When great bands break up, the results usually aren’t this much fun.

From the ashes of The Matches came Maniac, igniting like a wildfire of creativity. (Yay, wordplay!)

When I drove from LA to San Francisco for The Matches’ final concert at the Fillmore in August 2009, it was not without a heavy heart. I spent more hours then I can remember listening to the band’s infectiously quirky alternative-pop-punk music since around 2002. I had seen them play in tiny, sweat-soaked community centers in suburbia and on various Warped Tour stages. I frequented their semi-routine L3 (Live, Loud & Local) shows at now-defunct iMusicast (r.i.p.) in Oakland, where teens of all ages and appearances gathered and tore the roof off the place. The band grew from local East Bay suburban punks inspired by the likes of Green Day and Rancid to a globe-trotting band on Epitaph Records.

After their energetic and infectious debut album E. Von Dahl Killed the Locals (released in 2004 on Epitaph), they experienced some success on various national (and international) tours and released their follow-up album Decomposer in 2006. That album didn’t seem to make them as popular as it should have, and its follow-up A Band in Hope was released with even less fanfare in 2008.

Personally, I blame Epitaph for not doing enough to push the band on the masses, and as a result their edgy, super-creative music that was a breath of fresh air to me and many other fans wasn’t appreciated as it should. They went on official “hiatus” in 2008 after that Fillmore show, and it is undecided if they’ll ever do a reunion gig.

Since that time, lead singer Shawn Harris and lead guitarist Jon Devoto have embarked on new projects: Devoto with his own band Bird by Bird, and Harris with Maniac, a two-piece thing featuring himself and Australian musician Jake Grigg (of the band Something with Numbers). Before releasing their new EP, Harris and Grigg maintained (and still maintain) a video blog where they cover current Billboard hits, indie-style. Sweet.

When I first saw the promo pictures for Maniac, I was frightened: the colors and oddness somewhat looked like a MGMT-ish experiment, and I failed to purchase their debut EP Extended Play until this week.

And damn, I’m glad I finally got around to it.

The future's so colorful they gotta wear shades

Die Rad is an offbeat, horn-filled number that opens the collection, and it has a sleazy swagger that makes the duo’s presence known. There’s a lot of noisy orchestration and vocal hooks going on at the same time, and it all adds up to a raucous introduction to the musical stylings of Harris & Grigg. Check out the song’s music video here to get a taste.

Always is a Promise has more conventional song structure, beginning with some strings and guitar strumming that is similar to the kinds of chords the Matches tended to use on their recordings. It sounds like both Harris and Grigg split singing duties, sometimes accentuating each other’s voices. This song sounds tailor-made for an indie romantic comedy-type movie, but definitely one that is chock full of quirk. Think something like (500) Days of Summer. We’re talking some Zooey Deschanel-like quirk, including the googly eyes and contorted deadpan facial expressions.

Hey Love throws more styles into the mix, led by a piano rhythm and some loud group vocals by what sounds like a large chorus of voices. The refrain of “hey love, take what you want…don’t make a stranger of meee” repeated over and over makes it quite infectious, that’s for damn sure.

Still MORE infectious is Fill the Lens. The song, which begins with what sounds like a campfire singalong, is the kind of song we all want to make but can’t because we’re not good at music. Maniac doesn’t have that problem. There’s some scattered chattering and laughter going on before the voices start chant-singing, until a folky guitar riff jacks things up and the real ear candy takes over. Another group singalong, this time “fill the lens with all your friends oh – now is foreverrrr” has been in my head for the last three days straight. I’ve found myself humming the tune, singing it in my head, and just generally heard it everywhere I’ve gone. If my ears could smile, they’d have already tired out their ear-face muscles with excessive smilage. That’s how awesome this tune is, and that’s BEFORE the xylophone solo in the middle. The chorus repeats a few times until the song finally comes to an end, but don’t be surprised if you find yourself clicking “back” on your MP3 player of choice, as I have frequently already.

The final track, Crowded Lonely World, is yet another change of pace. It sounds like a barber shop quartet, with echoing vocals acapella style. It’s just voices and finger snaps and a great Beach Boys vibe. I thought Maniac had maxed out all the possible melodies ever on the first few tracks on the EP, but this one uses even more delicious harmonies. By the time it ended, I was sad there were only 5 tracks on this.

