Acid Mothers Temple have no shame, and that's not such a bad thing.They've taken aim at their idols before by approximating the albumcovers or titles of Hendrix, Zappa, and King Crimson, among others, andhave paid tribute to the likes of Hawkwind and Gong. This time they settheir sights on Black Sabbath, even going so far as to reenact thecover of Sabbath's first album, with Acid Mother guru Kawabata Makotoenrobed before a countryside home. With their other tributes, theobject of reverence is a starting point, not a destination in itself,and this one proves to be no exception.

With lyrics hinting of violence, repression, and longing, Liz Durrettmaintains an air of soured innocence, as if grappling with thetransgressions she's witnessed and whether or not forgiveness ispossible. She mines decidedly different territory with her evocation ofa haunted South. Personal tragedies, hiding places, and the unravelingof mysteries infect her second album with a melancholy as insidious asthe kudzu she invokes on her track "Creepyaskudzu." Although she playsguitar on all but one of the tracks, her use of the instrument servesmore as a backdrop since the emotional weight of the material restsalmost solely on her voice.

Ivan Pavlov’s new album evokes the feeling of flying. Above Air is an apt title for this release. The music here sounds like it could almost be recordings of stratosphere. There is a vast spaciousness in the music that I haven’t detected before in Pavlov’s work. It is reminiscent of Coil’s work as ELpH, it is not quite of this world but not quite alien either.

Although Cave is listed first, the influence of Warren Ellis dominatesthe songs. Many are instrumentals constructed from gentle violindrones, with occasional piano, plucked guitar, and drums. Thearrangements bring to mind imagery common to Westerns: dust, anoverbearing sun, sweat. 

Likethe one done for Schoolhouse Rock several years ago, this tribute toDimension 5 Records features current artists covering (or remixing)educational children's songs. From army ants to using your imagination,their songs taught about the world outside (and inside) and made it fun.

Before I found the solo releases of Heather Leigh, the only solo pedal steel player I was familiar with was American Music Club’s Bruce Kaphan. Where he built a bed of sound and fleshed out songs with single colour washes of sound, Leigh is an all-around more powerful, complex, and unreserved player. This is not only a reinvention of the instrument, a yanking from its subtle country roots, but also her best recorded work to date.

Mush'srecent reissue of Pedro's debut album brings the UK producer's subtle blendof downtempo beats and minimalist pop melodies to a stateside audience.If the album's nine tracks of superbly produced mood music aren'tenticing enough, Mush has been kind enough to throw in the "Fear andResilience" remix single for good measure.

Daniel Menche gets a lot of respect from almost everyone who likes or makes noise. Perhaps it's because Menche has a sandwich named after him in the northwest; a sandwich so full of spice and flavor that it has caused sensory overload in some and sent others into a blissful and traumatic episode.

This split from two of the newest wave of black metal was originally released on LP two years ago. It quickly sold out but thankfully has been reissued with four extra tracks. Both Malefic and Wrest’s status have grown immensely since the original release thanks to their recent collaborations with Sunn O))) and demand for their own work has increased accordingly. Although neither artist sounds remotely like Sunn O))), both have far more in common with Norwegians who hang around churches with Zippos.

I'm not used to Ms. John Soda feeling fuzzy. Their sound tends to be more crisp, precise, and often coolly (if not coldly) digital, as if you could feel the ones and zeros scraping past your ears. But "A Nod on Hold," the opening song from Notes and the Like, is teeming with a bubbly electronic bed, couched in a serenade of strings.  It's fluffier and warmer than usual for the band, who espouse a pop-electronic ethos while still clinging to a rock ideal which helps to make their songs more angular.

Kamerman finds the vein and plots a course for the dark arterial parts that elude many other artists. These two pieces are messily organic noise improvisational / compositional voyages that map out the kind of areas that is often alluded to but rarely visited.

Front man for The Meatmen and almost a founder of Touch & Go records,  Tesco Vee is probably most famous for his rude posturing and sense of humor. Before The Meatmen had recorded Crippled Children Suck or War of the Superbikes he was in a noisy outfit by the name of Blight. This 20 track release on Touch & Go covers everything they released and performed during their one year existence.

American Music Club singer/songwriter Mark Eitzel's latest solo effort is a gentle album full of peaceful melodies, lyrics with an obscure beauty, and Eitzel's warm and softly whispering vocals. Gentle and peaceful though it might be, Candy Ass isn't milquetoast.

The latest release on Aranos’s own label is another hour of quality from one of the most easily identifiable artists on earth. It’s no departure from his previous output, those familiar with his work won’t be surprised with any of the pieces, but the songs here further refine his methods and skills.

Thesecond album from these Pennsylvanian chaps is full of chunkyblues-inspired riffs. Not in a nasty, necrophilia-tinged way like LedZeppelin but more in a Sabbath-style with a nod to past greats. While Iappreciate the straightforward rocking and absence of wank solos,unfortunately there’s not much to make Pearls and Brass anything morethan just another generic stoner rock band.

By now, pretty much everyone knows what to expect from a Whitehouse album, and Whitehouse seem satisfied to fully play into these expectations.  Restraint and subtlety have never played a part in the project, and the Whitehouse discography seems to chart very little in the way of musical evolution in the more than two decades the group has been operating. 

I can't break down my love for this new TomasAndersson 12” to the kind of buzzwords that would explain its totalitarianeffect on even my own hermetic listening patterns.  This ishead-banging techno without the flashy Raumschmiere-isms, crystalline andcolorful, music to stomp along to: wild, light, heartbeat stompin’ action.

Time was, the words "Mike Ladd" were routinely thrown in alongside oneslike "Gil Scot-Heron." While the latter-named beat-poet is stillpopular in coffee houses and among staffs of student literary journals(as well as other places Ladd never broke into), the Cambridge, MA-bornformer's been sliding back into the obscurity from whence he came, abrief five years after dropping  the masterful Welcome to theAfterfuture on us.

In high school, my pal Noah and I used (or, rather, abused) the back pagesof the school newspaper to unleash a serial of stories which told of animaginary subterranean land full of anthropomorphic bunnies and otherchthonic entities.

By its very nature its unsurprising that most instrumental beat-driven music seems to be kicking its heels, waiting for an MC to jump aboard the track to bring it to life. Shying away from ‘smart’ breaks and crate dust covered samples this debut concentrates instead on song structures and melodies.