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Reviews by JASON ANDERSON, STUART BERMAN, Paul Carlucci, MIKE DOHERTY, Howard Druckman, Kieran Grant, KEVIN HAINEY, Paul Isaacs, LIISA LADOUCEUR, JOEL MCCONVEY, Dave Morris, JOSHUA OSTROFF, CHRIS ROLFE, Tabassum Siddiqui, RYAN WATSON, Michael White
The Owl www.zunior.com
In a world where everything's becoming increasingly obvious and overstated, it's a pleasure to discover a modest, charming gem like Mike O'Neill's The Owl. One of the first releases on the former Inbred's new online-only label, The Owl finds O'Neill blending jangly guitars, multiple harmonies, Beatlesy song structures and lo-fi production into a whole that quietly insinuates itself; you don't even notice until you're humming along. Part of the charm is brevity: nine songs, none longer than three-and-a-half minutes, and the whole thing comes in under a half-hour. "I Don't Want to Go" neatly encapsulates O'Neill's small-scale (read: non-major-label) redefinition: "Choose yourself / And don't let the others decide / They don't know what you're like." But now, we do: nice to meet ya, Mike. HD
What Are Yr Colours Now Out of the Shine
Toronto's More Plastic emerges from a heady studio hibernation with this five-song EP of Quaalude jams and glue-head pop. And it's a pretty rad trip -- especially "Running with the Blades," where the disc takes a sharp left from the Flaming Lips-inspired "Heaven or Low Tide" and kicks into a Tom Waits-meets-Funhouse adrenaline rush. "Crocodiles" also features a delicious plethora of extended indulgence akin to the "Apple Jam" disc on George Harrison's All Things Must Pass. Sure, this review's a name-dropfest, but them crafty Plastic dudes know what they're doing. CR
More Plastic play the Bovine Sex Club (542 Queen W) Nov 19.
Underfed Sea Note/Drag City
After teasing us with 1994's power-pop classic "Three Quarters Blind Eyes," and deflating our expectations with the misanthropic piano dirges of 1998's More You Becomes You, Chicago recluse Liam Hayes delivered on his promise with 2002's orch-pop opus, Fed -- only to limit it to a Japan release. But you can finally hear it now in the form of Underfed, a Let it Be... Naked-style strip-down of Fed that suggests a logic to Hayes' obsessive compulsions: by divesting Fed's songs of their sometimes gratuitous gospel-soul accoutrements, the songs relate better to the gritty immediacy of solo Lennon and Big Star. But above all else, this historical revision should be lauded for the expanded "Fed Intro," 10 minutes of symphonic stoner-funk that imagines Brian Wilson and Pink Floyd getting freaky in Serge Gainsbourg's boudoir. SB
Transmaniacon Drag City
While it's not impossible for a band to recover from the loss of a central co-founder (see: Pink Floyd, Joy Division/New Order), Royal Trux may not be so lucky. The absence of guitarist Neil Hagerty from this newly christened version of the band allows surviving vocalist Jennifer Herrema to fully unleash the waterpark-rockin' boogie monster that Hagerty's freakazoid fretwork and cracked vocals always kept in check. That some of the songs pillage past Trux classics ("Joint Chief" is a Def Leppardized rewrite of "Shockwave Rider"; "PB+J" swipes lines from "Fear Strikes Out") speaks to the project's regressive nature. And though Herrema's cigarette-stained voice still casts an imposing presence, Transmaniacon renders RTX as something Herrema's always tried to avoid becoming -- just another rock band. SB
Boompa!
If this guy weren't a founding member of Weezer and The Rentals, nobody would ever hear this. The product of a long hiatus spent in Tennessee, Sharp's solo debut is acoustic indie-folk, stark and lonely like the house it was recorded in. But simply being different from his previous work is not impressive in itself, for Sharp's lyrics and melodies are pretty underwhelming. Diversions include instrumentals and moments that rip off Nick Drake. A very personal release, it takes him until the last track, the lingering "Some Days," to strip it down to pain and piano and really transcend. LL
Yosemite Independent
You're unlikely to find a sunnier release all year. In fact, finding fault with the local art-popster's fourth album would be like drowning puppies... sorry, Fido. In attempting to, as he puts it, rekindle "a lost sense of innocence and tenderness," Southworth has left out the element of curiosity. As a result, Yosemite sounds like a half-baked children's album for weary adults. One of music's most colourful characters, whose writing once showcased a range of emotion in amusing and unexpected ways, has delivered a largely monochrome, disappointingly facile collection. Bring back the songs of experience! MD
Crimes V2
You have to feel for the Blood Brothers. The spazzy scamps' last album, 2003's Burn Piano Island, Burn, tuckered them right out once they had to play it live, so the follow-up necessitated a somewhat slower pace. The demented result, Crimes, is no less feverish: tracks like "Trash Flavored Trash" still convulse with manic abandon, threading hardcore, funk and post-rock into the band's singular sound, while dual vocalists Johnny Whitney and Jordan Blilie shriek their mix of surrealist whimsy and violent psychosis with aplomb. But the less panicked tempos of many songs (notably the brilliant title track), while lacking Piano Island's urgency, make for a more diverse and welcoming listen, wisely letting a few killer hooks out to play amid the garbage and face-eating rats. Brilliant. JM
Open DeSoto
There's a lot of middle age in former Jawbox and Burning Airlines frontman J. Robbins' new project. Recorded (partially at home) with his wife Janet Morgan and drummer Darren Zentek, Channels' debut EP slides the "adult" prefix in front of Dischord post-hardcore, streamlining that sound into something like Wings for Fugazi fans. Robbins' songs are still rhythmically complex, evoking shades of Faraquet and Shudder to Think, but Open is a pop record at heart, with the guitarist's steady but unremarkable vocals high in the mix and straightforward tracks like "Fear Is a Man's Best Friend" evoking the Rheostatics' more blue-collar moments. Morgan's Mimi Parker-ish voice adds welcome contrast to closer "Win Instantly" but for the most part, Open is more competent than exciting. JM
Nymphetamine Abra Cadaver/Roadrunner
