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

Tanner (Germo) Phobic CD
Posthumously released, (Germo) Phobic hits the ears with more dramatic flair than any of the previous Headhunter releases I have witnessed. Bright, brilliantly colored displays of guitar pyrotechnics and boulder crushing drum lines collide in a warm room. You sweat. Album opener, “Booty,” is quite the charming example of desperation. Steadfastly gripping their chunka-chunka rock song structures, (Germo) Phobic clutches lyrical and instrument confidence with explicit strength and subtlety wielding emotion. Though a day late and a dollar short on the Tanner tip, I finally have welcomed them into my house only to have lost them prior to meeting them. In hopes of their new projects being as stellar, I await the arrival of more of these talented sun-spot heat song ideas to burn my cortex. Rock. (Headhunter 4901-906 Morena Blvd. San Diego, CA 92117)

Technician Electronic Conversations with the Dead CD
Philadelphia-born treble-sick hiccup rock presented in a lo-tech lo-fi package. Stuttering Don Caballero math equations, sputtering Gang of Four attitude and Wire-like late ‘70s utterings merge together to form Technician’s debut long-player, Electronic Conversations with the Dead. Thankfully staying clear of a hardcore poise, the Technician trio take on Shellac’s poignancy and the Volcano Suns’ ferocity with enough of a sense of refinement about them to keep our eyes peeled for flyers advertising a visit to our town. (Tranquility Base POB 184 Bryn Mawr, PA 19010) – Keith York

Techno Animal Demonoid 12”
This four-song EP capitalizes on the Digital Hardcore phenomenon created by Alec Empire & Co. and exploited in North America by a corporate entity identified as Grand Royal Records of Los Angeles, California. “Demonoid”s (one of two tracks licensed from City Slang Germany) gabber hardcore assimilation wreaks of traffic accident sex as the drum banter and noise cacophony mimics that of ambulance and police sirens, while onlookers masturbate deriving sexual gratification from the human carnage. “Oil King” sounds like Shizuo’s “Sweat” (coincidentally their best track yet) remixed - which makes it the winning track here. “Mindbender” transfixes on a decade’s worth of Revolting Cocks’ machine language and inherently irreverent view on music and themselves. “Atomic Buddha” cops the slower (sub-100 BPM) hip hop vibe with some freakish scratch attempts by DJ Headcrash (get that man a new stylus!) and production work by Alec himself. I assume this readies the American market for more consumer products from Techno Animal due out shortly. (Grand Royal PO Box 26689 LA CA 90026) - Keith York

Tector Gorch Buries the Hatchet 7”
Four noisy fight songs with buzzsaw guitars, flatly-sung tough girl lyrics, and the appropriate amount of sneering. This is so wonderfully amateurish, I can almost envision them looking down at their guitars as they change chords. There is something refreshing about this band, and God knows it isn’t because of the music. The answer lies within the professional basketball game I just turned off while in-progress. I decided I would rather listen to three amateurs with few skills play hard for no money, than watch ten overpaid pros with questionable skills, miss 57% of their shots. (Turducken Recordings 518 Bourdeaux Street New Orleans, LA 70115-1606 or adelros@mailhost.tcs.tulane.edu) - Steven M. Brydges

Tei, Towa Sound Museum CD
On Tei’s second solo outing, the DJ technician leaves no sound unfettered. Dabbling in hip-hop, sultry chanteuse-led R&B, jazz, and house, one recognizes on the initial listen that Sound Museum is an apropos title. Mixing in a little wit never hurt any serious music collective, and those gathered together as the cast of vocalists express this - especially on “German Bold Italic” where the lyricist anthropomorphises a computer font. “Everything We Do is Music”, the closing track, gathered the most snow on the disc’s downhill tumble: With a couple of jungle breaks and some funky key twiddling, it seemed to sum up what Tei was trying to say since the opening “Sound Museum” sample tidbit. Music is not a genre, but an entertainment, and Tei exploits the variety needed in our adult fascination (if not physiological need) to maintain a state of being entertained 24-7. (Elektra) - Keith York

Telegraph Melts Heilgeschichte und Weltgeschichte b/w Goodbye No. 20 7”
Dramatics. Silhouettes of lurking danger splash against the stageprops, backdrops. Tones of a cello straighten the shattered air still, a stillness broken by Bob Massey’s guitar screech. The guitar sound changes suddenly as if coughing, clearing its throat ready to utter another phrase in a different voice. Like sibling rivalry the twisting arguments created by the two instruments are out of love. Rivalry pushed these two to excel. Both songs ebb and flow interrupted by curious changes. Changes in direction of thought like a stirring, reeling unsure mind grasping for an understood language of symbolic intercourse. Sound intercourse. The male guitar, the female cello intertwined in a passionate acute embrace. Finally. (band: 900 N. Kansas St. Arlington, VA 22201)

Ten Cents (10¢) Buggin' Out! CD
Somewhere between Beck's love of Americana and Getaway Cruiser's charmed kicked-back vibe of beats, sits 10¢. Whether or not these kids are from Silverlake, CA they have the summery sheen of SoCal hip-pop on their sleeves and boy does it glitter loudly. With kindred spirits Sukia and DJ Me DJ You, it's a spring day BBQ dance party inside each track. (Hi-Ho 2410 Hyperion Ave. L.A., CA 90027) – Keith York

Teriyakis Haunted Hungarian Sauna CD
Unclear why Thinking Fellers Union comes to mind while listening to this disc, nor why San Francisco “art-rock” is on the palette while much of this sounds like Pere Ubu and early-90s Columbus, Ohio pop bands. With a title and packaging more akin to the goth-set, the Teriyakis give off mixed signals with Haunted Hungarian Sauna. Unsure whether or not the fragile Yo La Tengo pop dynamics are at the core of their being, or the notion that calculated song hiccups purposefully disturb the calm and keep the listener on their toes. The SanFran-like fog bank this quintet writes songs within is somehow denser while easier to navigate than their last long-player Psychics to Sidekicks --- that said I am listening to this a lot on my day off from the stress of the dayjob. (Priapus 1723 Illinois Lawrence, KS 66044) – Keith York

Teriyakis Psychics To Sidekicks CD
Unearthly tones leave the speaker cones. Modulating sound waves bounce from flat surfaces and wrap themselves around the curved furniture, resting momentarily on the floor at your feet. Saxophones on the horizon. Locomotive lumbering drums set a Salvador Dali-like skeletal framework on an empty plane. Tapes run. Urban drone takes the moment. Coughing and sputtering from the smog, your teary eyes try to focus on the graphics of Psychics To Sidekicks You begin to wonder whether or not you are awake. Turning, glancing over your shoulder you witness the Teriyakis' sound float like fog toward the perimeter where it hugs the walls like paint. Treacherous would the landscape be without records like this. Surrealism after all, has a sense of humor too. (Priapus 1723 Illinois Lawrence, KS 66044) - Keith York

Terminus Terraform CS
When not watching UFOs over nearby Area 51 in his spare time, Terminus is mixin’ ‘n’ matchin’ trance tracks on his decks. Favoring the spiritual trance genre marker for his mail order acquired records, Terminus rocks a mean party as well as a cassette deck. This self-taught DJ inspired by Dr. Megatrip twists the spine around PA output with the expertise and keen sense of any long-time house producer. Pulling tracks from his favorite labels Eve and Telica (as well as several others), Terminus sets out on a journey like a machete-handling jungle safari leader. Builds and breakdowns are the lush undergrowth of his lush melodic trance style. Terminus forages through the crowds with his vibe in tow, and by evening’s end he will have control of all who dare to dance to his 1200 technique. (Biohazard 714-302-3626, DJTERMINUS@aol.com)

