk Hotel, I couldn’t resist the pull of Jeff Magnum’s voice and song writing. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t put my finger on that made it so. No rational explanation. I mean, he plays the same sorts of songs, whacked-out pop/folk that all clearly comes from his own world. But June Panic just leaves me cold. I feel no compulsion to keep listening, even to the sunny pop of “My Mean Freedom” (though “Ghosts” is pretty damn compelling by itself, but a handful of songs does not an album make). Chalk it up to personal taste. But life is short enough. Don’t fill it with music that doesn’t sing directly to your soul (but don’t be afraid to give anything a chance, either.)
Marmoset are post-punk and not afraid to show it. I’ll admire the band which wears its heart on its sleeve and is totally without guile, but man this would have sounded incredibly fresh fifteen years ago. Right now I really find it hard to differentiate between Marmoset and the above bands, except for perhaps a more ardent embrace of distortion and some vocal harmonizing. There’s a nice little hypnotic thing going on with “h/f”, but that gets lost kinda quickly. I mean, it’s great if these guys can get some support and get out there and win over listeners, but having already grown up in the late seventies/early eighties, there’s nothing that demands attention here. I’d rather listen to Pere Ubu or the Fall or a bunch of others who do this thing much better. (Secretly Canadian 1703 North Maple Bloomington, IN 47404) - Matt Maxwell

Marmoset Today It's You CD
Playing the waiting game is likely the most nerve-racking of relationship exercises. Let's just say instead of phoning in an apology for how we acted, Marmoset is on the stereo in each of our homes, as we sit fuming mad at the other. If one of us would break down and call the other (thus losing the battle of wills), the abruptly anthemic pop deconstructivism that is Marmoset would settle to the background. Maybe their mad-capped exercises in droning, while simultaneously energized, monotone-ic pop is why we can't get along. Sometimes our narcissism and love for Marmoset play an equal role in our disfunction. Any other well-adjusted couple would simply write these guys off as a lo-fi induction into the Pavement shadow, but with careful considerate attention there is so much here that three or four listens is just an introductory, cursory introduction. (Secretly Canadian 1703 N. Maple St. Bloomington, IN 47404) – Keith York

Marque, Matt Disco Nap 7”
In Disco Nap one can hear the somber tones of a fictional aging rocker making a comeback more noteworthy than the sum of his earlier career milestones. Whether it’s the cutesy lo-fi approach of the casiotone beats on “Nilatir” or the sensual guitar leads on “Flip and Fuck” that grab your attention, you will find that repeated listens to this weighty two-songer will make life just a bit better than your present state. With the flavors of Robyn Hitchcock, Nick Drake and Elvis Costello embedded in these grooves, the consumer will find plenty of time to flip the little 45 over and over again. (Truckstop 2255 S. Michigan Ave. #4W Chicago, IL 60616) – Keith York

Matthew Shipp Quartet The Flow of X CD
Quartets can be defined by the instruments they exploit, the genre in which they circumnavigate, the sound with which they convey their message, and by the unique persona they create when four individuals become one. Matthew Shipp, William Parker, Mat Maneri and Whit Dickey in this case comprise The Quartet embracing something oft referred to, and much maligned, as Free Jazz. As with many movements and new ideas, Free Jazz has its martyrs, its heroes as well as it detractors and critics - it seems The Quartet is fully self-aware of their position within the circle of critical debate. The evidence is here, showcased as six performances when The Quartet acted as an entity on a measurable plane that somehow defies the neophyte logic that I am handicapped by. Questions abound for the improvisational unit: How do you know when the other musician is going to maneuver the song in the direction he/she wants to take it? How do you communicate? On what cerebral plane do you exist on when inside a particular piece? Why is it that jazz has to be as good as this and as bad as other products that herald this American Made banner? Stammering, stuttering piano broken apart and consequently supported by bobbing and weaving bass grooves while drums skip, flip, sprint and hop. It is the violin that punctuates the sentences that Shipp & Co. are reading aloud - - the street poetics of early hip hop defining the urban youth culture akin to this entity running circles around founded notions of adult culture - jazz. (2.13.61 Box 391 Prince St. Station NYC 10012)

Matthew Shipp Quartet Pastoral Composure CD
Other Dimensions in Music Time is of the Essence; The Essence is Beyond Time CD
Sharing three members on both albums (Matthew Shipp on piano; Roy Campbell on trumpet, pocket trumpet and flugelhorn; William Parker on bass), one would think the compositions come across similarly. While the Quartet is much more classic sounding (including an interpretation of "Frére Jacques") Blue Note gloss, Other Dimensions represents the practitioners improvisational art. Quite different in approach, Pastoral works well with the Sunday afternoon drive through the back-roads of Anytown, USA whereas Time is of the Essence, is the soundtrack to urban drama, stark loneliness and crowded rooms of strangers. Tensions of the latter are soothed and nimbly massaged by the former making an afternoon of pleasure and pain worthwhile – especially if you're all alone. (Thirsty Ear 274 Madison Ave. suite 804 NYC 10016, AUM Fidelity POB 170147 Brooklyn, NY 11217) – Keith York

Matthews, Eric The Lateness of the Hour CD
Having an aversion to all things Cardinal (Eric’s alma mater) since releasing their gatefold single, I was delighted to spend an hour with Mr. Matthews this evening. His songs dimmed the lights in my house and warmed the room unlike any other in recent memory. The Lateness of the Hour has the same impact of a long chat over lattes with new friend. A person you are trying to feel out whether or not in the coming weeks they will become a lover or a distant memory. Dating causes us to live for frantic, frenetic hypersexual episodes that have little to no shelf life. They are their and then they are gone. The coffee never quite tastes the same afterwards. Without sounding like the Beach Boys, Eric & Co. bring the same emotion to bear on a creative spirit unmatched since Brian Wilson’s heyday. (Sub Pop PO Box 20645 Seattle, WA 98102)

Matt Pond PA Measure CD
While Matt could be mistaken as a solo artist, even possibly tagged as a singer-songwriter type, Matt Pond PA is a collective of Philadelphia-area musicians (with Pond at the helm) including Sean Byrne of Lenola. What we find within Measure is melancholism – and like alcoholism, the sounds are addictive as those around you gladly enable your habitual ingestion of American-born guitar songs. Somewhere out on the shared horizon is Will Oldham (Palace), Simon Joyner, and Jason Molina (Songs: Ohia) standing like cornstalks in the turbulent winds of musical fadness. Though swaying in the stormy surrounds, those that write from the heart will stand tall and bear wonderful offspring such as the eleven contained herein. (Esque 1870 York Street, Memphis, TN 38104) – Keith York

Maylove That Word Big But 7”
Place Pizzicato 5’s singer on-stage with Tim Gane playing guitar in a tiny Japanese club with little candle holders on the tables, while cocktail ice clinking in glasses can be faintly heard over the quiet din the pop songs create. The space is enveloped in a wonderful little mood created by the Maylove quartet. Japanese pop has a sensibility that borrows and steals yet gleans a refreshing charm nonetheless. (Fuzzy Box PO Box 632 Mt. Laurel, NJ 08054)

