Features &
Interviews

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

Walkabouts Satisfied Mind CD
Setting the Woods on Fire CD
New West Motel CD
These records did not stir my emotions as the Mekons have been known to. They did remind me of a time in 1989 when I traveled to Los Angeles to see the Walkabouts play an in-store performance at a record shop - on tour as Sub Pop’s latest signing. As I stared around the room, the other dozen curious onlookers present were like an extended family sitting around the grill. The Walkabouts served a homestyle chili based on their own recipe of post-folk/alt country/blues roots music that was as listenable as anything Cooking Vinyl was releasing back in the heyday of Michelle Shocked and that whole UK “American music” wave that only really pushed Billy Bragg into a worthwhile spotlight. The Walkabouts are still able to fill venues across Europe and sales are consistently more promising there than in the US - as I listened to these albums with my American ears I found out why. (Creative Man)

Walt Mink Colossus CD
This day I bathed in the warmth of the Southern California sun. I wrote journal entries. I listened to music. As the sun headed westward and the shadows cast in its opposite direction, the computer monitor began to light up the room replacing natural light with the artificial. Much like analog technology has been slowly antiquated by the affordability and ease of digital, my day has evolved in a way I couldn’t have predicted as the alarm awakened me. Music is one of the few links we have to those outside our domain of friends, relatives, co-workers and acquaintances. We invite the product of strangers’ relations and craft into our home via a fast spinning disc illuminated by a small laser. How very strange and how unlike early predictions. Communicating with the reader, also a collective of strangers, we writers imagine our words being criticized, applauded, argued and praised by those holding the printed consequence of our thoughts near their eyes. How very strange and how antiquated (that printing the spoken word is anymore). Walt Mink care less about my thought excursions, my tangents, my emotions, my predicaments - and most importantly my critique of their “Colossus” album. For them, most likely, this is a shelved product of their past efforts, they have assuredly moved on past this body of work. Colossus did not remind me of the rollercoaster sharing the name, it did remind me of Elvis Costello, The Feelies, and The Connells though. Nice bristling American flavored rock songs full of heart and stories. They know that, you know that - nevertheless I am still trying to sit here and make this album more important than the sunset I am now witnessing. Music has its place, sunsets have their place - I don’t think they are always comparable. (Deep Elm PO Box 1965 NYC NY 10156)

Water Margin Witchdoctor 7”
Not sure if this was released posthumously, but Andrew of Framed! says they are no longer - and as the a- side speaks to me - that is a shame. “Ten Years from Now” is a bit of a triumph for any band - a nice little swirling guitar line running atop a confident cymbal crashing routine...sparse, near-J. Lizard vocals... but it’s the guitar thing that keeps my ears trained on the clear plastic platter. “Witchdoctor” is a harsh Texas bigrock thing with acidic vocals and ROCK underpinning the whole project. (Framed! PO Box 49961 Austin, TX 78765)

We As Is 2x12”
We don’t know who We is, nor do we know if each of these songs has an individual identity. This works as one whole unit. Unlabeled songs function as “Untitled” works of art hanging on a museum wall; the patron, after minutes of careful study, names each piece themselves. Cyber-fiction song titles like “jacked in” and “fiber optic synapse duel” could be easily stamped onto these grooves and record jacket as the drum ‘n’ synth lines interact with your skin, your membranes. Like T Power, We have adopted a less structured approach to their repertoire, they love a good drum break but don’t depend on static ideas to create an album. Instead, We seem to flow from Orb or FSOL-like manifolds at the same rate they push you into a near neck-injury-causing dance frenzy -- and of course they do it unexpectedly and seamlessly. While the turntable-less will opt to purchase the CD, the interaction with these unlabeled vinyl slabs reaffirms the sense of mystery that these digital-infidels, their label and their sound harbor. Drugs ‘n’ bass fer sure. (Asphodel PO Box 51 Chelsea Station NYC 10013-51)