Hearing a full-grown Englishman shriek the number of the beast through a voice dilator is inherently funny, especially when he appears in the liners in the form of Dani Filth, alongside bassist Herr Pubis and Martin Foul, master of the "unwashed pianist." Like most black-metal type bands, Cradle of Filth is composed of a bunch of mythology nerds who take role-playing games way too seriously. Still, their music is a blast. Extremely technical and beguilingly catchy, it can't be resisted. Throw in six porn stars and a narration by Doug Bradley (Pinhead from Hellraiser), and you have 75 minutes of unbridled hilarity. PC
A Types Trustkill
Maybe the Pixies were too much for Steven Haigler. The Doolittle engineer, who produced this second proper full-length from North Carolina's Hopesfall, still wrangles some excellent sounds out of the bands he works with; the chiming guitars on "Breathe from Coma" are oily and strange -- in fact, most of Josh Brigham and Dustin Nadler's fluid guitar work is given the royal treatment on A Types. Regrettably, there's very little going on here creatively. Adam Baker's stolid drumming is strictly of the lumbering AOR school, and for all they've been touted for combining hardcore with sophisticated melodies, few of the disc's songs move beyond second-rate Jimmy Eat World. A Types sounds neat, but Haigler's obvious skill is wasted on material as pedestrian as this. JM
Ruin Jonny's Bar Mitzvah Fat Wreck Chords
Y'know how Homer Simpson does something amusingly dumb, repeats it to diminishing effect and then, with just one more "D'oh!," it's hilarious again? That's the premise of punk supergroup/cover band Me First and the Gimme Gimmes. Boasting members of Lagwagon and NOFX, they've built an inspired side-career purveying sped-up and snotty piss-takes of your favourite AM staples. This time, they take their schtick to the chosen people, recording a live Bar Mitzvah gig complete with bad stage banter, set breaks and a playlist jumping from "Stairway to Heaven" and "Come Sail Away" to "On My Mind" and, naturally, "Hava Nagila." Oy vey! JO
Never Breathe What You Can't See Alternative Tentacles/Virus
The Melvins were busy this year: they put out a book and released a new album with Lustmord on Ipecac. You can't blame them for this hump-less landscape of mediocrity. Maybe they were fatigued or simply in awe of their collaborator. The Washington state trio truckle before Biafra's egoism, remaking themselves as an insipid version of the Dead Kennedys. Gone are the soupy, trademark grinds and punk chunks. Sadly present is a range of California surf licks dimly reminiscent of DK staples like "Chemical Warfare." And Jello's lyrics? God should have equipped us with self-parody meters that explode when we teeter too far into the red. PC
The Greatest Songs Ever Written (By Us) Epitaph
This is 21 years of skateboards and tattoos, dyed hair and dreadlocks, snappy snares, pummelled power chords and a puerile sense of humour that likely inspired Johnny Knoxville to inspire jocks everywhere to straddle shopping carts and hurl their stupid selves into traffic. The first five years of NOFX's career are documented via photo collages, interview excerpts and concert posters, while the years between 1988's Liberal Animation and 2003's The War on Errorism are pressed on CD with an unreleased bonus track. This could only be better if Fat Mike delivered it to your door with a keg of Schlitz and a puke bucket. PC
Exile in Oblivion Fat Wreck Chords
There are two types of Strung Out. Version one is an ass-kicking, high-octane mix of punk and metal with vocal stylings occasionally reminiscent of Skid Row's Sebastian Bach. Tunes like "Analog," "Blueprint of the Fall" and "Lucifermotorcade" punch holes in your kitchen sink. Version two is woe-is-me, high school power-pop with vocal stylings occasionally reminiscent of Skid Row's Sebastian Bach. Tunes like "Swan Dive," "Anna Lee" and "Skeletondanse" bounce off your toilet paper. In a perfect world, version one would strangle version two with a bike chain while listening to "Youth Gone Wild." PC
What Holds Back the Elephant G7 Welcoming Committee
Fusing politically fuelled observational lyrics, a bass-led, muscle-heavy sound that lands somewhere between post-rock and post-punk (think Rainer Maria or Slant 6) and a penchant for incorporating an impressive number of ideas into their songs, Submission Hold often make up in pure brawn what they lack in melody. Though they've got riffs and musical ideas aplenty, Elephant can't help but lurch a little due to the monotonic range of Jen Throw-Up's lead vocals and the overly dramatic tendencies the band sometimes display, particularly in the opening strains of some songs. But Elephant still has enough redeeming qualities -- wickedly insightful lyrics, some awesome guitar work and mysterious improvised passages -- to make it worthwhile. KH
Advance and Vanquish Roadrunner/Universal
Nü-metal's worst crime, the thing that gives it its particular brand of banality, is expunging the element of narrative fantasy from an essentially theatrical genre. Half the fun of Iron Maiden -- a definite forbear of Vancouver metal warriors 3 Inches of Blood -- was imagining the stories contained within their songs. Metal purists to the end, 3IoB take metal's baroque mythology back by force, plying tales of pirates, swordplay and great battles, all robed in soaring thrash workouts. More polished (and better for it) than 2002's Battlecry Under a Winter Sun, the band's Roadrunner debut sees high-register vocalist Jamie Hooper exploring stronger melodies, and the band stepping up as the preferred heirs to the new-wave-of-British-heavy-metal throne. Don't like it? Take it up with the Swordmaster. JM
Deep, Dark & Dangerous Run Mountain
Colonel Tom Parker and crew return with another collection of old-time country ditties. But unlike 2002's Let the Sunshine In, this latest disc features a much higher ratio of original compositions by Parker and guitarist Bob Hannan. It's hard to pick them out, though -- "Undevoted Attention" and "The Hurt Won't Kill Me Overnight" sound as authentic as the traditional "I'm Gonna Lay My Armour Down." Only "Queen Street Lost" (a subtle jab at Toronto's nouveau-yuppiedom) briefly pulls the band into the present. Recorded at the Gas Station, the disc also benefits from Don Kerr's warm production. A great introduction to Toronto's best trad-country act. CR
The Backstabbers Country Stringband play The Gladstone (1214 Queen W) Nov 19.