Test Dept Beating a Retreat CD
I was in 11th grade, perusing the record bins at the only worthwhile shop in San Diego, nearly 25 miles away from my house, when I spied a copy of Beating a Retreat. The beauty of the twin 12”s and photo album caused me to salivate on the collar of the thrift-store polyester shirt where the droplets beaded like rain on the hood of my dad’s freshly waxed car. I earned money from washing cars, house sitting and part time hours at the local pizza place back then and needless to say money was tight if not non-existent. Back then a twin 12” boxset with a photo album (on import mind you) was about ten or eleven bucks. About 5 or 6 more than I could spare. So I slipped off the shrink wrap in the store’s corner furthest from the cashiers’ eyes and thumbed through the photo booklet like an 80 year old in an adult bookstore. I was finally learning that records and their packaging was my destiny. Having bought some Neubauten records the weekend before, I approached the only guy in ‘84 that knew what noise was, the tall lanky blonde record geek behind the counter. “So what’s Test Dept all about,” I queried. The afternoon flew by as he and I chatted about bands like Neubauten, Psychic TV, Throbbing Gristle, Non etc. - thankfully he understood that a 16 year old kid like me wasn’t loaded. He suggested buying the “Compulsion” 12” instead since it was only $4.99 - if I liked that then I should save up for Beating a Retreat. Sage advice. So after about the 17th listen of the compulsion 12” on my little Kenwood hi-fi I had realized that percussion was something new and fresh, militaristic percussion that In The Nursery would borrow from, Wax Trax! records would borrow from, and Adrian Sherwood’s stable of bands would draw from. I was on the brink of something I felt like yelling “Eureka” out loud Monday in the hallways between classrooms. Percussion was king, I knew that from hip hop, but it was stripped of melody so was it still “music?” My parents didn’t think Test Dept’s “Shockwork” was remotely related to the hymns my mom played on the living room piano. Test Dept had actually delivered something new, fresh, exciting and unexpected into my sub-rural, post-suburban home - and damn it if I didn’t wear the grooves thin with that cheap-ass stylus. I still own all the Test Dept vinyl I bought over a decade ago - some of it as vibrant as the day I tore off the shrink wrap. Thirsty Ear reissuing this album (with different graphics and videos on the CD+) has rekindled some fond memories and reminded me that Test Dept are of a handful of pre- “industrial” bands that actually produced music that holds up over time. (Thirsty Ear 274 Madison Ave. Suite 804 NYC 10016)

Test Dept. Tactics for Evolution CD
Having witnessed all of the incarnations of Test Dept's sound in the last fourteen years, I think that Tactics for Evolution is finally as revolutionary as their debut, Beating the Retreat , and their contributions to the Striking Miners album, Shoulder to Shoulder. Test Dept embrace the drum 'n' bass aesthetic while clutching tightly their unique wit and charm displayed by their obsession with intricate rhythms, anthemic choral noise and vocal samples. Test Dept do not embrace the London DnB fraternity, they instead incorporate the disturbed drum break into their own palette. While several tracks are worthy of 12" deck cracking, much of this strays into coffee table ambient directions that are as pleasing as a warm cup of the ol' bean on a cold morning. Maintaining their uniquely sinister stance, Test Dept have once again proven they are culturally important progenitors of 20th Century music. (Invisible PO Box 16008 Chicago, IL 60616) - Keith York

Test Dept Totality CD
My heart will not let me forget this band, the memories of what their proto-militaristic multi-drummer industrial hammer-rock did to my 11th grade psyche. I still own their earlier 12”s which are now well over 10 years old and still in fine condition - and this release has made me re-examine one of the pioneers in a sound and subgenre that has never been competently copied. Totality is a much more “dance” sounding collection of marching snares, manic samples, synths and bass. Thrilling. (Invisible PO Box 16008 Chicago, IL 60616)

Thadd Focus CS
Once again, DJ Thadd delivers the goods. Having recently relocated to the right-hand coast, Thadd’s connection to the Phoenix-based Cactus Music Collective is still as strong as ever, as evidenced on his latest mixer Focus. From the haunting breathing of an Egyptian Lover sample, to stunt-piloting old skool tracks (“Don’t Stop the Rock”) and newly produced cut-up dependent breakbeat tunes, Thadd is in top form on this one. With surgical precision, and intuitive optimism, Thadd’s appetite for electro and James Brown samples is a foundation from which springs forth a (style rooted in his) healthy reservoir of crowd awareness. Focus should be cataloged at the Library of Congress as source material for budding breakbeat DJs. (Booking 201-386-1484, cactusmusic@mindspring.com, Cactus PO Box 93023, Phoenix, AZ 85070)

THC Adagio CD
The Hard Corp. (thc) is L.A.'s George Sarah and Sarah Folkman. Often, alongside the duo on stage is a string trio and extra keyboardist adding a further layer of rich color to the intelligent drum 'n' bass grooves. Both on-stage and off, Sarah poses for the listener as her breathy vocals stir the testosterone in the room. George's sampler constructions penetrate the night's darkness with ambient-filmic DnB. Close in approach to say, Lamb, thc are low-key in their groove. What happens in these lulling rhythm 'n' vocal formations, is the listener losing conciousness being carried off on billowing sinister storm clouds as the temperature rises. Adagio is quite startling to listen to alone. (Brain Surgery 71 W. 23rd St., Suite 903 NYC 10010) – Keith York

Thee-O Dreams Unfolded: The Music of Lucid Nights CS
Thee-O Mental Massages: The Music of Dreams CS
Two distinctly different personalities emanate from one DJ’s setlists. Dreams Unfolded is Thee-O’s trance persona recorded last November. Mental Massages on the other hand, is Thee-O’s stream-of-conscious ambient set loosely based around tracks by Harold Budd, Ken Ishii, Brian Eno, Aphex Twin, Laurent Garnier, Cocteau Twins, and even Flying Saucer Attack. Stunned at first by the flowing tones, I was really taken aback to hear the strumming acoustic guitar and soft vocals of Bristol’s FSA. As the waves of drone washed the floors and baseboards of the house, I could envision Thee-O’s smiling face illuminating his hands and decks below. Dreams Unfolded evokes the trancefloor spirits as trax collide and swim in unison amidst shimmering pools of tropic paradise. Silvery, glistening, scaly fish brighten up the night. These aquatic creatures with names like Argonauts, Locust, Karma, BT, Dave Trance, Sasha, Paragliders and Cygnus capture the essence of their creator. The marionette master, Thee-O manipulates their limbs as they glide across the stage; the puppet-loving audience stares on enraptured. The beats rattle the attendees’ bones as if their skeleton was of the same wood comprising the actors’ frames. Akimbo, arms and hips swaying, the beats jacket the body from the elements in trancey kicks, snares and synths and keep it warm. (Pure Acid Mixtapes 310-793-1021, techno@pacific.net, www.pureacidmixtapes.com)

Them s/t CD
Hip-hop’s fringe continues to be stretched beyond its previously conceived borders by Dose One and Jel, here acting as the duo Them. Their debut long-player as a duo keeps the tone of their other outfits (Presage, 1200 Hobos, Deep Puddle Dynamics etc.) while extending claw and tooth to further shred the listener already left torn up by the dark-humor and bent-reality of their other projects. It seems redundant to describe the loping 4/4 kick ‘n’ snare, the snake-like sinister bass lines, and Dose’s poetry but necessary to reinforce the point that the Anticon crew is uncovering new forays into a static genre as you read this. As with other Anticon releases, assistance with lyrics and music is provided by the crew (Sole, Moodswing9, Mr. Dibbs, Pedestrian), broadening several of the tracks beyond the psychiatrist’s couch where Dose and Jel speak from. Despite the lack of legislation stating the obvious, it is criminally unforgivable for any headz not to investigate this. (Anticon www.anticon.com) – Keith York

Thingy Songs About Angels, Evil, and Running Around on Fire CD
A mile-a-minute and two minutes-long sums up Thingy's approach to writing music. These 24 songs last a mere 47:24. It is an adrenaline rush akin to a coffee buzz. Fuzz-tinged melodies, bolstered by drummer Mario Rubalcaba's dark framing and complex syncopation, sustain a decidedly arrhythmic pace throughout much of the record. The soft, pleasing voices of Rob Crow and Elea Tenuta bounce quickly over their words, their tandem sing-a-longs and jumbled harmonies often matching the music’s dizzying pace. (Cargo Music, Inc. 4901-906 Morena Blvd. San Diego, CA 92117-3432) - Steven M. Brydges

Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 “The Kids are in the Mud” b/w “Broken Bones” 7”
Drool, warp, fizzle, hhhummmmm. The infinite wisdom of warped vinyl on record players providing rhythmic kneeslap to skewed hum and buzz of TFUL282’s collective brain. Whizzbangers churn amidst a machine’s pulse, whilst organ, strings, Davies’ gleeful chirping, Hageman’s sauntering vocals and Eickelberg’s “coos” and “cas” flutter about the humming wires. (Japan Overseas 6-1-21 Ueshio Tennoji-ku Osaka 543 Japan) - Steven M. Brydges

