I'm making a mix tape right now called "Deathrace."  I'm trying to eschew Steppenwolf and Deep Purple in favor of artists from the last ten years or so in hopes of lending the tape a nice contemporary feel.  So far I've got "Candy Can You" by Upside Down Room, "Jumble, Jumble" by the White Stripes, "Cruise Your New Baby Fly Self" by GVSB, "Whatever Happened to My Rock and Roll" by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, "Cement Mixer" by Clinic, and the granddaddy of them all, "Just Like Honey" by the Jesus and Mary Chain.  There's more in there, but those are the highlights.

The Raveonettes would make a wonderful addition to "Deathrace", but I'm having trouble deciding which song to include.  Like GVSB, Clinic, and B.R.M.C., the Raveonettes wear JAMC's influence like a form fitting black leather jacket.  This Danish rock duo is head-over-heels in love with their noize, and the key of B flat minor – every song on here features droning, deadpan boy/girl harmonies woven between sheets of white noise and detuned guitar artillery set to steady pulsing rhythms, which either may as well be, or in fact are, produced by a drum machine.  So there's not much distinguishing the tracks from each other musically, and the Billy Badass façade certainly never lets up or changes into something more sophisticated – the Raveonettes unabashedly put forth an aura of style over substance that seems to be in keeping with current trends in popular music.  Call them the Black Stripes.

What the Raveonettes lack in ability and originality, they attempt to make up for in volume and succeed only some of the time on this short, 20 minute EP.  I've narrowed my mix tape selections down to "Do You Believe Her", for its punchy rhythm and crusty sample and the closer "Beat City" a Ramones-ish bop that descends into a vortex of feedback and distortion.  The former song has a memorable hook, which distinguishes it from the rest of the feedback-laden sleepwalks on this record, while the latter truly stands out from the others for coming to their influences with something that might be called a fresh approach.  I can only imagine how grating that one-note vocal drone would get over the course of a full-length, and the Raveonettes lack the texture to keep it interesting – Loveless, this ain't.

I'm pleased at the prospect of such a noisy, ugly sound hitting it big in the U.S., but then again we've seen Sonic Youth do it, and we've seen Nirvana do it, both to a degree that none of the nu garage bands could match even if the sum of all their cultural impacts were to be pitted against these luminaries.  I'm wondering if noise carries the same weight that it once did.  The Raveonettes may yet prove to be something more than they seem to be, but with this album they merely show that they can muss their hair and pout with the best of them, making them a good mix tape band.  Albeit one that has too many towering tinnitus-inducing predecessors to cast their own shadow. 

- Jared Bane

Those who obsess over album credits may already be familiar with Spike Priggen, namely because of his memberships in Dumptruck and Liquor Giants. "The Very Thing That You Treasure" is the man's first-ever solo album, and it's also one heartfelt little debut.

Priggen's music has been positively compared to that of jangle-pop icons like Dwight Twilley, Cheap Trick, and Big Star.  And while those acts come to mind more than a few times while this disc is playing, a few less likely references also pop out. "What Yer Missin'," for example, is nothing if not a Weezer-esque pop rocker. Then when Priggen begins to sound all weary-like, as on "So Good To See You," he takes on the a desperate Loudon Wainright III persona. "Alright," for something completely different, is loud blues-rock; while "I'm In Love" has a honky tonk swagger to it, with just a hint of mandolin.

Of course, there are many more places where Priggen lives up to his power-pop influences. "Yesterday" is a tambourine-shaking rocker; "Outtasight" is also jangle-y rock, wherein the singer admits: "Can't seem to remember my dreams." "Listening To Me" is yet more jangle-rock, highlighted by plenty of 6 and 12-string electric guitar work.

It's truth in advertising to promote Spike Priggen's solo album as one containing many of his favorite rattling sounds. But what makes this recording even more valuable, are some of its unexpected musical treasures.

-Dan MacIntosh

The Ex Models/The Seconds 
Split EP 
My Pal God

Is it something in the water?