Before the Night's Around Me Blue Fog/Sonic Unyon
On the heels of fellow Deadly Snake Andre Ethier's solo debut is Chad Ross' Ghoststory. Both provide stripped-down acoustic-based alternatives to the Snakes' raucous R&B redux, but while Ethier plays the ambling folk-blues troubadour, Ghoststory sees Ross leading slow-footed countrified jams with, as their name implies, a slightly disquieting streak wafting through. Ross' weary croon feels resigned in places, but musically Ghoststory consistently shines, creating rich inspired settings in support, most memorably on the running-with-the-devil closer, "George Burton Blues," featuring Weakerthan Jason Tait's ethereal saw wizardry. RW
Cowboy Songs Independent
Local lesbian country band The Jane Waynes admit straight off in "Cowboy Song" that they aren't traditional cowboys, or even city folk pretending to be. But it ain't about authenticity -- they're just feelin' their inner cowboy, even while eating pasta late at night on College Street. No novelty act, the Waynes nonetheless serve up humour fairly often: from their perspective, "Women's Prison" is more a gift than a punishment; "Nashville" is about cowboy karaoke; and "Jesus" is the guy they're askin' to find 'em a wife. Elsewhere, "Sasparilla" and "Saskatchewan," banjo-driven ballads, work just fine, and "Pillow" is a sweet uptempo thing. Co-leaders Travis and Tucker write solid songs, and the relatively raw production and skillet-lickin' pickin' help. The trumpet sounds odd, though. HD
It Always Will Be Lost Highway/Universal
After releasing a couple of revelatory comeback records in the mid-'90s (Across the Borderline, Spirit and the Lanois-assisted Teatro), Willie Nelson's career has descended somewhat into a haze of anodyne children's albums, bad skunk and, even worse, Toby Keith duets. It Will Always Be gets Nelson back on track, sort of, although it's several degrees blander than his best work. "Texas," a beautiful mariachi-esque ballad, is a classic; there's a Tom Waits cover ("Picture in a Frame") that supersedes the original; and even the obligatory Lucinda Williams/Norah Jones duets aren't too dull. But while it's pleasant stuff, this is hardly Nelson at his most essential. PI
A Charmed Life Independent
Laura Repo, an under-appreciated light on the local scene for the past decade, has never sounded better than she does here. Backed by her long-time rhythm section of bassist Rachel Melas and drummer Conny Nowé, Repo shines even more brightly in the company of excellent veteran musicians like guitarists David Baxter and Adam Faux (throughout), and secret weapon Steve Briggs on mandolin (occasionally). Whether it's a frisky country shuffle ("Sorry"), a bluesy honky-tonk waltz ("Get Yourself Home"), a traditional-sounding folk song ("Where Only the Birds Go"), or a rockin' number ("The Hat"), the big-twang guitars, swelling harmonies, and Repo's distinctively rich voice are captivating. And whether she's singing about urban sprawl, the colours of winter or the foolishness of romance, that sound makes me want to listen. HD
Laura Repo plays The Gladstone Hotel (1214 Queen W) Nov 24.
Carbon Glacier Nonesuch/Warner
An icy cool set of gothic blues in the manner of Nina Nastasia and Devendra Banhart, Laura Veirs' Carbon Glacier is folk at its most exquisitely barren. The production work, from Modest Mouse associate Tucker Martine, seems intent on burying the singer in layers of distortion and fug, but revealingly, Veirs sounds at her most comfortable when playing it pop -- on the chiming, finger-picked opener "Ether Sings," for instance, or on future college-radio standby, "The Cloud Room." Veirs' vocals -- half-Chan Marshall, half-Sandy Denny -- can be grating, and her lyrics are overwritten, but this is a charming mixed bag nonetheless. PI
The Heroines Sanctuary/EMI
'Nuff respect to Tony Joe White -- the man wrote "Rainy Night in Georgia," had a hit with "Polk Salad Annie," got covered by Elvis, and always had that soul-deep voice and country-cracker attitude. Sad to say, the voice is ravaged by 35 years in the biz -- he can't sing worth a damn anymore, and attitude ain't enough. So this duets album with his favourite female singers rises or falls on their performances. Shelby Lynne bores; Lucinda Williams is tough 'n' sexy as usual; Jessi Colter sounds creaky; White's daughter Michelle hasn't found her voice yet; only Emmylou Harris really takes her song and runs with it. It doesn't help that White seems to have just discovered cheesy guitar effects. Disappointing. HD
High Low Sonic