We Decentertainment CD
Centered within their own universe, the audience orbits loosely around a gravitational pull constructed on a hard drive. With nods to compatriots We (on “Latex & Porex”) as well as DJ Spooky (on “One Personal Dream” and “Burn up in Half”) as well as lo-tech US drum ‘n’ bass producers (Kojak, Tom B., Dr. Mario), We have decentralized, decentered themselves. Focussing away from a constant pattern, ritualistically We deploy camouflage from the critical ear – with every turn, every index mark, We stir up the organic juices flowing through the central nervous system. Hard to pin down, hard to describe, and hard to beat. Shall we use Spooky and Squarepusher as a jumping off points calling this Ill ‘n’ bass? (Liquid Sky 245 West 29th Street 9th Floor, NYC 10001) – Keith York

Weak Moments s/t CD
Ryan and Alissa explored their tumultuous stresses and ideologies for a time with other rock compatriots. The Weak Moments was their (duo) side project aside from the more formalized band, Tipili. Now disbanded, Tipili has joined the dead and The Weak Moments have become their newly cherished raison d'être. While not intentionally writing their structures off as Sonic Youth-indulgent, I sat time and again with this album -- collecting the sentiments in my handbag for later assessment. Upon returning to this album, the oblique verbiage and relentless strangling of pop music cloaked me in a warmth I haven't experienced since last reliving my first listening experience to Low. The emotion is heavy, hardy with constancy and tension; enough to weigh down even the most even-keeled optimist. Alger Hiss' noisy banter comes to mind in the calculated way these pop song frameworks fracture into trebly guitar shards, always to be swept up by Alissa' sweetness. A cloudy day packaged for even the sunniest of daydreamers. (Ba Da Bing! PO Box 204 Leonia, NJ 07605) - Keith York

Weigh Down s/t CD
Fidgety kids grow up, buy instruments and channel nervous energy into off-kilter struggle-pop. Trying to harness their hormone-emotive desires, The Weigh Down produces a dynamic 5-song document filled with lots of tense quiet-to-loud movements. Matt, Mark, Rory and Jason try to hide their emotional misgivings, but the CD doesn't lie – it can't cover up their stories. The snare hits with confidence. The guitar language speaks more than the honestly written lyrics. It seems that relationship turmoil fueled lyrical pursuits as the pain and sorrow of "Are you sitting still, or am I moving too slow to see you move?," guilted me through the melodies and hearty percussive drama. Despite its brevity, this listen is like attending high school with-, and living through- puberty, alongside, four very insightful songwriters. A sleeper. A wonderfully fidgety little sleeper to be sure. (Garbage Czar POB 207129 New Haven, CT 06520) – Keith York

Welcome Sun as Night Light CD
Pull apart the boxes encasing your 45s and dust off that Welcome single you forgot about. The trio of two guitar players and a drummer are back years later with their first full-length. Doing occasional duty as Double Fudge and Mars Accelerator, the trio of Pete, Mike and Dean shelved Welcome only to re-appear with a slightly different approach and the resulting energy and sound remarks on the honeymoon period starting all over again. Sounding closest to Track Star and Modest Mouse from my ears perspective, their blend of frenetic rock with slow-mo quiet-pop songs makes up the most perfect debut, or comeback, or however you want to characterize Sun as Night Light. In all honesty it's one of the most refreshing albums I've heard in a long while. (Rx Remedy PO Box 12339 Seattle, WA 98111) – Keith York