The Starside Eight, a.k.a. guitarist James Eight and bassist J.J. Starside are Brooklyn's latest musical offering to make waves in an overflowing and diverse pool of talent (Enon, Les Savy Fav, The French Kicks, Ida). The duo's dashing debut, "Goodnight Noises Everywhere," rises to the surface and delivers 11 mellow, mid-tempo murmurings, evoking Scottish popsters Belle and Sebastian ("Breaking" and "Shining Mia"), Yankee dandies Wilco ("Memory Lapse" and "The Birthday Show") and golden oldies The Everly Brothers ("Fit of Love").

Also splashing about are the Ex Models and The Seconds; bands that team up for a four-song split EP, which is not surprising, since both bands share the same bassist, Zach Lehrhoff, and quite often the same stages as tour partners. The Ex Models dive in head first, kicking off the EP with "U Got What I Need (Shake)," 36 seconds of spastic tomfoolery, bringing to mind sonic deconstructionists U.S. Maple at warp speed. The madness ensues with track two, "3 Weeks," a song three times longer, featuring the crazed yelps of vocalist and guitarist Shahin Motia and the quick, hard-hitting rhythm section of Lehrhoff and drummer Jake Fiedler. Where the Ex Models place an emphasis on jerky and highly excitable bombastic blasts, The Seconds focus on the angular riffage of "Pink Flag" era Wire, specifically on the anthemic "Better Suit," a fitting end to what appears bright futures for both bands.

-P. J. Osborne

Though a bit uneven, this ep marks the NYC quartet The Damnwells as a band well worth monitoring.  Combining a talent for pop melodies, which lead singer Alex Dezen's slow delivery usually masks, with a solid rock 'n' roll foundation, The Damnwells eschew flash and pretension, offering instead a meat-and-potatoes approach.  This can be both gratifying and tedious.  Thanks, perhaps, to the presence of drummer Steven Terry, formerly of Whiskeytown, the band has attracted some buzz as a potential participant in the alt-country sweepstakes, but their music, other than the occasional nod to roots influences, owes little to the wide range of sounds that supposedly fit under the alt-country tent.  The Damnwells play low to mid-tempo rock that is exceedingly easy on the ears.  At their most interesting, they can remind one of Mark Linkous, minus the experimental, found-sound flourishes that mark Sparklehorse's output.  At their least, they seem to be operating with a Matchbox 20 manual (fortunately, they don't operate it well).  "Have to Ask," for example, flirts with the kind of nauseating dramatic choruses that have been a staple of the alternative rock format for the past ten years, an approach that also sinks the unintentionally satirical "Sleepsinging."  High points include "H.C.E.," which juxtaposes delicate guitar work with a languorous, but never tedious, song structure akin to Pedro the Lion, and the solid rocker "Everybody Knows."  Throughout, the band is buoyed by Dezen's warm, wearied vocals and an obvious talent for straight-forward rock composition.  All in all, a solid debut.

-Bland Whitley

Many only know Kris Kristofferson for his bad ("A Star Is Born") and good ("Lone Star") acting roles.  Some may have all but forgotten his stellar song writing breakthroughs. But during his early days -- when he wasn't a movie star smooching with, say, Babs -- and looked more like a drunken homeless man than anything else, nobody captured human desperation in song better than Kristofferson did.

Kristofferson is most often categorized as a country artist, and since he got his start in Nashville, such a description probably fits him best. But this gathering of alt.country and underground rock artists helps make the case for Kristofferson as the grandfather of indie authenticity.  Evidence: When Richard Buckner covers "Lovin' Here Was Easier (Than Anything I'll Ever Do Again)," it makes one realize that the kind of slow-death harshness of Buckner's sound might not have ever happened, had Kristofferson not first perfected it in the early Seventies.

Kristofferson may have landed a helicopter on Johnny Cash's lawn – in an extreme act to get heard by his country music idol – but this man's music covers a much wider airspace than just the Nashville skyline. This may be why so many so-called underground artists find a certain affinity with Ol' Kris.