Mazarin Watch it Happen CD
Known in tight circles as the occasional percussionist behind Jason DeEmilio's (Azuza Plane, owner of both Colorful Clouds for Acoustics and its subsidiary Victoria Records) layered guitar drone, Quentin Stoltzfus has created a new super-ego as Mazarin. With Watch it Happen, Quentin is joined, quite appropriately, by members of fellow 60s psych-pop guru bands from the neighborhood Lenola, Marinernine and Aspera Ad Astra. Lending more than a helping hand with instrumentation, the circle of music and shared weed around Philadelphia's Miner Street studio (a hotbed for this wonderful melodic pop) the aggregated talents of these players is staggering and readily evident upon hitting PLAY on your deck. Quite possibly most under-appreciated record to have been released in the last year. (Victoria 273 Cambridge Rd., Clifton Heights, PA 19108) – Keith York

Measles Crooked Girl 7"
Living room rock. Seeing that garage would steal the electricity from the neighboring town, The Measles sedately do the "bump" inside the house. Gathered around the television, the hi-fi, the sofa, and the lounge chair, The Measles set up shop and get funky with the R&B rump shakin' 6Ts groove. (1st Woo 2633 Lincoln Blvd. #240 Santa Monica, CA 90405) - Keith York

Meisha s/t CD
Freeze. Stand still like installation art. And listen. Two guitars and a bass bob & weave like mating birds in flight. At times they meet and fall dangerously fast toward the city's cement below. At times sounding like instrumentalists Ui and Analogue, Meisha devise complex mathematical equations using notes and chords as variables set up in polynomial equations yielding a sum greater than one can fathom. Distant, aloof without knowing, Meisha furnish a room with a splendid array of quiet tones: sounds that paint the walls, carpet the floor, and re-upholster your comfy chairs. Renovate your living space 68 minutes at a time. (Gingkoba 1041 Edgewood Rd. New Kensington, PA 15068) - Keith York

Meisha Meisha Returns Meisha Forever CD
What keeps audiences on the edge of their seat, in movie theaters, comedy shops, and live theatre performances, is that expectation for the unexpected – what the rollercoaster is going to do once past the blind corner. Meisha paints sound in front of audiences not knowing, themselves nor the audience, what turn the 3-guitars-no-drums song will take next. Out there, without being jazzy, Meisha take cues from Damon & Naomi, Labradford, Ui, Tortoise, and even This Mortal Coil to create an assemblage of Glenn Branca-like guitar compositions. Stunning in its simplicity, while harnessing the ability to present the unexpected, Meisha Returns Meisha Forever is worth every ounce of energy the listener pours at it. (Music Fellowship 108 Dwight St. #4 New Haven, CT 06511) – Keith York

Mekons Journey to the End of the Night CD
Young zine writers having a hard time with English 101 are likely to have some trouble with this one. A band with countless releases and side projects that extend farther back in time than many of the pimple-faced indie rock critics can recall. One can't just say this the Mekons' umpteenth album showing so much more promise than any of previous outing. The Mekons' members are not former members of so-and-so's now famous such-and-such and they certainly haven't got a taggable list of influences lobbed at younger bands. The Mekons are, in essence, an institution that has changed, and seemingly been left unchanged, by the turbulent tides of music culture. Across the years, Sally Tims' and Jon Langford's side projects have amassed critical acclaim and they return to the fold, the tribe if you allow me, to create more bar-room songs of woeful bedroom tales. Songs of money, and family and places the Mekons have traveled and dwelled. As a young college DJ I used to think they were country, or folk, or world music, or just a reference point for all-things-Americana and so will most kids who've been alive as long this combo has been writing and playing. They are a cultural institution owned by listeners across the many lands their music has reached – across oceans and language barriers, the Mekons are part of the new millennium and yet keep us close to our recent past. They are a cultural force that may go unrecognized by folks flipping through used record bins, but for those of us that have grown up with them it's a deep respect and admiration, Journey to the End of the Night is merely one more byproduct of their vast wealth. (Quarterstick POB 25342 Chicago, IL 60625) – Keith York

Mercury Program From The Vapor of Gasoline CD
Standing still such that the wind halts from whistling in your ear, you hear a band in the distance. There's a throb-throb of an eased-back bassline and a tempo clattering nearby but nothing else is distinguishable at this distance. You close your eyes and fill in the gaps with vibraphones, bells and guitar that clutch the melody with cat's claws. Your feet start walking toward the building from which the seductive sound emanates. The hands you thought you controlled grab the door handle and swing open the hinged world. As if you were the sails of a new explorer's tall-ship, the hurricane forces of guitars draw your breath, as the snare-hits slam the exit toward shut behind you. You are inside the club, inside the toronado's funnel as the tones of Ui, June of 44, Tortoise, Stereolab and Martin Denny swirl around you like shrapnel of everything not-nailed-down. In a Christ-like pose, you hover there as if suspended by marionette strings as the vibraphone tone pushes a smile upward across your disbelieving face. From The Vapor of Gasoline is that dreamlike. (Tiger Style 149 Wooster St. 4th Floor, NYC 10012) – Keith York

Methods of Mayhem s/t CD
Tommy, TiLo and crew perform quite a feat of eccentrically diverse beat-dominated tracks that all manage to hit square on the head of the nail (read: cerebellum). Tracks range from the excellent album closer "Spun" mining nu-skool breaks, the Crystal Method assisted breakbeat track "Narcotic," to the hip-hop meets Rage Against Machine opener "Who the Hell Cares" with word-assistance by Snoop Dog. The strength of the album doesn't come from any individual track, but on the contrary from the diversity of the listen – just look at the crew: Mix Master Mike, DJ Product, George Clinton, Fred Durst (Limp Bizkit), U God (Wu Tang Clan), Bobby B (Kottonmouth Kings) and the list goes on. Post-industrial guitars that rival that of Filter, Nine Inch Nails etc. get the testosterone going as Public Enemy energized (Kid Rock, style) vocals get the crowd to raise their fists. As much a testament of their love for the rock (Ozzy, White Zombie, AC/DC) as it is for commanding beats (Prodigy, Chemical Brothers). Whatever you prefer, there's something ready for your alt-rock radio playlist. (MCA Universal City, CA 91608) – Keith York

Microlight Sound Eyes Bleed Silver 7”
A tender female voice surrounded by surging guitars and drums creates a sense of filmic noir. Black & White grainy super-8 images conjured and crashed as a Seam record explodes from the theater’s sound system. Ballyut strangled guitar strings ring in the still air as their repetition begins to envelope the listener. Belonging in the record collections of Che’ Records employees, Microlight Sound display timid thoughts of introverts that will prove to be the young geniuses of a generation. As with most great debuts, this edition of 300 will be sought after in years to come as word spreads about the importance of Microlight Sound. (Little Mafia 8204 Harvest Hills S. Blvd. OKC, OK 73132)

Microlight Sound/Mooseheart Faith split 7"
Microlight Sound tread lightly atop fertile soil recently tilled by Lush. Dreamy guitars and keyboards dance like sinister claymation fairies in Tim Burton's X-mas film. Mooseheart Faith failed to please: their dramatically horrific silliness is equal to that of The Frogs, Daniel Johnson, or Jad Fair with too much free time. Pretend this is a one-sided effort by our new darlings, Microlight Sound. (Little Mafia 8204 Harvest Hill S. Blvd. OKC, OK 73132) - Keith York