Thingy Staring Contest CD
Songs about Angels, Evil and Running Around on Fire CD
Optiganally Yours Spotlight On... CD
After Heavy Vegetable left us Rob Crow has become too prolific for his own good. Aside from his solo album, and his project Optiganally Yours, these releases under the Thingy moniker reunite Crow’s songs with Elea’s vocals left quiet since Heavy Vegetable’s demise. I dislike this for the same reason I can’t fathom purchasing God Is My Copilot releases - too many releases begs the question that some are likely to be flounders. Much of Staring Contest is comprised of throwaways that should have been...thrown away. Staring Contest for one reason or another is more palatable a listen. Rob does remind us how acoustic guitars can sing - I will give him that. Thingy songs are a logical albeit mellower progression from Rob and Elea’s previous outing - and I will admit their body of work was hit and miss too. Optiganally Yours is more Rob Crow songs, this time using a Mattel Optigan keyboard and a friend wearing a space suit playing the damn thing. I remember a neighbor having one of the home organs that relied on flexi discs for its source of sounds - it was a worthless Mattel consumer product then and it is now. The songs contained on the CD are not pulled from the wreckage by Rob’s dress-wearing guitar antics either. There is an inter-species human law that differentiates us from others - there are those of us with too much time on our hands and the rest of us folks actually trying to contribute to society. (Headhunter 4901-906 Morena Blvd. San Diego, CA 92117)

Third Eye Foundation Ghost CD
Taking an artful approach to a groundbreaking merging of noise-drone music and drum ‘n’ bass, Third Eye Foundation forges forth on his latest album release. “The out sound from way in” reminded me of Art of Noise had they warmed up to Merzbow or Zoviet France. Queer sounds of strangled electronics melt your inner and outer lobes as bright patches of VU meter busting screech throb like your quickened heart rate. Hovering over several 1200s I can imagine mixing the Hafler Trio, Photek, Flying Saucer Attack and Coil together into a cacophonous melange where each part cannot be discerned from the whole. Where each sound is a fragment of the previous measure’s. Matt Elliott is filling gaps as it were. The listener just needs to define the purpose and resulting value of each gap, and sewn seam. Haunting, yet intriguing we forage forth into the unknown. (Merge PO Box 1235 Chapel Hill, NC 27514)

Third Eye Foundation I Poopoo on Your Juju CD
Matt Elliott puts to rest his alter ego as 3EF with a compilation of remixes he has “performed.” Though a new stream of the droned lo-fi breakbeat maelstrom Matt has perfected will cease, us fans can revisit the mania that started with The Sound of Violence some four years ago. With Poopoo we find Mr. Elliott putting his stamp on minimalist French composer Yann Tiersen’s “La Dispute,” Tarwater ultra-chic “To Describe You,” Urchin’s rumbling “Snuffed Candles,” 555 stars Remote Viewer, Glanta’s cover of Modern Lovers “When I Danc,” Blonde Redhead’s “Four Damaged Lemons,” as well as the manic drum & bass track “Mute” by Frontline. If the beauty of Glanta’s track doesn’t stir you inside, Frontline fails to get you on an imagined dancefloor, the exclusive Third Eye Foundation track “Push Off My Wire” (with Chris Morris) will bend you over against your will with a blow to the intestines. The street violence has come to a close, reparations will be fun…if/when Matt returns with his new agenda. (Merge POB 1235 Chapel Hill, NC 27514) – Keith York

Third Eye Foundation Little Lost Soul CD
Goddammit You've Got to Be Kind. I think Matt Elliott (AKA Third Eye Foundation) has summed up his latest work Little Lost Soul in naming its finale so appropriately. Gone is the hedonist feedback dirges captured on his first vinyl-only releases. Gone is the mayhem and darkness from this Bristol record shop clerk turned beat pioneer. While the press has tagged him as a lo-fi compatriot of both Squarepusher and Flying Saucer Attack in the past, Matt has moved himself and his sound into a completely new realm. While still pushing the limiter on some of his beats (ala Squarepusher, and Astralwerks), the melodic string synth sounds have replaced eerie with beauty, and angst with solemnity. While Third Eye Foundation is still a bit misunderstood, his style will likely transcend time and inform the style of a new generation of sampler jockeys. Timeless beats for a new millenium. (Merge POB 1235 Chapel Hill, NC 27514) – Keith York

Third Eye Foundation Sound of Violence CD
Horrific tales surround the mystery of the house upon the hill. Just as formulaic as in the film Psycho , the house that overlooked the neighborhood was clouded in suspicion and intrigue. Tales of murder, incest, torture, rituals, witches, and trials hushed the mouths of the under-6 set. We walked right past the house on the hill with our trick-or-treat bags in tow, never blinking nor thinking twice about walking up the drive. As an adult, I can recall those days, the dilapidated Mission style 3-story was inhabited by some white-trash biker types that left the exterior of their house (and yard) to rot. Dead foliage encased the peeling white Dutch Boy exterior as windows and screens barely hung within their frames. Today, some upwardly mobile family is renovating the old house to maximize the real estate potential. The home owner's union now enforces a strict maintenance code neighborhood-wide. The Third Eye Foundation would scoff at such rules foisted upon him by others. The homeowner's union would request him to him strictly adhere to genre definitions - is this drum 'n' bass, or white noise squalor? With the power of a sampler at his fingertips, Matt Eliot crafts manipulated drum breaks that, almost sexually, intertwine with haunting dissonant noise. While distant from manageable melodies, TEF's noise disrupts traditional space rather than enveloping the listener inside it. TEF unravels the covers rather than wrapping one's ears in blankets of sound. Matt Eliot's notions of noise and pre-defined "dance" aesthetics clash like politics and religion as his unkempt house upsets the balance of those that surround it. The neighbors speak of horrific tales that surround the mystery of the Third Eye Foundation; that Sound of Violence is clouded in suspicion and intrigue. Not true. This four-song EP is a celebration of all that is wrong with judging the house on the hill by its exterior, its cracked and stained driveway, its crumbling chimney and tattered roof. This EP houses a tightly wound family bond that sit about the hearth and exchanges joys and woes, a family of sounds that clash and love. (Merge PO Box 1235 Chapel Hill, NC 27514) - Keith York

Third Eye Foundation/KS Kollective free single with Obsessive Eye #4 zine
With the latest issue of Obsessive Eye obsessing over space rock and breakbeat music - this single is a nice example to console those debating thoughts while reading and listening simultaneously. I personally obsess over 3EF’s music. Their (his) track “Stars are Down” is an envelope-pusher as always. By combining guitar drone, sampling and inventive drum machine work, Third Eye Foundation warm my heart for bridging a gap between two very important musical camps. Also from Bristol comes “(To) a Secret Brother” by KS Kollective - which more than likely contains friends, relatives, co-workers, neighbors or members of Amp, Crescent, 3EF, Flying Saucer Attack, and possibly Ganger - - if not they should. Musically they remind me of Ganger’s love for Can - not necessarily either band on their own but the KS Kollective are Krautspacerock if there ever was such a thing etched on vinyl. At volume their sound of a flickering flame grows violent yet as one grabs for the tone arm they are caressed by the washing over them. (Obsessive Eye c/o Dave Howell 60 Morrish Road Brixton London SW2 4EG)

This Busy Monster Fireworks CD
Quirkiness in pop has always been marked as something unsophisticated. Whether it be XTC, They Might Be Giants, and even Camper Van Beethoven, bands have wrestled with writers that their obtuse lyrical work and stop/start hiccup-pop to be taken seriously. In many cases they win; XTC became an institution. Seattle’s This Busy Monster reside in their own quirky world – not alone but sharing with us their charmed psychosis.
(Barsuk POB 22546 Seattle, WA 98122) – Keith York

33.3 Plays Music CD
Easily the best of the post-post-rock instrumental records to be released this year (by Tristeza, Letter E etc.), Plays Music is elegant. With ties to A Minor Forest, Threnody Ensemble, Cabeza de Vaca and Arcaro, the multi-talented quintet come together to unequivocally record the best easy listening bachelor pad sounds around. As guitars, bass, trumpet, trombone and cello glide along on lighter-than-air whispers, the listener can ease back in the leather and rosewood lounge as the hi-fi takes them to distant continents high above the clouds of rock and jazz. (Aesthetics POB 577286 Chicago, IL 60657) – Keith York

Thomas, David and Foreigners Bay City CD
David Thomas never able to shed his tenure with Pere Ubu, is likely type-cast into new roles especially those regarding his non-Ubu releases. In Thomas' latest collaborative effort, we find him alongside the Foreigners (Jorgen Teller, Per Buhl Acs, and P.O. Jorgens) writing songs not so concerned with their day-job routines of scoring Danish dance/performance-art. Bay City, the Raymond Chandler-penned fictional city of corrupt ideals, presents a Tom Waits-ian journey befitting of film noir-ic relationship tales. Haunting in its restraint and stark honesty. (Thirsty Ear 274 Madison Ave., Suite 804 NYC 10016) – Keith York

