The bandwagon for New York City's latest heavily hyped rock and roll export, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, continues to grow with each passing day due in large because the trio has helped to refine, if not recharge, music much like predecessors the Gang of Four and Royal Trux did, by grabbing it by the seat of its pants and giving it a swift kick where it hurts. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs specialize in supplying taut, pile-driving rhythms and dense, fingernails-on-a-chalkboard guitar squeals courtesy of drummer Brian Chase and guitarist Nick Zinner. Added over that are the riot girl vocal stylings of Karen O, which in essence, resonate with equal parts passion, seductiveness and immediacy.

Following up last year's self-titled debut EP, the Yeah Yeah Yeah's deliver the goods on their follow-up, 3-song EP, "Machine." The combustible title track's serrated guitar licks coupled with Karen O's PJ Harvey-like cooing, along with the raw, discordant 4-track demo "Graveyard," succeed in capturing and channeling the band's primal energy. The art-damaged, droning mix of "Pin" finds the band exploring different production values and expansive soundscapes that might be a hint of things to come. 

Consider "Machine" a sonic sampler, which should hold listeners over until the main course—the band's first full-length—arrives sometime in early 2003. Here's hoping the Yeah Yeah Yeah's continue to move forward by offering fresh material and refuse to regurgitate past successes. 

-P.J. Osborne

Armed primarily with an acoustic guitar, Built to Spill auteur Doug Martsch indulges his newfound love of the Delta blues and pays homage by retreating to his front porch to kick out 11 rustic jams culled from late 1999 and early 2000 on "Now You Know," his first official solo release. 

Mostly built around blues-influenced riffs and slide guitar overdubs with slight accents of keyboards and cello, "Now You Know" finds Martsch attempting to scale down his songs, and he succeeds on the lushly harmonious "Dream," which pairs Martsch's trademark whiny vocal with slide guitar and the minimal beats of a kick drum; "Offer" and "Stay" begin and end the album with gritty full-on blues treatments. On the second half of the album Martsch deviates from his plan and gives in to a few moments of temptation like a dieter a few days after New Year's Day. "Window" subtly and seamlessly shifts gears going from acoustic finger-picking to his trademark, graceful electric work in a moments notice; the instrumental passages of the aptly-named "Instrumental" and the vibrant prog-rock gem "Impossible" recall early doses of Built to Spill, circa "There's Nothing Wrong With Love." 

Martsch employs serviceable musicians in bassist Travis Ward and drummer Daren Adair (when not playing those instruments himself) who assist him in capturing a beautifully minimal and ghostly sound.

-P.J. Osborne

For better or worse, 80's synth pop is resurfacing again in a big way, which is why this album will likely appeal to both retro-heads and current dance freaks alike. And it's all about electricity, baby!  I mean, why else would music by Tears For Fears, Kraftwerk, Grandmaster Flash and Laidback sit so nicely next to this year's funkster-models, like Fischerspooner and Felix da House Cat? If this album proves any one thing, it's that last year's old news can become this year's latest, that is, if it gets into just the right tastemaker's hands. 

But there's still a world of difference between something that is truly new, and something that is only newly repackaged. Luke Slater's synthetic groove, for example, may sound aurally adventurous to today's johnny-come-latelys, but "Digital Emotion" doesn't do anything New Order didn't already do better some 20 years ago. It's just beyond tempting to play ‘spot the influences' with this album's new tracks-especially when a pre-doom ‘n gloom Depeche Mode-like poppy synth bass groove provides the intro for "Number One" by Playgroup, or when gusgus revives Studio 54 disco with "Dance You Down." "Emerge (Dave Clarke Remix)" is one of this collection's most memorable highlights, as it retains a slight industrial edge to it, in addition to its repeated vocal refrain. Chicks On Speed brings to mind Kraftwerk (also represented with the song "Trans-Europe Express" on this 2-CD set) with its diatribe against the fashion industry called "Fashion Rules!"

There's now no denying that disco never truly died. And this album makes one wonder if any kind of dance music ever really dies.