Wellwater Conspiracy, The Declaration of Conformity CD
Psych-rock like that which is lauded by Ptolemaic Terrascope. The drugged out first single by Monster Magnet (reference!) less the crazed hyperactivity, Halo of Flies From the Bottom cassette without the volume, plenty of Syd Barret and Velvets nods and you get a vague notion of what is packaged within. Though staring at the packaging while in line may help you make a decision for or against before you get to the cashier - there should be no misconceptions about any differences between the package and the contents. Strange images, funky pretentious liner notes, secretive band member identities, three poignant yet obscure cover versions and from a fine source in obtuse pop music, Third Gear Records. The three co-conspirators on Declaration of Conformity have either dabbled or dosed at least several times in their collective years, and the drug-psych culture experiment was realized. Though I am still not sure how long this project has been bubbling under their other bands’ responsibilities, it seems that plenty of time, practice, rehearsal, song writing, phone conversations, meetings, briefings, emails, and coffee house chatter was necessary to move these songs into the recorded domain. (Third Gear PO Box 1886 Royal Oak, MI 48068)

Wellwater Conspiracy The Scroll and its Combinations CD
Matt Cameron (Pearl Jam, Soundgarden) and John McBain (ex-Monster Magnet) have continued to comb through their 6Ts psych records with friends Ben Shepherd (Soundgarden), Kim Thayil (Soundgarden) and Eddie Vedder. The Scroll… is their latest foray into psych-rock (not as extreme as In The Red releases) and pop (while not too Apples or Beachwood Sparks-ish) that one can readily imagine was recorded if not practiced in someone’s neighborhood garage on tube amps and analog decks. Having started off releasing records on Time Bomb and Third Gear, Wellwater Conspiracy have more formalized the use of their free time (while Pearl Jam rests from worldwide touring and recording) by moving to the corporate offices, I hope it serves them well. (TVT 23 E. 4th St. NYC 10003) – Keith York

Werst, Kimberly Vow CD
Vow is a four song EP that succeeds in giving the listener a taste, but leaves us wanting more. Werst has an exceptional vocal range. She's in command from the smoky lows on "Hollow" to the more upbeat "Mentioning Breakfast." The album is over-produced at times, distortions where the song could have done without them, and a awkward remix of "Mentioning Breakfast." Nevertheless, it leaves you waiting for the full-length album. (Big Pin Records)

Wes Hollywood Show The Girls Are Never Ending CD
The Wes Hollywood Show produce the brand of power pop usually favored by Bob writers. Capturing the essence of early-80s energy by the likes of Joe Jackson and Elvis Costello, Wes and his crew are party band that plays down the block while Weezer headlines the local venue. (Net. Wt Records www.solidaction.com) - Keith York

Wheat Hope and Adams CD
Rarely has a band like Wheat appeared on the planet to stir up so much thought and conversation. Not since Pavement, Flaming Lips, American Music Club, Sonic Youth and My Bloody Valentine (of which all have had an impact on Wheat’s classification) has a group of young players broken through much of the clutter in the world of independently brokered albums, tours and t-shirt sales to put a stamp of identity on a sound and an attitude. As if Wheat wrote and played Hope and Adams with no conscience, no ideals, no morals and guilt, no connections socially or musically to the rest of the world. I say this because it exudes a uniqueness that is so rare that it will stand the test of decades of like-minded copy-cats throwing stones in attempts to dethrone the establishment of Hope and Adams as a new ideal. Despite Wheat utilizing standard materials (guitar, bass, drums, keys), the band has remarked on their view of the rest of music being released today, it is something they care less about and they have no intent on looking backwards over their shoulder to learn about it at a later date. (Sugar Free POB 14166 Chicago, IL 60614) – Keith York