The album opens with Handsome Family's diehard country version of "Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down" (could it sound any other way, with Brett Sparks singing it?), but by the time Califone's "Border Lord" comes along, you get the odd feeling somebody's replaced this album with one of Tom Waits' more recent recordings.

Many of these acts are not at all unfamiliar with incorporating country elements.  Of course, Calexico ("Cosey's Last Ride") and Howe Gelb ("The Pilgrim (Chapter 33)," have certainly flirted with country styles throughout their careers. Yet it's sure fun to hear how Creeper Lagoon ("Why Me") and Grandaddy ("Best Of All Possible Worlds") interpret country's sometimes stodgy form.

Kris Kristofferson will more than likely die being best known for his film roles, but his songs add up to one long and dark soundtrack to the hard luck life. 

-Dan MacIntosh

I once tried to woo a girl by playing Scott Walker on the radio and dedicating it to her. This method, like many over-the-top romantic statements, failed. Jacques belongs to a similar school of courtly love. Listen to those Mexican strings on "Cowgirls and Gringos." A ballad about love with some sprinkled percussion and shakers, this opening number sets the goofy, slightly somber mood that Jacques is going for. It's all about failed love, telling her you love her, and hearing back she isn't interested. It's the pursuit that's placed here in loving charms. "Winterpollen," is an emo track of slow moving country guitar and smooth-jazz horns. A soundtrack as failed as pursuing a sexy soccer mom in High School, Jacques breaks it down to it's most minimal narrative groove. As Charlie Parker once pronounced about country, "Listen to the stories." Other tracks are chocked full of such absurd fusions they could only appear in a soundtrack. "All of Me Loves A Little Piece of You," takes samba percussion, Scott Walker wails, and yes Kraftwerk keyboard beats to make a possible music where a South American Bacharach invented new wave. There's even a little new wave sexiness in the mix when melodrama reaches a climax with, "I'm guilty/ So Kiss Me..." A well rounded series of love stories with a mexicali influence, Jacques binds their stories well.

- Andrew Jones

When Death Cab for Cutie titled their last proper full-length, 2001's "The Photo Album," in hindsight it was an ironic choice, considering what was soon to follow. "You Can Play These Songs With Chords," the band's latest release, serves as a series of snap shots of the band's beginnings and as a vehicle for singer and songwriter Ben Gibbard. It collects eight Gibbard compositions dating back to 1997, along with 10 bonus tracks comprised of covers (The Smiths "This Charming Man" and The Secret Stars "Wait"), singles ("Underwater" b/w "Army Corps of Architects" and the B side "Wait") and various outtakes.

Gibbard's undeniable talent as a songwriter is on display throughout: On "President of What?", Gibbard's sweet vocal delivery soars over his swooning and psychedelic guitar work; "Hindsight" finds him doing his best impersonation of Doug Martsch impersonating Neil Young; and on "Champagne From A Paper Cup," Gibbard, over some ringing, spaced-out guitars and a slow but steady beat, sings "I think I'm drunk enough to drive you home now."

Written and performed entirely by Gibbard on future bandmate Chris Walla's eight track, the eight songs were originally released on Elsinor Records with five later re-recorded by the full band and released on their debut "Something About Airplanes." Though sure to bring smiles to the faces of Death Cab for Cutie completests, the melodic indie pop of "You Can Play These Songs With Chords" is an ideal starting place for fans, old and new.

-P. J. Osborne

Your parents listened to it, you thrifted it: Yes, lite rock is one of many unearthed avenues of musical exploration the pop cognoscenti have begun to praise. Frank and John Navin take turns dressing up as Karen and Richard Carpenter, preening ala Steely Dan, and generally continuing the dream of pop riches that left when punk broke in the eighties and new wave took the top forty. Like Randy Newman they take lyrical jabs letting you know their music isn't really sweet, but rotten to the core. These occasional outbursts are embedded in tranquilizing moog tones, which, in the seventies, made this music the soundtrack for folks who were right of the political dial. 