Microstoria Reprovisers CD
Still unclear on the process that resulted in this end product, I sat and sat and sat listening to the cut-ups, the edits, the mixes, the sounds, the textures that are recorded on this compact disc. At some point the Microstoria duo enlisted the talents of Ui, Stereolab, Oval, Mouse on Mars, Jim O’Rourke and others to assist in their recreations, or reprovisions of songs either previously completed by the aforementioned artist(s) or at least started by someone and finished by the others. I would be lying if I said I liked the songs with mutating crunching guitar delays, and the reverb soaked percussive moments of the ambient moodscapes. I would be lying because as expected Stereolab steal the show. Their track “Microlab: Endless Summer” is a keeper in its weirdness, its oddness, its surprisingly obtuse stare. Not that Microstoria are espousing to be the next remixologist on the block formerly occupied by the likes of Adrian Sherwood or Afrika Bambaata, but there is a curiosity in their re-versioning of songs that is also evident on Drag City’s Telefunken release. Thankfully I am left in the dark with respect to the talents involved, the studios used, the European cities as locations for this, or quite possibly the drugs of choice by any involved. The mystery is what makes this CD important, it is food for thought and a catalyst to relax and inquire of the contents of yet another unconsumable consumer product. One that cannot return to the earth as food for any species, a service product for an intangible notion of entertainment. (Thrill Jockey Box 476794 Chicago, IL 60647)

m.i.j. The Radio Goodnight CD
m.i.j. Four Song CDEP
Ryan, Mike and Jeff together as m.i.j. produce some incredible rock. Sing-along melodies by buzzsaw guitars, hip-swaying caused by punchy basslines, and head-bobbing 4/4 drumming sets the stage for an anthemic album The Radio Goodnight as well as the Four Song CDEP. Hailing from Milwaukee, this six-year strong trio have put off the album-as-document-of-sound until joining forces with Caulfield recently. Culling from the many shows and practice sessions, over these past years, m.i.j. have concocted a firestorm of amplified sound and fragile wordplay soon to be made evident on a tour that should bring them within a disturbing-the-peace phone call near you. (Caulfield POB 84323 Lincoln, NE 68510) – Keith York

Milk Cult Project M-13 CD
Having spent a month (in '97) held up in Marseilles with dozens of collaborators spending French government art-grant cash, these veterans of San Francisco's Steelpole Bathtub finally release their follow-up to "Burn or Bury." As the corset sinches up the thighs of the dancehall entertainers, the PA rumbles with the lowest of low-end bass tones and police sirens begin to stretch across the horizon. Radio scanner talk and guitar solos meld together as birds whisper from the limb of a nearby tree. Proto-industrial rock guitars wail and the rock 'n' roll switches to goofy-foot snowplowing hipster hopster word junkie freedom. Someone in the back of the brothel yells "Freebird!" and the band collapses in upon their instruments like a hiccup that upsets a senior citizen heart rhythm. 4/4 disco energy and mandolin-sounds carressed by the chanteuse awaken the orchestra and, unclothed they, again, begin to rock our collective world. (0 to 1 c/o www.milkcult.com) – Keith York

Mindcontroller Hardcore Rush CS
Spiked on nitrous, the hip-hop and pop vocals are sped up to match the numbing tempo of smile-inducing hardcore. As “Amen” breaks fly from the PA, we are reminded it was hardcore that spawned the ragga-soaked jungle sounds. The chorus of A-Ha’s “Sun Always Shines on TV” speeds by at hyper-speed. And as Alison Moyet’s “Love Resurrection” is given the beats it never had, Mindcontroller’s fondness for the 80s is apparent. Whether or not he is showing his roots in 80s dance culture (maybe he used to spin Erasure records?), or he just found that releases on Hectic, Essential Platinum, Quosh and Happy Trax (among others) speak to his crowds, this DJ knows how to wake up your spinal column. Hardcore Rush delights in hip-hop vocal tracks from the dusted-off record crates, while Mindcontroller swooshes the platters back ‘n’ forth under the guidance of Ortofon tracking devices. Scratching these beats adds a dimension to this set that I could never have predicted. A round of applause! (Pure Acid Mixtapes 310-793-1021, techno@pacificnet)

Mineo, Attilio Conducts Man in Space With Sounds CD
Record collectors are likely THE most enthusiastic breed of label conspirators. Often opting for the passion of an artist over the linear thinking of a bean counter, record geeks destroy comfortable music with their notions that lay on the tattered fringes of a starkly conservative consumer dependent discipline.
In the case of Arthur "Attilio" Mineo, a couple of exotica collectors tired of the rarity of this original 1962 limited pressing, took it upon themselves to reintroduce a conductor more abstract than Esquivel, Baxter, or Denny. Now living in Seattle, and in his 70s, Mineo is planning on a bachelor pad comeback with new recordings riding the coattails of the inevitable coffee table interest to be generated by Conducts Man in Space With Sounds . Abstract, Jetson's like oscillator, theremin and string section-driven funky 50s space pop created four decades ago, and later released at the '62 World's Fair as a soundtrack to one of the exhibits, this rarity now commands $200+ on the collector marketplace. While lounging in my Eames chair, feet atop my boomerang-shaped coffee table, Mineo's songs on the hi-fi put the last piece of the bachelor pad puzzle in place. Forget Chris 'n' Cosey's fascination with Martin Denny, Throbbing Gristles' Baxter-like wit, Stereolab's Esquivel sneer, and the millions of Mancini stylists, this is the real deal. (Subliminal Sounds St. Paulsgatan 16 SE-118 46 Stockholm Sweden) - Keith York

Mineral/Jimmy Eat World, Sense Field 7”
It seems as if Mineral have been compared to Boy’s Life and Sunny Day Real Estate since the first days I remember reading their name in ‘zines. Their cover of Willie Nelson’s “Crazy” doesn’t sound like either of the aforementioned rock combos in its 4-track recorded intimacy. Lighthearted self-indulgent moments like these need public attention. Jimmy Eat World explode with a man-rock sensibility that didn’t captivate me. Sense Field, on the other hand, present a addicting pop chorus built on a solid rock foundation that is ready for the MTV kids, radio stations, and title track for a new Hollywood release. It’s that catchy. (Crank! 1223 Wilshire Blvd. #173 Santa Monica, CA 90403)

Minmae Lucy in the Sky with DNA Helixes CD
Before leaving town, Sean Brooks gathered compatriots from the San Diego area codes to create an amazing documentation of his song writing technique. Huddling around microphones and amplifiers at Doubletime studios, Sean (Thee Psychic Hearts), Danny Power (and/or’s) and Arabella Makalani (Jejune) committed five songs to tape that seem to last for hours and hours. Having released a respectable number of hungry rock recordings on- and off- his own Airborn Virus label, Sean has borrowed from FSA, Pavement and Sonic Youth in crafting his aural pleasures.. but there is a ton of layered dense mass that is uniquely his own. Now living in the San Francisco area, Sean will likely plant new roots and deliver another, altogether refreshing, take on his notable short career. (Dogprint POB 2120 Teaneck, NJ 07666) – Keith York