Thou Put Us in Tune CD
Though I kept hearing PJ Harvey, Breeders, and Bettie Serveert in their rumblings, upon learning that this was recorded at Portishead’s studio using their discarded rhythm tracks as the foundation for this album, it all made sense. The Belgian outfit, Thou, present us with their 3rd album thus far (released on Brinkman) and it’s quite a pleasant discomfort. Uneasiness in a relaxed PJ Harvey voice, turbulent distorted guitar lines and bombastic 4/4 rhythms that ebb and flow like winter-storm waves. Ironically, Thou’s near-sunny disposition (noted on the Spare Snare influenced “Amuse”) is merely a façade hiding a brooding collective mindset. (SeeThru Broadcasting 735 Lorimer Street Brooklyn, NY 11211) -Keith York

Three Berry IceCream 7"
Having made her mark on the Japanese indie-pop scene over the last dozen years by performing with notables Bachelors, Bridge and Lucy Van Pelt, Mayumi Ikemizu is striking out on her own. Armed with the very accordian and keyboard ideas she has brought to nearly a dozen bands, Mayumi's debut 7" exhibits her charms as twee-pop songwriter of bossa nova toybox anthems. (Dogprint PO Box 2120 Teaneck, NJ 07666) – Keith York

Three Mile Pilot Another Desert Another Sea CD/LP
San Diego’s sweethearts, Three Mile Pilot, take a turn for the lighter on their latest full-length effort Another Desert Another Sea. The band, which has emerged to the formidable upper crust of local indie-rock talent, also signifies one of the most underrated holes-in-the-wall of music industry foray to occur recently - as seen in their departure from major label Geffen Records to the locally based Headhunter/Cargo Music.
Nevertheless, Three Mile Pilot’s new release is notably well-produced (Steve Fisk, Mark Trombino), as well as stylistically and instrumentally stringent. The only significant changes from their last full-length masterpiece, Chief Assassin to the Sinister, take rise through the new album’s choppier, more radio-accessible format. The drawn-out instrumental experiments from Chief Assassin... are greatly missed, in lieu of the sing-songish nature of melodic “hits” like “I’ll Play the Devil” – featuring an introduction that resembles a Supertramp song.
Also departed are the raw emotions that once filled the space of Three Mile Pilot’s music, fueled by the band’s gifted lead singer: songs on Another Desert Another Sea are overtly dependent on their vocal style and harmonies. Where the band is not carried by emotional resonance, it is supported successfully by very soulful basslines.
Three Mile Pilot’s consistent source of strength is attributable to their maverick musical sensibility, as seen in their dismissal of a traditional rock formula. Their style is as difficult to label as it is to recognize, but consistently mesmerizes fans of punk, post-rock and pop alike – although they fortunately do not fall into any of those oppressive categories. (Headhunter Records/Cargo Music, 4901-906 Morena Blvd., San Diego, CA 92117-3432) -Esther Yoon

Thrones Sperm Whale CD
Barely able to harness the power of Joe Preston's massive sound, the digital bits encoded in Sperm Whale time and again release unquantifiable energy. With the spirit of Melvins (of which Joe was a member), godheadSilo, Godflesh, Ut, Arsenal, Big Black as well as Napalm Death in him, Joe, his guitar/bass, effects and drum machine cull together the world's pain into dramatic structures. Like skycrapers of steel and concrete, hurricane-force winds nor toronado funnels can even nick the paint from such song architecture. Distortion-drenched bass notes roll across the skyline like thunder, as digital cymbals echo in lightning-light. Murmurs of droning horror-flick special effects as well as the murderous mayhem vocal signature bounce around your living environment. Be afraid, be very afraid of these 1s and 0s. (Kill Rock Stars PMB 418 120 State St. NE Olympia, WA 98501) – Keith York

Thumbnail The Sound of Tomorrow Today 7”
Thumbnail Red! Dead! CD
Thumbnail s/t LP
Someone compared these guys to the likes of Gravity artists Clikitat Ikatowi - methinks it was the publicity folks at the label. I honestly don’t hear it. Thumbnail are a combo from somewhere east of California’s sunny shores and it shows. There are no sunny afternoons in the park for Thumbnail. Their dark guitar string strangling and drum concussions burst with anger, alongside Thumbnail’s painfully screamed vocals meld with frustration into a cynically-emo cacophony. Their albums are at times difficult to understand as their songs rise and fall from blunder to beauty often - a single is their best medium. Both of the single’s songs hold a lit candle to the Jehu camp and other more-forgettable anti-melody pioneers. The second albums’ length starts to hurt after long exposure. At times the noises are numbing. The first self-titled album is a reissue of the band’s self released vinyl-only debut. (Headhunter 4901-906 Morena Blvd. San Diego, CA 92117)

Thunder Bunny Silver Girl / Mulberry Blue CD
Welcome back the shoegazing melodrama with fierce fireworks of distortion from amplifiers and metronomic 4/4 drumming causing lockstep grooves of passion and love. New York's Thunder Bunny reincarnate ghosts of wall-of-sound inventors far outside the chicness of their compatriots in guitar rock. In two songs they manage to produce hours of listening as subtleties in the layering guitar lines break through in successive engagements. (Amberley/thunderbunny.com) – Keith York

Timonium Suspende Animation CD
If one could hear their blood rushing, heart pumping, and muscles stretching across bone and ligament like an outstretched morning feline yawn, Suspende Animation would be the sound of your internal organs. Wholly organic in their slow approach to tension-riddled haunting melodies, Timonium soundtrack the daily processes your body undertakes to get you through the day. Nearly as quiet as your plants' photosynthesis routine, bass tones of blood rushing through artery, vein and capillary are synchronized with 4/4 heart valves, and the six-string plucking tones of guitars with the highest regard for the sound of air filling your lungs through nose and mouth. Reverbed eye-lash movements, and delay on hair tosses are punctuated by the eerie tones of goosebumps and sexually excited glands. Movement across time reminds us that Low and Galaxie 500 helped us through puberty and with this new hormone-driven body of ours we feel more alive than ever before. Suspende Animation is the sound your cortex is humming as electrons fire across neurons rushing endorphins to every nerve-ending in your body's geography. As the album climaxes with "Neu Hampshire," your musculature shudders with delight, and you lay still for the remainder of the album soaking in every feather-light touch. (Pehr POB 750996 Petaluma, CA 94975) – Keith York

Timony, Mary Mountains CD
Tagged as Mary's first solo album outside of her song-writing efforts with Helium, Mountains is a haunting excursion through life. With the assistance of Christina Files, Eric Masunaga, Bob Weston, John McEntire and Ash Bowie, Mary's piano & guitar focused debut reports itself to be Helium's version of David Bowie's Low. Akin to the serious tones of honesty set forth by Retsin and Tara Jane O'Neil (her debut solo album was also recently released), while including Dame Darcy's bizarre folk-wit, we get a nod to decades past of near-prog rock 'n' roll. It's hard to believe I was listening to Helium's debut 7" a few weeks ago wondering what path this record would take after so many great Helium moments in the past years. Worth the wait, and hauntingly pleasureable. (Matador 625 Broadway NYC 10012) – Keith York

Tipsy Trip Tease The Seductive Sounds of... 2x12”
Tipping their hat to the martini-laced 90s lounge fashion subculture and the sampler-dependent era or trip hop and dub, this west coast collective (liner note credit is given to a duo) reach into their hat and pull out more than a rabbit. They exorcise a wide spectrum of sounds and textures while paying homage to Martin Denny, Henry Mancini, Juan Garcia Esquivel, and Les Baxter - though not too heavy on the Polynesian/island sounds of some of the original stuff. What we get is a record that could work well with the beat headz and fez wearers - while not alienating either camps and quite possibly bringing a few new fans into the fold. Tipsy is what we should expect from the latter part of this century. The combination of separate and distinct forms into new ones while bridging gaps between ascribed audiences and those that write about them will probably continue saying things “this isn’t good but it’s about time someone combined X with Y!” Tipsy is eloquent, fun and soothing. It is not an academic sociological statement. (Asphodel PO Box 51 Chelsea Station, NYC 10113)