Wheat Medeiros CD
Alien artifacts remaining from a dream after laying your head down, the headphones still surrounding your skull, with the CD multi-player on random. Different parts of your record collection reside in the residue of an intricate slow rock dreamstate, none of them distinguishable nor identifiable. Everything is relevant to Wheat. Pop song structures disguised within tumultuous, torturous thoughts of Chicagoans on the verge of collapse and internal stardom. Softspoken thoughts are abound amidst the gentle textures. Light touches and glances from the players define the unspoken thoughts that guide them through these songs without stopping to discuss what the next change, bridge, chord or vocal is going to be. The ideas of jazz sidestepped by an organism that connects its limbs with one common mind, one vision. One goal: to create a mood uptempo from Low yet as important and urgent as Joy Division without being as implicit or hidden as Ida. It is an amazing thing to relax and stretch your limbs to the sounds within the Wheat-created sphere. I haven’t a clue how this album came to be, but its very nature of being has now caused me to question my own creative spirit, my own drive - and for that I am thankful. Maturity is usually synonymous with musical failure yet Medeiros is about as mature as these folks seem capable of - future releases will probably mimic young ghosts or predecessors to the brilliant melodies and close-in-to-your-ear whispers that this album offers. With Smog as a reference point, it is melancholia with a predisposition for deadpan humor like this that makes the hunt for new music worth continuing. (Sugar Free PO Box 14166 Chicago, IL 60614)

Wheat Medeiros CD
Listening to Wheat is like spending an afternoon with good friends, laughing and reminiscing, while driving through the countryside. It is a laid-back, drifting, windows-down driving type of day, where the destination is unimportant. The purpose is to enjoy the ride. There is something unmistakably Heartland about this band. Their music is not obviously country, hokey, twangy, nor even faux-country, but just relaxed, a bit sad, and honest. Wheat easily avoids the Uncle Tupelo/Wilco-derived song writing trap, opting instead for more of a “what comes next, comes naturally” approach (think of a way, way-less hazy Red Red Meat, and yr close.). A mid-fi recording that lets the crackles crack and the occasional mistake squirm in the light of day. Apart from a few odd touches from mixing-engineer Brian Deck, this is largely a no-frills recording. Mixing acoustic and electric guitars with soft, yet strong male vocals and rare touches of e-bow and slide, this Chicago quartet creates a homey, sparse, scenic pasture for the listener to traverse. Carrying it all down the less-beaten path is a wonderfully complementary drummer, whose minimalist, inspired touches bring hope to tired legs who feel they have lost a step in life’s foot race against time. Please, hurry now and get back out of line. (Sugar Free PO Box 14166 Chicago, IL 60614) - Steven M. Brydges

Whiskeytown Strangers Almanac CD
Sullen he sat with his cowboy-style hat tipped downward in front hiding his teary eyes. The Marlboro burned brightly as the diner customer sucked it between yellow fingernails atop callused trucker hands. As the tobacco smoked circled under the brim of his wide hat the smell of the trucker’s special hit his nostrils. The near acrid burn of eggs, bacon, sausage and coffee filled his lungs as he inhaled without a cigarette on his lips. A tear ran down his nose falling on the counter constantly being wiped free of flies and food with a dirty rag by Shirley the waitress and confidant. The jukebox blared AM radio quality country music from its one remaining speaker - the other three having been disconnected by a flying chair or body that was the frequent at the Greasey Spoon. On the road a man has plenty of time on his hands to think. To think about why the road is so lonely and why the house that he raised three kids and a marriage in is lonelier. The callous-toughened hands from wrenching for 25 years were nothing compared to the emotional barriers that made the trucker more inhuman than his truck and cargo. The country music star’s voice riddled the diner inhabitants with memories of good times, and more bad times ahead - the horizon was bleak and a woman was always at the root of a man’s problems. Memories draw blood from the lonely, they sap us of strength as we drive 18 hour stretches - from dropping one postcard in the mail to another. I miss you, love always we write each time however inaccurate either thought is. Shirley always remembers your order, each time you pass through her state with a load; on your mind or in your truck. Country music about the country in which we live. (Mood Food 8932 Keith Ave. LA CA 90069)

