Grand Champeen is good at what it does.  That is, playing muscular power pop seldom heard this side of the Flashing Lights, Cheap Trick, or Big Star.  The group has its hook-heavy, riff-driven rock down to a science.  Hailing from the fertile musical soil of Austin, Texas, Grand Champeen is obviously indebted to the likes of the Replacements and the Rolling Stones.  Like its antecedents, Champeen is expert at writing throat-shredding anthems.  Take for example the unrestrained fifth track on “The One That Brought You,” titled “One and Only.”  In a stroke, this number brushes any of those “rock is dead” notions and buries them deep into the earth’s core.  “One and Only” is an amazingly infectious, driving tune.  Lead vocalist Channing Lewis belts out melancholic lyrics with a voice reminiscent of both Neil Young and Buddy Holly.  Although there’s nothing earthshattering about Grand Champeen, its skill and exuberance are enough to make any fan of hard rockin’ power pop take notice.  This is a superb disc.

-Randall J. Stephens

The magically delicious, out-of-this-world electro pop of Enon’s third and latest full-length, “Hocus Pocus,” suggests the three piece of guitarist/keyboardist/vocalist John Schmersal (ex Brainiac), bassist/keyboardist/vocalist Toko Yasuda (ex Blonde Redhead) and drummer Matt Schultz (ex Let’s Crash) reside in a remote, parallel pop universe from that of their musical contemporaries. Much like the mid to late ’60s output of Kinks frontman and ace songsmith Ray Davies, Schmersal’s best songs, as of late, read like confused social commentaries of a world he once knew but no longer does. “Storm the Gates,” in particular, like the title track from the band’s last long player, 2002’s “High Society,” finds Schmersal clearly under Davies’ influence and out of touch lyrically, as he looks outward to an almost unrecognizable world that has left him in the dark. “The world has changed/and so has mine/It never was so strange,” he bemoans.

Yasuda’s role as a songwriter and vocalist on “Hocus Pocus” increases, which should come as no surprise to long-time listeners, due to the fact her songs have become bouncy, pop money shots since joining the band. From the infectious Rick James party-time funk of “Murder Sounds” to the droning far-out sounds of “Mikazuki” to the flurry of vintage keyboard blurbs and beats that comprise “Daughter in the House of Fools,” Yasuda’s songs orbit around her cheerful, chipmunk vocals, which remain an excellent contrast to Schmersal’s nasal and often spastic vocal stylings. One of the year’s best.

-P.J. Osborne

More gentle, post-hippy soft rock from the grandmasters of neo-baroque pop.  Great for those who pay attention to this sort of thing (meaning, fans of old masters like Free Design, The Left Banke, The Association, and Yellow Balloon).  Ladybug Transistor produced a modern classic with its 1999 release, “Albemarle Sound.”  Since then, the group has been working on its affectations and further perfecting fop-pop.  To great effect.  Indeed, the band’s self-titled release is its best since “Albemarle Sound.”  Gary Olson’s baritone crooning, or, at times, his talk-singing, wonderfully matches the lilting beats and swirling horns.  Sasha Bell takes the lead on the prettier-than-posies “The Places You'll Call Home.”  Bell’s voice bares a striking  resemblance to other indie pop chanteuses, including Birdie's Debsey Wykes and Saint Etienne's Sarah Cracknell.  Throughout, the music is light and airy.  It’s as charming and soothing as the work of Kings of Convenience or the Aluminum Group.  Doubtless, the record will appeal to fans of new folk and soft indie. 

-Randall J. Stephens 

“You don’t have to be a pro to play,” Quasi vocalist/keyboardist/guitarist Sam Coomes sang on “Seal the Deal,” from the duo’s last release, 2001s The Sword of God. Coomes’ cavalier attitude has helped the little engine that is Quasi to keep chugging along over the course of six full-length releases in 10 years. Joined once again by drummer Janet Weiss (of Sleater-Kinney fame), “Hot Shit” finds the duo stretching out musically and lyrically, as Coomes vents his frustrations with the Bush administration (“Dog and Master” and “White Devil’s Dream”) over Weiss’ rollicking, off-kilter, Bonzo drum fills, that serve as the perfect foundation for his acerbic and vitriolic tongue-lashings. As with the duo’s last album, the change most likely to draw comment is the move away from chunky, keyboards and towards guitar as the lead instrument on a number of songs, most notably the title track. And cynics beware, as “Good Time Rock N’ Roll” strips away the moodiness--though only momentarily--and finds Coomes celebrating, “Good time rock and roll, cranked up high on the stereo.” Memo to Sam and Janet: Don’t stop repeating “I think I can; I think I can” just yet. 

-P.J. Osborne

The recent, tragic and premature passing of Ten Grand’s Matt Davis at 26 did more than force the remaining band members into a state of flux and uncertainty: It robbed music of a band on its way to becoming a sonic standard for many others to be measured by. The band’s swan song, “This is the Way to Rule,” marries the intensity of Fugazi and At the Drive In with the sheer tenacity of The Nation of Ulysses and The Make Up by twisting, contorting, pushing and pulling each song into several different directions, leaving the mouths of hardcore and punk kids alike salivating for more. From the opening beats of “Hands off the Merch” to the squalling feedback that ends “Now You Got What I Got,” Ten Grand wipes away the residue of redundancy and plagiarism plaguing the bulk of independent music today and replaces it with an onslaught of relentless and abrasive musical fury partnered with the fire-and-brimstone-fueled vocals of Davis on “RESPECT Me,” “I Will Seriously Pay You to Shut Up” and “Get Out of My Dojo,” --all of which stagger around woozily like the last man standing in a battle royal. This IS soul. 