Tipsy remixed by We Grossenhosen mit Mr. Excitement 12”
Tipsy’s bachelor pad drone sweeps the backdrop of two delightful remixes adding new dimensions to the LA based combo’s repertoire. By creating two new atmospheres, one drum ‘n’ bass, the other triphop, We re-examine exotica’s place in the beathead realm...and it definitely belongs. “Grossenhosen” is lit up with punchy bass stabs and a head bobbin’ jungle rhythm that surges like winter storm tides. “Mr. Excitement,” like some tracks by United Future Organization, plays on the spy-theme style of Tipsy’s neu-exotica with a 909 drum kit driving the bus. The Tipsy sound belongs in a turntable set and this 12” just makes it that much more justified. (Asphodel PO Box 51 Chelsea Station NYC 10113-0051)

Today is the Day s/t CD
An Earache band with Ozzie singing. Well maybe that’s a bit too broad. Certainly one of the noisiest hate-fueled post-hardcore recorded maelstroms to hit my ears in a while. After buying their debut single a couple of years ago, I recall thinking that Hazelmayer still new how to find twisted testosterone boyrock after a few pitfalls released by the label until then. As labels grow they tend to lose their uni-dimensional approach to their roster as a tiny singles-only label can build upon. Today is the Day are much more manic than Hammerhead, not as intentionally sleazy as the Cows, and scarier than the Melvins as they toss a headache your way. If Skinny Puppy used guitars to stage their morbid fantasies or Godflesh was a punk rock band - Today is the Day would have a couple of bands to accompany them on tour. (Amphetamine Reptile 2645 First Ave. S. Minneapolis, MN 55408)

Today's My Super Spaceout Day Stars Made From Scars CD
Hypnotically driving super-pop that despite your energy depleting throughout your day-long listen to Stars' Today's My Super Spaceout Day continues unrelentingly to hammer guitars and drums with soaring melodies. On the border between Promise Ring and Superchunk lies a few bands (today) that write distinguished pop songs for punks and twee-kids alike and the head-bobbing energy that is released from amplifiers and P.A.s is amazing for these kids to witness. This Chicago trio adores the long history of modified punk experimentation their city has been known for -- Killdozer, Tar, Naked Raygun -- and pays it homage across each song on this album. This surpised the hell out of me, and now each day has a little Spaceout to it. (Beluga POB 146751 Chicago, IL 60614) – Keith York

Toe Variant CD
With Yoko Noge’s gently spastic (Bjork-like) vocals atop hearty percussion constructions, Toe dips itself into watery recesses of your mind. The core duo of Chicago’s Noge and drummer David Pavkovic create soundtracks to installation and performance art unknown to the listener is now taking place in your living space. Metallic objects set themselves apart from bedroom furnishings as dancers painted and wrapped in sheets of plastic writhe in ballet hiccups across the kitchen tile. Taking more than a duo to construct these activist songs, Toe invites Jeff Parker (Isotope, Tortoise), Doug McCombs (Eleventh Dream Day, Tortoise), Tim Kinsella (Joan of Arc), as well as DJ Capital A aboard for live and studio outbursts. Variant is a varied collection of rock and jazz deconstructed and pieced back together to build a public sculpture that no one understands the meaning of, but every passerby enjoys. (Truckstop 2255 S. Michigan Ave. Chicago, IL 60616) – Keith York

Tom B. Audio Mind? CS
Sounding similar to Kojak’s (reviewed above) mixer, Tom B.’s debut Audio Mind? (as in “Are you outta yo mind?”) includes a few of the same tracks from their (partners in Grey Communication and Soul Hypnotist) combined efforts on 12” and dubplate. Mixed effortlessly and elegantly, Audio Mind? takes us down a hard-step path punctuated by some great vocal samples and the required manic squirrely bass lines. One of the stand-out features of this cassette is Tom’s layering several tracks absent of high-end snares/cymbals with other tracks that do. The combination therefore adds new dimensions to some of the domestic drum ‘n’ bass he spins that may not include the hot UK mastering techniques that drive DJs to the record shops. The tag-team DJs (Kojak and Tom B.) should be hitting a PA near you! (Grey Communication 2637 Vancouver Ave. San Diego, CA 92104 contact: greyrecords@hotmail.com or (619) 280-0128)

Tomorrowland Futurist/Sea of Tranquility 7"
Clicking like insects conversing, the treble forms texts discussing sociological dilemmas. Motorik heart beats propel the washing sea shoreward. Low tide crashes on glass-like wet sand as predatory birds scatter for food furiously trying to dig their way into the sand for protection. Trench warfare with the volume knob on #3. Swarms of birds' wings flutter as suns set and winds glide across the dunes. (Burnt Hair PO Box 5519 Dearborn, MI 48128) - Keith York

To Rococo Rot The Amateur View CD
Germanic in their motorik rhyme schemes, yet Italian in their intricate lyrical synth play, To Rococo Rot have risen from their awkward youth to starring roles as adult supermodels. In the haute couture of post-Autechre-ness, few have the ability to maintain my attention for long, and The Amateur View is addictive. Decades after Kraftwerk and Neu! presented similar sound palettes to music consumers, To Rococo Rot have somehow managed to abort the freak-ish tendencies of drone, and the coldness of ambient techno in order to create a statuesque monument to sampler technology. (Mute/City Slang 140 West 22nd St. Suite A NYC 10011) - Keith York

To Rococo Rot Veiculo CD
Having had a cursory listen to the original City Slang issued documentation of these tracks some months ago, I was delighted to spend some real quality early morning listening time with these Germans. Progenitors of the "new" post-rock (After rock? What the hell does that mean?) vibe, To Rococo Rot encourage the delivery of ideas in cut-up (see: Oval) forms and trad bass grooves in their instrumental creations. But it is the percussion that really moves Veiculo into the domain of cultural imperatives worth discussing in print. It has been stated publicly that newspapers and magazines are not in the paper business. Additionally it could be said that new technologies allow To Rococo Rot to not be in the music business. They are interior decorators. Hang these sounds on your walls. Places this album under a coffee table atop wood floors. Place these tracks on a fireplace mantle. Enjoy the craft, enjoy the dual utility. Delight the neighbors by turning down the volume knob and listening closer. (Emperor Jones/Trance Syndicate PO Box 49771 Austin, TX 78765) - Keith York

Tortoise TNT CD
Somewhere in the mist, the dense nighttime fog, is the source of a new sound. Akin to city traffic noise, people conversing in the living room of your neighbor's house party, and a band playing in the club next door, is this collection of songs by Tortoise. You listen close trying to differentiate the guitars from the drums, the bass from the conversational horns. You hear people in the midst of a crowded metropolitan cross-walk wondering how they are going to find the address they are looking for. Most of 'em are lost afterall.

The avant-funk of early 80s Spandau Ballet, and Japan quietly dissipate as the Monochrome Set part the crowd to introduce the Lounge Lizards' cool to those gathered around. Electro noodlings akin to those found on Emperor Tomato Ketchup are embedded in TNT's woven strands. It's all about the hi-fi listen: Mancini, Denny, Baxter, and Esquivel on the manicured wood-framed stereo cabinetry warmed by the glowing vacuum tubes driving the speaker's tones.

Eames recliners cradle the cigar smoking gentleman casting off his ashes into a Venini-inspired glass ashtray. His smoke forms a halo around his finely combed hair. He is elegant. They are the jazz-funk combo playing on the patio amidst the fog bank rolling in off the river that joins the backyard: The seam between urban and rural. Feel the vibe. Hear the sound. Snap your fingers. (Thrill Jockey PO Box 476794 Chicago, IL 60647) - Keith York

T Power Waveform CD
A non-linear music journey much like a video game script. So many interpretations and possible avenues in which to explore that re-start is your best option to reach further levels of comprehension. With the rise of hyper-fiction, non-linear designed web interaction, and video game structure - the time is nearing when our music experience will be even further defined by the user upset with having to hear track 6, then 7 then 8 - in that order each time. With programmable CD players we can readily program (and re-program) our listening experience different from those intended by the artist or label to create flow through their product - following the rise of non-linear thinking. I would place “Stress Fractures” in multiple variations on this disc as it pushes the other tracks aside relegating them to dank, dirty, smelly corners of the silicon domain: with “Stress Fractures”, MC ScanWon delivers a frenetic verbal assault atop the drum ‘n’ bass arrhythmia. T Power creates a domain in which we have to sit tight and wait for the next explosion as we sit in the waiting room with his ambient explorations - nice however they are but tiny and insignificant neighbors to his explosive experimentations in the jungle arena. T Power is a non-linear musician who allows the tangents to drive the direction of the whole thematic premise. (Airbag 207 Ashland Ave. Santa Monica, CA 90405)