White, Sarah Bluebird CD
Something tells me that independent labels are growing more mature. Leaving behind the smash-n-grab anti-commercial ethos, the new wave of street punk, and the silliness of most posturing rock ‘n’ pop combos, white GenXers from middle America are releasing records of substance while the establishment tries hard to ring cash registers with boy-bands. Sarah White’s second effort Bluebird is something we would have heard decades ago on an industry leader like RCA, but times have changed. The times as they are called, have finally caught up with the renaissance in young musicians reassessing Americana. Naturally Jagjaguwar is there to capture the spirit of such musicians as they document the fragility of (as stated in the press kit) “laconic…restrained…subtle” qualities of life. Thank god maturity in musicianship is not as painful as puberty was for us physically and psychologically. Sarah White’s rural qualities feel right at home in the urban listening environment as the chameleon-like multi-instrumentalist adapts to our living environs. Peaceful, tranquil tones (with assistance by Telegraph Melts and Manishevits members) offered by Ms. White are, to say the least, enigmatically engaging even with a cursory listen. Spend the day indoors. (JagJaguWar 1703 North Maple Street, Bloomington, IN 47404) – Keith York

White Stripes/Dirtbombs split-7"
Thankfully the White Stripes put in a sing-along inducing lyric sheet to their classic tale of love and angst at the bowling alley. With an addictive stop/start blues idea, this song is destined to be a classic. The Dirtbombs sound like Naz Nomad (Damned offshoot) with a fuzzy, blues-driven mess of 80s post-punk and 6Ts garage. One hell of a single! (Extra Ball PO Box 40005 Portland, OR 97240) – Keith York

Wicked Farleys Sentinel and Enterprise CD
While not power-brokering complacency, bands like The Wicked Farleys can only create from a place of comfort. Mark Eitzel and his like-minded creator-egos can delve into manic humanity teetering on suicidal edges all they want. I don't have to respect them for it. I don't endorse Elliott Smith, his drug problem, nor his depravity. Performing completed works of music, to me, is the only part of the equation worth discussing. While artists, critics and audiences are all misunderstood (misrepresented and misinterpreted), the act of creation, or the end-product thereof, must stand on its own as a separate entity to be judged. Sentinel and Enterprise stands atop the table in its painted cardboard jacket singing its stop/start math-class pop awaiting your ear. Whether you think indie rock is something new (quite possibly you have just discovered it) or has succumbed to some indefinable fate leaving it in our collective past, it represents the other side of the island we always long for. Something created out of comfort and joy. A product, a result of an exercise amongst four Massachusetts sons, nephews, grandsons that play intricate instrumentation only espousing their lack of rail-riding suicidal dilemmas. (Big Top 955 Massachusetts Ave. Suite 115 Cambridge, MA 02139) - Keith York

Wicked Farleys Sustained Interest CD
Wicked Farleys/The Vehicle Birth split-7”
In listening to the controlled mayhem of the Farleys’ music, a multitude of thoughts entered my head. Wondering who they sounded like (Wire, Mission of Burma, early Pavement sans vocals), I sat cross-legged in my living room trying to listen for clues. I found few. Listening for “isms” or clichés, I grew perplexed and my feet fell asleep sitting awkwardly bent-legged on unforgiving hardwood floors. The 7 songs on Sustained Interest represent nearly six years of recordings that describe the evolution of The Wicked Farleys’ sound from dissonant to gathered; from chaotic to assembled. “Toronto” (on the split-7”) represents ‘97-era dense, quick-footed string hammering of a Bob Tilton or Volcano Suns fury. Doom Nibbler’s pairing The Farleys up with The Vehicle Birth reminds the listener how songs by bands (no longer with us) remain as important as the moment they were recorded (in this case the song is 4 years old). Both labels have collected dated recordings to prove how relevant truly timeless music can be. (Big Top 955 Massachusetts Ave. #115, Cambridge, MA 02139, Doom Nibbler PMB 186, 838 East High Street, Lexington, KY 40502) – Keith York