PEI native and CBC-approved crooner Nathan Wiley tries a bit of everything on his second record. The talented songwriter and dexterous musician (various guitars, keys, banjo, glockenspiel and occasionally bass) can't seem to pick one style for his girl-is-wrong songs, wavering between pleasant but predictable mid-tempo roots music (the title track) and grittier, blues-inspired tracks, none of them quite right. Is he a sensitive "Sentimental Fool" or the "Last of the Big Time Spenders"? Who knows? On one track, his vocals are edged up with effects, three minutes later he's singing pretty and fey. He admits to "getting by with the old familiar things" and I'm afraid that may be his problem. LL
Casual/Fusion III
Whatch'ya git when ya take some Southern white trash outta the holler and stick 'em in the big, bad city with some funky black sounds? Country soul, with deep bass voices singin' sweet, slow 'n' sexy and the occasional frantic growl (prob'ly those little white trucker pills). Whether they're itchin' to come back home when it gets rough (Larry Jon Wilson's superb "Ohoopee River Bottomland"); celebrating their escape (Jim Ford's amphetamined "Harlan County"); whorin' their way to luxury (Bobbie Gentry's "Fancy"); raisin' hell (Townes Van Zandt's "Black Widow Blues"); or sufferin' as they drift (Shirl Milete's "Big Country Blues"), they never completely get away from what Rob Galbraith calls the "Corner of Spit and Whittle." Best moment: how Tony Joe White calls the sheriff's daughter "volup-tchus." HD
Sincerely Hot V2
The second installment of Kassin, Moreno Veloso and Domenico Lancelotti's revolving-bandleader Brazilian super-group puts the keys to the ignition in the hands of Lancelotti, a seasoned percussionist who serves his samba with a shot of psych. Sincerely Hot is no idle threat: opening with the jittering, mutant, brass-blasted groove of "Alegria, vai la" -- which easily out-freaks anything by the likes of !!! -- the trio have their disco inferno raging before the album's 60-second mark. From there, they simmer down into breezy Tropicalia sighs ("Possibilidade"), Hammond-organ fusion ("Te convidei pro samba") and searing Eddie Hazel-eyed workouts ("Felizes Ficaremos Na Estrada"), slowing some of their initial momentum but never losing their absurdly patented (and patently absurd) sense of rhythm. SB
Soul Jazz
As the sleeve notes say, this tasty tribute to the pioneering New York DJ is "less disco-not-disco than disco-pre-disco." Don't expect any of that skronky mutant stuff from Nicky Siano -- his forte at the Gallery and Studio 54 was lusty funk, soul and R&B. While Soul Jazz's collection is missing some crucial proto-disco cuts (Eddie Kendricks' "Girl, You Need a Change of Mind" deserves a place over so-so Loleatta Holloway and Trammps tracks), it still boasts many tracks worth rediscovering. First among them are "I'm Gonna Let My Heart Do the Walking" by The Supremes (post-Diana) and an irresistible cover of Lee Dorsey's "Yes We Can-Can" by the Pointer Sisters (pre-"Neutron Dance"). JA
Soul Jazz
Now that The Funk Brothers have their due, it's time for MFSB. Working under the direction of writer-producers Thom Bell, Gamble & Huff, Norman Harris and Vince Montana (who enlisted them to create disco's finest big band, the Salsoul Orchestra), this aggregate of players helped define the sound of Philadelphia: lushly symphonic yet eminently funky. The songs on Soul Jazz's second Philly comp prove the MFSB crew's mettle again and again. Check out the chunky psychedelic soul of Nat Turner's "You Are My Sun Sign" and First Choice's "Armed and Extremely Dangerous," a sassy and brassy rebuke to a stud whose love gun needs a permit. JA
The Tao of Yo Thirsty Ear/Outside
Yohimbe is touted as a cure for male sexual dysfunction, and 2002's Front End Lifter, Brothers Vernon Reid and DJ Logic's first opus, was indeed a potent mixture of grooves. Two years later, their follow-up retains the host of guest stars, off-the-wall ideas and wacked-out improv, although its effects on the lower body are less pronounced. The Brothers trade in irreverent innuendo for socio-political rants, and engage in some musical wankery that bogs down the funk. The best material, such as the Le-Tigre-goes-to-Cuba opener "Shine for Me," features poet Latasha Natasha Diggs. The Tao is all about balancing the yin and the yang, and in this case, it's no surprise a woman saves the day. MD
Connected Jazzland
It's too sinister to be new age and too disorienting to be dance music. Maybe this electro-acoustic hybrid could be called "jazz," but where are the solos? Aarset, Norway's guitar maverick par excellence, privileges texture above all else on his seductively strange third album. You'll hear shifting, swoon-inducing soundscapes propelled by chattering, jittery drums and anchored by the loping bass of Marius Reksjo (Beady Belle) as Aarset improvizes with timbres and effects rather than series of licks. Connected is more oblique than its intense predecessor, 2001's visionary Light Extracts, but it's still one of this year's most intriguing and boldest releases. MD
Translinear Light Impulse!