Miss Bliss Warm Sounds From A Cold Town CD
It is readily apparent upon a first listen to Warm Sounds From A Cold Town that Miss Bliss has evolved considerably since (both of) their debut split singles were released; singles that are occasionally dusted-off and revisited. They have graduated from drone lull, to elaborate shimmering displays of ecstatic melodies. In an attempt at sidestepping my over-used Velvet Underground comparisons, I want to say Miss Bliss approach the subtle beauty of Brighter, Field Mice, Trembling Blue Stars, Galaxie 500, Spiritualized and the sadly missed Veronica Lake. Strumming soliloquy's abound from this magical collection, one which unfortunately suffers from lackluster packaging. Warm Sounds From A Cold Town sits in my player for afternoons at a time; afternoons alone; afternoons together; afternoons of sunrays beaming through the window panes; and afternoons of cloud cloaked skies. Limited edition of 400. (band: PO Box 8224 Ann Arbor, MI 48107, missbliss44@hotmail.com or Meltdown Records PO Box 1389 Hollywood, CA 90078) - Keith York

Mission! Mission 12”
As I thumbed through the bins at the tiny lower east side shop Breakbeat Science the junglized version of the Mission Impossible theme boomed from the sound system. I turned my head and smiled at the DJ/Cashier who was mixing this record while ringing up a sale. With his left hand on the register and his right on a tiny Realistic mixer, the cashier blew the 4 minds in the store at the time. My initial shock subsided with the campy nature of the cover tune, and it’s freely adapted inclusion of “Tequila” on the flip side, as the track progressed through some well thought out breaks. In much of ‘96, people adapted existing songs to the jungle style - most of which being worthless - but for reasons unknown this thing makes heads spin. Much like sampling is a way of reversioning any found sound, so too does this 12” cast light on two songs we all know well. The few times I have played this on my decks, people have come up to ask what it is - and that means much more than writing a sentence saying - this is a jungle version of the Mission Impossible theme song...end of story. (no label)

Modernist Explosion CD
After much debate over Jorg Burger's (half of the Burger/Ink collaborative project with Wolfgang Voigt a.k.a. Mike Ink) "Architainment" and "Mrs. New Deal" 12"s last year (check out Atlantis Records' website for more of this German stuff), Matador has released his debut long-player as The Modernist. In part a re-release of the import album, Explosion's track list features some worthwhile bonuses for the fan and uninitiated alike. What the 12"s alluded to, the album confirms: Burger is the poster-child for the Cologne school of minimalist techno. Much like modernist architects Mies Van Der Rohe and Walter Gropius, Burger strips away the facades of adornment and showcases the less-is-more aesthetic but instead of steel and concrete, his trade is built upon samplers and guitar. Metronomic excursions of throb-throbbing digital pulses, though consistent and seemingly static, have an undercurrent of evolving narcosis that keeps the listener fixated. (Matador 625 Broadway NYC 10012) – Keith York

Modest Mouse The Lonesome Crowded West CD
That kid on the playground used to stare at us with his clenched-fist eyes and old man scowl disturbing even the tetherball optimists and jungle-gym-skirt-view perverts. We all treated him with a respectful disrespect, hopefully with little to no lunch money reluctantly leaving hands in favor of his coffers. He exuded meanness. He was mean. Where is he today I ask. In a punk band? Sitting at a bar staring back at himself through a mirror framed by liqueur bottles and Miller High Life promotional posters. He is still bitter. The kids that were team captains are now doctors, lawyers, schoolteachers and corporate presidents while he sits and mutters to himself about how the world conspired against his dreams. These young upstarts, the Modest Mouse-keteers, are scrappy young punks rambunctiously beating out the northwest indie rock self-effacing caricature on a few street-cred labels trying to make a name for themselves and their sub-Track Star-like songs. Thus far they have reached the posthumous buzz about Lync, probably hang with the Satisfact kids and all dream of the day they can be as nonchalant about their craft as Unwound. As I said before, a caricature: scrappy young punks with amps no bigger than bread boxes touring the country, limping along in an aging van conversion, trying to get the all ages contingent to buy in to their statement. The West is lonesome, it is crowded...but then again I already knew that - I’ve lived here for three decades. (Up PO Box 21328 Seattle, WA 98111)

Mog Stunt Team 5 King of the Retards (CD)
Steamroller rock forces crush feeble tunesmiths as they roll across the land. Combining the thud of early Monster Magnet, less the psych, and sonic barrages of late 80s combos akin to the Bastards, Mog Stunt Team 5 are the new crash rock heroes. Dawning attire in line with Supernova, these young volume-clad upstarts are returning with a dust-laden, oft-heralded banner of noise rock addiction. King of the Retards is not for the timid or weak. King of the Retards requires a hearty appetite for noise and a healthy chest cavity of nimble organs and tissue to withstand the energy that pours from Mog Stunt Team 5’s amps. Whew. (Amphetamine Reptile Records 2645 1st Ave. S. Minneapolis, MN 55408)

Mogwai Ten Rapid CD
A quartet of Glaswegians deliver nine songs, 4 of which have been previously released as singles on two of the UKs finest indies; Lovetrain and Wurlitzer Jukebox. Heartbeat driven rhythms coax harmonic guitar fizzing across desolate dry plains. Crop circles and all, this collection of post-FSA noise haze is highly intellectual, and quite spiritual. Soliloquies abound, Mogwai glue together models of rock ideas and present them as finite recorded moments of museum-quality artifacts. Songs ebb and flow within Ten Rapid, never quite able to grasp or foretell the next move. Few, if any, clues to foreshadowing are apparent. Ten Rapid is about raw sexual energy lost in a clouded haze of volume and harmonics. Putting this album on repeat allows for the skin to soak up its cleansing tingles, a spa’s mudbath of sound for your ears. Truly brilliant in its experimental optimism, its skilled paranoid delivery, and its affective response from the audience, Ten Rapid is destined for extreme praise. (Jetset 67 Vestry Street #5C NYC 10013)

Mojave 3 Excuses for Travellers CD
With Neil Halstead’s odes to Nick Drake and hyper-chic early Bob Dylan in New York, it must be hard to listen to this as a country record. Doubtful that any fans of Country Music Television are going to grasp the elegance of banjo and strumming guitar in Excuses for Travellers, this is for us – the lonely few that balance life on a song’s meaning. With pop guitarist Simon Rowe (ex-Chapterhouse), along with Neil and bassist Rachel Goswell (both of Slowdive) providing a context of musicianship, the band yields nothing in common with anyone’s “early years”. And now three albums into something we call a career, Mojave 3 are no more mature than their first record as perfection was reached early on and is only now continued to be presented as elegant moments well outside the country music fray. (4AD/Beggars Banquet 58-0 Bradway, Suite 1004 NYC 10012) – Keith York

Mollycuddle The Best Place for You CD
What used to be referred to as crash-pop seems appropriate as a reference point to begin a discussion about this 5-song document. Verse-chorus-verse power in 4/4 time brings to mind what the Breeders made famous as boys and girls trade words amidst a firestorm of guitars and drums. As teenagers, these kids were listening to the crackling vinyl of elder siblings' Hüsker Du and Replacements records hungry for the angst of punk rock, never writing off the addictive pop chorus. While Superchunk's craft has become an institutional standard in American rock music, there should be room left for wonders like Mollycuddle to shine through. Damn good stuff. (Guilt Ridden Pop 2217 Nicollet Ave. South Minneapolis, MN 55405) – Keith York