It's nice to see a couple cats taking back analog adventures of yesteryear. There's a space in their arrangements that the over-the-top studio creations of Bacharach struggled to multi-track in, but these wholes only let you look farther into their songs. The encircling gaps are graced by guests of all sorts and a good helping of horns from Rob Mazurek and company. The song's stories are totally Steely Dan with bitter sweet romances of being used. "Tiny Decision," blurts with a hand clap backing, horns, moog, and a little female Carpenters-esque backing. "I Blow You Kisses" picks up the percussion and lays on the horns. My only complaint is that, nostalgia is becoming an excuse for not being inventive. Still you gotta admit this is well done and has more variety per track than three albums by most groups.

- Andrew Jones

When Dick Dodd of The Standells lamented on Boston being home to "lovers, muggers and thieves" on "Dirty Water" in 1965, he obviously did not have the indie quartet SUNTAN in mind, who have learned a thing or two from the underground's biggest names and applied it to their music. On the band's 3-song self-titled debut EP, they create majestic sound collages, piecing together elements of The Velvet Underground, Sonic Youth and The Spaceman 3. The first and last tracks of the EP, "L # 249747" and "Soak Up the Rays," wander past the eight-minute mark, building dense musical layers that shine through like the sun's rays on an overcast day. The twin guitars of Scott Endres and Nick Holdzkom play tug of war, slowly navigating both tracks to feverish freak-outs; the two tunes serve as bookends, sandwiching the EP's finest moment, the moody "Bag it Up," on which Holdzkom sings, "This thrill could last for hours." The thrills this EP provides should last listeners considerably longer.

-P. J. Osborne

Some time in the eighties hard rock and new wave met, they slept together, and then ashamed of their child had it shut away till it popped up in Chicago in the late nineties. This child inherited new wave's make up and hair rock's stage shows. It was also cute, with two female mouths bopping their little cutesy rhymes to be smashed by hair rock posturing. Yet they love, somehow coming together like an odd, yet functional family. "You've Got A Way," just might be the combination of motor rock and new wave you've been looking for. "Love Suprieze," guarantees Trans Am and The Faint will want these cats on tour with them, dipping into something strangely sweeter then hair rock before shouts break up the moment. "Strawberry Planet," could be Bannarama in places. This album is odd, not Bobby Conn weird though, more like an eclectic tribute to many different kinds of eighties cheese eccentrics. The band adopts stage names to further their theatrics.  Clever enough to bring eighties themes together into one loving whole, Strawberry might be the next retro-electro-savants to cruise along with Interpol. They do throw in some "we're into contemporary classical music" sentiments to make them look smart, but unless their putting Fleury Colon's theories to music I just see good old tunes from the days of the A-Team here.

- Andrew Jones
 

Coronet Blue goes through a few different sorts of blue periods on this collection of poppy rock music.  It sounds hard on the outside yet has an especially soft underbelly. 

Least appealing of the two is the aggressive tough side, showing through on darker musings, such as "Black Angel." Power pop (Coronet Blue's musical weapon of choice) is not powerful enough to handle such A-personality-related emotions, and these are much better handled by punkers and metal-heads. 

But this band's lighter shade of blue is a far better color for its music, such as when it gets all sweet with "Fool In Love," or how it imitates the guitar sound of Rockpile on "So Many (The Mystery Song)." And on "For Too Long A Secret," the vocal track even hints at Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.

This Australian outfit's self-titled album was produced by Mitch Easter, who also handles all the album's lead guitar work. Easter was the primary creative force behind Let's Active, as well as the producer of such seminal acts as R.E.M., Velvet Crush, and Marshall Crenshaw, and one hears bits and pieces from all of these various acts popping up in Coronet Blue's sound. But since the hooks are not memorable enough to leave a lasting impression and being that the lyrics aren't particularly quotable, Coronet Blue comes off as something nice, yet not exactly earth-shattering. 