-Dan MacIntosh

This is John Ringhofer's second release under the moniker Half-Handed Cloud on Soundsfamilyre and Asthmatic Kitty.  It's fitting that Daniel Smith—of leftfield God-rock renown, Danielson Famile—should release Ringhofer's bizzaro, shape-shifting indie-pop.  Ringhofer writes songs that are at once reminiscent of Harry Nilsson's infectious sentimentality, Van Dyke Parks's Americana from outer space, and Of Montreal's wide-eyed pop microbursts.  "We Haven't Just Been Told" is much more polished and cohesive than Half-Handed's pervious release, "Learning About Your Scale."  Still, Ringhofer has the attention span of a gnat and the songs on this new LP morph constantly from marshal toy-town numbers to lilting, piano pushing Tin Pan Alley songs.  Ringhofer is nearly as adept at crafting pop treasures as Graham Smith of Kleenex Girl Wonder or Robert Pollard of Guided by Voices fame.  And, he's also about as prodigious as both of those indie mavens.  I wouldn't be surprised if Ringhofer, too, had his own cache of suitcases crammed with secret four-track tapes, containing albums never-to-be-released.  Ringhofer diverges, though, from contemporary indie both in content and in style.  While his songs are as twee as any of those produced by kindercore records and various Athens sprouts from the Elephant 6 collective, they are never so self-consciously retro.  Ringhofer is not just conjuring the old Beatles/Beach Boys spirit into the new millennium.  His tunes are so odd and eccentric they nearly defy description or comparison.  The themes and lyrics on "We Haven't Just Been Told" also deviate considerably from most current indie fare.  You'd think maybe the late Reverend Howard Finster collaborated with Ringhofer on "We Haven't Just Been Told's" dadaist, vacation bible school material.  It's not unlike the fantasy Christian world that the band Princeton Reverbs Colonial weaves.  The images Ringhofer depicts are at once enticing, imaginative, and guileless.  All making this record a true gem.  Well worth your nickel if you have a taste for obscure, yet delicious pop. 

-Randall J. Stephens

Unless you're a jam band fan (read as Dave Matthews, Grateful Dead, et. al.), there are very few good reasons to buy live albums.  The typical live album purchaser fits one of three profiles: They're either a record-collecting completest; Folks intent on proving "we were at that show!"; or they just had to have the live version of "that one song."

Most modern live albums serve as greatest hits repackages, or a chronicle of a performance in the most extravagantly indulgent venue the band has ever played (Live at the Rose Bowl? Budokan? Madison Square Garden? Central Park?).  And most suck.

The latest (and first self-label) release by UK indie-favorites Hefner, entitled "Kick, Snare, Hats, Ride," defies all of these stereotypes, and is a delightful and curious peek at a band whose songs not only survive, but thrive, in various states of production, performance, and inebriation.  The album compiles tracks rarely played live, those that have undergone radical reincarnations in a live setting, and those that are simply outstanding performances, pulled from 11 different shows over the last 8 years.  Apart from being a treat for fans who rarely get to see the band in a live setting, "Kick, Snare, Hats, Ride" serves as an excellent primer for first-time fans, covering all corners of the Hefner sound: from the horny, anxious and angular rock of "God Protect Your Home;" to the horny, epic crescendo of "Eloping;" to the horny pop bounce of "Hello Kitten."  Stand out tracks include a dramatic, minimalist rendition of "Alan Bean," where only vocals, electric piano, and steel guitar carry the inspirational ballad forward like a tip-toeing child under the twinkling lights of a Christmas tree, and the aforementioned "Eloping."

Songwriter Darren Hayman confesses in the liner notes "when the Hefner live show collapses into your town, you can be sure they weren't going to sound like their records."  While the arrangements and energy may be different from their round plastic versions, these reincarnated songs only further illuminate their strength.  Hefner still has one of the highest hooks-per-tune ratio in the indie-pop world, and no amount of make-up or nudity in these live settings can mask it.  A fascinating and rewarding listen for first-time fans or Hefner disciples, "Kick, Snare, Hats, Ride" brings new hope to the tired genre of the live album.

-Josh Baze

Power pop can be such a breath of fresh air.  Young folks more enamored with atonal indie or the garage band dejour would surely judge the genre an insufferable bore.  So be it.  There is just something to be said for a band that can write hook after beautiful hook and still strike a strong enough chorus to make the pop underground gleeful with pride.  The Green and Yellow TV are just such an accomplished act.  Indeed, the Silverlake, California, trio has been gaining accolades from critics in LA for some time now.  "Record X" is their first major release and it brims with pure pop for now people.  There are quite a few allusions on this LP to the giants of the genre: Cheap Trick, the Raspberries, Big Star, Jason Falkner.  It would fit nicely on the roster of labels like spinART or maybe Bobsled Records.  On the album's opener, "The Moon Hoax," the boys belt out harmonies that are more spot-on than almost any other rock band.  Their shear singing ability is reminiscent of other recent stalwarts, including Sloan, Oranger, Zumpano, the Gallygows, and Teenage Fanclub.  At times, though, the LP seems a little too studied.  The production is crystal clear and slightly over commercial.  In effect, some might think, it creates an authenticity gap.  It's almost as if the disc were the group's masters thesis on power pop.  Of course, this is a relatively minor criticism and hardly detracts from an otherwise excellent CD.  Anyone moved by tight, full-on pop perfection will find much to enjoy in "Record X."

