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Chocolate Weasel
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DJ Method One
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Dwindle
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Frank Lloyd Wright's California
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Her Space Holiday
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ICU
Jungle Defined
Kim Salmon
King Rhythm
Laika
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Mark Robinson
Mixtapes
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Most Secret Method
Music Appreciation 101
Pressure Drop
Terrastock II
Third Eye Foundation

Sacred Treasures Choral Masterworks of Russia CD
There are occasions, however, when the New Age crowd hits it right on the head. This, happily, is one of those times. This collection of choral music from the Russian Orthodox Church is a sweeping and majestic record. A track by track breakdown is not particularly necessary, but for folks who wish a little taste of the vox humana (not the organ), you really can’t do wrong. Taking a selection of common liturgies (including works by Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov) and presenting works from a variety of choirs, you’re presented with a great variety of performances from this school of sacred music.

Yes, it’s a church service, fundamentally (including the opening and closing bells which frame the performances). It’s liturgy when you get down to it. But not like you’ve heard it before (unless you’ve been digging around in your mother’s Gregorian Chant collection). The use of mixed-voice choirs (male/female) gives an added tonal variety that you simply don’t get in a lot of liturgical recordings (my experience in these being primarily all-male). And yes, there’s a fair amount of structure in place on the music, none of it improvisational, but it was nothing that I felt detracted from the experience.

The sound really is tremendous, and that’s why I listen to records. There isn’t much more to say, but that if you want to step out from your spacerock/drone shells and see how they did it before electric guitars, then check this stuff out. You get a real feel for the use of this sort of music’s employment in the joining together of communities and breaking the barriers of the Individual, and how that group identity can be far, far more powerful than the individual singers/performers themselves (a lesson to those of you in bands out there: perform as a band, not as individuals; the capability to blow minds is that much more powerful). (Hearts of Space Records PO Box 31321 San Francisco, CA 94131) - Matt Maxwell

Saint Etienne Places to Visit CD
Akin to the bubbly semantics of Stereolab's Emperor Tomato Ketchup, this latest EP from the trio (oddly enough including Lab compatriot Sean O'Hagan) gurgles with analog keys. Places to Visit is child-like at times; kicking your shins with rat-a-tat snares and kicks, blows bubbles with its smacking mouthful of gum, all the while the gentlest vocals this side of heaven (unless you've heard Charlotte Church) caress your weary frame. A pop group in its sincerest form, and the closest recording to a fictional collaboration between Trembling Blue Stars and Hooverphonic. (Sub Pop PO Box 20645 Seattle, WA 98102) - Keith York

Saint Etienne Sound of Water CD
Sarah, Bob and Pete are at it again -- making our hearts yearn for a warm caress. As with all other Saint Etienne releases, the dry-humping dance beats coupled with Sarah's vocals weave comfortably around, warming us like a winter quilt. Assured this relaxed state with each album and single, the fan secures time and place to meditate with Saint Etienne, for many of us our three closest companions. Sugar sweet and yet up to serious business, the trio represents the smartest electronic pop in the world today. (Sub Pop POB 20645 Seattle, WA 98102) – Keith York

Saint Low s/t CD
Take the warmth of Portishead, subtract the beats, add the sultriness of Style Council guitar and key lines, snap your fingers and you’re inside Saint Low’s songs. Here a dozen guitar, upright bass, violin and Hammond B-3 environments are set to a tempo by a gentle drummer. Mary Larson (Madder Rose) has created this alter-ego to share with us her jazzier, noir-ish songwriting persona, and warmth is there. With the addition of Saint Low to your CD library, you can happily trim it down by the dozen of records that you use to bring calm to your life. (Thirsty Ear 274 Madison Ave. Suite 804 NYC 10016) – Keith York

San Geronimo s/t CD
Ringing out the air around you like a sponge, San Geronimo stands you tensely erect now cautious of all that surrounds you. Those that you’ve grown comfortable with (in this case former members of Jets to Brazil, Lifetime, Drowning Man) in the last years of your life make it difficult for you to extend beyond the bubble of relaxation that now encases your logic. While the electricity of their guitars, timed concussive drum hits and engaging vocal lines comfort you, San Geronimo leave you suspicious of all other recorded music and those that have created facades in your record collection. Stand tall, walk from your home with San Geronimo on your headphones and experience how the colors and faces of the past now take on a new vibrancy. Grab the air and ring it dry with your own hand. (Coldfront POB 8345 Berkeley, CA 94707, coldfrontrecords.com) – Keith York

Santana, Omar Hardhop Tricked Out... CD
DJ and producer, Omar Santana kicks the bass bins into action with his acid breakbeat technology and a stiff spine 'n' hip concussion. While working under a variety of monikers and pseudonyms on this mixed collection, Santana delivers his own take on the meth-fueled version of hip hop with a bit of assistance by Freddy Fresh and Mann Parrish on a few tracks. Santana goes takes the crew further out into the uncharted domains of filtered and reversioned breaks than most folks stuck using a "Mary, Mary" or "Funky Drummer" loop. While the CD has its highs and lows, for the non-DJ this allows a continuous block rockin' mix of Santana's discography - a healthy and diverse one at that. (Moonshine 8525 Santa Monica Blvd. West Hollywood, CA 90069) - Keith York

Santa Sprees Keep Still CD
Tokyo duo Anthony Dolphin and Katherine Marshall showcase their songwriting eccentricities across the two dozen songs contained in Keep Still. While Daniel Johnston comes to mind in the childish play of these songs, a mental condition fails to provide a digestible context. Lo-fi pop antics force us to grasp at the straws of an Elephant 6 stable comparison, though an accurate description of Keep Still is far more elusive. Strummy guitars and keys lost in tape hiss have more charm than the whole of the jap-pop scene that I’ve witnessed. Fantastic. (Dreamy POB 30427 London NW6 3FF, promo@dreamyrecords.com) - Keith York

Savath + Savalas Folk Songs for Trains, Trees and Honey CD
The sounds of machines relaxing, taking siesta, for a moment prior to the assembly line whirring begins again. At dusk the gizmos, gadgets, machines, and silicon computing equipment wants to rest. They, their human sides, desire a snippet of time to cool their jets and spend quality time with others like them. We find that organized under Scott Herren's tutelage, these machines can samba, tango and swing – and that it adds humanity to our CD player, a machine itself. Shadowing the computer and sampler through their work returns, we find the lunch break the most heavenly time: "Aftergrude" toys with stuttering beats, Casino Versus Japan like exotica, and hammering piano tones with excellent effect. For those seeking a toned down IDM routine, Folk Songs is sampler-ific fun with our computing counterparts. (Hefty 1658 N. Milwaukee Suite 287 Chicago, IL 60647) – Keith York

Scaries, The Wishing One Last Time CD
For a guy who thinks punk rock was recorded between '76-'80, it's hard to imagine how much of the stuff is still being recorded and how much of it I continue to consume. As bands grow up full of GenX and GenY kids born while I was in high school or even college, they somehow have managed to pass down legacy's of teen angst, tales of corporate greed, political suicide and lost love. The Scaries including a cover of The Cure's "Pictures of You" is a tale of woe in itself – a song in heavy rotation on the local commercial alternative radio station as I commuted to school in my friend's Pinto Runabout that had one good speaker and a mono tape deck. Things have changed for me but not for young upstarts like The Scaries who take early Superchunk records and speed 'em up on high octane testosterone. Damn fun stuff. (Route 14 POB 501 Langhorne, PA 19047) – Keith York

Schema "s/t" CD
Hovercraft (Campbell, Saide, Ric) with Mary Hansen of Stereolab, have collaborated to create an album assisting us in better understanding our complex experiences. As a schema refers to, the quartet superimpose their outstretched space rock atop our reality making for a rich experience. Stereolab fans will find Mary’s “ba-ba ba-da-da”s and funky keyboard tones amongst the many layers of Hovercraft’s charmed drones and rumbles. (5RC POB 1190 Olympia, WA 98507) – Keith York

Sea Tiger Cyberporpoise CDEP
Their Cyberporpoise EP is a short set of songs sitting on the fence between warm conversation and icy cold stares. Sea Tiger think ‘out of the box’ with their presentation of melodic concepts that struggle against becoming songs - they are not songs in the verse-chorus-verse definition, they instead are statements of guitar interplay, of two guys meeting somewhere on a common ground defined only as Sea Tiger. Without being constrained by genre tags, Sea Tiger come close to Trans Am - absent the 70s rock noodling and electronic throb. After several listens, I walked away with a better understanding of intricacies in song creation rather than a full blown melody rip-off, the latter being representative of 90s rock, which reaffirms my confidence in youth. (Troubleman Unlimited 16 Willow Street Bayonne, NJ 07002)

Secadora s/t CD
With the help of Dart's Rick Stone at the controls (of which Adrienne says "working with Rick Stone was great. We just showed up and played in the recording studio and Rick picked up on what we wanted to do right away. We'd work with him again any day"), this bay area quartet erupts with a shoegazin' ode to bygone days of Velocity Girl, and My Bloody Valentine (not to mention San Diego quartet Red Dye No.5). Damn fine, sweetly intricate pop songs soar with guitar solos, pouty-girl vocals and confident drumming. This short introdu ction to the Secadora world will have to do for the time being as their plans for the future include "working on material for a future full-length CD, looking for a label, playing as many shows as possible," Adrienne concluded. So check 'em out on the road or on your hi-fi. (www.secadora.com) - Keith York

Second Story Man s/t CD
Since we last heard from Second Story Man (on their split-CD with The Helgeson Story), they’ve added a new a fourth member and a new dynamic to their brand of pop. Standing erect with confidence in their new stance, the gentile pop of their last recording has graduated to one standing firmly on its own two feet with a keen sense of experimentation within their 4/4 craft. Having spent time listening to Joy Division, Flower, Miaow, Swirlies, Seam, Ida, Yo La Tengo, Small Factory and Sleepyhead since we last joined their progress, the Louisville quartet have matured immensely. A stunning effort. (band: POB 5696 Louisville, KY 40255, seconstory1@cs.com) - Keith York

Second Story Man / The Helgeson Story split-CD
Two bands and two labels recently embarked on a four-way split release accomplishing nothing short of worthwhile listening for us all. Second Story Man's driving, darkly-erotic pop songs are reminiscent of Unrest's guitar lines, and Versus' angsty melodies. The Helgeson Story take a less-straightforward approach to melody, instead favoring a turbulent rising/falling romp of dynamic interchange between musicians and audience. Epic in proportions, THS' "Suburban Dream" takes charge like a sea captain (ala Mike Peters of Poem Rocket), and glides effortlessly through stormy seas. Sexy, elegant, engaging pop songs worthwhile of any evening's listening time alone with the hi-fi. (Noise Pollution/Landmark POB 72189 Louisville, KY 40272) – Keith York