-Dan MacIntosh

There's an entire label of Bjork sound a-likes run by her called Ten Little Indians. Onomatopea could pass for several of Bjork's little indians, perhaps switching I.D.s and identities with Emilana Torrini, impersonating her at customs and making their way into the fold of dance-pop faithful. There's an whole industry devoted to these pop projects, and Onomatopea's contribution to this tradition isn't bad. Strings and bass lines, electric clicks, groove to near operatic vocals. Onomatopea introduce a little funk into their mixture when their Cocteau Twins-style ambient pop borrows from Prince to give it flavor. "You're So Wild" is one of these searching, funky tracks that doesn't quite work. That's the problem with these acts: they have such good intentions, but never seem to arrive beyond lite rock. Ten years ago the orchestral funk and electronic backgrounds on this album were subtle clues to the clever minds that made this type of music genuine. Now it seems this category of fusion-lite, electro-pop has simply become hackneyed. "The Speed of Light" at least has a few organ stabs and horn exalts to show a heritage to either Stereolab or sixties pop.  All in all a mixed and promising bag that I can't really bring myself to recommend.

-Andrew Jones

Blue Cartoon crank out pretty little pop ditties from their home studio hideout in Austin, Texas.  Not that too many people have noticed.  If larger power pop acts make a relatively minor impression on the world of indie, it's no "Wonder of it All" that a smaller outfit like this will gain scant attention.  Blue Cartoon carves out a pleasant niche for themselves nonetheless.  At times they evoke Swag or Jason Falkner, at other moments they sound like Phil Keaggy from "Sunday's Child" or a happier Brendan Benson from "One Mississippi" days.  Pitch perfect harmonies and ringing guitars never veer into jam-out mode and create an overall subdued feeling.  The "power" is largely softened by the "pop".  This may reflect the age, or in less pejorative terms - the maturity, of Blue Cartoon's members.  For the most part, the formula of quiet power pop works well enough.  On occasion, though, things tend toward adult.alt.  An airy ballad entitled "The Spark," for instance, brings to mind a soundtrack for a 25 year junior high reunion.  Such songs offer a glimpse of what an ultra laid back, easy listening Teenage Fanclub might sound like.  However, any troubles one might have with this disc are immediately offset by spectacular songs such as the title track, "Davinci's Art," "Everyday Magic," "Empty Pages," and "Do You Dream Like I Do."  Taken as a whole, this is a charming, lyrical disc if ever there was one.

-Randall J. Stephens

The Sea and Cake are still at it.  What was more surprising to me was that this leading light of the once-dubbed Chicago "post-rock" scene, appear to have changed very little since the heyday of the genre.  The last Sea and Cake disc I purchased was The Fawn.  If I didn't know better I might think that "One Bedroom" was a long overdue second disc meant to accompany that earlier release.  It's enough to make one pine for the new economy years and the halcyon days of the Chicago-Louisville axis.  Harkening back to simpler times, One Bedroom showcases Sea and Cakes trademark circling rhythmic guitars, loopity-loop beats, and Sam Prekop's high-pitched backward-sounding vocals.  It all still seems like Can for the new millennium.  That is, if Can wasn't already Can for the new millennium.  Far be all this from a bad thing.  The best the disc offers is no less remarkable than some of Sea and Cake's earlier work.  A few tracks in particular, including "For Corners," "Left Side Clouded," and "Mr. F," are hypnotic and all-absorbing groove-offs.  Yet the dance-y filler material on "Hotel Tell" and "One Bedroom" only barely keep your attention when you're not dancing.  Being a big fan of Bowie's formidable album "Low," I think the Sea and Cake's rendition of "Sound and Vision" doesn't quite do it justice.  If anything, their cover of that classic emasculates the original with soft edges and sleek production.  "One Bedroom" is an uneven disc.  However, it will certainly appeal to the now navel gazing and nostalgic post-post rockers. 

-Randall J. Stephens