Let's get this out of the way right now: I have a lot of respect for Devin Townsend. He's a great guitarist, has one of the best voices (metal or otherwise) in recent memory, and puts on one hell of a live show. Knowing that, I totally expected to be blown away by Strapping Young Lad. So I sampled this album and the self-titled followup (SYL).

Hmm...well, City is definitely good, but heaviest album ever? Not in this critic's humble opinion. It is heavier than SYL, which is watered-down by comparison and suffers from a small infusion of nu-metal traits (ick). But City is still far from being the best or heaviest metal album that I've experienced.

Before I continue to pan City, let me outline its good aspects, and describe it a bit. This album is probably best described as industrial thrash. It's got the speed of thrash, except that it's more riff-oriented with very few solos, and it also has the abrasive, noisy electronic sounds associated with industrial (think something along the lines of Psalm 69-era Ministry, sans the drum machines).

Devy lays down some pretty solid guitar playing, with some very fast (though not very complex) riffing. Also his vocals are awesome--most of the time he screams with an inhuman rage rather than grunting like a silverback gorilla, which is definitely a plus, and quite effective. The exception is the "ballad" Room 429, in which he demonstrates that he has a pretty good and eerie singing voice (he also sings a bit on AAA and Sprituality, if I remember correctly). The keyboards are surprisingly not out of place in this album, generally working well and even adding a sort of ambience to the music (odd, but it makes sense when you hear it). And of course, Gene Hoglan ABSOLUTELY FREAKIN' SLAUGHTERS on drums. He is so good here that it might rival the performance he laid down on Death's Individual Thought Patterns--high praise to say the least.

However, even with these solid attributes I feel that City (and Strapping Young Lad in general) doesn't quite live up to its reputation. By which I mean, this isn't as heavy or complex as the hype led me to believe. It's noisy and fast, but it's not super-super-heavy--Cryptopsy's Whisper Supremacy or Meshuggah's Chaosphere/Nothing would eat City for lunch. The above albums are also a lot more technical and contain more musical ideas. By comparison, Strapping Young Lad is more like Fear Factory on steroids. Also the lyrics are generally quite stupid, with buckets of gratuitous profanity. Yeah, I know it's parody, but c'mon, it doesn't mean you have to aim THAT low.

Still, this is a good album, and worth listening to and owning. It's well-recorded, features one of the most viscerally intense vocal performances ever, and while lacking in the subtlety and variety of Townsend's solo records, still benefits from some good songwriting and doesn't become repetitive (not an easy feat in the world of extreme metal). Highlights are All Hail The New Flesh, Oh My F--king God (definitely lives up to the title), Detox, AAA, Home Nucleonics, and Room 429.

Alright, I'm not going to bore you with the details or story of this sublime Reiner "documentary," nor am I going to babble on and on about how spot-on a parody of NWOBHM (that's "New Wave Of British Heavy Metal" to the uninitiated) this is.

Instead, I will offer you some quotes. Those alone should give you plenty of insight as to why this is one of the greatest movies of all time. To wit:

"Oh, there actually is, uh... there was a Saint Hubbins?"
"That's right, yes."
"What was he the saint of?"
"He was the patron saint of quality footwear."

"You know, just simple lines intertwining, you know, very much like - I'm really influenced by Mozart and Bach, and it's sort of in between those, really. It's like a Mach piece, really. It's sort of..."
"What do you call this?"
"Well, this piece is called "Lick My Love Pump".

"As long as there's, you know, sex and drugs, I can do without the rock and roll."

"Here lies David St. Hubbins... and why not?"

"Dozens of people spontaneously combust each year. It's just not really widely reported."

"It's like, how much more black could this be? and the answer is none. None more black."

"We are Spinal Tap from the UK - you must be the USA!"

"You can't really dust for vomit."

"This pretentious ponderous collection of religious rock psalms is enough to prompt the question, 'What day did the Lord create Spinal Tap, and couldn't he have rested on that day too?'"

And of course: "Why don't you just make ten louder and make ten be the top number and make that a little louder?
"These go to eleven."