Secret Chiefs 3 Hurqalya CD
Trying my damnedest to get past the pretentious "graphic artist took the day off" packaging, I heard several interesting things. The most readily definable of these is the Secret Chiefs' diversity in approach that steers far outside several genres: neo-far eastern instrumentation, Total-ish noise statements, guitar rock 'n' drone, and something quite nice. The latter refers to two tracks, "Jabalqa" and "Jabarsa" that push the German drum 'n' bass aesthetic into high gear. While boosting the limiters into the red, "Amen" breaks attack one another as crunchy distorted bass quakes shout from passing cars. Frantic and noisy, these two tracks acted as aperitifs to a meal that is never served. Anomalies amongst the other ideas present, these two tracks wet my appetite and like Pavlov's experiments on doggies, didn't always deliver a full serving. If they invest time and energy into DnB 12"s, they just might make a cultural statement worthy of your cash. (Amarillo 5714 Folsom Blvd. Ste. 300 San Francisco, CA 95819) - Keith York

Section 8 Mob Guilty by Association CD
The carnival atmosphere made up of A-list characters such as pimps, prostitutes, pushers and junkies is mainstream entertainment, and Section 8 Mob pull all the stops. The "I lived the life and now it's MY time to tell MY story" has come and gone as quickly as high steppers MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice were household names then memories. Section 8 Mob rely on the sampler, the role of the producer, and the manageable bankroll of their label (a hip-hop institution) to launch their tongue-in-cheek lyrical firestorm. Here inside Guilty by Association, the embattled streets are punchlines, whitey is blamed for his role as puppeteer, while the "Bitchass N.....s" play their role of destiny inside jail cells and holding-tanks. The carnival ride is an entertaining journey, albeit scary at the blind intersections, through fact and fiction both believable and incredulous. Hip-hop is a mindset more than it is a way-of-life and Section 8 Mob are held-up on the thug-life crucifix gathering a mob of onlookers. (Dark City/Tommy Boy 902 Broadway NYC 10010) - Keith York

Seely Winter Birds CD
In thinking of Georgia and its inhabitants, post-Civil War angst, economic strife, and rednecks driving recklessly down dusty roads in decades-old pickups comes to mind all too easily. In Seely, we see another view from the urbanized South, the Atlanta chic that few recognize in today's cultural milieu. Seely, like Laika and Stereolab, hover around in a cloud of pop songs created by crayon wielding children focused intently on going outside the coloring books lines. With a point of view, the northeast can only fake, and the Southeast gets caught mimicking all the time, Seely stand out as a genuine article in a maze of entertainment possibles. If one can steer clear of ad budgets, promotional gimmicks, and glitzy posturing, it will be records like Winter Birds they walk home with. (Koch 740 Broadway, NYC 10003) – Keith York

Sensational Loaded With Power CD/LP
From the depths of Crooklyn, NYC comes performer/producer, Sensational,
with his debut full-length, the appropriately titled, "Loaded With Power" on the (soon-to-be-large) Wordsound Records label (an On U Sound/Adrian Sherwood affiliate). The Hip Hop underground will no doubt remember him as "Torture" -a former member of the legendary Jungle Brothers, particularly their "Crazy Wisdom Masters"/"Remedy" project. Under his
influence, the experimental nature of the tracks proved to be too far ahead of their time for the shook Warner Brothers executives and the recordings were never released in their intended form.

It's now 1998 and Sensational has returned with a collection of tracks that will show the world who has creative control this time around. The father of many styles, son to none. To try and categorize this record with anything else currently out would be impossible. At times, both his lyrical and production style tip their hat toward Lee Perry at his most bizarre, often incorporating his voice into one of the many layers of rhythm (dub style) along with any number of noises and raw drums. Other tracks, such as "After Hours", bring to mind "Duckstab" era Residents with it's melding of high tech recording and low tech instruments, creating an earthy, yet mechanical sound. The beats themselves are all top notch; ranging from rough NYC styled Hip Hop to erratic Doc Scott uptempo pounding, all the while changing tempos throughout. The lyrical styles range from uptown scatting to extemporaneous free-flow associations that only the author could conjure up. Either way, he remains one page ahead
at all times.

Like Lee Perry, Sun Ra and Kool Keith, the M.O. is never weirdness for the sake of being weird. This guy is the genuine article in his natural element. DJ Spooky and Tricky take note. (WORDSOUND) - Chris Lynch

Sergeant, Will Themes for ‘GRIND’ CD
Chipping the stale ice from the defrosting freezer, you glance suddenly as the chipped chunks fall to the kitchen floor. The snowfall melts as it hits the linoleum beneath your bare feet. Your toes grow cold. Work, work, work - housework. Cleaning the systems within your comfy environs are tasks of stomach-testing molds, mildews, odors and mutations. Cleaning what you have dirtied is an endless process. Musicians stock their archives with notions, ideas and experiments cleaning them out on occasion for the rest of us to hear. This fifteen year old recording is full of cold, icy textures. Themes for ‘GRIND’ was originally released as a limited-run LP by this former Bunnyman. (Spiffing PO Box 725 Westbury, NY 11590)

764-Hero Salt Sinks and Sugar Floats CD
Another fine song collection from an anguished young urban soul. I choose to enjoy music when knowing less than nothing about the context in which the craft was refined, tuned and otherwise put into the marketing machine. I honestly know nothing of 764-Hero than what the stereo speakers inform me. Pavement stripped down with Elliot Smith’s heartfelt pipes, these eleven songs reach for the night sky as the dimming stars twinkle in the heat leaving the earth. The soundtrack to weary steam leaving terra firma. Songs with guts, not balls these are - songs that make me wonder how the world would be different if the men that think of war picked up guitars and produced soundtracks to rainy lonely days like these. The soundtrack to the Dear John letter in the mail heading your way. (Up Records PO Box 21328 Seattle, WA 98111)

764-HERO Weekends of Sound CD
Because 764-HERO have established themselves as an important indie icon, it seems useless to refer back to what is now the early part of their careers in rock. For old times sake, I grabbed some old records off the dusty shelves and listened to some of their pre-764-HERO recordings as Bell Jar, Hush Harbor, Lync and Red Stars Theory. And strangely I kept hearing Weekends of Sound's kindly offered melodies in their infancy. From chunky 4/4 drum-kit clatter, bass and guitar woven together in a wall-of-sound, pop songs emerge that are dangerously infectious – as with the best moments by their contemporaries Modest Mouse, Pavement, and Sunny Day Real Estate. (Up POB 21328 Seattle, WA 98111) – Keith York

Seven Storey Mountain Based on a True Story CD
It's wonderful how punk rock has matured. From the insistence that everything is suspicious in government, relationships, and that folks are continuing to be fooled by the structures of modern life, to punk rock getting substantial radio play, the sounds has firmly established its viability as a consumable commodity by way of Walmart. I rather enjoy the idea behind kids in Anytown, USA buying Blink 182 and Green Day compact discs and starching their hair up tall and colorful. Seven Storey Mountain fit into the punk rock history in that they return the cynicism to the fold while maturing the music to pack a denser, more focused punch on society's nose. Quite possibly the most astute and witty songs about government is contained on Based on a True Story's 5th track, "Politician". As guitarist/vocalist Lance Lammers states, "I've got no time for sick and poor, I've got a busy schedule, I'm just a money raising whore," the listener is taken back decades when punk rock was just that, punk. An attitude toward everything pro-establishment that neither anarchically questions just to poke fun, but actually states clearly an opinion: A point of view fans can argue with or join in the chant ringside. Based on a True Story is full of monumental guitar and bass structures firmly planted in 4/4 rhythm foundations that make a launching pad for Lance's views robust and nearly unquestionable. This is mature punk rock however you slice it. (Deep Elm POB 36939 Charlotte, NC 28236) – Keith York

Sexy Death Soda California Police State CD
Angelenos are all abuzz about director Steve Hanft's new pop outfit, Sexy Death Soda. The word on the street isn't too surprising, given SDS laces its music with a severely SoCal sensibility. Lyrics go "U-F-O/L-S-D... Riding Highway 101/Orange sunshine on my tongue..." and songs titles include "Plastic Factory" and "California Police State." Beyond subject matter, Hanft (a.k.a. Steaksauce) and guitarist Donnie Pleasure also take surf rock to new and compelling levels. Chock full of endearing, Casio-twinged melodies and discreet psychedelic guitar licks, CALIFORNIA POLICE STATE reeks of SDS's surfer hometown Ventura. SDS also throws in a kicky cover of Captain Beefheart's "Plastic Factory" ("Factory's no place for me/Boss man, let me be..."). Funky and tripped out at its best (and derivative bar rock at its worst) Sexy Death Soda will, at the very least, give you something to laugh about as you're stuck in the grind of the 101. (Bong Load Custom Records) - Esther Yoon

Sgt. Rock Live the Dream CD
Stockpiled with funky tweaked 4/4 grooves, the steamroller, front-end loader and mixers are ready to lay concrete party vibes across the land. Digging up antiquated houses, and other built environments, Sgt. Rock cranes up circus tents of party kids swaying to the sounds of architect designed beats and the artisans of melodic synth lines. With a Chemical Brothers funked-up feel, Live the Dream lands the DJ-set in your living quarters and redesigns your booty’s lifestyle from floor to ceiling. (Beggars Banquet/Wiiija 580 Broadway Suite 1004 NYC 10012) – Keith York

Shark Quest Battle of the Loons CD
Shark Quest Blontzo's Revenge 7"
Slow movements. Like leaves tumbling from treetops toward the ground, these songs defy gravity. They defy aerodynamics, staying aloft for longer periods of time than physical laws allow. Melodic, analog Fender guitar warmth reverberates like a surf band, echoing down vacant hallways of palaces left standing in the collapse of monarchies. The decorative arts that line your CD shelves whisper such songs, but only Shark Quest peel the exterior and bare their insides. After all, whispering doesn't allow one to really cry out loud. Eloquent, soft-spoken rhythms build foundations around the guitars, bass, cellos and piano lines that fluidly, seamlessly join together as one. Lullabies of surf instrumental ideas tip hats to Swingers' "kats" and the smart-set. Kiss me. (Merge PO Box 1235 Chapel Hill, NC 27514) - Keith York

Shark Quest Man on Stilts CD
Despite the atoms-smashing energy of Man or Astroman? defining the latest incarnations of the surf-rock genre, Shark Quest have managed to bed the rules in a less-straightforward punk approach. These Chapel Hill instrumental rockers take on near-Baroque antiquity, Morricone-ish soundtrack movements and quasi-classical guitar motifs in their latest collection Man on Stilts. While the heart ‘n’ soul of the record (and the band) is guitar, bass and drums, it is the cellos, mandolins and banjo that bring us closer to the hearth. The welcoming, inviting tones of the live instruments draws the listener in with subtlety rather than explosive pyrotechnic antiques expected from a tremeloed guitar band. Wonderful. (Merge POB 1235 Chapel Hill, NC 27514) – Keith York