Wicked Farleys/The Vehicle Birth split-7"
In listening to the controlled mayhem of the Farleys' music, a multitude of thoughts entered my head. Wondering who they sounded like (Wire, Mission of Burma, early Pavement sans vocals), I sat cross-legged in my living room trying to listen for clues. I found few. Listening for "isms" or clichés, I grew perplexed and my feet fell asleep sitting awkwardly bent-legged on unforgiving hardwood floors. The 7 songs on Sustained Interest represent nearly six years of recordings that describe the evolution of The Wicked Farleys' sound from dissonant to gathered; from chaotic to assembled. "Toronto" (on the split-7") represents ?97-era dense, quick-footed string hammering of a Bob Tilton or Volcano Suns fury. Doom Nibbler's pairing The Farleys up with The Vehicle Birth reminds the listener how songs by bands (no longer with us) remain as important as the moment they were recorded (in this case the song is 4 years old). Both labels have collected dated recordings to prove how relevant truly timeless music can be. (Big Top 955 Massachusetts Ave. #115, Cambridge, MA 02139, Doom Nibbler PMB 186, 838 East High Street, Lexington, KY 40502) – Keith York

Wilhelm K. Make a Change CS
Whip-cracking snares abound as deep lines and vocal melodica run rampant on Make a Change. Colorful urban nights lit up in neon and strobes and shadowcasting in fog (machine) banks, the house DJ and bartender make or break the night out. The mixtape brings the party atmosphere into your space - between car speakers, headphones, or a set of shelf-mount speakers -- this one in particular will morph your intimate space into a memorable event. Whether or not Wilhelm is at the helm of a residency, spinning in someone’s living room, or at the back of a rented hall, rest assured he is manic on the 4-speed clutch. Pounding rhythms in his mix, give way to sing-song synth lines and vocal samples prepping the housekids for the drop, and when it comes the whispering bass tones peak with a techy kick or snare putting your ass right back on his guiding metronome. Possibly one of the most turntable-adept house DJs to supply a tape in recent memory Wilhelm K.’s giving “vinyl available at” credits to Headstone Sounds on the j-card is a nice touch. (Contact: 310-205-2507)

Windsor for the Derby Minnie Greutzfeldt CD
Dusk. Sun sets on the distant horizon. Slowly ducking its head behind the mountain range, the fireball casts long shadows of the cacti across the desert floor. Now is the time for the fauna to escape their underground and under-bush compounds to roam. To feed on others. Windsor for the Derby created this illusion as their quiet songs transformed my living room this morning. Leaning forward into the stereo, unlike leaning back away from the television, I sat transfixed on the next motion, the next scurrying animal to criss-cross the coffee table legs attempting a carnivorous launch onto another species. Quiet dynamics make for a more curious listen. Absent of the up-frontness of most rock 'n' roll records, Minnie Greutzfeldt requires the level of attention one puts into fiction reading. Through sentence and paragraph structure, the reader's mind wanders on the creation of character's faces, voices and picturing the desert sunsets the words on a page describe. The illusory experience demands full concentration. When Windsor for the Derby's output levels drop to a near non-existent din, one can only wonder what is going to happen as they turn the page, or in this case index to the next track ID number. (Trance Syndicate PO Box 49771 Austin, TX 78765) - Keith York

Windy & Carl Conciousness CD
Months and months have passed since we had new music from the Dearborn, Michigan (Detroit suburb) duo. While the duration has been comforted by time spent with their timeless discography (of which their many 7” singles will soon be collected on their own Blue Flea label), the joy of hearing the latest forays into home recorded (their own 8-track setup) dreamscapes is very worthwhile. The opening three tracks (“The Sun,” “Balance (Trembling),” “Elevation”) flow well into one another like dark storm clouds swirl in a ferocity high above your head. Guitar, bass and vocal notes become clearer as tracks 4-6 appear on your hi-fi. Windy’s breathy vocals clothe your body in a warm sweater as the guitar rains down on the cold cement. Approaching a pop song (while keeping it arm’s length) this time around, Windy & Carl have extended an invitation to newcomers who may have failed to see the bright tones in the dark haze of their earlier drones. Wonderful.
(Kranky POB 578743 Chicago, IL 60657) – Keith York