Alice Coltrane's sole recordings over the past 26 years have been cassette-only releases of devotional songs, issued from her California ashram. This new jazz excursion, on the same label for which she produced her most important work, shows how we've missed her unique voice. She sounds like a snake charmer on Wurlitzer organ, and on piano, her swirling, hypnotizing patterns are anchored by stabbing lower-register chords. Granted, she's traded in her trademark harp for soporific synths on a couple of tracks, and the album tends to forgo her expansively searching past for quiet contemplation, but it's unmistakable, from her volatile version of her husband John's "Leo" alone, that a formidable presence has returned. MD
New Danzon Alma/Universal
Since '98, one of Cuba's greatest pianists has been living in our less hospitable climate, where he's garnered far less recognition than he deserves. Durán's new trio date should dispel any doubts as to his prowess: it finds him, along with fellow Cuban Horacio "El Negro" Hernandez on drums and local stalwart Roberto Occhipinti on bass, sailing through seven covers and two originals. The one standard, "All of Me," is radically reworked as a frenzied, polyrhythmic tour-de-force, and Hernandez and Durán's friendly duelling throughout is captivating. The Cuban danzon is known as a stately ballroom dance, but Durán's irresistible update would have traditionalists tumbling on the floor in an effort to keep up. MD
Mandala Effendi
Montreal saxist Miller reaches into the collective subconscious for inspiration on his third album. Taking his cue from Jung and the unifying symbol of the mandala, he leads a versatile quintet (augmented on five tracks by NYC guitarist Kurt Rosenwinkel) through a cycle of deceptively simple, insistent compositions. Rosenwinkel is the wild card here, alternately adding a sense of heft and swirls of atmospheric weirdness, while Miller's playing is expressive and good-natured. Stylistically, the album feels a bit scattershot, but between the jittery "War con U.S.A." and the eerily contented "Now that I own a TV," there ought to be something in this album that resonates, at some level, with everyone. MD
Linus
Bringing divas to Canada seems as redundant as sending hockey players to Sweden, but Sophie Milman, from the Ural Mountains via Israel, is a welcome addition to a somewhat bloated scene. Singing with surprising assurance in a language she learned just five years ago, Milman swings her way through jazz standards and not-so-standards alike. Her powerful alto can be sultry, husky or booming, and she never strives too hard for effect. With time should come a sense of how to reinvent her material. This debut disc makes a great passport to recognition; here's hoping for a declaration of independence next time out. MD
No One Ever Works Alone Okka
It opens like three psychotics running around at full speed in an unpadded cell, bouncing into walls and bashing into each other. Eventually, they run out of steam and stare at the ground for a while, before getting up again with renewed intensity. Listening to the debut by the expressionist sax super-trio of Peter Brötzmann, Mats Gustafsson and Ken Vandermark can be disquieting at first, but naturally there's method to their madness. Sonore's September concert in TO was a violent revelation; their studio album is more of a perversely joyous romp, full of fluttering, brapping and squawking but also moments of uncanny swing and exhausted bliss. MD
Speaking for Trees Matador/Beggars Banquet
If Chan Marshall plays a concert in a forest and no one's there to hear it, does it make a sound? Not much of one, as director Mark Borthwick's stultifying nature-doc-cum-Cat-Power-concert-film attests -- strumming away under a hot August sun amid the trees in upstate New York, the indie chanteuse can barely overpower the surrounding crickets. While the relaxed setting inspires some off-the-cuff oldies medlies ("Dream/Blue Moon/Try a Little Tenderness"), Borthwick's dogmatic adherence to static, Warholian long shots negates any possibility for intimacy or emotion, coldly reducing his subject to art-flick lab specimen. Go straight to the bonus audio CD, a collaboration with M. Ward that brings you closer to Marshall in 18 minutes than Borthwick's film does in two hours. SB
Streets Is Watching -- Movie Roc-A-Fella/Universal
Watching Jay-Z in a bad gangster movie is disorienting. We're used to seeing him radiating confidence, not struggling with dialogue that makes Gigli look like a gritty slice of street life. The case reads, "This hard core project leaves all the glitz and glamour of Hollywood behind." I couldn't have said it better myself. Even watching Hov bust rhymes on dumb thugs who try to jack his turf is depressing when you realize that his first videos had higher production values than this thug-life infomercial. The disc's only redeeming feature is the inclusion of those early videos, presumably to remind us that even the "best rapper alive" started at the bottom. DM
Warner
I'm pretty excited to finally replace my fuzzy, 20-year-old VHS tape of Live Aid highlights with this official four-DVD set. While some bands (and hairstyles) are best forgotten (man, Adam Ant was a twit), the whole package is a winner. Literally scrounged from forgotten footage, this 10-plus hour concert remains incredibly powerful and captures some great bands at their best. Bono's brazen grandstanding during "Bad" catapulted U2 into superstardom and could only be upstaged by a brilliant, vigorous Freddie Mercury leading all of Wembley in a passionate singalong of classic Queen. Docs on catastrophic famine in Africa serve as a heartbreaking reminder that we still must "Feed the World," and why this charity release deserves your holiday dollars more than any other. LL
The Wall -- The Movie Sony
Pink Floyd's 1979 double-album opus, The Wall, is often held up as the epitome of '70s rock excess, when really it's a raging rejection of it, exploring the dual downsides of celebrity: isolation and megalomania. That much was made explicit in director Alan Parker's disturbing film adaptation of Roger Waters' song narrative, through Gerald Scarfe's still-striking animation and chillingly fascistic set pieces that feel especially potent in the wake of the election down south. And now you don't need a bag of weed to make sense of it all, thanks to this DVD's two bonus featurettes -- one, a promo documentary from '82; the other, a collection of reflective interviews with the principals conducted this year. Best part: when the curmudgeonly Waters says his problem with the movie was that it left out his sense of humour. Now that's funny. SB