Sharee Joukoujou CS
This femme fatale DJ currently residing in the LA serves up a 90 full of “Amen, Brother” breaks, twin-step winders, and techno-step wonders across instrumental as well as vocal tracks. In naming each side differently (Side A is labeled “Good”, while Side B is labeled “Evil”), the consumer can judge which end of Sharee’s style continuum to start. While both mixes exemplify her adroit selection of tracks and precise digit skills, each set runs a different course. “Good” starts with some crawling, chugging ragga vibes that rush into some funky Amen-adorned steppers & rolling bass-stab, stunned rockers. Sharee doesn’t shy away from a good vocal sample or the rolling snares of British and US jungle anthems. Sharee isn’t afraid of the apocalyptic thumper either. Her “Evil” set, embraces some tech-step darkness (including the wonderful “Techsteppa” vocal track by Bong Ra), the likes of Nico and Ed Rush have yet to fully exploit. Well thought out, well executed, and well worth your while. (contact: Jungle Voodoo 310-724-3744, 310-854-3038 or http://home.earthlink.net/~jnglvoodoo)

Shearwater The Dissolving Room CD
The by-product of collaboration between Will Sheff (Okkervil River), Jonathan Meiburg (Kingfisher) and Kim Burke, The Dissolving Room is a heady sensory experience. Breathy Buckley-esque vocals and elegant Smog-like 6-string picking sets the stage, a mere introduction , for Shearwater’s dusk soundtrack. Powerful despite its mature demeanor, the trio’s collection of Belle and Sebastian entertainments steamrolls your vacuous heart and grips your sense of longing firmly. (Grey Flat POB 650018 Austin, TX 78765) – Keith York

Sheehy, Michael J. Sweet Blue Gene CD
I hate that as I listen to music anymore, I search for comparisons. Trying to listen and think inhibits soaking in the wonder that song writing still is to me. Upon first hearing Sheehy's solo album (he sang for Dream City Film Club), I just wanted to hear the influences, the singer/songwriters that he reminded me of. I kept coming up short. Hearing lots of things but failing to pay attention to the songs themselves was evident upon the second and third listens -- in those sessions I only heard Sheehy's voice, guitar and keys. I heard a sad Lloyd Cole, a happier Nick Cave, a less-melodramatic Marc Almond, a less-folk Billy Bragg. I heard the tender non-rock 'n' roll sides of Gene, Adorable, and Radiohead. I failed to hear Michael J. Sheehy on the first listen, and for that I am regretful. With each new listen, the tender, honest songs invoke the best images of the bedroom producer set; the most intimate gatherings in comfortable, familiar surroundings. This is the artist playing for friends and family, of which we are all now a part. (Beggars Banquet 580 Broadway Suite 1004 NYC 10012) – Keith York

Sheep On Drugs Never Mind the Methadone CD
Sheep on Drugs remixed. Enough said. (Invisible PO Box 16008 Chicago, IL 60616) - Keith York

Sheep on Drugs Double Trouble CD
Occasionally this disc is really nice - especially on two occasions the first is “Come Fly With Me” and the second is “Come Fly With Me(2)” a remix of the lead track. For starters I hated the artwork, and secondly I kept thinking if Soft Cell were still together this is the kind of proto-industrial dance music they would be releasing. If this could be remixed, I would urge the personnel in charge to subtract the vocals all together. This is not unlistenable, it actually isn’t that fun to groove to while vacuuming and dusting around the house. (Invisible PO Box 16008 Chicago, IL 60616)

Shiner Lula Divinia CD
Shiner has Epitaph to blame for their relative anonymity. Epitaph and similar brain-dead labels have duped kids into thinking their records are the new punk rock. Hardly. That tripe is older than the punkers themselves. Kids, wake up and smell what yr listening to. That smell is not of the great unwashed. It is not that Shiner is a world-beater or writes completely original songs. One could say they are feeding off a fresher dead-horse, but that would be rude and a half-truth. While emulating the melodic sense and work ethic of Jawbox, Shiner still possess a distinct sound. One knows when they have heard a Shiner record. Despite a beefy sound, courtesy of expensive production, Shiner’s fan base grew by a minimum of one with this eleven-song album. While it is a bit over-produced and slick for my usual tastes, I still found it listenable and enjoyable. Guitarist Allen Epley’s powerful voice is a pleasant reprieve from the underground norm. While, it is not a prerequisite for indie rockers to sing well, it never hurts. Besides Epley’s pipes, Shiner draws from their impressive resume a skilled deployment of dynamics, hooks, riffs and changes. This trio has studied hard underneath the dim desklight of indierock, scheming and plotting for their success. After several years of toiling in Season to Risk, it appears this Kansas City, MO trio has chosen the right major. Here’s hoping they get what they paid for. (HitIt! 1617 N. Hoyne, 1st Fl. Chicago, IL 60622 or hitit@nowhitit.com and DeSoto PO Box 60335 WDC 20039 or desoto@aol.com) - Steven M. Brydges

Shiner Starless CD
Close the eyes and see the arena crowd spread out across the acreage outstretched to the visible horizon. Countless pairs of eyes and ears focused on the six- and four-string instruments working on a 4/4 signature created by a larger than life drumset. Vocalists talk, whisper and scream into microphones connected to public address systems that reach every person in attendance (as well as the neighboring townships). Sweat begins to pour from these hard working four men on stage under lights and pyrotechnics. Backstage they will report to the press their childlike ways, but it is adult-male testosterone that gives them the strength to create the intense fiery rock music that we spend time with as this disc spins. Compared with the lo-fi bedroom rock that we spend much of our days listening to, Shiner is, despite a young age, significantly more mature than their colleagues: Much like that few month difference in age that keeps one person in high school for their senior year, while a best friend moves off to college and becomes a whole different person. Months apart physically, years apart emotionally. The wiser student, the more dignified listener, will learn a great deal from Starless, especially when considering it in light of their previous efforts. (Owned & Operated POB 36 Fort Collins, CO 80522) – Keith York

Shipping News Very Soon and In Pleasant Company CD
Startled by June of 44s Engine Takes to the Water, as well as Shipping News’ Save Everything, the arrival of this latest epic rock statement was a joyous occasion. The duration of time between the postal service relaying the 7-song document to me and today where I sit at dawn typing thoughts of its sound, much has happened. The world has a new US president, the economy has shifted, genetically modified Frankenfoods have been accepted and major efforts are afoot to gauge man’s impact on the global environment. These things have become news, and a non-newsworthy relationship of my own has crushed my sense of right and wrong. Sadness, anxiety and the brooding that attaches itself to free time to think define the last few months and Very Soon and In Pleasant Company has been the soundtrack to it all. The turbulence in the guitar-bass-drums interplay echoes the rushing blood pumped through a broken heart encased within a broken frame. On the other hand breakups do compel new direction. In the wake of June of 44’s demise, guitarist/vocalist Jeff Mueller has more energy to dedicate to the steam engine-like qualities of his relationship to Jason Noble (Rachels) that began years ago when they created Rodan. Math-rock may be a term coined and rarely used years later, but the progenitors of the “new approach” along with drummer Kyle Crabtree have cooled their jets and settled into a brooding melodrama. (Quarterstick POB 25342 Chicaqgo, IL 60625) – Keith York

Shiv Short Order Crook CD
While few may know of Providence’s Laurels, The Shiv have always been one of a few bands related to their brand of damaged post-punk. Restling with the ghosts of Gang of Four, Stranglers, Wire, Joy Division and the Birthday Party The Shiv (Joliet, IL) continue to piece together stripped down ferocious rock songs. Most unsettling is their “Conversation Whore” which best exemplifies the energy this 7 year-old trio have as they stare cynically at the audience belting out distortion and concussion. (Cosmic Debris POB 138185 Chicago, IL 60613) – Keith York

Should Feed Like Fishes CD
Slow motion, dramatic guitar fireworks light up a smoky dusk sky over nowheresville, USA. Drones and tones of early Slumberland releases are audible as Powderburns' feedback and Black Tambourine's glistening melodies sparkle amidst the fiery rock songs. Shoe gazing, navel gazing, and lovelorn eye gazing are all here – and Feed Like Fishes is worthy of ear gazing. Grazing like slow cows lonely in endless grasslands, these guitars and vocals (Tanya Maus; voice is sonic heaven) stand as behemoth structures for us to navigate around. Lumbering sonic masses stand firm on this flat earth and we humans write-off their importance, their value, as record shop bins in crowded cities become less than significant in our daily lives. The grazing cow is so culturally significant that it's hard to believe every time we eat, drink or wear their byproducts, we don't stop and think about how special they really are. Should is certainly worthy of your time, attention, and energy. (Words on Music 715 University Ave. SE #201, Minneapolis, MN 55414) – Keith York

Sick Bees My Pleasure CD
From jangling guitar strums to firestorms of distorted amplifier roar and spitting guttural vocals, the duo of the Sick Bees stretch well beyond their On the One debut, with this, their sophomore long-player. Adding a touch of bass and piano to the mix, Julio and Starla have matured greatly in the year since we last listened, since they first recorded as a drum and guitar combo for Rx Remedy. Despite the loss of some of their coy punkness, Sick Bees have taken on a new personality of arena-rock proportions. Can you say hallelujah? (Up POB 21328 Seattle, WA 98111) – Keith York

Sientific American Saints of Infinity 2xCD
Compiling the first four vinyl Eps by Andy Rohrman (a.k.a. Sientific American) on a double-CD set, Slabco has created an afternoon's worth of E-lectronic grooves. Formerly of the Seattle band Hush Harbor, and contributor to FCS North, Rohrman erupts as an intelligent, soulful peer to Milwaukee electronica projects like Pelé, Casino vs. Japan, and Roommates. In one uninterrupted set, the first of the two-disc set illustrates Andy's rise to stardom by editing together the b-sides of his first four E.P.s (Basicrockbeats, Destroyer, Science & Technology, and Boost the Mid-Range). Disc two be-bops the a-sides of the same E.P.s so you not only get the goods on a digital playback platform, you get 'em mixed into one numbing set. Now there's no excuse remaining why you haven't investigated this curiosity – hell free downloads are at www.slabco.com! (Slabco POB 292239) – Keith York

Silent Majority You Would Love to Know CD
Having recorded for Reservoir as well as Wreck-Age/Exit, Silent Majority surface suddenly gasping for air with five new tracks for Initial Records. The Long Island hardcore outfit, having been compared to Avail and Lifetime, hits the nail on the head with the strength of an NFL tackle. Laryngitis-causing, throat scratching vocals rise atop near-metal six-string riffing, while the rhythm section chugs along like a steam locomotive. For teenage air-guitarists and hardcore hopefuls, You Would Love to Know, is the genuine article from which one can cop or steal an idea and launch a new rock 'n' roll revolution. (Initial POB 17131 Louisville, KY 40217) – Keith York

Silkworm Lifestyle CD
Undeniably Silkworm have finally posted a headline for the independent rock news press. Lifestyle is bold and confident, and mature and all those things folks love to write about new records. Lifestyle has moments where Pavement angst is evidenced. But Lifestyle has been stuck in car stereos and home stereos in two states now (California, Colorado) and the places of beauty and natural majesty as well as those of urban crowding work well with the songs. From the Malkmus swagger of “Slave Wages” to the Replacements/Mekons-like straight-pop of “Treat the New Guy Right”, Silkworm have made a statement of uncompromising quality and vigor that cannot be denied by the critic whether or not they work for the news press that keeps the light on for an evolutionary North Star of indie-rock. (Touch and Go POB 25520 Chicago, IL 60625) – Keith York