Not laughing? Well, the visuals are even funnier--malfunctioning stage props, a guitar solo that probably singlehandedly gave birth to the "neo-classical" shred style, unique ways to use a violin, and of course lots and lots of retarded sexuality and bad poetry. Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, and Derek Shearer absolutely NAIL it. Everybody should have this film. Especially metalheads who aren't afraid to have a good, long laugh at themselves.

Whew. Gainax really outdid themselves with FLCL. This is one of the most random and completely Dadaist things I've ever witnessed. Seriously. This makes other off-the-wall anime I've seen (Elf Princess Rane, Excel Saga) seem downright pedestrian by comparison. Okay, maybe not Excel Saga, since that's pretty insane in of itself, but FLCL is quite different from that, and still pretty "wha?" inducing.

Beyond that claim, pinning an accurate description to this anime is extremely difficult, but I'll give it my best shot anyway. Is FLCL a comedy? At its core, I think it is--there are a lot of humourous sight gags, one-liners, and a conucopia of inside jokes (many of which even I haven't deciphered yet) along with a lot of stuff that's just plain incomprehensible. But there's more to it than comedy. It's initiation story, drama, parody, and action all rolled into one package...and then promptly injected with some seriously psychotropic substances.

Just when you think it's going to start making sense, FLCL laughs in your face and throws enough bizarre dialogue and imagery at you to make your brain hurt for days. And yet, there IS a story, and some sense of logic...though an alien one. I've seen all six episodes three times (once with a serious caffiene bender), and I'm still trying make sense of it all.

Needless to say, the characters are a little more than slightly off the beaten path. The boy Naota is the most normal of the lot; he acts much like an average small-town prepubescent boy...until giant robots start sprouting out of his head for no apparent reason. Mamimi, girlfriend to Naota's older brother (who we never see in the series), is just your typical homeless chain-smoking teenage girl with a facination for fire. But the most inspired character is Haruko--a pink-haired alien woman with a penchant for whacking things with her bass guitar/chainsaw hybrid, generating mass carnage with her Vespa scooter, and alternating between cute and completely deranged in a split second. The two women act as a sort of foil to Naota, influencing his development and character (it relates to the initiation story aspect). Freud would have a field day with some of the psychological symbolism on display here.

If that wasn't enough to chew on, also add a giant factory that looks like a clothing iron; Naota's bizarre dad and hentai grandfather; giant monster battles; a school play; gobs of fan service and innuendo; a walking TV set; and enough pop culture references and in-jokes to make Quentin Tarantino green with envy.

The character designs and art are gorgeous, and the animation quality and production values are consistently high (not to mention as schizophrenic as the storyline). FLCL is one of the most beautiful anime I've seen in quite awhile; it compares favorably with other recent high-quality productions, and surpasses a good deal of them. And to top it all off, it's got great music courtesy of J-Rock band The Pillows, who are kind of like a Japanese version of The Pixies (I am searching for the soundtrack as of the typing of this review). Gainax put a ton of work into this and it shows. The dub acting is great, and I actually prefer it to the subtitles. The liner notes even elaborate on some of the more peculiarly Japanese in-jokes, which eases the "WTF?!?" factor slightly.

Too bad that the cost per DVD is somewhat exorbitant (25 bucks for two episodes--ouch), and the whole thing only lasts 3 hours, though I doubt you will find a more action-packed and thought-provoking 3 hours anywhere. All and all, any experienced anime viewer (if your only previous anime experience is Dragonball Z, you may not want to jump into this right away) needs to check out FLCL. It's one of the most original viewing experiences ever, and deserves my highest reccommendation.

Operation Ivy takes a lot of heat for spawning Rancid (a pale imitation of The Clash) and a huge crapfest of awful bands who played pop-punk with horns. However, the "ska" label was somewhat overstated for this band, especially since only one or two songs on Energy actually feature horns (Bad Town is the only one I can recall). And these guys were miles ahead of their imitators in every conceivable way.