Wire on the Box: 1979 Pink Flag Archive Research
The most Teutonic of British art-punk bands ("We don't do requests," bassist Graham Lewis sternly informs us) preview their 1979 avant-rock masterwork 154 for a beautifully blasé German TV-studio audience (as the on-set posters indicate, they were more used to seeing the likes of Ted Nugent and Nils Lofgren). But the sterile environs make for a fitting complement to Wire's clinical rancor, and this unedited 58-minute performance (presented here in both DVD and CD versions) offers compelling evidence that the band's structural precision was no product of studio trickery. It also reveals that certain members of this determinedly enigmatic band liked to rock the leather pants. SB
Tell Me What Rockers to Swallow Interscope
Brooklyn art stars invade hippiedom's most hallowed concert hall (San Fran's Fillmore) and redecorate it with spit beer, smeared mascara, ripped fishnets and fellated chocolate bars. Rockers to Swallow is a lovingly curated time capsule of the YYYs' first year in the spotlight, featuring a full-length concert film, a mini-Japanese tour-doc, an amusing (if overlong) Lance Bangs/Spike Jonze short film of fan interviews and the band's performance of their hit "Maps" on the MTV Movie Awards. But the capper for fans is footage of six new tracks, the best of which -- the tremolo-ed power-pop knockout, "Cheated Hearts" -- suggests that "Maps" was just a warm-up for future chart conquering. SB
1st Infantry Koch
Once rappers stole the spotlight from their DJs, it was only a matter of time before the beat-makers jacked it back. Eager to join those super-producer ranks, The Alchemist -- who built his rep with Dilated Peoples and Mobb Deep -- focuses on dark prog-hop for this solo bow. He calls in as many favours as he can, crossing the country and drafting from commercial and underground schools with flows from LOX and Lloyd Banks up to Nas, B-Real and Devin the Dude. But while the infantry are hired guns, 1st is really about Alc's ability to churn out golden beats. JO
Dark Matter Moving at the Speed of Light Tommy Boy
His recording discography may stretch back over 20 years now, but play word-association with the name Afrika Bambaataa and "Planet Rock" is likely the only response you'll get. That visionary pairing of icy Euro electro and early hip-hop is echoed here on a break-beat-embellished cover of Gary Numan's "Metal" with vocals by Numan himself. But why the consistently weak rapping performances by a host of unknowns when AB certainly still carries the clout to attract quality cameos? A few old-school jams count as passable efforts, but Dark Matter barely recalls any of the vitality this hip-hop pioneer had in 1982. RW
Shock City Maverick Warp
The only member of avant-hop outfit Antipop Consortium to do anything substantial post breakup, Beans' third solo release resembles in style (but not substance) APC's clash of breathless flows and glitch-influenced productions, which bridged the gap between B-boy heads and laptop-toting IDM geeks. Even more than his previous records, Shock City Maverick is stalled by an excess of stiff compositions and bass-heavy plodders Beans can't quite carry on his own, and only reminds us how much we miss the three-headed attack he once posed with former partners Sayid and High Priest. RW
Party Music 75 Ark/Epitaph
Party Music received oodles of scandalous attention when it was first released in 2001 for its untimely cover depiction of this notoriously radical duo (Boots Riley and DJ Pam the Funkstress) blowing up the World Trade Center. If not for that it would've surely slipped through the cracks unnoticed since this album merely finds The Coup going through the same old quirky motions -- blindly scorning CEOs, the government and everyone else in a suit with no real agenda or purpose at all. Actually, it's pretty unclear as to why this album's being reissued -- new cover or not, it's still a dud. KH
The Grind Date Sanctuary/EMI
Fifteen years into their career as hip-hop's consistently tightest trio, De La still have hearts full of Soul. Their first album for Sanctuary and seventh overall follows their separation from career-long supporters Tommy Boy, who vetoed De La's projected third installment of their Art Official Intelligence series. They must be kicking themselves now, though, because The Grind Date is superb. The album succeeds by keeping its tracks simple -- besides the occasional monologue, The Grind Date sticks to empowering subject matter and soulful production, which is amply provided by such all-star talents as J Dilla, Madlib and hot-topic newcomer 9th Wonder. High points include an inspired resurrection of Flava Flav on "Come on Down" and the Madlib-produced anti-consumerist single, "Shopping Bags (She Got From You)." KH
Collecting the Kid Definitive Jux
Waiting breathlessly for El-P's follow-up to 2002's Fantastic Damage? El-Producto wants you to wait some more, but in the meantime you can catch up on his recent activities with this odds 'n' sods compilation. Collecting throws in a pair of average rap tracks among its otherwise instrumental offerings -- including clips from his soundtrack to graffiti flick Bomb the System, leftover Cannibal Ox beats, a cut from his High Water jazz excursion, a Charlie Bird remix and some tracks from his Central Services side-project with Camu Tao. The Def Jux honcho has skills all right, but not everything he does is equally fantastic. JO
Encore Shady/Aftermath/Interscope/Universal
In interviews, Marshall Mathers has said he'd like to be less famous, and in that sense, the lameness of current single "Just Lose It" was widely seen as purposeful. It's a flipped bird to his fanbase bolstered by Encore's bullet-filled outro and flip-book album art depicting our hero killing his audience before shooting himself. But the triple-aliased rapper is nothing if not multi-layered and while most of the album is sub-par -- bodily function sound effects, over-obvious celeb disses, weak beats from Em and Dre, rhyming "meanie" with "weenie" -- his talent can't be kept entirely in check. Eminem's flows remain mesmerizing, aggressively toying with words like a sadistic child holding firecrackers and a frog. He similarly blows up Bush, apologizes for past offences and unloads more creative vitriol on his dysfunctional family. The now-requisite Hailey song is surprisingly delicate while Nate Dogg's hook and 50's fame actually inspire Slim to old heights. Eminem's murder-suicide note reads: "To my fans, I'm sorry." Nice sentiment, but we'd rather get a better show. JO