Simply put, I was blown away by this EP. I honestly wasn’t expecting much from the post-Matches bands, as I had always thought their best stuff came from their group efforts…but after hearing this EP I’m convinced Shawn and Jake have a great future for the group. I hope this continues and they release more music, as this 5-song teaser is just incredibly creative and quirky, all qualities I enjoy in my music.

I’ll be reviewing the Bird by Bird EP Albatross, which was also released this past week, soon.

Give Maniac a listen if you ever saw and liked the Matches on Warped Tour, or any of their great music videos or songs.

The music world could use more cool stuff like this.

Birds of Tokyo just released their third full-length album, the self-titled Birds of Tokyo. Hailing from Perth, Australia, this is a band that I’m sure you have never heard of (if you’re from the USA, at least). I wouldn’t have ever have heard about them either had I not gone to see Hot Leg perform at the Viper Room in March 2009. Hot Leg featured Justin Hawkins, the lead singer/spandex wearer of the Darkness, that hokey but fun glam rock band from England from years ago…remember them?

Anyway, Birds of Tokyo opened that show, and I was blown away by their set. I guess it would be easy to call them a “rock” band, but they incorporate some interesting orchestrations and darker melodies to their songs, not unlike fellow Aussies Silverchair (another highly underrated band out of the country).

Birds of Tokyo have won several awards in Australia and routinely have big hit singles on the radio and sold-out, successful tours all over the country…yet I have NEVER heard anything about them anywhere here in the States. Ever.

That’s a shame, because they’re really a very talented, multi-faceted band worthy of your time. Their debut album, Day One, had some gems on it, such as Black Sheets (which sounded like what Incubus could have sounded like had they retained any semblance of their early edge) and Wayside. I didn’t think its follow-up Universes wasn’t as good as the debut, but it still had Wild Eyed Boy and Silhouettic, both solid songs that were big hits in their country.

Their new album, though, ups the ante even more. The band sounds more polished and stadium-worthy, which I’m sure they are in Australia. The album’s first single, The Saddest Thing I Know, balances some dark lyrics and an upbeat melody to really well. Vocalist Ian Kenny is the band’s strongest element, in my opinion, as his voice is a bit unique but suits the music excellently. At the Viper Room gig, he also employed some great stage presence, bringing a subtle but powerful element to the live show.

Album opener Plans, currently blowing up on Aussie radio, starts out softly before Kenny starts singing and the music builds to an epic chorus. It’s a great song for the band to bust out as the album opener on their third album, already being big stars. It has that kind of feel to it.

The Dark Side of Love boasts some great melodic guitars during the verses before a radio-friendly chorus kicks in. I don’t mean “radio-friendly” in a bad way here, it just has that bouncy melodic vibe to it. Birds of Tokyo are a great indie rock radio band, I guess I can say it that way, and it works really well.

Adam Spark lays down some slick guitars all over this album, whether they’re in the forefront of the music or if they’re in the back, accentuating Kenny’s vocals (which tends to be the case).

That’s the case with In the Veins of Death Valley, big boomy guitar riffs not really driving the song so much as laying the groundwork for the melodies (think of what Brad does for Linkin Park but with more variations in the chords). This song in particular has some nice keyboard work and orchestration going along with the song, giving it a nice haunting touch. It’s one of my favorite tracks on the record.

Circles slows things down a bit, and almost veers into adult contemporary territory with its piano work and almost falsetto-vocals by Kenny, but these flourishes don’t ruin everything, thankfully.

Wild at Heart starts out in Linkin Park territory (new school LP, with all the melodies and instruments and stuff) before branching out to better territory. It changes tempo abruptly but fluidly. I find this song pops up in my head throughout the day more than any of the others on this record, so be forewarned that it might get stuck in yours as well.

There's no more room on that couch =/

The Gap finds Kenny channeling his inner Matt Bellamy, and the song has crunchier guitars than most of the other tunes thrown into the mix. This song is definite “stadium anthem” material, with majestic crowning riffs and soaring vocals. I’d be surprised if it isn’t another huge hit single for the band.

On The Unspeakable Scene, the band finds itself channeling its inner Silverchair (post-Diorama) with great efficiency. Kenny really sounds like Daniel Johns here, with some eccentric multi-octave vocals and choppy, quirky guitars and melodies all over the place. It’s one of the better tracks on the album, too, really demonstrating the band’s versatility.