What Op Ivy really did back in 1988-89 was combine punk, ska, and reggae (with a little hardcore edge thrown in), and record the whole mess nice and lo-fi--original and totally excellent stuff. Blink-182 and Sum41 fans will cringe at the DIY-level sound quality and Jesse Michaels' untrained voice, but I wouldn't trade Energy for any of their Pro Tools-smothered junk. THIS is punk. Overproduction need not apply.

With 27 tracks, each averaging about 2 minutes, Energy has the punk energy down pat. Tim Armstrong ("Lint") lays down great speedy hyper-ska guitar lines all over the place, and Matt McCall is probably one of the few punk bassists who isn't totally incompetent (am I hearing some slap bass?). The album is chock full of melodies, catchy choruses, surprisingly sophisticated lyrics (especially considering that these guys were merely teenagers at the time), and plenty of groove. At least half of these songs are worthy of becoming standards--the opener Knowledge (Green Day covered it early on, but the original is superior), Sound System, Take Warning (my favorite), The Crowd, Bad Town, Freeze Up..I could go on and on.

Forget the "ska-punk" label--ultimately this is excellent non-hyphenated punk rock, and it should be in your collection.

The sublime, noir beauty of Portishead's debut hasn't been replicated since its '94 release. No other British trip-hop act comes close, save maybe Massive Attack (and I find their work to be somewhat uneven over the course of their four albums--Mezzanine is genius, Blue Lines is good but dated, and Protection and 100th Window are merely so-so). Vocalist Beth Gibbons and studio artist Geoff Barrow really tapped into something brilliant here.

While most trip-hop strives to sound dark and downtempo, Dummy is the only trip-hop album that feels like it could be incorporated seamlessly into a '40s noir flick while sounding perfectly distinctive on its own. There are traces of jazz, hip-hop scratches and beats, acoustic guitar flourishes, chiming percussion, and some clever, low-key sampling. Sometimes the crackly sounds and pops of an old 45 can be heard. It establishes a perfect atmosphere, one in which smoking a filterless cigarette and wearing a trenchcoat would not be out of place; and I haven't even begun to describe the vocals yet.

Beth Gibbons' melancholic wail just oozes soul out of every pore; on the hit single, the James Bond-esque Sour Times her sorrowful voice runs a chill up my spine. In other songs like Glory Box, she recalls the stylings of Billy Holiday, and on It Could Be Sweet her smoky, low-key singing is downright sexy. Overall, Gibbons is one of the finest voices in trip-hop, up there with contemporaries Elizabeth Fraser and Tracy Thorn.

There's not a single out-of-place track here, just an excellent unified sense of moodiness and sorrow, not feeling too bleak but not insincere either. If you've come looking for the perfect music for rolling down the sparsely populated city streets in the rain at 3 am--you've just found it. Dummy is absolutely essential.

It's official: Even the MTV drones have figured out by now that Fred Durst is a whiny, mysognistic, no-talent arseclown with the IQ of balsa wood. Not that this is news to those who actually have taste.

From their very first album, Limp Bizkit represented virtually everything wrong with today's radio rawk--3-chord guitar lines that a 10-year old could play (don't try to tell me Wes Borland has talent, he doesn't); abysmal attempts at rapping; lyrics that are jaw-dropping in their utter stupidity; hell, even their album covers are lame.

On top of that, Durst has the gall to violate a Who classic, Behind Blue Eyes, with that inane "L-I-M-P Discover" bit and that godawful whiny voice of his (that sound you hear are the bodies of John Entwistle and Keith Moon rotating in their coffins). And to add further insult to injury, buffoon Durst even MISSPELLS PETE TOWNSHEND'S NAME IN THE LINER CREDITS! Pete ought to sue Fred for all he's worth.

This is the absolute nadir. I'm glad nu-metal is on the way out. Regarding those who actually bought this filthy disc--there is still hope for you! Trade it in for albums by Faith No More, Biohazard, Candiria, and Rage Against The Machine if you really want something in the rap-rock/metal vein that actually contains an iota of intellectual value, originality, and musical worth.