Trace/Nico Cells 12”
The innumerable complexities of cell biology dumbfound the citizens of urban culture as scientists toy with DNA/RNA strands in post-futurist attempts at creating cures and diseases for humans & animals alike. Trace and Nico toy with our bodies from the outside - the sound system environment we willingly place ourselves in seeking diversion from our everyday routines. The eerie scientist-come-jungle retort of “cells degenerating and regenerating....in a dynamic environment” stirs the imagination as the muted bass throb and glass-like snares hit the sound system rockin’ the DnB crowd. The breakbeat repetition lulls the crowd into a false sense of security from microbe infection and widespread viral outbreak as the lab dwellers market a 21st century medical idealism. A sinister, cynical darkness envelopes the figures draped in hooded sweatshirts, baggy trousers and dark sunglasses as the clouds of burnt sensimilla fill the room lit by strobe lights and deck explosions. Cells react to the breakbeat stimuli. Yes. (No U-Turn, The Metrostore London W3 7YG)

Trace/Nico Amtrak 12”
Eerily this track begins like a murder mystery in the back alleys of urban town USA, with the requisite scurrying cats, rain soaked cobblestone roadway lined with trash dumpsters and illuminated by a match lighting a cigarette. Yeah, very film noir, and very 21st century. Repeatedly we hear a man on the radio saying something about accomplishing one thing and that is getting to the future - at least that is what I heard on my stereo! As the lull of the pre-dawn attack soothes our apprehensive nerves we hear a droney Chris n Cosey doing reggae then....the helicopter blade snare swarm hits and the cannon fire bass kicks the firestorm into gear. Again and again that male voice sample about accomplishing something in the future rings the sky along with the twisting and turning synth samples. It is no wonder that every time I play my Nico mix tape in the car I feel like I am driving through New York at 3:00am in some dark reversioning of that Dick Tracy film - part animated horror and part reality. (No U-Turn)

Track Star Communication Breaks CD
Dashing young men exhibiting their innovative, brilliant flying machines. They stand tall, as if at Kitty Hawk, watching their creations take flight after two years of near silence. Tinkering in their work shed, their laboratory if you will, these three young San Franciscans crafted a work displaying their heartaches and hatred. Wyatt whispers in your ear. Matthew yells at you. Todd, stone faced, keeps the rhythm hittin’. Together they flow from Wedding Present strumminess to near-motorik guitar fireworks displays to extended drone-on jams grinding a riff into a soft, fine powdery substance that hardly exists in time or space. While they extend forth a welcoming hand, they are always quick to snap it back if you don’t accept the offer immediately. Withdrawn and bitter they exercise their raw power on skull-numbing rock. On occasion you accept the invitation into their workspace and they sit you down with tea and cakes, shower you with gifts and include you in the song’s story. Within the span of time this album requires, Track Star and the listener become close companions, fight like squabbling siblings, break-up violently after a long loving relationship, get married, have kids, and attend elementary school playgrounds together - all the while holding hands and skipping rocks off the shore. Three guys never meant so much to one another. Rarely has anyone meant this much to me. (Die Young Stay Pretty 1932 First Ave. #1103 Seattle, WA 98101)

Track Star Removable Parts 7"
Two new songs from San Francisco's Track Star, that were possibly culled from the "out takes" of their recent album Communication Breaks. "Removable Parts" treats the listener like the likely culprit in pissing off the band with heckling between their songs or talking over their Behead-esque quiet moments. Shedding much of their prior affiliations as fans of the Wedding Present, Track Star elicit their quiet dual guitar & drums warmth with rollercoaster paced builds; then crescendos; then drops; then more builds. A fiery little A-side it is. The flip reminds us of Track Star's youth, with a new version of a song from their original 3-year old demo, "The View From Space, " that reprises age-old insecurities like "sometimes I think about my funeral...and who's gonna be there." (Suicide Squeeze 4505 University Way NE Box 434 Seattle, WA 94107) - Keith York

Traluma Seven Days Awake CD
I hear Naked Raygun, Bitch Magnet, Seam and Boy's Life in here. Images of raised fists, and blank white Hanes t-shirts hit me. Teens and 20-somethings bob their heads to these rhythms; sometimes they bob slow, sometimes they bob quick. The vocalist keeps asking me to wake up and join the fray as guitars paint angry murals upon walls of sound. Traluma generate heat. Sweat-soaked wristbands keep the instruments dry. I need to drink a beer and cool off, the heat in this room is getting too intense. Only cups of tap water available, damn these all-ages venues.
Kids bump into one another as the crowd separates from the flying limbs. Testosterone-induced amnesia produces pushing skirmishes that only slow down as the melancholia of songs like "Better Diesel" leave the PA system. Intimate, Traluma can be. Stand-offish political soapboxers they too can emulate. Vote for yourself, I am not a registered voter in this demographic. (Caulfield PO Box 84323 Lincoln, NE 68501) - Keith York

Tram Frequently Asked Questions CD
With memories of Arab Strap, Ida, Low, and Red House Painters on the stereo, my blurry vision draws together silhouettes dancing against the wall behind the speakers. Casting shadows, the firelight flickers dance as an acoustic guitar strums and strings cascade from the ceiling above. In the aftermath of Belle and Sebastian seeping into pop culture, it is hard to avoid the comparisons of the sexuality and silky smooth melodies that both produce .. Tram just do it in a cozier candle-lit room. Being that FAQs follows Heavy Black Frame, one should divide their attention only (equally) between the two, to better grasp as the duo says “…what is dear to you…”(Jetset 67 Vestry Street, NYC 10013) – Keith York

Tram Heavy Black Frame CD
These songs weigh heavy upon my small frame. Like those decisions that rattle your brain and clam-up your palms; those that wreak havoc on your heart rate, unsettling your sleep patterns and raise your temperature, Tram's soft-spoken tones can't hide feelings of despair. Whether your grand decision is immediately reaching a deadline and anxiety is high, or if the thinking is far-ahead looking toward a distant horizon, your mind wanders during conversations with friends, and stirs your focus during the daily commute. Tram's slow-mo (think Nick Drake, Belle & Sebastian) mode is comforting, making it the perfect music to mull over the details, to think over the outcomes, to ponder the fruits of your labors – in short, it's music to discover your capabilities by. (Jetset 67 Vestry St. NYC 10013) – Keith York

Tranquil To Reach the Heavens, the Stars Must Divide CD
A mixed bag, to be sure. This disc covers a lot of ground, from the ominous sweltering throb of a black helicopter circling your house at 3am to the sounds of a CD player locked in perpetual fast forward to the minutest instances of sound recognizable in a blipvert soup overlaid with doleful acoustic picking drones nibbled upon by chittering somethings at the corner of your waking sleep to weeping rainsounds upon the tin roof of your skull, melodies pinned down by sinewy Eastern flutings to the synthesized windsounds of the vaunted Juno-60 to the shallow decay of broken cymbals and that insidious fluting again to star-tossed seas where the night surf crashes like a dying thing into the sand to urgent distortions of guitar and drums that are simply too nearby for anyone's comfort.
Like I said, a mixed bag. It's not all wonderful, but there are some pretty sterling moments, especially if that 4AD sound doesn't make you run screaming out of the room. Good, 'cause I didn't burn out on it in the 80's like some people did, though I'm not pulling the Cocteau Twins down for a listen every night, either. Though it's unfair to say that the 4AD sound rules this record. More accurately, it's the vibe of the best 4AD stuff that surfaces here (particularly on "Repulsive Diamond Whisper;" which is a standout track, but then I'm a sucker for delayed guitar over atmospheric sound, and this one is done quite well). The whole notion of space that ruled those early recordings, is definitely present here. Just listen to "Tokyo Stealth Dub," which aside from sounding somewhat reminiscent of FSA's "Rainstorm Blues" (at least the background drone and echoed percussion does) and you'll see that these guys know that the stuff between the notes is at least as important as the notes themselves. Check it out for that, if nothing else. (Colorful Clouds for Acoustics) - Matthew Maxwell

Trans Am The Surveillance CD/LP
Trans Am's unabashed embrace of masculine "muscle" rock is a novelty in itself. Like little boys at horseplay, they tinker around with well-worn toys (Casio, analog), give the guitar a workout, and bang on their drums real loud until the lines between sound and noise aren't recognizable.

It's this aging garage-rock ethic, though, that makes The Surveillance work. While this Maryland-based trio obviously know minimalism - as seen in last year's Surrender to the Night - their latest release denotes a particularly intricate and ballsy effort. The concept and name behind the album comes from their paranoia around surveillance and modern industry - and Trans Am consequently brings a "dangerous" edge to their R&R vision. This element of danger comes in the form of jarring effects - with staccato drum patterns, breaks and riffs that hit the listener unexpectedly. Trans Am veils the exact breakdown of those effects, leaving
the listener curious and mesmerized.