Silver Apples Fractal Flow 7”
It was some 30 years ago that the Silver Apples graced our earth. Though their works are collected on a German-issue bootleg CD and “licensed” vinyl LP compiling both albums, it peaks our curiosity as to where and when and what happened to this New York duo. One of the few combos’ who influence is readily apparent when listening to the likes of Fuxa, Stereolab, Pram, Yo La Tengo and a host of krautrock, space rock (etc.) bands. Simeon (now looking like an aged hippie version of Iggy Pop) has teamed up with Xian Hawkins to recapture the spirit lost 3 decades ago. Their re-interpretation of the Apples’ “Lovefingers” is damn nice. While “Fractal Flow”’s old-wave drone oscillations are as spirited as the original duo produced. Sleeve art courtesy of Andy Warhol circa 1969 makes me even more the curious about where the Silver Apples were placed in the consciousness of New Yorkers back then, if at all. Very worthwhile. (Enraptured 8a Penwith Road Southfields London SW184QF)

Silverjet Pull Me Up...Drag Me Down CD
Put several people in a room ‘til they get so frustrated staring at one another they begin to hiss and claw and fight. The occupants of this room would be Chixdiggit, Weezer, Chris Cornell and Teenage Fanclub. If they were strapped into straight jackets or let loose, we could let them just kill one another off and forget to notify their next of kin. (Virgin)

Sin Ropas Three Cherries CD
With both Red Red Meat and Califone as resumé entries, Sin Ropas take folkadelic excursions in the decaying forests of aging pop songs. Even the guitars in these environs sound off-kilter, skewed, scattered like seedlings amongst the towering trunks of still-standing dead wood. Growing up from the undergrowth in shady areas, the fern-like mumblings, noodlings and faint hearts create from mulch and moss the most earthy of tones not from Will Oldham's pen. Backroads porches creak, as moonshine stills gurgle and hiccup with tinny snare backing. The aged leather-faced man in the oak rocking chair mumbles to himself as the bass kicks in. He nearly swallows the corn-cob handmade pipe hanging from a saliva drenched lower lip. Red Red Meat began from these quiet dirt road psychoses and it's good to have them back along with all of the original narcotic P.O.V.s and their new-found friends ambling along in the mud-formed channels of the two-way corridor in a '49 Ford pickup. (Perishable POB 578804 Chicago, IL 60657) – Keith York

Sister Sonny Lovesongs CD
Narcotic slow-mo rock songs creep and crawl around the living environment. Coiling up ready to strike the least suspicious in the room, Sister Sonny songs are to be feared. The dirge-like momentum (see: Swans, Low) is captivating in its rumbling, lumbering weightiness. Thick bass lines and reverbed drums reach for the CD-players manifold and force their dry air through your speakers. Appearing to have an affection for Bedhead melodies, these giant redwood sized songs are hard to miss, and yet easily confused with a threatening motion. Keep the familiar close, and the unrecognizable even closer. (Jetset 67 Vestry St. NYC 10013) – Keith York

Six By Seven The Closer You Get CD
Brace for the impact. Assuming we were driving California's freeways, you would likely hold the dashboard, the seatbelt and the car's door-frame solidly – but this is living room listening. Explosive, driving rhythms rock in an almost unfamiliar tone. Brits, are these Six By Seven characters – yet they like to rock 'n' roll like any warm-blooded American. Noisy feedback laced big-rock antics are afoot while the sinister underbelly is exposed, and even exploited, as the cascading rhythms crush those following the forward momentum. Stereos don't come with airbags yet. (Mantra 580 Broadway, Suite 1004 NYC 10012) – Keith York

Sixteen Deluxe Vision Take Me, Make Me, Never Forsake Me CD
Still retaining a firm grasp on the shoegazer guitar hurricanes that graced their Backfeed Magnetbabe and Emits Showers of Sparks albums, Sixteen Deluxe has somehow managed to grow beyond their debut brilliance. Pairing down to a trio over the last several years, Sixteen Deluxe have finally now begun to showcase Carrie Clark's Lush-like vocals. With the consumer inroads made in the acceptance of Yo La Tengo's rock 'n' roll dreamscapes, Sixteen Deluxe is poised for your stereo. Download it, or hit the shops in search of the sleeper hit of the year. (Sugar Fix POB 46361 L.A., CA 90046) – Keith York

Skulpey Chopper CD
Alone in a quiet house, the CD player is my only source of companionship. Her face hangs there in a memory superimposed on the computer screen's glare. Whether my eyes shut or open widely, her face rests on the sofa, the chair, and the window sill. Heather's voice reassures me this vacant feeling is only temporary. Palo's smashing drumsticks against the skin of a snare or caressing his cymbals comforts me as I think forward to the next embrace. Matthew's words are the voice of an empathetic friend who knows what separation anxiety means. He knows the only cure is another encounter, another listen. Chopper is ecstatic pop. And I know everyone who read that last sentence understands ecstasy -- you know the smell of morning, of dusk settling over jasmine-laced fields, the smell of her hair. You need to experience the same sense contained inside this cardstock wrapper. Chopper is everything to me tonight and I am not giving this up until she is here in person once again. (Pedigree PO Box 30163 NYC 10011) - Keith York

Skulpey Liz CD
Packaged in an eerie assemblage of lo-tech photography, this CD heralds identity mystique as its driving conundrum. The music speaks a humble affinity to Tsunami, Lois, and Gang of Four but a with math twist. When guitar pop is cloaked in a dark sinister cloud the results are always noticeable at either end of the good/bad spectrum and fans take note. Strangely, I have not heard of others heralding the Skulpey banner. Possibly from their rare live shows, their rarer road trips to all points USA or possibly because of their hermit-like existence that yields curiosity from those of us far away. Hooked Pixies guitar and vocal intercourse splayed across a black and white photo sound back drop - Liz is the type of record whose paths we rarely cross - - one of good music and no hype. The cold north must turn pop on its side as this record speaks in a jaded cold New Yorker voice with a Minnesota accent...who’dathought? (band: 303 Division, Northfield, MN 55057)

Sky by Sorella Dark Before Home b/w The Angel is my Watermark 7”
Upon hearing Slint’s first album I recall thinking they sounded derivative of others mining a slower, colder form of rock and yet they turned into pioneers. Sky by Sorella are indeed pioneers themselves. A quiet strummy guitar and bass ebbs as the drum pounding flows - producing an addictive, intricate sound that captures more than I thought possible. From the same label that brought us the Food not Bombs comp. and the Guyver One 7” (and more on the way from the latter!), I was set up to expect a growling, scowling eem blast - though I got something much better. A trio from Indianapolis, Sky by Sorella are the cat purring and toying with your mind like it’s a ball of yarn. With each stretched out limb and extended claw they slightly scathe your skin; a nearly tickling feeling that burns as the layers of your skin wear away. By the time the needle lifts you are just caught in the moment, sitting still with your eyes wide like a baby’s. Beautiful. (Inchworm 53 West Park Avenue Lindenwold, NJ 08021)

Slate Harp and Hammer 7”
This Dunedin pioneer only hand-lathed 50 copies of this baby, so this review shouldn’t say something like “Seek this out” or “go buy this” ‘cuz it ain’t gonna happen. This single is a varied collection of sounds and songs that Andrew Dickson (aka Slate) of the band Swarm recorded in various venues with varied results. “Iron Bird” is the pop song with its sweetly crunching chorus “What’s the wingspan of an iron bird” that repeats with necessity again and again. The track listings don’t appear but the a-side (well, I think it’s the a-side) closes with a nice piano piece and then the flip awakens us with a noise-soaked acoustic guitar song recorded in a distant room. The synths and guitar only approximate what is in Mr. Dickson’s head - like trying to interpret the words for a text from a God that doesn’t speak a human language. Monks, monasteries, ancient symbols and the sounds that Slate produce on this clear platter are timeless - lock grooves and all. (Bunker PO Box 5838 Moray Place Dunedin New Zealand)

Slater, Luke Freek Funk CD
Clammy-palmed key & drum tension intended for audiences well outside the techno environs. Repeating drum loops cause the walls to close in around the listener enveloping them in a post-Seefeel lullaby as the lights flicker and the carpet grows up and around you. You crawl towards the door in a slow motion sci-fi moment only to release the hatch latch to the space cabin and the no-gravity dark sucks you inside like a dream you’ve only read about. Freek Funk is freak funk. The freak-bound sounds that push Daft Punk’s housework into a nether region. (NovaMute)

Sleepyhead Late Night Thinkin’ CD
It has been seven years since I purchased a single, “Play,” by a band calling itself Sleepyhead. One of those rare vinyl artifacts (A Picture Book Artifact to be exact) that stay with you for days after the stylus lifts. Over the years I have changed, Sleepyhead has changed. We went through an adolescence together; I went to grad school while they covered My Bloody Valentine and Minor Threat songs on their singles for Slumberland, Picture Book and Bitter Sweet that have accumulated on my shelves (sandwiched between the Small Factory and Stereolab catalogs). They belong there between such elegant bookends. This is one of those bands comprised of enterprising young artists with their paws entrenched in other disciplines only to come together collectively for rock music and warm conversation. Conversations with CD listeners in this case. Late Night Thinkin’s six songs make up the largest collection of Sleepyhead material I own though their other releases come highly touted by the rock cognoscenti. This EP has wind in its sails. Pushed forth by an unseen force propelling it across the muscular sea, Sleepyhead set a stage for agitated young pop pioneers to interact upon. To conduct dramatic experiments for an audience. Martin Bisi, dramaturge in this case, coordinates a dynamic meaningful display of the fireworks these musicians manufacture. Sleepyhead songs roll like a singular tide rather than individuals and their instruments vying for attention as they crash upon the rocky shores (and record bins...). With the sails full of cold gusts, Sleepyhead moves forward leaving behind a wake of important albums and singles with an eye trained on creating sound environments for interested ears. (Sealed Fate PO Box 9183 #120 Cambridge, MA 02139)

Sleepytime Trio Memory-Minus CD
Sleepytime Trio in their most rested state are a pipe bomb explosion. Their surge equals the brilliant flash of ferocious post-hardcore screaming over fits of drum coughs and guitar splatter. Sleepytime Trio's less is more antics are brilliant: Rolling thunder shocks of bass matched with clicking guitar picks on pick-ups launch the start/stop riff breaks like windshields shattered in collisions. While you may have survived the car accident, the adrenaline rush and endorphin-numbed senses keep you in that holocaust of a moment for years to come. So too will you be taken aback by the ferocity, the rawness, the power of Sleepytime Trio that draws you in like heroin only to turn your world upside down. Up for album of the year. (Lovitt PO Box 248 Arlington, VA 22210) - Keith York

Slicker Remixes CD
Tearing apart John Hughes’ (a.k.a. Slicker) electronic musings are six remix outfits displaying a respectful new approach. DeLarosa & Devine, SuperESP, Matmos, Savath & Savalas, DeLarosa & Asora and Miceparade sample and tweak the seams that loosely hold together Slicker originals. As the fragile tattered shredded remnants of Slicker tracks lay on the cutting room floor… the cleaning crew comes in to make sense and order of the chaos. Beats and synths hum, warble, and kick spines in a downtempo dropped-vibe that Chicago in a post-Tortoise world is almost expected to perform. The next evolution of this process would be to have these remixes remixed and the songs become a game of telephone – eventually sounding little like the original, but captivating in their uniqueness nonetheless. (Hefty 1658 N. Milwaukee Suite 287 Chicago, IL 60647) – Keith York