Crunk Juice TVT
Trying to explain Lil Jon's music to people who don't get it is like trying to explain pornography to aliens. It's trashy, most of it is aimed solely at men, it sometimes gets us in trouble with our significant others, and some of us can't stay away. The Hot-lanta native cusses like a sailor, samples Slayer and spends at least half of his latest album screaming his head off. From "Yeah" to "Goodies," 2004 was The Year of Lil Jon, and rappers from Jadakiss to Ice Cube pay their respects on Crunk Juice (though the hollerin' choruses and Bomb Squad-meets-2 Live Crew production make any attempt at lyrical sophistication futile by drowning them out). Everyone ought to love this record, though the people who love "What U Gon' Do" while pissy drunk in the club and then act all offended later will have to enjoy it in secret. DM
Shaheedullah and Stereotypes Garden Seeker/Penalty
Maybe the problem with this solo debut from A Tribe Called Quest founder and Grammy-nominated producer Ali Shaheed Muhammad is that he cites Coldplay as a musical influence. There are some slick horn passages and relaxing, mellifluous beats here, but the lyrics are a touch melodramatic: they focus on tiffs with papa and feature the archetypal rap-track protagonist chillin' in da club, you know, and wishin' da bitches wouldn't get all clingy when he macks 'em. Then this TLC-sounding diva comes out of nowhere and lends the whole thing a grade-eight-dance feel. PC
All City Sony
"Don't hate, congratulate / Y'know we're knocking down doors straight out the gate." The white suburbanite trio's plea will likely do little to dissuade the haters who dissed their indie debut's nasal Beastie Girls rhyming and feminist take on contemporary hip-hop. But backed by stronger beats (from ?uestlove, Pete Rock and DJ Muggs), these Long Island ladies refuse to blink, keeping it real by repping a point of view that's otherwise absent. Sure, they still lack a certain je-ne-sais-flow and the lefty politics are often cliché-ridden, but their optimistic enthusiasm is fun and when Northern State does start cataloguing problems, you can bet a bitch ain't one. JO
Faderlabel
Few things are harder to create convincingly than an album of rhyming spoken word -- it's hard not to sound pretentious, derivative or hokey. Saul Williams' sophomore effort sidesteps these perils through talent, personality, conviction and a healthy dose of self-deprecation. He delivers incendiary lyrics, alternating between mechanically funky rapping, fist-pumping wailing and manic-street-preacher ranting. Williams even does rap-rock convincingly, sounding as if he's got a manifesto in one hand and a sawed-off shotgun full of flower petals in the other. The album's first half is fantastically bracing and inventive, but after the jagged reggae of "Black Stacey," Williams starts cranking out what seem to be lesser versions of the tracks we've already heard. This poet's blueprint is in place; all he's missing is the quality control. MD
Remixes 81-04 Mute/Reprise
A one-disc collection distilled from Depeche Mode's three-CD box set of remixes, 81-04 isn't revelatory enough to work as anything more than a fan-only purchase but there are some highlights nonetheless. It turns out Depeche Mode's best remixers are Depeche Mode: the opener, a block-rocking take on "Never Let Me Down Again" helmed by Martin Gore, is stunning -- even more gloriously fascistic than the original, if that's possible. The rest is patchy: there's a decent, Cocteaus-esque take on "Halo" by Goldfrapp, but more typical is "Barrel of a Gun," drearily remixed by Underworld over one of their too-familiar someone's-fallen-over-the-drumkit loops. Shame. PI
Florida Big Dada/Ninja Tune
This debut offering of off-kilter hip-hop thrills from one half of New York's extraordinary Hollertronix crew registers Diplo's name on a ballot beside some of abstract rap's top candidates: DJ Shadow, Sixtoo, Boom Bip, et al. Florida presents a convincing campaign for Diplo's already significant career, continuing to fulfill the needs of hip-hop people across these great nations. "Big Lost," "Money Power Respect" and the beautiful, Martina Topley-Bird-touting "Into the Sun" are just some of the awesomely dark journeys that guarantee Florida won't be lost in the race like so many 2000 election votes. KH
Diplo plays The Mod Club Theatre (722 College) Nov 19.
Super Discount 2 PIAS/Beggars Banquet
The filter-happy French house movement initially launched its trip around the world with De Crecy's now-classic 1996 compilation, Super Discount (soon to be reissued). For the sequel, his touch is on every track, though he's joined by fellow Frenchies like Cassius' Philippe Zdar and Alex Gopher. Mixing electro and techno elements with euphoric house, the tracks -- amusingly named after file-sharing services like "Limewire" and "Soul Seek" -- aren't overly beholden to the past. But at the same time, this worthy sequel boasts a pre-millennial "hands in the air" vibe that's too often missing from modern dance music. JO
LateNightTales Azuli
Azuli have won another fine instalment to their LateNightTales series by inviting Kieran Hebden, a.k.a. Four Tet, to collect some of his favourite obscurities and cover a Hendrix tune (an elegantly dismantled "Castles Made of Sand"). This smooth and occasionally bumping mix moves through the timeless realms of exploratory jazz (Joe Henderson, Rahsaan Roland Kirk), rare groove (Hal Blaine, Smoke), psych-folk (Linda Perhacs, Fairport Convention), hip-hop (Gravediggaz, Madvillain) and disjointed avant-oddities (Terry Riley, J Saunders) before finally ending on a tip akin to Four Tet's own work with the electronic frequencies of Icarus and Caribou (a.k.a. Manitoba). A strange and compelling trip. KH
Danny the Dog OST Virgin
DJ Kicks !K7/FusionIII
Wicked -- a film score that stands alone as a great record. Which is handy, since Unleashed, the Luc Besson/Jet Li film this soundtrack (titled Danny the Dog) was created for, won't be out until spring '05. Don't wait till then to pick up this beautiful collection of 20 short instrumental tracks that are as perfect as anything Massive Attack has ever done. Quiet fragments of piano-based underscore meld well with the full-formed, trippy beat-driven tracks. The mood is tense and tender, ominous throughout.