-Randall J. Stephens

A drawing of an old truck graces the cover of Starflyer 59's EP "Can't Stop Eating," and most likely, this art actually depicts singer/guitarist Jason Martin's blue-collar day job. Martin has always approached his moody mix of dry vocals and swirling guitars with the day in, day out consistency of a construction worker. And now his constant flow of albums, singles, and EP's has grown into a rather large neighborhood of neighborly music.

Even this relatively small dosage of Martin music displays many familiar Starflyer characteristics. He may have titled one of its tracks "West Coast Friendship," but this project's strongest influences can be found across the pond, deep in the land of fish ‘n chips.

"Compeating" (his spelling, not mine) has one of those big melodramatic Morrissey/Smith-like melodies, and "Give Up The War (Stereo Mix)" hearkens back to early Smiths days with its quiet acoustic arrangement. "West Coast Friendship" sports a jangle-y guitar part on the verses, and a big twang-y surf thing on its chorus. It sounds something like Echo and The Bunnymen, only slowed down to half-speed. A cover of Damien Juardo's "Happy Birthday John" and the closing instrumental, "Theme From Dromedary" -- which comes off like the theme song to a spy movie -- round out the remainder of this brief CD.

On "Can't Stop Eating," Starflyer once again provides both a sturdy and smooth ride.

-Dan MacIntosh

With this third edition of the City On A Hill worship series - now entering The Christmas Years-Steve Hindalong's regular worship gatherings are quickly approaching the musical equivalent of a franchise. And if he starts producing nifty accompanying video info-mercials, maybe he can even tap into the massive evangelical buying public and give Bill Gaither a run for his money. (Just kidding, of course. Hindalong has way too much integrity for that). Nevertheless, consumers should always be suspicious of sequels - of any kind. Movies, of course, come to mind first, since Hollywood is one town where cloning goes completely unregulated. The trouble with sequels is that the formula eventually takes priority over content. It would be a real shame if this city on a hill ever devolved into just another sad little mole hill.

There was a great "B.C" comic Christmas TV special quite a few years ago, where the strip's characters humorously speculated about the genesis of our Christmas traditions. One character had a light bulb go on over his head when he said: "There's a buck to be made here!" How cynical, yet true, is that statement! Let us not forget, O optimistic ones, how they made that movie "Vacation" first, then followed it up quickly with one called "Christmas Vacation." Worship music is trendy now— even though the words "trendy" and "worship" seem to nullify each other.  So, why not repackage this already successful series with some colorful seasonal Christmas wrap? If this were anyone other than Steve Hindalong, I would have written off  "It's Christmas Time" immediately. But Steve's name forced me to leave it under the tree.

Dating back to the early days of The Choir, Hindalong has long been a pillar of artistic integrity. So if anybody can put a little musical sincerity back into that cash cow we call Christmas music, it's good old Steve.  And while this new album doesn't smack of any cynical commercialization, "It's Christmas Time" sadly pales in comparison to "Noel," which was Hindalong's first - and far better -- foray into Christmas music. That set was edgier and more memorable than is this new one. In fact, some of this project's best songs actually first appeared on "Noel." For instance, The Choir's performance of the Hindalong-penned "Babe In The Straw," clearly surpasses Caedmon's Call's new take here, and Buddy and Julie Miller gave "Away In A Manger" a Carter Family-inspired old-time-y country feel, which clearly outshines Julie Miller and Derri Daugherty's much slicker newer version.  The presence of Terry Taylor (as both a performer and a writer) raised expectations high for this release, but the few songs he wrote with Hindalong ("It's Christmas Time" and "Holy Emmanuel") don't come anywhere close to matching his best work. One salivates at what a "Darn Floor, Big Bite" approach to Christmas music might have sounded like, and it looks like we'll need to wait a while longer to hear Taylor's bizarrely appealing Amos-esque spin - if it ever actually materializes.

This is not to say "It's Christmas Time" is a bad album and without merit, it's just not anything special. But there are still some standout tracks on it. Jars Of Clay shine brightly with their new song "Bethlehem Town," and Sara Groves sings sweetly on "Child Of Love." Lee Nash's fragile voice also perfectly matches the lullaby feel of  "Silent Night." 

"City On A Hill" is not yet at the franchise stage. But like fast food, this album may temporarily satisfy your hunger for Christmas music, but it won't fill you up.

-Dan MacIntosh