Album closer If This Ship Sinks (I Give In) closes things out in grand fashion, starting out quietly and erupting into a wall of guitars and urgency, before wrapping up with a somber outro accompanied by more elaborate strings and piano. It’s quite majestic.

The only problem I can find with this album is that there’s no American distributor. This album, just like the previous two, haven’t been released here, and that’s too bad. I had to track this album down on iTunes, where it’s mislabeled as having been released in 2005. A band like this deserves more attention than it has…sure, they’re huge in their home country, but they should be big here too. They’re apparently taking Silversun Pickups out on tour in Australia in the next couple months, so hopefully the Silverlake golden boys (and girl) put in a good word or two and Birds of Tokyo find themselves more active stateside. I can dream.

I was fortunate enough to randomly notice them at a tiny gig in Los Angeles a year ago. I hope that wasn’t the only time I’ll see them.

Pick up Birds of Tokyo if you want to check out an accomplished, under-the-radar indie band that is well worth your time.

When you think of Ray LaMontagne, you tend to hear only his voice. It’s easy to understand why. Deep, raspy, strong, delicate, wavering. All at once. Through much of his musical career, there’s hardly been reason to pair it with a full band rocking or rolling behind it. It’s an instrument in and of itself.

Then God Willin’ & The Creek Don’t Rise was released.

There certainly was a lot of expectation being that LaMontagne was releasing an album giving credit to a backing band for the first time. Consisting of guitarist Eric Heywood, bassist Jennifer Condos, drummer Jay Bellerose, keyboardist Patrick Warren and pedal steel guitarist Greg Leisz, the Pariah Dogs boast extraordinary musicians who have backed for the likes of Alison Krauss, Fiona Apple, and Red Hot Chili Peppers.

With an immensely talented backing band and a longer artist name to deal with than usual, it seemed logical to expect a bigger sound from Ray LaMontagne and the Pariah Dogs. Also, maybe Ray would lighten up a little, start growling over some funky, rockin’ tracks. Maybe he might stray away from his usual sparing instrumentation and replace it with jukebox songs you could play at the bar without wanting to kill yourself after. Maybe he might just surprise us. And for approximately half the album, he kind of does.

Album opener, “Repot Man” sounds like it was made in the 70’s. Now of course, those who have listened to anything LaMontagne has released in the past won’t find this to be all that shocking. The production of his albums and the soulful croon of his distinct vocals has always given the listener the feel of a different time. A time when music was made from the heart in a small room, with other like-minded musicians, filling the recordings with a sound that you just can’t find in music nowadays. “Repot Man” offers a grooving bass line and riffing guitar that works supremely well when matched with LaMontagne’s famous voice. When Ray sings (as only he can), “I’m ’bout to do what your daddy shoulda done, I’m gonna lay you right across my knee,” the sensual mood of the first track hits a fevered pitch.

In order to cool off possible overheating, the second track slows down to a leisurely paced folk triumph, “New York City’s Killing Me.” Just as a grooving bass line works in the first track, the pedal steel of Leisz works in perfect harmony with LaMontagne in the second. The track is possibly the album’s most inviting, offering somewhat lighthearted folk beauty while Ray suggests that people in the city could care less if you die. Oh, the irony. Other highlights include the banjo-led “Old Before Your Time” and the majestically composed title track.

While LaMontagne is to credit for these brilliantly written songs, it’s somewhat peculiar that the other half of the album sounds so similar to previous works of his as a man with only a guitar and a voice.

The prospect of Ray LaMontagne with a full time backing band gave fans endless ideas of how God Willin’ might sound. However, I doubt that many thought that it might sound a lot like when the “Pariah Dogs” wasn’t a part of the band’s primary name. Whether LaMontagne had trouble breaking from his penchant as dreary singer-songwriter, or maybe a halfway fleshed out album was released due to only five days in the studio, one can only hope that next time around he fully commits to the excellency of the Pariah Dogs as band members, not just players. That is, if you’re looking for something different from Ray LaMontagne.

The Scissor Sisters have no problem finding their audience, regardless of how utterly campy they are. Even the album cover of Night Work sets a new precedent for just how much the members of Scissor Sisters don’t give a fuck about decorum or “taste.” Exhibiting a clenched ass with pants tighter than anything Jim Morrison ever wore, Night Work’s cover art is a good indication of the album’s bawdiness.

To quote The Pet Shop Boys, "You're so flamboyant."