Slick Sixty Nibs and Nabs CD
Mixing up some Howie B. influenced grooves, this Cup of Tea licensed outing is hands-down one of the most refreshing tr*p-h*p albums released stateside in a long while. Funky, retro electro flavors, served via scratching and varied instrumentation make Slick Sixty unique amongst their producing peers in the genre. From sitar-like atonal spy-film sounds, to Feliciano-ish guitar lines, and Culture Club-esque harmonica play, Nibs and Nabs is a refreshing summer-time tonic for hip slinging romps during the hottest of sun drenched days ahead. (Mute 140 W. 22nd St. Suite 10A, NYC 10011) – Keith York

Sliver Beneath The Waves CD
Dirty, dry weather, unwelcome and uninvited appears this winter. Unsure if the global warming or freezing is to blame, it is causing a stir in the head's of world citizenry and pop musician alike. Sliver's Laura Harley, sounding a tad like Mary Timony impersonating Liz Phair, waxes undauntingly about snow queens, nightingales, robes, rivers, strangers and trembling in another's arms. Bass notes darken the edges around storm clouds as guitar lightning criss-crosses the humid thick aired sky. Above you dramatic turmoil dances upon an unchanging earth below, or so you think. Beneath the waves, beneath the ground upon which we stand, the fire of the earth's molten core bellows; and it is the tension of sky and earth lying and cheating and stealing from one another that underscores the beauty of these songs. Guitars paw at the snare drum. The bass guitar toys with the kick drum. The vocals win your heart as this day is very different from any other you have experienced and the familiar voice of a lovely man and woman is worth clinging to for safety and comfort. (Guilt Ridden Pop 2217 Nicollet Ave. S. Minneapolis, MN 55404) – Keith York

Sloe Careless Wispers CD
A three song EP built around a cover of a Duran Duran song is a bit of an odd premise seeing that the title track isn’t the highlight of this punk rock product. The other songs “Pathetic” and “Simply Stated” make more of a statement for this combo than “Careless Wispers” - a nice couple of head bobbers while playing but forgettable after they finish. (Headhunter 4901-906 Morena Blvd. San Diego, CA 92117)

Sloppy Seconds Garbage Days Regurgitated CD
Indianapolis' Sloppy Seconds have been playing punk rock for years. Known for their "Come Back Traci (Lords)" single that propelled them to semi-stardom amongst the 7"-buying kids years back, Sloppy Seconds have had both a sense of humor and a fondness for covering others songs. On Garbage Days, the punk rock foursome offer up cover versions of songs by Fools, Holly and the Italians, Joan Jett, Dee Dee Ramone, Alberto Y Los Trios Paranoias, and Black Flag. Their version of Henry Rollins' & Co.'s "TV Party" recaptures the sound of the original (with only TV show titles updated to include Jerry Springer, King of the Hill, Futurama etc.) making this well worth the purchase. (Nitro 7071 Warner Ave., Suite F, PMB 736 Huntington Beach, CA 92647) – Keith York

Slowcoach s/t 7"
Your introduction to this central California combo (featuring ex-members of Hyperattractive) comes in the shape of a hefty 4-song 45. Tough-as-nails rock from a trio keeping an eye on their Archers of Loaf records while blowing-away Marshall stack emo major leaguers with their passionate outpourings. It's nice to think that this controlled fury is so much more productive than, say, explosive wars between neighboring third-world dictators. (Furball Records, ASUC Box 122 Berkeley, CA 94720) – Keith York

Smart Brown Handbag Just Like Driving Backwards CD
David Steinhart's song writing as Smart Brown Handbag is serious thinking-man's pop ala The Church, Smiths and Grapes of Wrath. With the expected tenderness of the aforementioned SBH synonyms, the listener is treated to a luxurious album of mature sing-alongs full of air-guitar and dancing feet. An unexpected charmer from a stalwart Los Angeles independent label that should need no introduction. (Stone Garden 3101 Exposition Place, LA, CA 90018) – Keith York

Smart Went Crazy Con Art CD
Striking. Like a stinging slap across the cheek, Con Art delivers a wake-up call more startling than anything ever emanating from a bedside clock radio or a neighbor’s gardening machinery. Awaken to what, though? With a sense of front page news urgency, Smart Went Crazy instilled a sense in me that expectations for rock bands must now be raised. Raise your expectations, too. It is rare that friends and I talk about such records. Records as consciously stirring are after all, extremely rare. I think Smart Went Crazy should blare from car and home stereos of those same friends that I find it hard to talk with about Martin Denny.

What will likely prove to be a timeless classic, like a Led Zeppelin manufactured product, Con Art is now part of pop culture. It is an icon for those that need to be shaken from complacency. For those needing a slap across the kisser to wake-up from a lulled state of consumer purchase decisions. Tape this for someone that has yet to reach their potential, or for those that have had award-winning academic and occupational careers but still don’t “get it”. Believe in me for once, make an attempt to hear this and judge my words of praise only afterwards. (Dischord 3819 Beecher St. NW WDC 20007) - Keith York

Smith, Linda Preference: Selected Songs 1987-1991 CD
Welcoming my new neighbor, Linda Smith, into my home was an experience that changed the both of us. We may never be the same. Starting with casual conversation over tea, we talked about Baltimore, love, The Raincoats, sadness, Burt Bacharach, and the differences between men and women. Mostly I sat in my vinyl chair and listened. Linda sang in her eloquently hushed voice and played guitar mostly. We went for a drive and talked about how men view and respect women differently than the manners in which women relate to one another and men. We shared and shared some more. We went for walks. Linda has a wealth of stories relating her day to day experiences at home alone and with others. She loves to share her viewpoint, her imagination, and her desires. Now each time I invite Ms. Smith over she talks about different subjects but always for the same duration, and with that, curiosity grows in me wondering what she is going to say next. Either with her hushed voice, her drum sounds, the keyboards, or her guitar, Linda has and endless supply of new ways of telling the same stories each time sit down and listen to her. (Harriet PO Box 649 Cambridge, MA 02238)

Sneakster Pseudo-Nouveau / Fifty-Fifty CD
With the remixing assistance of Cocteau Twins' Robin Guthrie included in the fifty-fifty EP (included at the end of this disc), one can imagine the environment created within this disc. Dubby, skunk-infected downtempo grooves with dismantled breakbeats are the foundation for Sophie Hinkley's warming vocals. The strength of Mark Clifford's song writing and production talents have been proven time and again in his work with Seefeel, and with Sneakster they extend into the poetics of smoky hip-hop bars and coffee houses. Dark and sultry, the pairing of these folks as well as the skittering beats and vocals, Sneakster change the state of mind of any walkman or party audience. (Shadow 26 West 17th St. #502 NYC 10011) – Keith York

Snow Queen Wif Coke (I’ve Fallen In Love) CD
Rain drops, wind and the tree’s extended limbs scrape, patter and claw at the window pane in an endless sound collage that tears at my sleep-heavy eyelids. Weary after a long walk home I want comfort. Thin sounds, sheets of thin sounds. Cues taken from Further, Track Star, and Laurels set well between Slay Tracks and Demolition Plot J-7. Crashing, always crashing. Walking drunk down the hall hitting each wall with shoulders and hip as he rubs his bloodshot eyes. Drunk with guitar and bass clatter. Drunk with rain and wind soundtracking the afternoon indoors. Los Angeles breeds snow queens, coke queens. Snort snort. Again that scraping tinny, thin sound rubs bruised shoulders. Tension-tight limbs extend and scrape at the stereo. Sleep-heavy weary bodies roll like thunder down the party’s hallways falling atop one another in a pile as the coke leaves them empty drained shells. Containers - you know, ugly bags of mostly water. The Snow Queen is a Planet Records approximation stateside with an eye on the cool rather than the ugly troll hidden under bridges of indie rock “notice.” Disfavor should actually cause smiles on the faces of these darlings, these queens. Indie rock fashion statement #5,463. Again that rock ‘n’ roll banter drives me wild. Thoughts of making this a shorter document, possibly a 4-song 12”, race through an already too busy skull. The packaging gets me drunk as I dog-stare it down. (Smilex PO Box 3662 Los Angeles, CA 90078)

Solar Coaster Zero Sum/Karmageddon 7”
My only criticism is that only two songs exist here. A strange dichotomy exists here between hushed vocals (softer spoken vocals than we are used to in this sub-genre), and amazingly energetic song structures. Blistering, finger-bleeding guitar strides alongside the thoroughbred hoof-pounding of drums. These Kernersville, NC rock enthusiasts have something new in mind, and I speak from a mindset seated in the days when Bitch Magnet, Honor Role, Bastro and Squirrelbait were doing “new” things. Solar Coaster (I love their name) have something burning inside them, that though this is only a single, and it is apparent as the first bars of each song blast. There isn’t much noise, screaming, or feedback on these two tracks. And oddly it’s the bands that depend on these “tricks” that that we incorrectly herald as pioneers. Solar Coaster are different in that the energy comes from their souls not their effects pedals - energy that leaves their instruments not assisted/created by their producer/recorder/engineer. (Turnbuckle Records 163 Third Avenue Suite 435 New York, NY 10003)

Solex Athens Ohio CD
With more of a spotlight shining on the remix talent, than the title track from Solex's album Pick Up, Athens Ohio is a startling listen. Admittedly, I wasn't shaken or stirred by either previous release (Solex vs. The Hitmeister, Pick Up), but this blends and purees with vigor. Cutting up tape and digi-bits are Steward (555 Records head honcho and Boyracer founder, Stewart Anderson), Mount Florida (Brit duo also on Matador), Kid 606 (San Diego beat prodigy with releases on 555 and Vinyl Communications), Sisterhood of Convoluted Thinkers (Rob Christiansen formerly of Teenbeaters Eggs, also on 555 Records), and Damian O'Neill (former Undertones member that by starting That Petrol Emotion made the press actually listen to their debut album Manic Pop Thrill and the rest of us write-off everything after this stellar release). Every one of these tracks is a brilliantly skewed variation on Elisabeth Esselink (AKA Solex) song writing, asking me to reconsider what may have been a hasty listen to her two records. (Matador 625 Broadway NYC 10012) – Keith York

Solex Solex Vs. The Hitmeister CD
Elisabeth Esselink: Dutch woman armed with a sampler seeks a worldwide audience. Personality traits include giggly cynicism, smiling eyes focused on 70s techno pop, and a youthful ability to awkwardly shake her rump when a good beat hits the sound system. Record collection includes discs by Laika, Mouse on Mars, Stereolab, Abba, Magnetic Fields, Sugarcubes, Depeche Mode, and Seefeel. While she may enjoy candle-lit dinners, wine tasting, walks on the beach and sunsets, Elisabeth has an evocative ability to entrap strangers into delightful conversation about life. Ask Solex a question and she gives you answers like “Solex Feels Lucky”. Ask her for a remedy, she replies with “Some Solex.” Ask Elisabeth about her success, you get “When Solex Just Stood There”. Ask her what you should do on a first date to impress your crush-recipient? Why of course, “Solex for a while” or Let me be honest I am most interested in “Waking up With Solex.” (Matador 625 Broadway NYC 10012) - Keith York