Mollycuddle It's Not You, It's Me CD
Whether or not you believe in the rationale behind the break-up, Mollycuddle's latest disc will ease the pain – hell, they will share the hurt with you an hour at a time. Exhibiting a bit more tension than their last release, the Belly and Throwing Muses song writing is still there for those of us to revel in, It's Not You, It's Me is an obviously more mature presentation of Guy, Tommy, Judd and Sara's bonding. Strengthening that bond is what we hope for, it just puts off the break-up and excuses 'til later, much later preferably. (Guilt Ridden Pop 2217 Nicollet Ave. S., Minneapolis, MN 55404) – Keith York

Mondii L:P CD
Mondii is the electronic alter-ego of Nao Sugimoto. With a twisted stare, he and his sampler approach cloaked in the shadows of brick enclosures and rain-soaked sidewalks of Japanese film noir. Akin to Noguchi's paper sculpture of decades-past, these cut-ups and digi-bits (that confuse most pop-song onlookers) speak volumes about genre definitions that fail to describe this collection. Whether or not you want to tag this as experimental, this is "mental" for sure: Mental in line with Peter Hope, Richard Kirk, Genesis P. Orridge, and Stephen Tibet's fondness for the dark underbelly of electronic sounds years ago. This is the strangest thing this side of German ambient electro, IDM and sampled/looped/quantized baby cries, bells, whistles, and rain hitting your skull from the inside out. (Hefty 1658 N. Milwaukee Suite 287 Chicago, IL 60647) – Keith York

Mondo CrescendoYoung, Naked & Very With It CD
Get Faded CD
Few, if any, times have I thought of bands as actually having the much-applauded California Sound. Because such a sound invokes thoughts of Mamas & Papas, Beach Boys, Summer Hits, Cherry Smash, Honeyrider, Go Sailor as well as Tiger Trap (the latter two having more in common with Mondo Crescendo than any others), the descriptive tag is so broadly encompassing as to do little justice to any one band. Same goes for descriptors like crash-pop (Primitives, Fat Tulips) and femme-related tags that try to lump Velocity Girl, Cub, Lois and Darling Buds together in a sound that has more to do with the gender of the singer than song writing style. Mondo Crescendo sound like California's internationally recognized, pretension-free relaxed vibe. Amidst all of the bands mentioned above, the sound of Mondo Crescendo does dwell – maybe more in spirit than songs recorded to tape – however each song speaks to different borders that may delineate that "sound" subjectively by the listener. While Get Faded sounds more like a feisty Tiger Trap, and Young, Naked & Very With It is more "mature" in its mood, fans of the Darling Buds and even Saint Etienne (and much of the Sarah and Subway label catalogs) would dig their vibe. Hardly hearing the remnants of their early work with Juniper and Ropers, the members of this east coast to west coast migrating trio have blossomed. Stop by and inhale their perfume through CD player, amplifier and stereo speaker. (Blackbean 14847 Septo Street, Mission Hills, CA 91345) – Keith York

Monkeywrench Electric Children CD
Proudly, and rather boisterously, Mark Arm (also of Mudhoney) and company (it's an all-star band) rock the Richter scale. Balancing the plate tectonics traditionally separating 6Ts garage and punk rock, Monkeywrench is all about the physics of the combined energy as these two forces slam into one another. While you may recognize Mark and Steve's unmistakeable Mudhoney shimmy 'n' shake, this is no March to the Fuzz (Pt. 2). With big-rock energy from six-string 'n' skins, (only the tambourine girl is missing) this is more Mono Men and less Mummies, more Seeds and less Lyres on the 6Ts tip. I just wish the mod kids on scooters listened to stuff this exciting instead of smoking French cigarettes and dressing better than the rest of us. (Estrus POB 2125 Bellingham, WA 98277) – Keith York

Monotonic Electralux CD
Each of these four young lads seems to own a couple records each by Jane’s Addiction, Smashing Pumpkins, Dinosaur JR., and Flaming Lips. That is the explicit nature of Electralux. That and the fire-hot guitars that ignite as each track begins. Hot days like today make us yearn for cooler temperatures, calmer nerves, and more colorful songs. Monotonic added even more heat to the room than the sun was already providing as it baked the walls through the window panes. (Headhunter 4901-906 Morena Blvd. San Diego, CA 92117) - Keith York

Monroe Mustang De Avonden 091099 CD
Mixed live to DAT for VPRO (Dutch Public Radio), De Avonden 091099 is a collection of old and new songs by the Austin quintet. Having left the angsty sound of their early recordings for Bedhead style soothing vibes for Trance Syndicate, Monroe Mustang have reached through puberty to arrive in adulthood on Jagjaguwar’s second release for the family. As with the Flaming Lips and Galaxie 500, Monroe Mustang continue to toy with the definitions of psychedelia using keys and acoustic guitars to hammer home their unique take on soothing song structures and loyal lyrics. This will never hold you still until their next album, but it’s the only thing we have to keep us from going stir crazy. (Jagjaguwar 1703 North Maple Street Bloomington, IN 47404) – Keith York

Monroe Mustang I was Eighteen, it was Hate 7”
The best release yet on Framed, Monroe Mustang’s pop melancholia is addicting. Almost Eitzel-like yet reminiscent of the Pixies, this is a real eye-opener. As it opens your eyes, your ears hear a welcome sound of this single’s trio of 4/4 guitar songs - delivered from these Austin upstarts at a time when pop music is being questioned. Unfortunately the sleeve art doesn’t even approximate the quality tucked inside - though it is rare that art and song collaborate smoothly. According to the label pioneer behind this release, they are now signed up with Trance - with a full length due out soon. (Framed! PO Box 49961 Austin, TX 78765)

Monster Magnet Powertrip CD
Having not heard from these NY scuzz-cum-Sabbath rockers in a couple of years, it was fun to look into their world once again. While my memories of Monster Magnet still revolve around their first two singles on Circuit and Caroline, their sound still holds up as a lazy, insincere vocalist rides a cresting wave of rock heaviosity that hasn't been witnessed since the first couple of Soundgarden EPs and a few guitar licks borrowed from early 70s vinyl. Tracks like "Crop Circle" highlight the rarity of a tongue-in-cheek approach to acid rock straying from the grandiose makeup wearing, hotel-room trashing of the genre. Monster Magnet are the exception to the rule. (A&M 1416 N. La Brea Ave. Hollywood, CA 90028) - Keith York

Monster Movie s/t CD
The duo of Christian Savill (Eternal, Slowdive) and Sean Hewson (also formerly of Sarah Records’ Eternal) began working together last year after a decade since first working together. Following the disbanding of Slowdive, it seems Christian’s time freed up and this 5-song EP (and an upcoming album) is the result. Glistening tones of feedback laced distorted guitars wash over the landscape as the speakers pour waterfalls of post-shoegaze wonderment toward the listener. With hints at Veronica Lake, Slowdive, Lush, Black Tambourine, and Red House Painters, Monster Movie is poised for acceptance in the hearts, minds, and record collections of the great washed and unwashed alike. Like scooping tins of waters from a sinking craft, pushing back the sounds of Monster Movie is a failed concept – just open up the floodgates and allow the flowing liquid thrill fill your environs. (Clairecords POB 61495 Jacksonville, FL 32236) – Keith York