Released on June 28th (forgive me father, for I have sinned for not reviewing it earlier), Night Work explores the usual Scissor Sisters themes: Troubled youth, getting dressed in drag queen-like garb to go out, and sex (whether paid for or not). The quality that makes this particular endeavor stand out from The Scissor Sisters’ previous two albums is that Stuart Price was at the helm as producer. You may know his work from a fantastic record called Confessions on a Dance Floor or maybe you know him as Les Rythmes Digitales. And if you don’t, you probably don’t listen to The Scissor Sisters anyway.

Frontpeople Ana Matronic and Jake Shears

Price’s distinctive production style blends well with The Scissor Sisters’ glam rock/electronic sound. The marriage of these two tours de force (yes, that’s the plural of tour de force, like cul de sac is culs de sac) of gay electronic dance music will make you want to burst with sheer elation on the last track of the album, “Invisible Light.” The up and down bassline of “Any Which Way” is also classically Les Rythmes Digitales, as featured on most every track of the 1999 album, Dark Dancer.

From left to right: Randy Real, Babydaddy, Del Marquis, Jake Shears, and Ana Matronic

Night Work, though similar in many ways to The Scissor Sisters’ debut and sophomore albums, is a departure in the sense that it is purely an homage to just having fun, whereas their prior albums always had at least one “message” song on it (i.e. “It Can’t Come Quickly Enough,” a surprisingly non-sexual song from their first album, and the somewhat cheesy songs “Land of a Thousand Words” and “Everybody Wants the Same Thing” on Ta-Dah! The new album’s title alone, Night Work, winkingly suggests fun with its allusion to prostitution.

The oh so glam rock pair of scissors on every Scissor Sisters album

So, to the confused, the transsexual, the homosexual, the heterosexual, and even the asexual, Night Work guarantees everyone to have a good time on the dance floor. Courtesy of Stuart Price.

In my continued devotion to L.A. bands that play The Echo and The Smell, I have been following the musical path of Tijuana Panthers and awaiting the time when they would release a full-length album, inclusive of their long-posted MySpace playlist. The wait was not in vain, and Max Baker has some highly important new additions, namely a song called “Angie.”

Listening to “Angie” as it pours down rain outside of my New York hovel, it makes me lust after the Los Angeles sunshine and the general tranquility of California. This is the song to beat on Max Baker, emulating tones of Buddy Holly and Dion and the Belmonts in its 60s pop balladry. The lyrics prove that at least one member of the Tijuana Panthers has been in love (maybe Chad), as they croon, “I remember the day when our eyes met/How anxious I was, I didn’t know your name yet” and then segues into the chorus, “Time stops and starts with the beat of my heart.” Even better than their other slow jam, “Red Headed Girl,” “Angie” speaks to women the way Hugh Hefner speaks to men.

“New Boots,” “Tijuana Two Step,” and “Don’t Give A Damn,” are also songs that can only be found on Max Baker, in conjunction with our old favorites, “Crew Cut,” “Creature,” “This Town,” and “Don’t Shoot Your Guns.” My verdict is that you should purchase this album if you have any taste whatsoever in music. It’s available on iTunes, a true sign of legitimacy.

P.S. My apologies for the lack of pictures, but I’ve really already exhausted all Google images of Tijuana Panthers in a prior review. So hurry the fuck up and get famous.

Sometime in the distant future, when the world is overrun with strange creatures, thoughts are currency and humans are a thing of the past, I imagine some curious young slug/cat/robot/(enter future species here) will stumble upon some sort of 2010 time capsule, giving the futuristic society a glimpse of what we were like today.

Musically speaking, when they unearth that ancient relic of yesteryear, I hope they find a copy of The Sword’s new album Warp Riders, which was released this week. It is my hope that these future beings (Giant slugs? Dogs walking on two feet?) will be able to sift through the detritus of today’s “popular” music to find what we REALLY were (or should have been) listening to. This record, folks, is the answer to that question. Throw your bubblegum pop records and AutoTuned commercial jingle music into the trash bin and get your grubby mitts on this behemoth of a record right now.

The Sword, a heavy metal band out of Austin, Texas, have, on their previous two records, released collections of unbridled heathenry in the form of sludgy, Sabbath-esque aural assaults about things like Vikings, “HyperZephyrians”, wolves, wizards, and other such mystical creatures. They opened for Metallica on their 2008 US tour, and had a song (Freya, off of Age of Winters) featured in one of the Guitar Hero games.