Trans Am's feats in electronic experimentalism are carefully mapped out for lengthy stretches, and timed to the beat of their traditional rock aesthetic. And sometimes, vice-versa. Either way, it sounds very organic. This is music to which one can play video games, blow coke and fuel their road rage. (Thrill Jockey Box 476794, Chicago, IL 60647) (Reprinted from Resonance Magazine, Issue 16) - Esther Yoon

Trans Am The Surveillance CD
Like radar screens drawing circles in lights, the Trans Am blip appears and is gone. The dot of light blinks fortuitously as the mind focuses on their sound intermittently. As the jaded attention span-less individuals that The Surveillance will reach may only catch glimpses of the bright dot of light ever so often. It may take a few listens to capture the variety between Kraftwerk-ian analog blips and drum machine banter, and the DC-inspired rawk propelling this disc into prog-(indie)rock discographies. While unique in their approach, Trans Am have yet to attach to the inner cortex a melody or structural hook that lingers after their albums have finished. Though it may be blasphemous to say, Trans Am are the problem child of a generation that never understood the cultural importance of Cabaret Voltaire, a band that tried nearly everything within the grasp of an air traffic controller monitoring contemporary rock music flight paths. (Thrill Jockey PO Box 476794 Chicago, IL 60647) - Keith York

Travis Good Feeling CD
Why are British bands so impossibly arrogant? Oasis, Blur, the Verve and others have parted their pouty lips in the past, professing their importante du rock to all creation, each claiming they are the second-coming of the Beatles, only better looking. In their press kit, Travis. Frontman Francis Healey, referring to the power of Joni Mitchell’s Blue, says, “I wanted to get something as good as Blue, that simplicity. I’m crap at saying things like this, but I think we’ve done it.” Lighten up, Francis. With a few more albums under their belt, Travis. will certainly become much more adept at boasting. They had better pray the improvement of their bland songwriting keeps pace. (Independiente, of the Epic Records Group, a division of Sony Music (follow the trail of money to the source.) 550 Madison Avenue NYC 10022-3211) - Steven M. Brydges

Travoltas Teenbeat CD
I’ve played this time and again in front of hundreds of students in the wide open expanse of a theatre-style lecture hall. The college-age heads bob weekdays at 10am. There may not be a Weezer fan among them, but the toes tap and my own air guitar is restrained in order to keep the composure expected of a campus instructor. Though I was never a fan of Beatles, Boston or The Cars, one can hear the decades of pop radio that preceded Teenbeat’s recent release. The sing-along melodies are crystal clear, the Clash’s charmed rock ‘n’ roll is present, all the while I keep thinking that pop-punk academia has nothing new to offer. Green Day has become last semester’s used textbook, and the Travoltas are the newly hired professors on campus that have all the kids in an uproar .. on their syllabus: to keep us smiling and air-banding throughout the semester. (ColdfrontPOB 8345 Berkeley, CA94707) – Keith York

Trembling Blue Stars Broken By Whispers CD
Dreamlike. That half-awake, one eye opened in pre-dawn darkness unsure if it's the next day yet. Crumpled sheets dress you as the down-filled pillows cradle the cheek still as the cold morning air outside the comforter warmth. Half the head of hair you own sweeps across your brow filtering the scene as a sheepdog must live everyday. Whispers flow gently through the alarm clock stereo tweeter are soon joined by strummy acoustic guitar. In the half-sleep you hear the Go Betweens, The Chills, Stone Roses, Lilac Time, Lush, Galaxie 500 and the Field Mice but no morning-show DJ cracks the air introducing you to the new band with the new yet familiar sound. Annemari's vocals join Robert's and gilded pop songs begin to shimmer in the early light of dawn. You have been half-awake for nearly an hour, cradled by the sound of the Trembling Blue Stars bringing in the new day. It's enough to question why one would put themselves through a traffic-heavy commute only to spend the remains of the day in flourescent-lit, air-conditioned cubicle space punching a keyboard. (Sub Pop POB 20645 Seattle, WA 98102) – Keith York

Trembling Blue Stars Doo-Wop Music 7"
Things keep getting better in a post- Field Mice world. The latest two-song document of love for a woman is bittersweet, elegant and as erotic as one would expect from TBS. Whether one categorizes this as Saint Etienne kin, or as reminiscent of Galaxie 500, the innocence and allure of pop song seduction envelopes you and stirs your insides. (Shinkansen PO Box 14274 London SE11 6ZG) – Keith York

Tren Brothers Gone Away/Kit's Choice 7"
Jim and Mick from the Dirty Three explore their union as a writing duo. Somehow transporting the urban tensions into rural, rolling meadows, the brothers Tren quietly (and intimately) explore a mood. These songs settle you comfortably in the heart of a shady forest, only to be suddenly shaken by plumes of smog and taxis horns honking at pedestrians. Irony. (Secretly Canadian 1703 North Maple Bloomington, IN 47404) - Keith York

Trendlenberg Cinco De Mayo 12”
Mike Landucci is slowly amassing a small empire of anthropological finds within independent pop music. Not knowing anything of Trendlendberg other than its home is a Greensburg, PA address I have now grown curious of their lineage, influences and accomplishments as an entity. My experience with Trendlenberg is unfortunately limited to the six songs recorded for this one-sided 12”. With the four-track recorder running, a small band (or perhaps an individual) recorded some fleeting moments of bedroom pop while the family was bustling through their daily activities and chores in rooms nearby. Slow, faint whispers of guitar strings bending and ideas becoming lyrics becoming vocals turn the world of Trendlenberg into your own. Somehow you are transformed into their companion sitting in a comfy chair nearby, or sharing part of the twin bed across the poster-strewn walls of a room that is home to a pop band’s ideas of what their songs mean to the world. And they should mean something. Though most of their craft will go largely unnoticed by the world, Trendlenberg will persevere for it is not the quantity of its listener-ship, it is the quality. The quality matched by the product they deliver. Sebadoh side projects beware. (Blackbean and Placenta Tape Club 124 Ventura Avenue Oxnard, CA 93035)

Treyfid, Treiops All Water 7"
Crossing lines drawn in the sand between Thurston Moore's Psychic Hearts and Colin Newman's vocal work with Wire, this ex-Pitchblende(r) has gone solo. Enlisting talent from the DC area, as well as from his alma mater, Treiops has written some of the most explicitly cogent material of his career. Anxious, splashy, and calculated, the water metaphors are synonymous with the work. (Coolidge 157 Coolidge Terrace Wyckoff, NJ 07481) - Keith York

Tristeza Dream Signals in Full Circles CD
Sweetly flowing guitar, bass and key lines from those having left behind involvement with post-hardcore bands Locust, Crimson Curse, Swing Kids as well as the indescribable GoGoGo Airheart. Somewhere near Mogwai and Arab Strap in color & hue, the pastoral landscape paintings reach well outside the perimeter of other California regional artists. Evoking European influence of a bygone decade, these domestic instrumentalists share some commonalities with the Chicago School but with less effort on posturing. Frame it and hang these dream signals where guests can appreciate them. (Tiger Style 149 Wooster St. 4th Floor NYC 10012, tigerstylerecords.com, tristez@hotmail.com) – Keith York

Trunk Federation Lay The Hip CD
Unsure of whether or not it's the Arizona connection, I keep hearing a bit of Calexico in Lay the Hip. The arid southwest after all is the setting for both band's non-country-twang cowboy music. Lay The Hip is perfect for sitting around open campfires at dusk on the white desert sands listening to the stories of the day. More so than their Infamous Hamburger Transfer, or Curse of Miss Kitty albums, Lay The Hip reaches for the orchestral-pop brass ring (see: Oasis, Verve, Beatles) and connects. Strings, keyboards, vibes and the required guitar/bass/drums come together under the schooled (and not-so-schooled) musician's hand leaving us with desert-pop gems (quite unlike the usual Bacharach, Beach Boys dependent indie rockers of the day) that are, as the web kids say, "sticky." (Plastique POB 223 Chapel Hill, NC 27514) – Keith York