Montgomery, Roy And Now the Rain Sounds Like Life Is Falling Down Through It CD
For those of you who missed ‘em, Roy Montgomery (formerly of Dadamah and the Pin Group, currently of Dissolve) put out a pair of albums in 1995, Temple IV (Kranky) and Scenes From the South Island (Drunken Fish) of amazingly beautiful and engaging instrumental music, one based on his travels through Guatemala and the other on his home of New Zealand. Just about anything else released in that year (with a few exceptions) was dwarfed by those releases. Just Roy and his guitar, a couple of echo boxes and a four-track, and with that he was able to create music that made an impact and still spins well, even after nearly-daily listening for two years.
And Now the Rain... begins very much in the vein of those two, with the welcome addition of Roy’s baritone voice on “In Our Own Time” and the treated piano sounds of “The Opportunity Passed In Less Than A Minute.” There’s enough pastoral strum and drone to keep you thinking that Roy’s maybe going to finish out the trilogy with this album. Then things begin to take a turn for the darker. “Down From That Hill” is driven by a slowly urgent and decidedly sinister guitar line. The tomblike intonations of “Kafka Was Correct” only serve to reinforce this bleaker atmosphere. “Catherine At Aldenburgh” gives us another taste of his brighter instrumental playing before leading into the traditional-arrangement-sounding “Entertaining Mr. Jones” (which might be best described as a sea shanty treated by Pearls Before Swine”).
From there, we are treated to more melancholy “The Small Sleeper” and the impossible Africa-in-New-Zealand sound of “Algeria ?”, the dissociative-ness of “A Little Soundtrack” and the Nyquil and rain (thanks, D) mini-symphony of “Ill At Home”, wrapping up (as we began, in gentler places) with “In Another Time.” The total package shows Roy not only working in the comfortable (and quite beautiful) mode of folk-drone guitarist, but also in the unsettling and downright noisy. This isn’t exactly an album to settle down with, blanket and cocoa in hand, though (not unless you’ve got a stuffed Ian Curtis to cuddle with or something). But if you’re interested in something different and are willing to take the journey, let Mr. Roy be your tour guide as he shows you around some of the more shadowy corners of the property and see what you find there.(Drunken Fish) - Matt Maxwell

Month of Birthdays These Things That We Do... CD
The sounds of stress knocking thoughts around the inside of your skull. Hammering or throbbing ceaselessly like a painless headache, the sounds are subtly unsettling. Something is not quite right. Month of Birthdays wrap a post-Muses/Pixies wash of Bostonian femme-led rock records around a disfigured Mission of Burma stress. Songs jump at you, clinging to you, unshakable like a Sunday morning hangover leading you to a record shopping spree at Newbury Comics. (Subjugation PO Box 191 Darlington DL3 8YN UK) - Keith York

Moods for Moderns Slacker Ways CDEP
Loud & Clear CD
The Moods for Moderns trio are now exporting glistening pop sungs rung dry of all pretension from Detroit Rock City. The full-length and accompanying CD-single (the latter includes an exclusive not-to-be-missed track “Do Ya”) establish firmly that the Ramones’ legacy isn’t the only thing influencing young denim-hipsters these days. While the Silverlake, CA scene (i.e. Further, Beachwood Sparks et al) takes on the pop of Brian Wilson, Burt Bacharach with a tight-cords and Beatle-boots approach, Moods for Moderns has a distinctly Marshall stack meets dutch-boy angst. Taking interest in (retro) stadium rock (MC5, Stooges, T-Rex, Cheap Trick) Nate, Ben and Dave let it all out as melodies ring atop 4/4 kit-commanding. Absolutely essential for anyone with left-over energy at the end of a long day. The pick-me-up we’ve all been looking for. (Doghouse POB 8946 Toledo, OH 43623 doughouserecords.com) – Keith York

Moods for Moderns Two Tracks Left CD
With a band name that draws images of a hi-fi soundtrack album found in a dusty record bin in the dark corner of the nearly-abandoned thrift store, an alluring young lass in a nightgown on the cover, Two Tracks Left promisesw to bring the listener to the state of arousal during, or shortly following a candle-lit dinner. From the Plymouth, Michigan trio (members of King for a Day, Empire State Games), we find glistening power pop that well-dressed mod kids would shimmy to. We find their seductive pop songs (ala Sloan) have the same affect on the target of your romantic endeavors with the pleasant bonus of crackles and pops of aging vinyl that fail to interrupt the foreplay. (Doghouse POB 8946 Toledo, OH 43623) – Keith York

Moonsocket s/t 7"
Chris used to be in Eric's Trip. Eric's Trip is no longer a band. Chris probably has time on his hands. It is certain he has stacks of cassettes archiving his 4-track-recorded songs laying around and needs to clean house now and again. End result: this single. A couple of these songs show Chris' ability to rhyme words together and strum a guitar chord or two. Nothing to write home about, Eric's Trip fan or not. (Little Mafia 8204 Harvest Hill S. Blvd. OKC, OK 73132) - Keith York

Morcheeba Big Calm CS
Shedding their Portishead-progeny guilt, Morcheeba extend themselves into a smoother, sultrier elegance. The elegance of a debutante ball, and the staying power of EBTG’s Walking Wounded cradles Big Calm. Ragga vocals occasionally break the pre-storm calm, stirring listeners like crashing winter waves of the high Atlantic. While remaining downtempo throughout, Morcheeba push aside perpetrators, like Sneaker Pimps, into the shadows of stardom claiming the spotlight for themselves. Though not creating a varied sound akin to beat-strategists Digable Planets, Morcheeba reside comfortably in the smoky, bass-soaked speakeasy defined by the Mo’ Wax aesthetes and philosophers. Elegance underlined. (Sire 2034 Broadway Santa Monica, CA 90404) - Keith York

Morning Glories Let The Body Hang CD
The last time I heard an album like Let The Body Hang, was upon the release of the Morning Glories’ Fully Loaded. With its stark walls of sound, the music of this New York outfit paint the landscape of their fair city in high contrast shades and tints. Gray. Borrowing cues from Sonic Youth, Thurston Moore’s Psychic Hearts, Band of Susans, Chrome Cranks and at times Volcano Suns, Let The Body Hang drinks and stumbles across the dimly lit tavern floor askew as if balancing themselves on the deck of a ship in a thunderous swelling sea. Moods also range wildly. From the endearing pop melancholia of “Memphis” to the eerie “Mascara,” this album is a canvas of contrasts and dualism. Guitars do light up the sky. (Headhunter 4901-906 Morena Blvd. San Diego, CA 92117)

Morris, Joe Singularity CD
Challenging. Artists challenge themselves to advance their technique, proficiencies, or the reach of their work to broader audiences. Audiences can rarely identify when the artist challenges themselves, and even rarer would it make an impact on the visceral reaction patrons would have to the end-product. By and large, this would apply to visual arts, only being witnessed in their final (presentable) form, and not to the performance. Joe Morris’ latest challenge (to himself and the audience) Singularity plays with this notion as recorded CDs are the final product of a performance. And in every string bending pluck, strum or slide, you can actually hear Joe pushing his own boundaries. While he may be solo in his performance, and hear quite unusually playing acoustic guitar, he is working with a virtual audience – and one that is gasping at the shapes that take form as Joe’s jazz mastery of the electric guitar produces a wholly different construct than his previous releases. For those of you looking for Ken Burns’ Jazz to cover this movement, the revolution is not being televised. (AUM Fidelity POB 170147 Brooklyn, NY 11217, www.aumfidelity.com) – Keith York