With Warp Riders, though, The Sword has really honed in on rhythm and precision, something that I thought was lacking from their past records. Before, every song was a dark, densely-instrumented blast of crazy riffs and jarring vocals courtesy of singer/guitarist JD Cronise. This time around, though, the band changed things up a bit, and the result is much more focused on groove and tasty, crunchy guitar licks. What’s more, this album is a concept album. As the band states on their website,

Warp Riders tells the tale of Ereth, an archer banished from his tribe on the planet Acheron. A hardscrabble planet that has undergone a tidal lock, which has caused one side to be scorched by three suns, and the other enshrouded in perpetual darkness, it is the background for a tale of strife and fantasy, the battle between pure good and pure evil. How it’s told – through the dueling lead guitars of J.D. Cronise and Kyle Shutt, and the concussive rhythm section of bassist Bryan Ritchie and drummer Trivett Wingo – underscores the narrative with molten steel and unreal precision.

So yeah….a sci-fi concept album by a heavy metal band, complete with Star Wars-ish cover art. If that doesn’t get you in the mood, then I’m convinced you are just a jerk who can’t appreciate mind and soul-altering badassery of this quality. You can go back and listen to your watered-down bro-tastic Avenged Sevenfold records if you wish.

If you think Warp Riders is for you, then by all means dive in. I wouldn’t necessarily say you have to be familiar with The Sword already to dig this record; in fact, Cronise has said in interviews about this album that it will alienate a portion of the band’s pre-existing fanbase, due to its more groove-heavy approach.

That used to be a building behind them...then the riffs showed up

Personally, I say fuck ‘em if their jaws don’t drop, Tex Avery style, at what the band did with this album. Songs like the instrumental prologue Acheron/Unearthing the Orb set the mood for the following ten tracks, all with similarly nonsensical/amazing titles such as The Chronomancer I: Hubris, Astraea’s Dream, Night City, and epic album-closer (The Night and the Sky Cried) Tears of Fire. Behind the song titles are excellent heavy metal songs with blazing guitars and propulsive drums that are mixed to perfection. The band’s first two albums were generally fuzzier affairs, but this time around (thanks to the help of producer Matt Bayles, marking the first time the band has used an external producer on an album) everything is much more crisp and sonically pleasing.

I know there’s a big convoluted sci-fi story going on about Ereth and Chronomancers and things of that nature, but each time I listen to Warp Riders (and it’s been about four times thus far) I get more caught up in the blistering riffage and insanely thunderous rhythms on the songs than the actual lyrics. I’ll work on that.

Tres Brujas is the first “single” from the album, and it’s also going to be part of a music video trilogy from the album (with the other tracks being Lawless Land and Night City). Given the nature of the band’s songs themselves, I can only imagine how mind-bending a “music video trilogy” will be, especially given the fact that the songs are from a sci-fi concept album.

I haven’t really called out specific songs as “highlights”, because this is a concept album that really works as a whole. It’s also split into two halves, with both instrumental tracks (Acheron/Unearthing the Orb and Astraea’s Dream) beginning each half. All ten tracks meld together cohesively to form one brutally savage whole piece, and while a few of the tracks (such as Arrows in the Dark and the last track) can be considered among The Sword’s most impressive songs to date, this entire collection is really worthy of “highlight” status.

Most concept albums are scattered, or filled with extraneous nonsense to help push across the “story”, but Warp Riders is a complete, not overly long (the run time is 48 minutes) exercise that should help establish The Sword as one of the best heavy metal bands currently fighting the good fight every day.

Check this out if you like their other albums, but be warned that it’s decidedly different than their buzzy, sludgy older work. That said, if you dig bands like Priestess and Baroness you will probably (hopefully) like this as well.

I think I’ll find myself re-listening to this over and over, as it’s one of my favorite releases thus far this year. I wasn’t expecting that, but The Sword really blew the doors off my expectations.

On that fateful day in the future when the Lizard People excavate that 2010 time capsule, I really hope they find this album inside.

A look at the names involved in Orbs might give you the wrong impression of what exactly the band does – the quintet falls under that unfortunate  ”supergroup” classification, and the members are originally from the likes of Cradle of Filth and Between the Buried and Me. Sounds like it should be a generic metal project of some kind, right? Well surprisingly, no. Orbs’ debut, Asleep Next to Science, has far more in common with the Mars Volta than say, Opeth, but really can be traced back to each style on account of the heavily progressive approach they take to the songwriting process.