Compared to this very chilled-out release, Massive Attacker Daddy G's mix CD is a house-party record, albeit a mellow one. Slanted towards his own crew and the music that influences them, it blends well-known dub and dancehall (Barrington Levy's "Here I Come") with several Massive Attack tracks and remixes, plus the original version of Tricky's "Aftermath." The coolest grooves have a smoky French touch, like Melaaz's "Non Non Non" and an MA mix of Les Negresses Vertes. The Meters' "Just Kissed My Baby" is too jumpy for this mix (settle down, dudes!), but Foxy Brown's sassy "Oh Yeah" is just right. Too bad things get a bit boring in the end, with Leftfield and Oakenfold contributing the same old. LL
Touch Kompakt
Microhouse geeks like me have long admired the wistful 12-inches Cologne DJ Michael Mayer releases on his Kompakt label, even if it was sleek, minimal mixes like 2002's Immer that put him on the map. The two scorchers on Touch (Mayer's first original full-length), "Privat" and "Amabile," were also recently released as a 12-inch; had Mayer compiled them on one disc with previous releases like "Hush Hush Baby," Touch would have been the most unstoppable singles comp since New Order's Substance. A few of these tracks may not be able to bear the weight of expectation, but productions as potent as the breathy, chilling "Lovefood," the rock-solid "Funky Handicap" and the lush Casio schaffel of "Amabile" to close out the album make Touch a magnificent consolation prize. DM
You Make Me Feel Plug Research
Canada is the obvious choice for world headquarters of the frosty, minimal electronic pop world -- we have the Junior Boys, and besides, we do spend a lot of winter days indoors, often in our bedrooms. Toronto's Mike Milosh ups the burgeoning genre's CanCon with a set of tunes featuring hushed vocals and subtle accompaniment ranging from the bubbly kick drums of "Push" to the jazzy upright bass of "Something Good" and "The Sky Is Grey." Milosh's best songs are like the steam from a cup of hot chocolate, rich and ephemeral. Certain unfortunate tics become pronounced when listening to the whole disc -- his Dido-like reluctance to sing above or below a certain range, for example. That aside, You Make Me Feel derives ample charm from its chilly origins. DM
Keep it Solid Steel (pt1) Ninja Tune
Solid Steel, the long-running radio show of Ninja Tune's Coldcut, rolls out another stellar set but this time, Mr. Scruff brings his own inspiration. This is the first of a mini-series based on Scruff's Keep it Unreal club nights and after a decade of acclaimed DJing, the jazz-hop producer is eager to prove his table skills on his mix-disc debut, rocking jazz and funk rarities alongside old-school joints from Just Ice and Ultramagnetic MCs, some Erykah Badu flashback soul, Prefuse 73 glitch and several bongloads of reggae bounce. Despite the genre-hopping, the songs all seem to emanate from the same valley of the deep beats. JO
Green Nights
Orange Days Noise Factory
If records were issued with a suggested listening time, Green Nights Orange Days would be stickered with a crescent moon and stars -- with the kind of atmospheric ambient techno created by Neil Wiernik, a.k.a. naw, it's 3am eternal. Muffled electronic transmissions, swirling synth wisps, distant drones and echoing percussive ticks mesh over hypnotic 4/4 pulses and micro house beats -- GNOD is an expertly crafted work juxtaposing soothing alien textures and insistent rhythms. At midnight in a perfect world, the TTC would let GNOD trickle through their streetcar speaker systems as a delectable enhancement for those solitary heavy-lidded treks home in the dead of night. RW
Naw plays Andy Poolhall (489 College) Nov 19 and Tequila Lounge (794 Bathurst) Nov 21.
Retrospective !K7/FusionIII
Tricky, Massive Attack and Portishead get the props, but Smith & Mighty were indispensable to the Bristol Sound. The trip-hop pioneers are still producing their trademark dubby soul tracks with dusty breaks and acieed bass -- albeit at the traditional Bristol work rate, which necessitates this stop-gap singles collection. Retrospective is a mixed bag, with two early productions for other artists (including the mesmerizing version of Carlton's "Come on Back"), two dodgy robotik Burt Bacharach covers and a sampling of mostly superb album tracks. It's a satisfying listen but, at 11 mostly reissued tracks and 57 minutes, an indifferent collection. MD
Phantom Phorce Beggars Banquet
It's a testament to the amorphous nature of the Super Furry Animals that the Welsh electro-psych-rockers could've easily released this radical remix of 2003's Phantom Power last year instead of the original source material, and it would still sound like a logical continuation of their canon. It's a conceit they run with on Phantom Phorce: tracks are framed by voice-overs from a (fictional) rogue producer who claims "his" mixes represent the better version of the album. But you don't have to scan the credits to know the pastoral-funk overhaul of "The Piccolo Snare" emerged from Four Tet's laptop, or that the dots 'n' loops on "Valet Parking" come courtesy of The High Llamas. Not all the versions work (see: Freiband's interminable glitch interpretation of "Hello Sunshine"), but even in its most arduous moments, Phantom Phorce reminds us that remixing need not mean recycling. SB
Electric Wilderness Noise Factory
If modern Canadian techno-meisters could ever get behind a single goal, it would be to transplant the organic pulse of emotion into the technological confines of the laptop. Tinkertoy is the latest heartfelt Torontonian techno hybrid (along with Polmo Polpo, Beef Terminal and I Am Robot and Proud) set on attempting to bring the natural beauty of the forest into techno's characteristically icy environments, and in this respect Electric Wilderness is highly successful. A strong and promising sophomore album, Electric Wilderness effectively captures this duo's peaceful rhythms and subtle melodies as they roll and tumble along, effortlessly evolving every step of the way. So until we're able to fit computers with loving arms, music like Tinkertoy's will have to suffice in providing the technological warmth we need. KH