Windy and Carl Depths CD/2LP
Not your usual Windy and Carl album. Not that there is such a thing, really (Portal and Drawing of Sound being sonically similar, but by no means interchangeable). Depths actually lives up to its name, which was a pleasant surprise to me. Don’t get me wrong. I really enjoy their music, but I didn’t think that it rated all the hype that they’ve been getting in the indie press (but then, does anyone?) I mean, Drawing of Sound is quite beautiful, but it really doesn’t break any new ground (if that’s your criterion for a masterpiece) beyond what a lot of the 4AD bands were doing more than a decade ago. I was looking forward to hearing Depths but was ready to hear more of the same (i.e., lush and beautiful, but not earth-shattering).

Instead of going for pure and conventional beauty, Windy and Carl have taken a slightly darker route. Noise (no, not Merzbow-like noise) plays more a part in the equation and the atmosphere is shot through with a little more urgency than I thought them capable of. “Undercurrents” being a good example of this. Instead of the languorous sounds of something like “Awhile” (from Drawing...), there is a real tension here, emphasized by the repeated bassline primarily. This atmosphere is created again and again in Depths..., making for a much more anxious listen. Granted, this isn’t totally edgy stuff, or way off the deep end in the anxiety department, but it feels like a real stretching out for them.

The guitar sounds, instead of being purely ethereal and meandering, become more evocative of feelings of loss, the sort of feeling one might get in a forest in the dead of night. The highway back might just be ten feet away, but you’d never know it until you stumbled across it, so you move more and more quickly, trying to find your way back. That’s the feeling that propels Depths..., especially in the long, extended tracks “Depths”, “Aquatica” (which are really high points on the album). Depths... isn’t likely to make you change your mind if you don’t already enjoy their music. However, if you thought they’d exhausted themselves, then you might find yourself in for a pleasant surprise. (Kranky) - Matt Maxwell

Wisdom of Harry Stars of Super 8 CD
Having spent some time last summer listening to the EP that preceded Stars of Super 8's release, expectations were high for this album to measure up. The breakbeat-pinned guitar pop is as evocative and numbingly drugged as any (myself included) fan of the lo-tech groove would expect. In the spirit of low-key techno spiritualists like Looper, Land of the Loops, Accelera Deck, and Remote Viewer (and the contributors to 555 Records compilations), Wisdom of Harry (Pete Astor of the infinitely pleasureable Creation-label launched Weather Prophets) as well as W.o.H.'s alter-ego Ellis Island Sound toys with micro-grooves, toy-like samples, slowly strummed guitars and gentle voices that force you to lean in to the speakers. As your nose approaches the output path, cheeks pull back spreading your lips exposing the pearl-white smile you have long hidden from others. When Third Eye Foundation writes pop, it will be with this intonation and it will be much to late to claim it as pioneering. This is that impressive. (Matador 625 Broadway NYC 10012) – Keith York

World Inferno Friendship Society East Coast Super Sound Punk of Today! CD
Subtitled "the singles", East Coast Super Sound gathers together a wide variety of songs written by WIFS between '96-'99. The Brooklyn musical society produces such diverse songs that it's hard to categorize their sound; and in this difficulty to pinpoint their point-of-view, resides their unique charm. Cross-bred kin to the Pogues, Dexy's Midnight Runners and the noisy charm of the Dallas' Fraternity of Noise bands, WIFS are country, jazz, folk, big band, and ragtime-influenced punk. The combo's horns, pianos, guitars, as well as male and female vocalists keep the tempo high forcing us to shimmy 'n' shake and tap our toes to the delightful jazzy romp. Flappers, ragtime gals, and big-band-sters collide in the world's most unusual dance party. (Gern Blandsten POB 356 River Edge, NJ 07661) – Keith York