I know, how about a picture of a planet's surface! That's pretty original, right?

Falling Asleep’s musical aspect is made up of a combination of styles in progressive rock both old and new. Megaloblastic Madness takes the Mars Volta at their most maundering and gives it a bit of structure, making the near eight minute ride engrossing without sinking into a sense of self-indulgent jamming.  The bright power pop guitar flourishes of A Man of Science or the rolling piano intro of People Will Read Again put Muse’s best efforts of the last four years to shame, managing to sound catchy while always building toward something, and more importantly, never feeling derivative of their influences. These two pieces also underline Orbs’ highly narrative nature – the former  track tells a story of a scientist so dedicated to his craft that he fails to notice his life falling apart around him, starting with his drifting from his wife and children, while Read is more metaphorical, describing children playing innocent little war games, complete with references to night raids, bombs, and grilled cheese sandwiches. Then there’s the staggering fourteen minute closer, Eclipsical, which sounds like Rush’s synth-loving period updated for the new millennium.

The centerpiece is the two song suite The Northwestern Bearitories. We the Animal and Kid Cancer do a great job of pairing blistering guitar work and crushing metallic sections with bright, almost bubbly ones that bring to mind Fang Island’s self-description of “everyone high-fiving everyone.” While Dan Briggs’ guitar work is a stellar cornerstone, Orbs’ secret weapon is unquestionably keyboardist Ashley Ellyllon. This project grew from cross country file swapping sessions between these two (not unlike the Postal Service’s humble beginnings), and it shows – Briggs’ parts are very much the foundation of each song, with Ellyllon’s keys beefing them up with spacey textures and heavy piano-led melodies. There’s just one thing which is guaranteed for some listeners to take issue with, and that’s vocalist Adam Fisher. He has an incredibly nasal and high pitched singing voice, and it definitely takes some getting used to. However, this doesn’t mean that the guy can’t sing – far from it, in fact. He’s startlingly capable with guttural growls (as Lost at Sea demonstrates early on), shouts, and even spoken word sections, and generally holds his own very well; impressive, considering the talent that he’s fronting. While it may be grating to those not willing to lend a bit of patience, those who are will be quite rewarded, as he’s very in sync with Briggs and Ellyllon, and his vocals lead the musical assault very well.

Wow, it's like that shitty show with the nerds and the cute chick

Asleep Next to Science is a fresh approach to the current incarnation of progressive rock. Orbs always feel in control of where their songs are going, and are constantly employing bright, catchy melodies to keep listeners interested in the complex song structures, and as such are able to avoid the typical prog pitfalls that many great bands have not (in some cases, have even openly embraced). If you’ve been looking for a great prog release, this just may be up  your alley.

It’s a sadly all too predictable chain of events; a band will release a spectacular debut, in some cases even genre-defining, and two, maybe three albums into a seemingly promising career, the stagnation has already set in, and the band already sounds mediocre before they even had a chance to build on what they had going for them in the first place. Such is the case with Korn, who produced arguably one of the best metal albums of the 90s in their self titled debut, and (for better and for worse) spawned nu metal phenomenon. The band was able to capitalize on their success and stay afloat for the rest of the decade, but the noughts saw them decline sharply with recycled material and generally horrible ideas (their cover of Cameo’s Word Up!, for one). Then in 2007, minus two original members, the band did the first interesting thing they’d done in years – they actually tried something new, with the experimental Untitled. It wasn’t particularly good, but at least it felt relatively fresh, and produced material you couldn’t get simply by listening to the earlier, superior records.

"Remember who you are... a little girl fucker." That's what they tell pedos when they're released from prison.

So now, Jonathan Davis and co. felt the best way to follow this up was with a return to form of sorts, and Korn III: Remember Who You Are has been received as such.  I look back and think of a much younger me rocking out to Korn’s first album, which I even still do on occasion, so you can imagine that this concept was rather intriguing to me. Coming off the heels of giving their tired sound a bit of an expansion, and now going back to their roots? Sounds great! There’s only one problem… the album is absolutely terrible.