S.O.L.O. Out is In CD
Whether he is deconstructing public domain Appalachian bluegrass/folk into a 4/4 romp, or muttering to himself in ambient techno/IDM speak, Michael Wells has created a highly innovative collection of audio composition. Reminding me of the brighter, more emotive moments created by Recoil and He Said run through an Aphex Twin filter, Out is In is definitely "out there" simultaneously as its hip sound is "In". If it sounds like the samples rely on a back-masked scheme you're not hearing things, if S.O.L.O. sounds like the Backstreet Boys put the bong down and clear your head. (Beggars Banquet/Sulphur 580 Broadway Suite 1004 NYC 10012) – Keith York

Sol One 2001: A Drum + Bass Oddessy CD
Pulling no punches, DJ Sol One lights up the decks and drains power from the city. With a nod to the No U-Turn crew, the dark of night reflects on the black vinyl steeped in ugly bass stabs and cardiac drum breaks. Staying in the black-step record bins 2001... turns any mid-day listen into a 2am warehouse break-in. Your mind wanders. Sweaty sweetness surrounds the cammy clothed as police raid lights surround the crew. Swearing arrests will be made, the lights focus on the DJ responsible for the late-night frenzy. Sol One refuses to let up until the cassette’s trailer cuts off the set unannounced. (Contact: 805-266-8006)

Songs: Ohia Hecla & Gripper CD
I can appreciate where Jason Molina is coming from. Really. Well, not that I came from tiny burgs that were a day’s drive apart. But I can appreciate the feeling of isolation that such a life breeds: tiny pockets of companionship scattered throughout vast yawning gulfs of open country where you can’t see anything but the dirt and the trees. I’ve been there, driving the stretches of uninhabited countryside. He brings a real sense of that to the music here, though without driving urgency, perhaps. There is some sense of deliberateness, each chord hit exactly where he wants to, emphases in his delivery stressed and passed over as the song requires it.

Fans of the No Depression thing should probably give this a listen, though I imagine that there isn’t enough country/roots sounds to really turn those folks on. The comparisons that I've heard to Palace aren’t off-base, either (doing a split with them didn’t hurt.) Though what I'd really like to hear more of is some gettin’ down. The lyrics are uniformly morose and kinda bleak (yeah, I know, country/folk is bleak all the time that it isn’t in hoe-down mode). That’s the thing, there’s no real relief or sense of moving past the emptiness. There’s moments of that in the opening track, but not enough. “Advice to Aces” picks it up a bit, but never really releases, y’know what I mean? “Darling” brings in a bit of a country waltz feel, though it can’t escape the sense of sorrow that permeates the album.

Like I said, you either have an attraction to this sort of thing or you don’t. Actually, I've owned more than one country (oh, sorry, make that “folk,” since folk is an acceptable term and country isn’t) album, but this one doesn’t do all that much for me. As with a lot of this sort of music, it depends largely upon the singer’s appeal (since their role is so central in this music) and Molina doesn’t have much for me. (Secretly Canadian 1703 North Maple Bloomington, IN 47404) - Matt Maxwell

Songs: Ohia Impala CD
While the Palace Brother's first album replaced any question of a GenX-born Bob Dylan, Will Oldham has moved on. Enter Jason Andrew Molina, the songwriting force of Songs: Ohia. Along with partner Geof Comings and recording engineer Eric Stoess (Hula Hoop, Boyracer, Chong Marker, Lemonade Hayride), Molina has created one of the most bittersweet collections of stripped down instrumentation and emotion I have witnessed. While the seemingly lo-fi aesthetic is employed in its creation, Impala is warm, comforting and as endearing as a face to face game of cards would be with this duo. Quiet, like Elliot Smith, yet as mountain range-born shy as the Carter Family, Songs: Ohia demand a lean forward into the speaker. They demand time in front of a mirror looking into your own thoughts. Songs: Ohia quietly offer a re-evaluation of modern folk music craft, and of the value of digitized tears and sweat. Impala is up for album of the year. (Happy Go Lucky PO Box 44342 Cleveland, OH 44144) - Keith York

Songs: Ohia The Lioness CD
Jason Molina, a guitar, and a cortex full of songs once again invite us to spend an evening at his house. Molina's intimate dinner party on this special evening includes guests Ali Roberts (Appendix Out), David Gow & Aidan Moffat (Arab Strap) as well as his regular dining companions Jonathan Cargill and Geof Comings. The invitation to spend an evening consuming The Lioness was much anticipated and with its arrival, more than met all expectations. The palette cleansed by the purest of spring waters, and once again lifted beyond the expected tastes, Molina's songs bring an ecstatic high the body rarely encounters. Sharing the stage with Molina, your dinner companions shyly introduce their own contributions to the 9-course spectacle without a hint of boasting. Instead, each of the guests willingly give chef Jason the credit with a round of their own gracious applause. A thank you note is definitely in order. A return invite is hopefully on the horizon. (Secretly Canadian 1703 North Maple Bloomington, IN 47404) – Keith York

Sonny Sixkiller This is Your Heaven CD
The sounding board for Kara Lafty, Sonny Sixkiller is a summery sun shower of shimmering cloud-born guitar chords floating her delightful vocals. With a semi-revolving cast of assistants, the band forms a tight-fitting jacket around the crash-pop antics of Kara's headstrong melody creations. Trying to place the sound somewhere between the Sleepyhead guitar rock, the Velocity Girl vocals, and the punchy guitar of Tanya Donnelly and Kim Deal's rock resumes, Sonny Sixkiller is simply that great homegrown band that plays at your nearby bar. The band you continue to remind yourself to go see once more since the first time your jaw hit your chest seeing them rock your neighbors basement party. Around the corner from global stardom, this solo-cum-power-trio arrangement is likely to slip through the locals fingers and become too important to stop by for a beer and play the living room, even if for old time's sake. Indeed, this is some kind of heaven! (Vital Cog PO Box 7846 Princeton, NJ 08543) – Keith York

Sonora Pine II CD
The most memorable thing about dating someone new is not the first time you meet, the first time you kiss or the first time you have sex. It’s the first time you intense makeout session (that doesn’t end up in your first round of sexual intercourse) that is always the most burning memory. Half-clothed you lay on your new one’s bed embracing, touching, pulling back and staring into one another’s eyes...gazing, assessing and losing yourself in their smell, their skin and hair. I still remember one such instance that lasted for over four hours. On paper it would seem rather repetitive, certainly lackluster for Penthouse Forum, but the meaning attached to that afternoon propels me through relationships in search of more of those precious moments with new people. Sonora Pine songs are of the few things that remind me of those moments, those times, and those people. Inescapably real; the violin, cello, guitar and vocal arrangements illustrate afternoons and dusk-lit sunsets embracing someone you hardly know but holding on tight enough to crease your new outfit, to tousle their hair, to bump your front teeth into theirs. Bittersweet are the songs of II. Sadly they echo through the sun-drenched hills, across the windswept cornfields, and the flat prairies...they sing of America’s push westward, the simple pre-industrial lives of those that founded the work ethic and community building that our country is known for. Sonora Pine songs are the sleepy sexual rush of clammy-palmed intertwined hands, the caress of another’s form, the smell of their hair. Memorable. (Touch and Go Records PO Box 25520 Chicago, IL 60625)

Sorry About Dresden The Mayor will Abdicate CD
Trying ever so hard to not take music seriously anymore, I find a great deal of value in Sorry About Dresden. No "name" producer or remixer on board for the recording, they don't tout themselves as ex-members of any bands and they include some embarrassing photos in the booklet. The songs are wonderfully erotic indie rock anthems constructed on diets of Grifters, Archers of Loaf, Superchunk, Pavement and Sebadoh -- and there's not a damn thing wrong with it. Album opener "King of Hobbies" is worth speeding to the record store to find this diamond-in-the-rough. (Route Fourteen POB 501 Langhorne, PA 19047) – Keith York

Sorts, The Contemporary Music CD
Gauging from your perplexed look when I tell you that The Sorts cover Ornette Coleman and Kool & The Gang on their latest long-player Contemporary Music, I surmise that you have not visited with their talents before. Jazz-rock stylings are merely the starting point, and from there you let them take you where you want to go. From the spiritual to the mechanical, Sorts songs assist the transportation of mind and spirit from the here and now, to where you ask? I don't know I am still traveling on the tenth listen with half-shut eyes and a drop of drool on my chin that gravity will eventually take to the lounge chair I am becoming part of. (Slowdime POB 414 Arlington, VA 22210) – Keith York

Sorts, The More There CD
Melodic, rhythmic surges send senses akimbo as thunder rolls across the land. Coastal inhabitants witness winter storm tides crash against rocks, piers, and sea walls as lovers embrace on boardwalks. The acid rain stings. The Sorts present bittersweet heat. Their Washington, DC roots expand the room with surging (rock) power while guitar strings sing sadness. The powerful and the tender stand erect leaning against one another embracing, using the contrasting dimensions of the other to strengthen the overall stance. The Sorts is an odd name for such a strong entity; as if they cast off the importance of a moniker that somehow defined and empowered the alert drumming that scatters the songs' paths. They are the sorts of folks that think before they launch into song; they contemplate song form and structure like chess champions. Challenging. (Slowdime PO Box 414 Arlington, VA 22210) - Keith York

Sorts, The More There CD
Sorts, The "How Did You Get There" Pts 1 & 2 7"
Blending jazz and rock contexts into a loose framework that evolves as the mood sees fit, The Sorts engage the listener with the reflective quality of their music. Nothing moves to fast or too slow within these songs, as pace seems to be of utmost importance. Slight influences, most notably that of the Minutemen and If'n -era fIREHOSE, appear, flourish, then merge within these nine broad soundscapes. Clean, ambling guitar lines, and jazz-inspired bass and
percussion instill a mellow mood that belies the involvement of both the musicians and the listener's mind. (CD on Slowdime. 7" on Southern) - Steven M. Brydges

Soundsmith Aquanaut CD/LP
While this self-professed Soundsmith has "no admitted ties" to the extended family of Flying Saucer Attack, there must have been a contact high involved. Tracks like "Sinking Upwards," Aquanaut's opener, reek of FSA's lush soundscapes and layered effects. Inaudible whispers and an array of drones fill the space of this "sleepy-time" music. Aquanaut swims in and out of pitch-shifts, possibly the effect of an altered tape-recorder speed - a recording style characteristic of Kraftwerk. Fans of the lo-fi aesthetic also seen in Amp or Movietone will lose themselves in Soundsmith's hypnotic appeal.