-P.J. Osborne

Though a relatively new band, the Rosebuds write smart, catchy tunes that are both fresh and well-informed.  The tight threesome formed in 2001 in Wilmington, North Carolina.  After the Rosebuds released a split seven inch, they drew the attention of nearby label Merge.  The folks at Merge have plucked the group from obscurity and released the band’s fetching first full-length “The Rosebuds Make Out.”  The disc is packed with persistently appealing numbers from start to finish.  Songs like the undeniably pretty “Wishes for Kisses” add to the record’s overall appeal.  And on songs like the opening track, “Back to Boston,” the group sounds remarkably like another under-the-radar legend, Regia.  Like the Rosebuds’ freshman release, Regia’s only record, “The Art of Navigation,” brimmed with stunning power pop and should-be  hits.  It would be a shame if the Rosebuds suffered a similar fate of obscurity.  Yet, with fist-pumping rockers like “Kicks in the Schoolyard” and “My Downtown Friends,” the Rosebuds will probably garner some much-deserved praise.  If the band could be faulted for anything, it would be its overly-fey lyrics.  Chalk that up to youth and nothing more.  Besides, the music is so engrossing that few would notice.  Needless to say, this is a tremendous first LP. 

-Randall J. Stephens

Dayton, Ohio is not only “The Birthplace of Aviation,” but also a breeding ground for some of independent music’s finer bands of the last decade: Guided By Voices, The Breeders and Brainiac. “Daystar,” the third offering overall from the locale’s latest outfit, the Lab Partners, lifts off and travels similar celestial heights once explored by My Bloody Valentine (albeit more subdued) and currently by Spiritualized (although slightly more focused) but ultimately wanders out on its own path of waved-out bittersweet symphonies that combine delectable ‘60s acoustic-based pop (“Gold” and “Those Things”), hints of glam (“Magnify”) and trance-inducing overtures (“Still Shine On,” “Furthest from Love” and “Almost There”).  It will have listeners’ heads bobbing in the clouds while their feet are firmly planted on the ground.

-P.J. Osborne

Bands imitating and approximating Neil Young's Crazy Horse garage-rock sounds are a dime a dozen – it seems -- these days, but Grandaddy comes off a lot closer to a soft rock, "Trans" era Neil Young clone with its new "Sumday" release. Jason Lytle's voice is a dead ringer for Neil's nasal whine, only his vocals lack that venerable grunge grandfather's appealing waver-y quality. But while Young is one of rock's true restless spirits, Grandaddy's primary theme appears to be inertia, since the songs on "Sumday" show a real disinclination to motion. The plodding, monochromatic music of this album matches the numbness of its lyrical themes. The character in "Stand By," for example, is like an airport patron without a ticket, and the poor sap of "The Go In The Go-For-It" has found his get-up-and-go to have gotten-up-and-gone – possibly for good. Tracks like "The Warming Sun" and "The Group Who Couldn't Say" feature multi-tracked vocals, which add a little light and life to this album's otherwise dark feel. But the subdued synth-pop of "Stray Dog And The Chocolate Shake" is more representative of this project's overall depressive mood. "The Final Push To The Sum," with its acoustic piano, has grand orchestral aspirations running through it, but for the most part, this is a disc with primarily down-in-the-mouth-basic sounds. If the dreary corporate satire "Office Space" had utilized music befitting the doldrums of the nine to five work life, instead of its greatly contrasting soundtrack of rap, "Sumday" could have easily summed that one up. It may be called “Sumday,” but severe energy subtraction is the overall affect of this one.

-Dan MacIntosh

Apollo Sunshine’s instrumental first track on “Katonah” sounds like a speed-addled outtake from the Beatles’ “Magical Mystery Tour.”  Jittery and frantic, the song comes and goes in a flash.  It’s followed by the shape-shifting “Fear of Heights.”  One of the best numbers on the disc, “Fear of Heights” is a prog-pop shamble, running the gamut from Badfinger inspired melodies to an ever-changing musical drama a la the Kinks’ “Arthur or the Decline and Fall of the British Empire.” Indeed, Apollo Sunshine’s “Katonah” seems to be lifting from the same sources that have recently inspired Beachwood Sparks, Sunshine Fix, and indie-prankster Graham Smith of Kleenex Girl Wonder. 

Apollo Sunshine has neither the attention span nor enough collective concentration to stick to one theme in each song for too long.  That has its pluses and minuses.  The songs go from one massive hook to another, faster than you can say GBV.  It will be a welcome change to some, and a distracting nuisance to others.  Regardless, though, Apollo Sunshine has a great deal of talent.  The band’s prowess is quite apparent on the frenzied “Happening” and the herky-jerky, anthemic “The Egg.”  Best of all, there’s rarely a dull moment on this CD.

-Randall J. Stephens

Wearing her heart tattooed on her arm, electrotrash chanteuse Peaches coos and curses her way through 12 R-Rated, bass-heavy jams that throb like a toothache on her second and latest release, “Fatherfucker.” With lyrics that would make even sailors shake their heads in disgust, the former school-teacher-turned-novelty act is already on borrowed time, which she seems to have taken note of. The album opener “I Don’t Give a…” kicks things off when Peaches announces endlessly that she doesn’t, in fact, give a you-know-what. Elsewhere, “Back it Up, Boys” and “Shake Yer Dix” don’t dig deeper than their simplistic and suggestive titles, and as is the case with other like-minded and obscenity –ridden artists such as The Frogs and Har Mar Superstar, the joke is old—long before you’ve heard it told.

-P.J. Osborne