Right from the get-go, it’s clear that something is very wrong here. While the introductory Uber-Time is an ear catching blend of ambient noise, a sample, and feedback, and really gives you the impression that the proper opener is going to blow you away, it leads into none other than lead single Oildale (Leave Me Alone), which makes it clear that this not only fails to be a return to form, but isn’t even a convincing attempt to relive past glories. The guitar is so bland, and that’s not even the worst part – the chorus is typical anthemic Korn, with perhaps the most uninspired and frankly childish lyrics they’ve used yet (“Why don’t you just leave me alone?!”). Ignore the fact that there is absolutely no energy to this song – just ask yourself why a man pushing forty is using schoolyard retorts and giving the microphone postured moans in his effort to recall his band’s early days. He even has the Adidas jumpsuit! It’s ridiculous. You can’t simply conjure up what you were sixteen years ago and expect it to go well; the idea that anybody thinks this would work is preposterous! For Korn fans who disagree, just watch the Oildale and Blind videos back to back – there is no comparison.

The rest of the album does nothing to improve, or even sound remotely different; it’s just more half-baked attempts at recalling their ’94 selves. As touched on earlier, a huge drawback is the lyrics. Listening to Davis wail about ”being everybody’s whore” on Move On in the midst of talking about trying to please everybody is just laughable. Why then, on The Past and Never Around, for example, is he talking about how everybody lies to him? It makes one wonder why he’s trying to please these people, and this makes it even more difficult to empathize with the perpetually angst-ridden millionaire. Who exactly is lying to him, anyway? These faceless antagonists have been around for the better part of Korn’s career, but it didn’t matter in their early days for a very simple reason – he really seemed mean it. Songs like Faget and Fake were lyrically simple and direct, but his sheer emotion really forced his torment on you until you could feel it yourself. When he sings ”I want to pass my test and complete this tormented life” on Lead the Parade, though, it just sounds postured, and without the driving emotion, it makes Davis’ lyrics sound like little more than high school poetry. The awkward vocal pattern (as well as Let the Guilt Go‘s growing screams of “and thinking… and thinking…”) are basically lifted from earlier records, but with none of the intensity, which is ultimately this album’s problem. Early Korn was dark and intense; even moments where the collective’s jovial nature came out, like Ball Tongue‘s chorus, Clown‘s intro, or even A.D.I.D.A.S. and Wicked from Life Is Peachy, there was a sense of foreboding. Here, it just sounds formulaic and processed.

Munky's ready to brawl

Some might argue that this genre is an easy one to paint yourself into a corner with, but take a look at Korn’s fellow alt. metal elderstatesmen, the Deftones. They’ve consistently pushed their creative boundaries (albeit with varying degrees of success) and this year put out what may be their best work yet. Korn, on the other hand, ran their sound to fuck before attempting to ape the stylings of their first two albums, and failed miserably. So they remember who they are, well that’s great. Unfortunately, I remember too – and the hungry, pissed off twentysomethings from 1994 would have taken one look at these middle-aged has-beens and laughed their asses off.

The 90s were certainly at no shortage of quirky rock bands (Faith No More, Brainiac, Ween, etc.) but Soul Coughing unquestionably had a place of their own. While dabbling in jazz and hip-hop was hardly unheard of, very few bands were willing to so fearlessly immerse themselves in each genre, while still remaining identifiable as a rock group.

Shit, I'm out of air... a little help?

Head soul cougher Mike Doughty led the group through their remarkably tasteful mix of blues, electronica, and the aforementioned styles with rock (and even later, combining alternative with elements of drum and bass), but what he most importantly brought to the proverbial table was his experience as a performing poet. Doughty’s surreal, stream-of-consciousness lyrics and offbeat delivery proved to be a defining aspect of Soul Coughing’s sound; he knew just how to simultaneously express his point, baffle listeners with seemingly non-sequitor references, and combine his voice with the song’s beat and mood.

Screenwriter’s Blues is a testament to this, as he builds up praise of moving out west for the menial aims of becoming a… well, screenwriter, as he refers to the greatness of fucking models only to derisively point out near the end that “The radio man laughs, because the radio man fucks a model too.” While he may have come across as overly smarmy, Doughty proved quite willing to show his more sensitive side as well, namely on songs like the closing Janine, or the penultimate track Mr. Bitterness, on which he sounds so resigned that he is actually able to express genuine pain. The mere fact that he was so willing to drop the smart-ass facade which most alternative acts are (and have been) so unwilling to rid themselves of is incredibly refreshing, and the emotion shown pays off wonderfully. On True Dreams of Wichita, Drought muses over a messy breakup as a very busy, lively beat goes on behind him, with simultaneously cheerful and perturbing hints to both blues and jazz. While his talent does take the band quite far, there is even more to the group than one might expect.