Soundsmith processes his breathy vocals so much that they end up sounding like Pink Floyd. The use of drum machines on "Some Sort of Sound Lattice" lead this listener to believe that Soundsmith may do for lo-fi techno what Third Eye Foundation did for lo-fi jungle. (Wurlitzer Jukebox 50 Queensway, Hurley, Atherstone, Warks, CV9 2nd) (Reprinted from Resonance Magazine, Issue 16) -Esther Yoon

Source Direct Complexities/ Secret Liaison 12”
Complexities’ nice rolling drum lines are occasionally thrown by a sci-fi film scientist thinking out loud, his “complexities” sample is out there enough to cause curiousity. Much of this track revolves around an “amen” drum solo heavy on the rolling snare/cymbal combo. The surprising sax blasts are soothing, almost lifted from a Spandau Ballet song (in their pop (non-jazz) feel). Secret Liaison is the winner here! A sweetly anarchistic piece of Photek-like piano and manic drumming. Bouncey, head-throb bass cracks the song’s dance floor exercise as the samples roll around your head like a math equation. Kick drum full effect in the mix keeps the song (and your butt) in tow. Secret Liaison is the perfect track for those in fear of hard step jungle and those that appreciate Photek’s foray into the unknown. (Good Looking Records Clarendon House, 125 Shenley Road Borehamwood, HERTS WD6 1AG UK)

Spaceways Trad CD
Bristol’s latest export exhibits some of the noir-ish ‘hop of neighbors Portishead while adding a new dimension of breakbeat jazz to the local band circuit. This is jazz. Jazz for the headz, jazz for the headphone set. From quick tempo breaks in “At Home With Snake” and Beastie Boys rhythms of “Charlie X,” to the Daft Punk inspired house of “The Man Who Fell to Easton,” Spaceways are all over the beat galaxy. Amidst the crisp horns we find a David Gahan-ish deadpan male vocal and some stirring bass - both raising more questions than offering answers - I suppose that’s the intellectual dimension of breakbeat that distinguishes Trad from the acid jazz discography. Imagine the dark, smoky cafe’s of ‘50s beat Paris. The beret-clad, black turtleneck donning, goateed clans of hipsters listening to jazz smoking french cigarettes and speaking expatriate English. Imagine Spaceways on stage blowing your beathead mind. (Shadow Records 111 E. 14th St. #338 NYC 10003)

SpaceWurm Army of God 12”
Imagine playing the world’s craziest space invader video game to the sounds of the Chemical Brothers-meets Underworld-meets-Josh Wink. This is just a little quip on what the new Spacewurm release on Vinyl Communications feels like. Already Army of God (think psychotrance/gabber) is setting a new precedent in musical genres. Trk's 2, Inside the Egg, and 4 Gabbernaut definitely tear the roof off for their intense, yet pleasurable, listening. WARNING: this release may cause fits and bursts of energy difficult to contain in a public space. (Vinyl Communications PO Box 8623 Chula Vista, CA 91912) - Loki

SpaceWürm Army of God: Experimentations in Intelligent Gabber 12”
Six tracks of numbing 808 and 303 (et al...) analog drum rumble with dancing staccato synths atop. Both sides of this 12” are lengthy, trying assaults on your cortex; all the while your hips shutter in sync with its forceful grooves. This San Diego duo push their ‘intelligent gabber’ wares on those used to the style’s manic laser blast ethos and pummeling bass drive with their more sane analog ‘intelligence’. Nearby the cybernauts behind the mixing desk smile, their faces shine with victory as each of these tracks came to fruition. The SpaceWürm experience is one best utilized with tons of volume added to the equation. (Vinyl Communications PO Box 8623 Chula Vista, CA 91912)

SpaceWurm Army of God CD
Lately the krautrockers have raised the collectability of analog keyboards to an all-time premium, but it’s the electro-kids that are gobbling up the older Roland drum machines like those in use on Army of God. First and foremost it’s an honor that Space Wurm are from San Diego and actually play live in front of people - 2 things that most electronic projects aren’t about. While Von calls this ‘intelligent gabber’ I see this furiously fast-paced drum machine barrage as crazed electro...you know the sound. Hyped up 303s, 808s, 909s like Run DMC, Egyptian Lover, Twilight 22 and Kraftwerk crafted their energy from are the base from which Space Wurm layer analog synths atop. While chilling on paper, hearing this is remarkable. Let the gabber (gabba) kids rush in the fury of high BPM assaults and spine-tingling vocal samples from the latest sci-fi and horror flicks while we light up the night with the intelligent choice. (Vinyl Communications PO Box 8623 Chula Vista, CA 91912)

Spacewürm, The Searching for the Scientist CD
Warbling sine waves simultaneously represent the cold of technology and the warmth of blood flow and beating hearts. V has yet again introduced listeners to a new side of his analog technology obsessions. From crackling children's records, to beautiful ambient (read: Hearts of Space) synth washes, to relentless hardcore techno 4/4 kick drums, we question whether Brave New World or 1984 is the true vision for our collective future. Will an established governing body oppress the masses or will we oppress ourselves with rampant drug-induced nap time away from reality and mindless consumption of packaged goods and services? Spacewürm gives pertinent context to the questions we ask by pushing aside separatist electronica politics in order to combine drum 'n' bass, hardcore, electro, and hiphop breaks amidst a foray of acid, trance and ambient synth clouds. At times the listener of this live document may wonder whether we are on the battlefield or in the comfort provided by the space between a set of headphones. V proves once again he is truly a gifted creator of space-defining music. Whatever brand name you want to attach to his creations, they are multidimensional tools to assist us in our daily navigating an ever-more demanding world. Congratulations. (Vinyl Communications PO Box 8623 Chula Vista, CA 91912) - Keith York

Spare Snare Charm CD
If you’ve followed Jan Burnett’s alter ego (Spare Snare) over the last decade, you know that Charm is his fifth album. What you likely do not know is that this is the first decidedly hi-fi recording to date (recorded by Paul Savage – Delgados, Arab Strap), and the most suitable to share with your groove-loving compatriots. Gone is much of the 4-track quick-witted pop that launched bands like Switzerland’s Sportsguitar, but what we get in its place is a Remote Viewer-like cynical rhythm-heavy work. Continued to be fueled by the emotions of Dundee Scotland’s whip-smartest chaps, Charm is nothing short of damn sexy – samplers, turntables, heartstring-pulling lyrics, guitars and all. (Chute POB 211 Dundee DD1 9PH U.K.) – Keith York

Spare Snare Westfield Lane CD
Jan Burnett recorded eleven songs alone on his 4-track machine. Simply stated, that should say enough - I need not critique, praise or decry Westfield Lane’s existence. Jan’s song creation ability is on par with judging him the Burt Bacharach of home recorded independent rock music. And there is no higher compliment in my opinion. Lyrics judging reality, full of skepticism and wry wit, Jan’s songs speak honestly about his surroundings - there are no rockstar misgivings present. Whether it be going home and taking drugs, girls wearing boy’s pants, or James Dean posters - the world that envelopes this man is told poetically and irreverently in his own deadpan Spare fucking Snare mental states. Jan is pure genius, so don’t look at knocking his 4-track recordings, his non-descript art packaging, or his silly pop songs that lift the spirits of those of us few who have witnessed his magic. (Wabana PO Box 381700 Cambridge, MA 02238)

Spoon The Agony of Laffitte b/w Laffitte Don't Fail Me Now CD-Single
Missing much of their early career, as they were harassed by rock journalists and adored by pale faced club attendees, I didn't have a preconceived notion of Spoon before putting this in the player today. Something along the lines of what I've always expected from Guided by Voices and never got, is what I hear. As the guitar notes borrowed from age-old AOR radio flow from a car speaker, I think of driving long hours along the midwest freeways. Spoon have a knack (on this single) of distilling decades of guitar-based songs from varied genres and putting forth two songs that describe the world. Sitting here now after the songs have played numerous times, my hands are puzzled at the keyboard. Have I just witnessed greatness without showing some sort of honor? Have I just consumed something more important than the world is giving it credit for? I hope this confusion calms itself and that writing this down can lead to a change in the cultural indifference for important outfits like Spoon. Godspeed gentlemen. (Saddle Creek POB 8554 Omaha, NE 68108) – Keith York

Spoozys Astral Astronauts CD
As passengers are welcomed aboard by their Tokyo-based flight crew, the aisles are packed with dancing drunk-on-oxygen retro hipsters. Instead of peanuts and sodas, the flight attendants dish out early-80s synth rock complete with funky (early Spandau Ballet) guitar licks and 4/4 disco drumming. Having collaborated with fellow islanders Cornelius, Cibo Mato, Pizzicato Five, Fantastic Plastic Machine and Buffalo Daughter, the uninitiated will dig the vibe on the B-52s-meets-Devo fueled Space Invaders pop. (Jetset 67 Vestry St. suite 5C, NYC 10013) – Keith York

Spring Heel Jack Disappeared CD
As with the latest album from Photek, the pioneers of British drum ‘n’ bass are quickly exiting the genre to explore new territory content with having already left their mark. Employing trumpet (Ian r. Watson) and bass clarinet (John Surman) with Coxon & Wales’ inimitable post-DnB grooves under noisy sampler play, Disappeared moves one step further from their “Sea Lettuce” days, and one step closer to something indescribable. (Thirsty Ear 274 Madison Ave. Suite 804, NYC 10016) – Keith York

Spring Heel Jack Oddities CD
Six pieces of music, not one of which is the drum 'n' bass fans of their albums and singles would expect. What we find instead on this "official bootleg", Oddities, is for the lack of a proper synonym, jazz. Oddities, in fact, is the closest thing to pure improv the compatriots, John Coxon and Ashley Wales have offered music consumers. With ambient droney bits, Williiam S. Burroughs' over-appreciated monotone monologue, to turntable orchestras, the 6-track EP showcases less of the spirited driving melodies infused in their steppers, and more of what we get in-between songs – muted heartbeat hiccups, feedback, drone excursions, and industrial percussion. Weird and wonderful this is, and striking how these songs were penned by the same guys who gave us the "Sea Lettuce" track still played by DJs to this day. Go in with a clear mind, but don't go in alone. (Thirsty Ear 274 Madison Ave. Suite 804 NYC 10016) – Keith York

Spring Heel Jack 68 Million Shades.... CD
Easily evoking the same language dynamics as jazz/artcore lecturers Photek and Omni Trio, Spring Heel Jack uniquely and effortlessly incorporate melodies in their tracks and thankfully absent are vocals - male or diva-esque female. Though light and springy, this disc is not without its series intellectual side. Cut-up breakbeats and snappy rolling bass lines punctuate a fondness for LTJ Bukem’s jungle-lite or Goldie’s farther-reaching dancefloor appeal. Much like St. Etienne’s finest recordings, 68 Million Shades.... is one of those few albums that one can hit repeat and time & again the same tracks whiz by your hips as you progress through your day - hardly noticing the same textures of each track as it plays for the umpteenth time. While Photek and Omni Trio display more of an obvious embrace of the abstract (in an X-Files sorta way...), Spring Heel Jack are a populist expression of where jungle will probably take us in the coming months/year. As techno now pervades muzak in your dentist’s chair, broken beats and drum solos will slither into the public’s consciousness as they rewrite melodies of musica Americana. Finding this CD in the used bin is also a testament to the downfall of the CD format - a near-throwaway, demeaning representation of recorded music. While record companies endlessly send out promotional copies to writers that can’t appreciate the sounds contained, those of us “consumers” need only wait a few weeks after the release date to find wonders like 68 Million Shades.... cropping up in local shops. And on the rare occasion one enters a shop looking for a specific title in the used bin and leaves the store rewarded (as I did in this case!) as a new copy sits in the distant new bins for twice the price - we smile and laugh at the looming giants of industry that propel such waste upon society. Thankfully Spring Heel Jack is a rarity amongst the millions of plastic discs surrounding us - a worthy listen, an album that has meaning, a dozen important songs at any a “used” or “new” price. (Island 825 8th Ave. NYC 10019)