Morris, Joe & Mat Maneri Soul Search CD
Having played side by side on Joe Morris Quartet’s Cloud of Black Birds, the duo of Mat Maneri on electric violin and Joe on electric guitar is boundless. Improvised tug of war space tension morphs into sensually tight spaces between intertwined naked bodies at the blink of an eye stirring the listener. Defining concrete space in music listening is thrown aside by the duo as string-play derails the senses caught up in arguing amplifiers and sexually enraptured instrument voices. The men and their machines are a topic of wonder, but to witness Soul Search is time well spent in search of one’s self, rather than a one-way delivery of sonic space defined by the stereo equipment delivering the message. Senseless mayhem and sensual conversation between men and instrument, Soul Search delivers. (AUM Fidelity POB 170147 Brooklyn, NY 11217) – Keith York

Morsel Noise Floor CD
Amateur noise rock that raises an eyebrow for a little while around track 8. By combining female vocals, occasional flute, and a variety of guitar sounds, Noise Floor is quite varied within its tiny subgenre - bridging the early Amrep empire with the Melvins and Morsel’s neighbors the God Bullies. (Choke Inc. 1376 W. Grand Chicago, IL 60622)

Most Secret Method Blue b/w Perfect Plan 7”
Two songs from the new upstarts around the block. Soon to tour the US and soon will they release another single themselves, The Most Secret Method seem poised for a future of all ages shows, sleeping on strangers’ floors and driving a van from coast to coast and back again. With their hearts on their sleeves they will reign supreme in the bout for the freedoms and futures of independent rock. I heard a few DC-isms mostly in the confident driving drums and throb throbbing bass groove - the latter akin to Soulside if I am not mistaken. The vocals are hushed in delivery and production. With such a fine introduction, I salivate awaiting their live persona. (Band: PO Box 32014 Washington, DC 20007-1314)

Mouse on Mars Autoditacker CD
Though sharing a track with previously released Cache Coeur Naif, Autoditacker’s version of “Schnick-Schnack Meltmade” is the only of the album’s songs with vocals by Stereolab’s Laetitia Sadier. The remaining eleven tracks are strangely layered instrumental mixes, ideas by way of electronics, and collages of that which we call electronica. Appearing on its surface reminiscent of past work by artists such as Seefeel, Yello, Kraftwerk, Aphex Twin, Pram, and Future Sound of London, the German duo name Can as their major influence. Immersed in what I imagine to be a room full of samplers, keyboards and computers, these electro-pragmatists use bleeps and blurbs to paint abstract images we can’t hold still long enough to hang on a museum wall. The collages merge in a state of flux, different with each listen, creating a timeless space for 60 minute durations at a time. Though little of this is Germanic in the usual context, Autoditacker is brimming with intellectualism, with artistry, with state of the art imaginative molecules rubbing against one another causing friction among our nodes. (Thrill Jockey Box 476794 Chicago, IL 60647)

Mouse on Mars Cache Coeur Naif CD
Licensed from Too Pure, this four song CD is a sound for sore ears. While Mouse on Mars are deserving of their praise for their ambitious, eloquent electronic excursions, these songs have the added dimension of vocals courtesy of Stereolab’s Mary Hansen and Laetitia Sadier. The sound created by the combined talents bears a resemblance to ambient electro with the sounds of antiquated Roland drum machines driving the bouncing pop songs and surging underneath the downtempo sections of this EP. Mouse on Mars from the get-go have grabbed our attention as the distant cousins to Aphex’s Twin using funky not funk, and tech not techno to blend a curious post-Seefeel bop. While lasting only 16+ minutes, these songs take a day to ingest and make sense of. I hit repeat on my CD player 4 times before I could untangle myself from the embrace that I so longed for and was so sedate within - a hard feeling to break. (Thrill Jockey Box 476794 Chicago, IL 60647)

Movere WorkshopJett Rink b/w Second Watchung 7"
Western Hamlet 12"
While the All City 7" much closer approximates Labradford's harmonics than the 12", collectively the six songs on both documents need to be heard in the same sitting. What acts as an evolutionary digest, the 7" and 12" document the sound that has taken nearly four years to craft. Slow-mo tones from organs dress-up then undress the hi-hat, snare, four-string and six-string arrangements that cumulously hang in the air on a spring day. Again, Movere Workshop (or movement workshop) have outgrown ambient drones, moving on to instrumental slow-core akin to Low, Radar Brothers, Idaho and the like. Somewhere in the drones, I hear Dwindle, Dianogah, C-Clamp, Pinebender and Seam, but it is just a blink of light in the haze. They stand alone. They are the sound of aloneness. They alone stand for everything beautiful in instrumental rock songs that speak to restraint as much as they explicitly rock. There's nothing like the giddy feeling of discovering something that makes you tingle, something that will be as much fun sharing with others as it was to discover it quietly whispering "Eureka!" to yourself as the tone-arm settles on the vinyl for another spin. (All City 2414 Medill Chicago, IL 60647, Word and Object PO Box 477700 Chicago, IL 60647) – Keith York

Mox s/t CD
Craftsmen mold disparate elements into something whole. Something new and different. Chefs pull from recipes spanning across continents and oceans to create new flavors, new delicacies. Mox mine the ground, scrape the sky, and plow the fields of ethnic and historic differences, cultural assimilation, and political upheavals spanning centuries. They dabble. They weave. Mox weave sounds from diverse sample sources and "standard" instruments into tapestries, the world of decorative arts has yet to witness. I can imagine this trio forming their relationship out of a cocktail party conversation with the idea of creating something "new" at the time. It seems that no verbal conversation could have ever planned for this, Mox is something that was formed from the process of three men working together, not from an idea. An idea Mox is not. Ideas crossing temporal and linguistic boundaries maybe. Not one idea, but hundreds. Perfect for that "Morning Becomes Eclectic" drives to work with a cup of coffee in one hand, the steering wheel in the other. (RGB PO Box 31321 San Francisco, CA 94131) - Keith York

Mr. Annand Sentient Being CS
Steamy, sultry filmic scenes erupt in bassbins as half-naked 20-somethings writhe to Annand’s four-four hedonism. Sticky-hot like a summer sex romp, these alluring organic basslines and melodic synths melt together like no prescription drug on the market. Annand’s hand draws the choons together effortlessly in a relaxed dawn-raid on the tank-top set. If your hands aren’t already airborn , get ‘em up there for this man.
(bookings – 323.960.7764, www.planet9.org, www.Tropical-house.com)

Mr. Scruff Keep it Unreal CD
Hands down one of the most entertaining headz-focused discs out there today. Keep it Unreal is all about focused diversity: from Plug-sounding skittering breakbeats, to 80s house (shit Swing Out Sister remixes would be up Scruff's alley), deep house (Tracey Thorn collaboration would fit right in), disco (look out Donna Summer!), hip-hop (Dilated Peoples soundin' funk) all the way to strange shanty town lyrical wordplay about whale fish (Pogues on acid? hmmmm). No matter the destination, or the stylistic choice, the songs are solid as steel and the sense of humor is as crisp as the dollars outta the ATM. (Ninja Tune 1751 Richardson Suite 6109 Montreal, Quebec H3K 1G6) – Keith York