Wright, Shannon Maps of Tacit CD
All City Hobo 7"
The essence of everything wonderful in Shannon Wright's music boils down to the two songs on a vinyl 7". The album's highs and lows may be lacking in the brief document, but her passion is there. For the more adventurous, her sophomore compact disc is weightier in all measures. Shannon Wright's opting for Southern seclusion rather than the urban technicolor-dreamcoat that is New York City is evidenced as her humanity is expressed across a range of instrumentation. For some reason it is easier for me to understand the testosterone that fueled the Stooges' music than to get my head around where Shannon is coming from. Boiling over with emotion, she hammers songs together to make points rather than freewheelin' for entertainment value – she is right there with her insides on public display and like any New Yorker, I just want to walk on by not giving her so much as a glance. But like Shannon, the humanity in us all comes out and we want to help her out, to pick our brother or sister up off the ground and lift them higher than even they could envision. Shannon Wright is there, like many other vibrant, passionate singer/songwriters, in the thick of it. You must decide if you want to take the time to indulge yourself in another's anguish and triumph. Maps of Tacit is not a casual listen, it is one that takes a great deal of energy (you have to give to receive), but one you will remember for a long time. (Quarterstick POB 25342 Chicago, IL 60625, All City 3831 N. Christiana Chicago, IL 60618) – Keith York

Wu-Tang Clan Wu-Tang Forever 4x12”
A lot more can be said about Wu-Tang Clan’s new album other than it contains 27 tracks produced by Wu-Tang’s RZA. Wu-Tang Forever is about setting the record straight on hip hop, community, family and exposing the perpetratin’ evil doers. Throughout this album there are scenes set, settings described, and places recorded that envelope the listener bringing them along for the rides. Some of these journies take us to scenes where police officers are arresting, folks are shooting at one another, neighborhood dogs bark and to taking a shower with a woman. These, and the martial artis video game mockery, are part of their world. They don’t invitingly show us the way though, they drive us fast and cold into the underworld. A place many of us that live prosperous lifestyles have never been. What is endearing about their world is a slab of thick bass and driving kick drum sine-waves that knock your hips into the void. This isn’t a collection of James Brown samples, and martini glasses clinking amidst the hi’rolla’ set, it’s about keepin’ it real. Keepin’ everything out in the open. In several songs, the Wu-Tang Clan call others on the carpet as fake dependents on the R&B sound, lacking the experimental drive that hip hop was created from decades ago. Ironically they employ two female vocalists on their R&B songs that are definitely the low points of the album for me. My favorite is the hardcore, as is what is expected from these guys. (Loud Records/RCA)

Wyatt, Robert Shleep CD
The aged, the indigent, the homeless, the handicapped, the impoverished, the hungry will likely fail to hear the brilliant textures and verbiage that Mr. Wyatt employs herein. It is likely to reach too few people in its lifetime, but Shleep offers plenty for the lucky to grasp this between their teeth and swallow. As the songs wisped by I kept thinking of the enigmas that the aged represent: The knowledge that older generations own creates a mysterious barrier between citizens of different eras. Pictures of wheelchair bound residents of care facilities, hospital-like beds and sanitarium rooms housing the thoughts and imaginations left untapped by loneliness and uncaring family members. Afterall, a weekend visit couldn’t be that difficult, or could it? Families embody what our culture is defined by; relationships between human beings, love, hate and the creation of future carriers-on of family names and traditions. Shleep is nothing short of the embodiment of thoughts and words illuminating the fragility and sincerity of mankind with nothing short of an alter-placing reverence to our neighbors, or his for that matter. Endearing, genteel whispers catch the attention and draw one into the quiet pop songs, the tones of which are vaguely familiar (the metre of REMs “End of the World As We Know It...”) and distantly haunting and captivating simultaneously. Mr. Wyatt has been something of an enigma over the years, and Shleep just reinforces the point of view long fostered in my head. (Thirsty Ear 274 Madison Avenue Suite 804, NYC, NY 10016) - Keith York