Spring Heel Jack Treader CD
The duo of Coxon and Wales return with a new album of drum 'n' bass grooves -- their third since '96. In referencing their earlier material (68 Million Shades for melody, and Busy, Curious, Thirsty for noisy experimentalism) throughout Treader's 12 tracks (plus two Rodgers & Hammerstein tracks off their Sound of Music EP), the SHJ fan's expectations will be met, while the freshman class will have to do some library research to put this into context. Akin to their brilliant debut single "The Sea Lettuce," much of Treader is straight-up UK DnB, while surprisingly here and there feedback will weave through the backdrop and down-tempo vibes riddled with skunked drowsiness will offer a new facet to the SHJ personality. Quite good. (Thirsty Ear 274 Madison Ave. Suite 804 NYC 1016) – Keith York

Spring Reverbs Mon Frére Exilé b/w Les Sucettes 7”
This is quite weird. Songs in French. Songs with male and female singers. Songs with a sitar sound as an ingredient. Combined, they elicit near trance-inducing excursions into a tiny world of unknowns. The strange world of the Spring Reverbs. The obtuse ideas exhibited here suck the listener in like Alice in Wonderland walking along her ever-shrinking path; as this spun down its path the songs transformed, getting stranger as they continued. Les Sucettes, a Serge Gainsbourg penned-tune, approximates the original with eloquent abandon. (Mind Expansion PO Box 725161 Berkley, MI 48072)

Squarepusher Feed Me Weird Things 2x12”
Assuredly, you will notice that time stands still as the “Squarepusher Theme” pulls you into its void, once lost you may start looking throughout your peripheral vision for clues and answers...none will appear. Tom Jenkinson is the guy who plays his fretless bass aside the drum & bass tracks he writes for the skunk smoked clubgoers. When Tom created Feed Me Weird Things, he had that word “organic” in mind. Organic in the sense that sounds, textures and rhythms meld together like tissues, cells and chemistry forming a body politic - the sum of which is much greater than any of the parts would appear in equation form. “Dimotane Co” places a firm hand around your throat with its hard jungle monologue. “Windscale 2” showcases Tom’s fretless bass action in a jazzy dialect. “UFOs Over Leytonstone” produces a rare downbeat atmospheric head rush with its clarinet emulation and its resemblance to a slowed version of the “Dimotane Co” break repeatedly cradling your mind. Feed Me Weird Things is an amalgamation of back-masked drum samples - their blunted, snipped analog qualities disfigured into shorter more poignant energy blasts. The drum & bass repetitions, circular mind-numbing rolls and attacks are all here yet with a new point of view, a distraction, thrown at the accepted formulae. “Kodack”’s basslines appear to be a hyper-contorted extract of a Curtis Mayfield record with dueling snares, while “Future Gibbon” hits the extreme walls of ultra fast drum machine sequencing. “North Circular” makes its presence known in a Plug-ish manic snare fight while being much more procedural and extreme. My favorite composition is “Theme from Ernest Borgnine” what with its near-rave angelic synth lines and its falling back and forth upon itself with and without sections of thundering kick drum riding atop a relentless snare roll. While lost in Squarepusher’s void, like a blackhole, you may lose touch with much of your immediate environment as your senses become enveloped in traffic noise, jazz, dub, and drum & bass. (Rephlex PO Box 2676 London N11 1AZ England)

Squarepusher Vic Acid 12”
Four new tracks from Tom Jenkinson exhibit his mind stretching in new directions from “Feed Me Weird Things,” one of which is electro. Amongst some funky early Human League synth lines, convoluted, crazed and manic drum machine spasms, there lies some jazz stylings and vintage 303 sounds. “The Barn” approaches the hard house that Daft Punk is professing while “Fat Controller” drives the booty wild with its insanely quickstep techniques full of brief breaks indicative of Squarepusher’s modus operandi. The title track “Vic Acid” appears on the new album which coincidentally is a lengthy mirror of what this 12” explores - fast, furious drums breaking left and right as the horizon approaches. (Warp)

Standbye Days Spent Waiting CD
Standing tall amongst the pines, granite formations reach for the cloudless sun-drenched blue horizon. The winds race across their faces with no effect. Lightning connects the sky and ground with a bombastic crack. Winter soaks the confident craggy-faced quartet with rain, hale, and snow. Frozen water, like a critics pen, seeps into the cracks and slowly breaks apart that born of the earth's molten core. Concussive thundering drums break the dawn and wake the forest. The chainsaws of deforestation gut the calm terrain. Moments of quiet jangle from birds restate the claim on the territory. Standbye's guitar-born songs claim ownership (on behalf of the animal kingdom) on forest, desert, and seaside terrain. Days Spent Waiting reminds the camper that humans too are of the forest. Humans can share the environment and actually add to nature's conversation, not only detract. Better than Garbage shall ever hope to be. (Guilt Ridden Pop 2217 Nicollet Ave. South Minneapolis, MN 55405) – Keith York

Starflyer 58 Americana CD
Moist heat, not unlike the explicit nature of steam or fog rising from thermal pools sticks to your skin and clothing like molasses. You sweat. It’s damn hot in here. Tube amps breed heat as the noise of drum pounding crashes against your blood-heated skull. Boy it’s hot. Stereo speakers heat the room as you sit, stand and again return to the reclined position. Starflyer 59 on the stereo brings back memories of the first singles by Smashing Pumpkins and Velocity Girl; especially the manner in which they American-ized Ride, Slowdive, My Bloody Valentine, and Swervedriver. Nearly a decade later, Americana still feels warm and new. Lazy from the heat the singer whispers into your ear as the rich guitar lines ebb and flow slowly exhaling as they enter and exit the room. Stunned, as if hit with the news someone close to me had died, I sat listening to the elegance and warmth brought into the foyer. The snares and kick sat comfortably on the sofa next to me as the bass turned on the TV. We sat and waited. Guitars flickered the light switch like a strobe. The new grew on and grew still. The album completed, the stereo began to cool and the memories of these songs wrapped us all up in a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer. (Tooth & Nail PO Box 12698 Seattle, WA 98111)

Starflyer 59 Everybody Makes Mistakes CD
This Irvine, California quartet have yet to shake their love of Slowdive and at this point shouldn't be criticized for a sound that over the years has become their own. Adding a few new dimensions to their sound on Everybody Makes Mistake, Starflyer 59 mimic New Order on "No New Kinda Story" and tip their anglophile hat to Verve on "20 Dollar Bills" while continuing to come full circle back to their sweet guitar drones. Despite the tempo remaining constant for the bulk of their repertoire, album closer "The Party" brings to mind Dart's ability to make solemnity more confrontational than anything by pioneers of the subtext like Red House Painters. Exhilarating. (Tooth and Nail POB 12698 Seattle, WA 98111) – Keith York

Stars of the Lid Gravitational Pull vs. the Desire for an Aquatic Life CD
Oh, man, now this hits the spot. Wide fucking open drones that are wonderfully evocative. Sweeps of sound that suggest grand and forbidden plateaus where man (or woman) has never stepped and only the wind and sun and rain have been before. No beats to distract you from the wonder that unfolds before you, only occasional washes that resolve themselves into a new image, almost subliminally and without realization. There are even some moments of a sort of lurking presence, something breathing over your shoulder but when you turn to see what it is, there's nothing there. I'll have to say that this isn't really music, but almost pure evocation of mood, of feeling, of sense. What's the word? Synesthesia? That's not it. What I'm looking for is the word that represents one sense being transduced into another. Like when you smell an apple and suddenly you see before you a steaming apple pie. I know, a ridiculously prosaic example, but hopefully an effective one.
Instead of utilizing beats and overt rhythms (like, Labradford, say, who are sonically related, though not exactly the same), Stars of the Lid utilize only sound to convey feeling. This is something that I can really get behind. Sure, you can't dance to it, but you can split your cranium open on it and let the 'ol gray matter stew in it for a time, to come out feeling rejuvenated. And all of this is done with simple envelope manipulation, of simply increasing sustain and stretching the decay out to the point where it seems hardly to change at all, and yet is still ever-changing.
I can hear you now, "but what does it ‘sound’ like?" Well, that's not easy. If you need to have a referent, go seek out Harry Bertoia, an American composer, who worked primarily with sound-creating sculptures of his own design, huge wind-blown forests of metal that sound like a cymbal the size of Rhode Island being walked across by an army of centipedes with tiny metal boots. Indescribable, really, but much more beautiful than the above would indicate. Stars of the Lid have the same effect on me, though conceptually, they work in reverse to Bertoia: letting the sound become sculpture rather than the sculpture become sound. And yeah, I’ve heard that the original vinyl release of this was sought out by illbient DJs last summer. Frankly if illbient DJs played stuff that was this interesting, I'd pay more attention to them. Highly recommended. (Kranky PO Box 578743 Chicago, IL 60657) - Matthew Maxwell

Star Vehicle “High Roller” b/w “Next Best Thing” and “No Truth in Packaging” 7”
“High Roller” twists, turns and winds down incessantly, before erupting in a taut and crashing riff accented by exploding, crashing cymbals. Shifting, changing, complex rhythms thwart inner ear stability, while an angular guitar line attaches itself to several fixed points hung aloft. Below, chained in a dank basement with one flickering, dim lightbulb perched overhead, dwells a second guitar, growling and spitting sonic spit of the distorted variety. A dense sound, tightened by loose screws wielding energy and a winding melody focused upon the explosion. The song’s conclusion whips the neck back, rips open the jaw, and forces a message home down an unsuspecting throat.
Star Vehicle put the spine-tickler to great effect on “Next Best Thing.” Raygun guitar strings wiry rope across a deep channel, which the bass and drums negotiate nimbly. They’re too heavy, however, breaking the rope and sending the music tumbling to an abrupt end in a revolution of rising frustrations.
On the closer, the female guitarist’s voice is hauntingly flat and morose. Disconnected, but not bereft of emotion, she bites through bitter twists of guitar and bass interplay, clamping down on the truth and easing it into the fray. (1573 North Milwaukee, PO Box 451 Chicago, IL 60622 or email at svehicle@aol.com) - Steven M. Brydges

Star Vehicle Waltz for You 7"
Quirky, rhythmically off-camber moments thrown into danger by unplanned hiccups of punctuated sax rock slides. Narrow paths thrown akimbo by bobbing bass and kick drum, forces the eyes to stare down at each careful foot placement. Afterall, the landscape is littered with effects pedals, rattlesnakes, and scorpions. Arms outstretched holding guitars balance the teetering breath-holding fear as if tight rope walking high atop a bed of cacti. Fragile, nervous and yet in command of your own humanity, you grab the tone arm