T*Shirt What's Wrong With You is Wrong all the Way Through You CD
Incidents around the holidays have a way of sticking with you years after they transpired. 'Tis the night before Christmas and I am alone in my apartment, listening to T*Shirt and drinking hot cocoa with Bailey's. These are moments where it is best to reflect and be thankful. I talked with a friend of mine who is roughly my dad's age today. He told me his mother's birthday is on Christmas day, and now that she's passed on, he does all he can not to think about it. I sensed it was hard for him to even mention. Holidays are like that. A memory is cherished until it becomes a painful reminder- a landmark marking a loss. While T*Shirt's music isn't as emotionally charged or potentially cathartic as a holiday, it does encompass a wide array of emotions. From Leslie Sink's amazing voice and her four bandmates' creative endeavors come bright and catchy rockers juxtaposed with sorrowful songs that build and drift with lulling charm. As the Bailey's soothing effects settle in, I find myself relaxed, my thoughts moving in accordance with the mood of the songs. I don't know how bright T*Shirt's image will burn in my memory in the years to come, but tonight, it is leaving the right impressions. (Silver Girl PO Box 161024 San Diego, CA 92176) - Steven M. Brydges

Tsunami A Brilliant Mistake CD
What is it about this sweetness that engages me so? What of the heart-spoken lyrics of smart-witted young people. Intelligent music. A Brilliant Mistake is not what I expected from Tsunami, possibly because of the gap created in my collection of their music created by a Hearts Tremolo not being in my possession. A fault of my own, I hope to correct when Mr. Paycheck arrives. Harmonics. Fluid songs. Delightful listening. A Brilliant Mistake is by no means a mistake. This album tells the story of its creation; long hours, painful lives, tear-soaked linen, days when the sun came and went without understanding its toll. As a work in progress this must have been a painfully erotic experience, a sensual caress lasting months. My Geek records, my singles, my copy of Deep End are not signs pointing toward A Brilliant Mistake, someone took a hold of the steering wheel, changed lanes and made a sharp turn to the exotic playground that created this collection of ideas, of muted emotions, of love. Some use “give peace as a chance” as a hymn. Give A Brilliant Mistake a chance, it is what peace sounds like. (Simple Machines PO Box 10290 Arlington, VA 22210-1290)

T Tauri Brevity 7”
Having heard their name mentioned by respectable folks, these stress-core rockers emit three blasting caps of sonic mayhem across your living space. While recorded in what seems to be the live-to-tape domain on a simple recording mechanism with some cheap mics, this record has guts. Harbored in the same port as Angel Hair and VSS, their brand of highly tense HC noise skronk is such a delectable little meal. As opposed to the comfort of living room pop songs, stressed out HC by some sub-20 year olds is as reassuring that kids are keeping off the streets, out of trouble and the only damage they are doing is to their ears. Thankfully the recording techniques employed give the same rawness as if they were set up in your living room screaming and stomping your hardwood floors to splinters. The stucco shaking from your home’s walls, chandeliers swaying in their ceiling fixtures, T Tauri flex your windows outward with their pounding cacophony as only American ingenuity can wield. (Blackbean and Placenta Tape Club 124 Ventura Avenue Oxnard, CA 93035)

Tuesday Freewheelin CD
Less and less, punk rock is about political fury, aggression and societal discomfort. More often these days I hear bands like Promise Ring, Smart Went Crazy and Tuesday play colorful multi-chord rock 'n' roll filled with stories, images and faith in a streamlined melodic delivery to make their point. Absent of any context to place this band within (Where are they from? Who are they? etc.), I just sat through a half dozen listens over the last couple of days enamored with their energy. Good stuff. (Asian Man Records) - Keith York

Tuesday Weld The Valentine EP CD
Somewhere akin to Stephen Merrit’s Magnetic Fields, Trembling Blue Stars, and Momus, Stephen Coates’ latest offerings ( a 4-song CDEP) is the swankiest, sexiest export from the UK in a long while. If ever a song explained the male desire for love, “Anything But Love” exemplifies all drastic theories of being happy just being in love: “Give up the fags, fast food and the women…cut down on the dope and the drinking I think I may even give up the thinking…” Coates is a romantic, house-bound with a deck and a microphone sharing his melancholy with you the listener. Stunning. (DreamyRecords.demon.co.uk) – Keith York

Tuesday Weld The Valentine EP CD
Stephen Coates, a London-based eccentric, rivals Stephen Merrit's and Fred Cornog's reinvention of Ameri-folk bedroom pop. Additionally, Coates takes cues from fellow countryman Momus to write this new bedroom pop manifesto couched in pre-war big band jazz and urban trust-fund-kid blues. The Valentine EP is simply stated, a condensed version of 69 Love Songs, a rewritten Creation-era Momus EP, a ghost of a dead dreamer – one who longs for another so ferociously he must haunt future generations and reincarnate his baroque soul in the nuances of digital sampling and 21st century London alcoholism. Startling in its sincerity, in its honesty, but baring the darkest corner of one's soul has to be debilitating on Coates' psyche. In a word – Amazing. (Dreamy Records www.dreamyrecords.demon.co.uk) – Keith York

Tullycraft City of Subarus CD
The youthful charm and optimism of collegiate indie rock rings still the air of a post-Crayon environ. Barrettes aplenty, the swankly dressed mouths of the thrift shop set giggle as Tullycraft play in the living room. Kids that grew out of a high school Mod phase now legally drink cocktails 'til they get sick on their sharkskin suits and skinny ties. It's now legal. Boys and girls with guitars and microphones strut confidently across carpeted house parties after exiting their kitschy $500 old station wagon. Summer comes, fifty cent t-shirts, Chuck Taylor's and Pro-Keds are the new uniform. Beat Happening on the stereo. PeeChee folders, anoraks, and backpacks - the consumer products of the non-conformist indie popper. Guest lists don't exist in their under-$5 admission to the living room party. "The Lives of Cleopatra" borrows from the Dub Narcotic aesthetic and makes me smile. (Cher Doll PO Box 23333 Seattle, WA 98102) - Keith York

Twisted Anger Twisted Anger/Fist of Fury 12”
At times sounding like a distant cousin to Source Direct, Twisted Anger mutate their jungle in and out of a level plane of consciousness - never quite knowing which turn the track will take next. Other times this is the sound of a pre-dawn hangover, possibly one last go ‘round on the ‘floor ‘til morning breaks. Loads and loads of quiet drone moments that wake suddenly into a snare attack and kick drum psychic surgery. Vocal samples of men talking enter the mix unexpectedly as if NASA were conducting flight simulation test on the junglists tuned in to the record’s wavelength. Fist of Fury rocks hard with its manic bass blasts and kick drum fireworks. Enveloping your senses in this brand of jungle is like hyper ventilating in a bag covering your head and walking around the city streets at midnight feeling your way ‘round never really knowing if you have stepped into the auto-infested streets like a drunk sailor. Never really knowing if the sounds will be the last screeching tire before you are cut down. Essential. (Penny Black c/o Vinyl Distribution 70-72 Kings Road, Reading, Berkshire RG1 3BJ UK)

Twisted Anger Vol. 3 12”
Society is a dark techstepper that reminded me of the Cronic Crew 12” with the blue label - know the one? Nice spooky robot sounds and atmospherics lifted from a Borg portion of the latest Star Trek spinoff because the sample reminded me of the little motors that drive computerized prosthetic limbs! The songs ebb and flow through several downbeat sections and then the drums kick back in gear driving you across the room. Seven Sins is one of the best jungle tracks I have heard yet! Borrowing (chicken vs. egg!) possibly from several Nico releases, the muted vocal sample sounds like an Ed Rush ragga toasting thing. Samples aplenty dot the landscape of this fighting ring soundtrack - most of which I think are lifted from Nico’s sampler - laser blasts pushed to points of distortion while wicked low freq. rumbles roll your body like dough. As Seven Sins spins, the listener should be numbed by its insanely rich textures and point-of-no-return breaks that, like a good Photek track, should chase your mind as it guesses what’s around the bend. Challenging music for the intelligent rump shaka’. (Penny Black c/o Vinyl Distribution 70-72 Kings Road, Reading, Berkshire RG1 3BJ UK)

Two Projects to Harness the Surge of the Tides s/t 7”
The result of a collaboration between members of Gravity Wax, Fuxa, Therisphere and Mariner 9 - not to mention more THC than the human body should be allowed in one setting. In some strange fashion, this recording event was held over Labor Day weekend, though I am not clear to what labor movement this is an homage too...if one at all! When someone says “knob twiddler” they refer to the layered lava flow that the analog keyboard aficionados like those in Two Projects... produce. Not unlike some Fuxa stuff, these songs are more soundscapes for the ambient DJ and fans of the new electronica - no beats though, no beats! A limited edition of 500 on green vinyl as usual and probably available via mail-order or from Carrot Top - hell just tape it off the John Peel show - word has it he played the whole thing! (Astro Lanes PO Box 725161 Berkeley, MI 48072)