Mullan, Terry Lost in the Sound CD
A rough ‘n’ tumble prog house & electro DJ-mix that burns. In the mix are thirty tracks, or snippets of tracks for that matter, that vary moderately from electro to hard house to breakbeat while remaining mostly instrumental. Dropping in DBX’s “Phreak” no less than seven times in the track listing, one wonders how close Terry is to this track! Acid basslines occasionally squirm into the mix as the cymbal-snare crashes pummel the quick tempo adrenaline dance rush. Very nice. (Airbag 207 Ashland Ave. Santa Monica, CA 90405) - Keith York

Multiple Cat The Golden Apple Hits CD
Whether its’ the album opener “Julliet,” which reels with the glee of Dexy’s Midnight Runners, or the remaining of the dozen songs that catches your cartwheeling inner energy, Golden Apple is going to change your afternoon plans. Instead of searching the radio dial for Split Enz, Cardigans, Haircut 100, Oasis, or SuperGrass tunes on your local “alternative rock” station, Pat Stolley and his crew have a package deal for the unitiated and jaded pop fans alike. With the skeletons of Bacharach, Brian Wilson, and Supertramp in his songwriting closet, this fan of 80s pop will win you over. (Plow City POB 1604 Moline, IL 61266, plowcity@yahoo.com) – Keith York

Multiple Cat Welcome to... 7"
Artwork influenced by the Ocean Blue. Song writing borrowed from Dexy's Midnight Runners. An interesting roller coaster ride. (American Pop Project PO Box 2271 San Rafael, CA 94912) - Keith York

Mutiny Rum Rebellion CD
Street busking young Aussies as adept to playing for cash thrown in a sidewalk-placed hat as in a club overflowing with pints of Ale, Mutiny are at home next to the Pogue's Rum Sodomy & The Lash. As the violin, tin whistle and mandolin sing their unique colloquialism, the bass, drums and guitar rock the sidewalk beggars with upright tempos demanding the attention of passers-by. Giggly and bouncy despite their maturity, Mutiny play an Australian version of Celtic/Irish river-dancing drinking songs. And as a listener its tough to sit still. Fun for the whole family. (Hell's Ditch 2817 Newport Blvd., Newport Beach, CA 92661) – Keith York

M. Ward End of Amnesia
Matt Ward’s musings, “I feel like Carolina, split myself in two…” sums up the solemn inner journeys End of Amnesia takes. Aside from his work with Rodriguez (their Swing like a Metronome” out on Devil in the Woods), Mr. Ward pulls aces from his sleeve with these solo outings (also out is his self-released Duet for Guitars #2) lays them on the table and the rest of the introspective post-indie folk heroes fold their hands. On End of Amnesia Ward is joined by members of Norfolk+Western, Giant Sand, Old Joe Clarks, Operacycle, and Lambchop. With this pedigree of collaborators in addition to Grandaddy covering one of his penned anthems, M. Ward walks tall amongst brethren Smog, Will Oldham, and Elliott Smith. Not just another bored 20-something, Ward is staking a claim in the resurgence of 6-string solemnity, and we should take note. (Future Farmer POB 225128 San Francisco, CA 94122) – Keith York

My Beautiful Ex-Wife Shameless Act of Self Promotion CD
When Justin Savage (guitar, vocals) left Tennessee for Cambridge, MA he and members of Lonas (Tommy Foster, Blake Girndt) put together MBXW and the rest is history. Well, to be more polite, the rest is the horizon… With a sound Akin to early Malkmus musings on 7” vinyl and the post-emo aesthetic embraced, these folks are poised to have their statement recognized. Wonderful way to spend10 minutes. (Band: mbxw@hotmail.com) - Keith York

My Dad is Dead Everyone Wants the Honey But Not the Sting CD
Confidence. Stature. Mark Edwards releases yet another document of song, style and his uniquely mature outlook on couples in love and deer in headlights. This brazen will of men and their instruments, that is Everyone Wants the Honey But Not the Sting, is breathtaking. Leading horses to water and listeners to Jawbreaker songs, Wedding Present guitars, and Red Lorry Yellow Lorry baritone vocals is an easy notion - one I just as soon dispel before Mr. Brydges calls the foul. Drawing parallels between nondescript elements, unfathomable analogy, and discourteous pretensions that Mark Edwards’ songs are even comparable to the likes of half-witted American Music Club imitators - you know rock bands with something rather telling to expatriate. To admit sincerity seems rather insincere to those 20-somethings in the habit of being critical. After all they are jaded and cynical. Mark Edwards is much smarter. His rock songs are stories, are examples, are works that need analysis and need context. He is a formidable songwriting force that has cradled me since spinning records for a low-power radio station in between college courses. My Dad is Dead symbolically means much more than Everyone Wants the Honey But Not the Sting- but it stands as an example, a single commandment from a body of work so influential on young rockers that it is hard to detail. (Emperor Jones PO Box 49771 Austin, TX 78765)

Myerson, Jamie Rescue Me CDEP
Remixes aplenty culled from Jamie’s The Listen Project album define the launching of “Rescue Me” as the album’s single. Carol Tripp’s vocal “rescuuuuuue meeee” lines caressingly spring from the same cloth as Tracey Thorn’s Walking Wounded moments. Despite the variety in the titles for each remix, there is very little readily differentiating each - unless you are spinnin’ and want different takes on this one track for different sets. But then again who uses a CD to DJ? This would make a much better 4-song 12” with the house edit, the drum ‘n’ bass mix and a couple of the more downtempo versions rounding out the b-side. While not entirely representative of his album, The Listen Project, this EP allows for an introduction to Mr. Myerson - who along with Carol are capable of much greater work than that showcased here. (Ovum Recordings 550 Madison Avenue, NYC 10022) - Keith York

Myerson, Jamie The Listen Project CD
As varied a listen as humans react differently to love and loss. Stunned, some songs gaze in horror and disbelief at the man directing traffic around the crushed mass of cars and bodies on the interstate. Several tracks joyously dance around the office after losing sleep for days thinking about the crush they have. Still others reclusively turn from the madding crowds retreating into darkness and convenient solace to revel and stew in the mire of their own discontent. Troubled by the variations on a theme, I hit repeat a few times. Jamie has so many ideas, some of them frightfully odd. Quick-witted house and downtempo sections along with a few vocal tracks make this product listenable to a fairly wide audience - no pop hits but certainly some car stereo playlists will gravitate toward the bouncey bits. Having done some nice stuff for the Reinforced label in the past, it was a bit of a drag having to wait until track 9, “Crucial,” to find some thought provoking drum ‘n’ bass replete with a synthesized bell choir, strings and breakbeats. At several instances Mr. Myerson dances around the office smiling with optimism, brimming with cheer, while others like “Revisions,” retreat like a mad, crazy troll underneath a Sherwood Forest foot bridge. I lost some sleep listening to this time and again. Infused with guilty beat-derived dancing feet the adrenaline flowed; shaking the hardwood floors of the house as I stomped around with glee. The darkness and the light merge illuminating a magical place beneath the stairs where rumors and histories reside over the years, The Listen Project will be there along with scrapbooks, baby books, and hand-me-down quilts from generations past. (Ovum)