This leads me to the other true standout of the band, which was keyboardist and sampler Mark de Gli Antoni. As far as sheer creativity with application of obscure samples in beats is concerned, he has truly gone unrivaled since this album came out – two particular examples are Bus to Beelzebub and Down to This. His brilliantly inspired manipulation of Raymond Scott’s Powerhouse (if you’re not familiar with the title, chances are excellent that should you hear the song, you’d recognize it instantly) constitutes the beat for Beelzebub, while Howlin’ Wolf and the Andrew Sisters are paired to utter perfection for the latter. The song manages to sound like both alternative and hip-hop with a bizarrely accessibility, driven by a sharp funk while retaining a dark, almost disturbing quality in the background samples and Doughty’s unsettling agreement that we take the ankles while he takes the wrists.

No noise implies no bees

Ruby Vroom’s fearless venturing has no doubt influenced a great many bands to run with their own ideas, as they had so admirably done. Soul Coughing’s debut was an intensely original and highly influential piece of work, and while it was certainly well written and catchy, it deserved high marks for its sheer adventurous nature alone. A criminally underrated album, one of the most unique and intelligent debuts of the 90s.

In this day and age, there are a great deal of things more rewarding than being a fan of industrial  - like picking your nose, for instance. The last decade (some would argue longer) has seen the genre revert to little more than bad techno with more creativity lent to its obnoxious image than the watered down loops of the music. The exception, however, is when a band like Cyanotic comes along. Their debut, 2005′s Transhuman, was a proverbial breath of fresh air, utilizing basic industrial conventions but giving them a new, interesting take. Their long awaited sophomore effort, The Medication Generation, is every bit as good as its predecessor, not only capitalizing on what made it great but adopting a stronger sense of adventure as well. Ultimately, it offers the best things about industrial metal – pounding beats, crushing guitars, cleverly placed samples, and a seething rage that actually has something to say.

Medication time

While the album’s themes of overstimulation, drug use, and societal ills are hardly revelatory, their presentation feels highly genuine. For example, drugs are never glorified or lectured over so much as discussed (well, as much as a roaring, distorted voice can discuss). The feelings of alienation and frustration are also expressed quite well; in lesser hands the lyrical template “We are the _____ of the _____” would sound extremely hackneyed, but here it’s very easy to get behind. Nothing feels as if handled with a single dimension; even fA510n v1k+um5, which details a clear irritation with the current music scene, does so with a surprising sense of humor – a few measures after frontman Sean Payne sardonically growls “This beat is merciless” is a sample of Chuck D.’s enthusiastic “Bring that beat back!”

What really sells it is how many different styles are at work. While the pummeling blast beat-led Dose Responsive and Sentient (by far the most metallic songs on the album) sound great, there are different approaches taken here as well. Efficacy is a glitch-heavy left field electronica exploration, but with a dark air that keeps it from seeming out of place. The Static Screens (In Syndication) and Brutal Deluxe are driven by aggressive breakbeats that call to mind the finest moments of Pitchshifter and latter day Cubanate, with the latter track being one of the heaviest here, despite being one of the least reliant on guitars. Then there is Monochrome Skies, which is easily the best melancholic industrial metal this side of Ministry’s Scarecrow, with a deliberate build-up, powerful groove, and fantastic layering.

in the ciiiiityyy

Repeated listens show that The Medication Generation was crafted with painstaking detail, even if judging solely by the samples being used. A Scanner Darkly, Videodrome, processed Slayer riffs, Homer Simpson, and God knows what else is meticulously placed in the mix to help Payne convey his point. And there is a point to each and every one used, which is the beauty of it; nothing is done simply for sake of sounding good, everything is an extension of Payne’s social commentary. Programmed and its introductory track The Same brilliantly use a sample from the film Palindromes to introduce the former track’s musing over growing complacence with the idea of helplessness over bettering oneself. The somber Comadose is a bit more straight forward, centering around a listless guitar and Payne’s murmurings of “I wish I felt safe, I wish I knew my place” and culminating in yet another like-minded sample. Not a moment is wasted here, and the result is a highly dense album which makes it clear that the band has been quite busy for the last five years. This isn’t just the year’s best industrial metal, The Medication Generation is a lesson in how to make it.