Boston's Cave In has a pretty unique history. After all, how many bands do you know of that have gone from being a metal/noisecore outfit that sounds like a hybrid of Converge and Rush, to (with the release of second LP Jupiter) a spacey indie-alt band remiscient of Radiohead or Failure? You've got to admire that willingness to experiment. Which is one of the reasons why Antenna, the third full-length Cave In release, is a dissapointment. It's clear that the band is taking fewer risks on this album, and that it was made for the radio.

Now, I'm not going to throw around the word "sellout" in this review. After all, quite a few bands have entered the mainstream on major labels and have still maintained their trademark sound (Modest Mouse, with their most recent album, is a clear example). However, Antenna is merely a homogenization of Jupiter's sound. Gone are the epic song lengths and a good deal of the spacey textures; the music and lyrics regularly fall into pop-emo cliches (see Joy Opposites and Beautiful Son, respectively, for the worst examples of this). On top of that, the production is the usual hideously overcompressed wall of sound that seems to be par for the course on a major label. At least the bass stands out, which is a nice touch.

The album as a whole feels too song-oriented. The only song worthy of the "epic" tag on Antenna is the 9-minute Seafrost; it sounds a little like a leftover from Jupiter, and as such is easily the best and most atmospheric track here. Lost In The Air and the closer Woodwork (featuring an awesome guitar solo) are pretty great as well. Most of the rest range from slightly above average (Stained Silver, Rubber And Glue, Breath Of Water) to mediocre (Anchor, Inspire, Penny Racer) mainstream rock that sounds a bit like an overproduced Foo Fighters. Even Stephen Brodsky's excellent vocals can't make the music distinctive, which is a shame.

Overall, there's nothing catastrophically wrong with Antenna. It's very well-played, catchy, and competent straightforward rock, and I'd rather listen to this than most mainstream swill. However, it lacks the imagination and experimentation of previous Cave In releases. Check out Jupiter and Tides Of Tomorrow EP as an introduction to Cave-In before buying Antenna.

Dillinger Escape Plan practically invented the art of "noisecore" back in '99 with their first full-length album Calculating Infinity. This batch of crazies from New Jersey are some of the best musicians in ANY genre. Warping and fluctuating time signatures into irregular, hyperviolent, pulsing blasts of metal, this album is definitely not for the timid, but is one helluva ride.

The one predictable aspect of DEP's sound is that they are relentlessly unpredictable. However, as random as it all seems, each composition is very mapped out and the band is so tight and in control behind their instruments you'd swear they were psychic. And this ain't masturbatory self-indulgence, either--there's nary a solo to be found, and it doesn't need them. It would only take away from Calculating Infinity's brutal mathematical onslaught. Vocalist Dimitri's voice almost never wavers from a vicious incomprehensible scream, and while it takes some getting used to the vocals are totally appropriate for this brand of insanity. Of special note is drummer Chris Pennie, whose skills behind the kit are just downright sick, and never resorting to the cliche blastbeats that most extreme metal bands use.

Anyway, I don't think there's a single guitar, bass, or drumline in straight 4/4 anywhere on this disc. Opener Sugar Coated Sour unleashes the first of many mind-boggling assaults. Jim Fear is thrash filtered through DEP's trademark spazziness, while 43% Burnt, the longest track at 4:30 or so, is a slab of abrasive stop-start grindcore that is sure to irritate all normal and well-adjusted people. The Running Board and Clip The Apex.. toggle between full-out hammering mode and breathtaking jazzy breakdowns. The title track is a fascinating instrumental that displays the method to this band's madness, while Weekend Sex Change (great song titles!) is a vehicle for Pennie's ridiculous drumming and features some ominous atmospheric rumblings. The best track, 4th Grade Dropout goes from spacey breakdown to a vengeful climax that will make your neck sore for days on end. The whole disc is little more than a half-hour, but to be honest any more of DEP's seizure-inducing attack would be way too exhausting.

Calculating Infinity gets my stamp of approval, being one of the most challenging, insane, and exhilirating albums I've EVER heard. Metalheads, you need this one. Also look into Botch, Meshuggah, Converge, and (for something similarly technical but more melodic) Spiral Architect. I can't wait for DEP's next release with their new vocalist, I bet that'll be something to behold.

The '60s were the Golden Age Of Rock, and thus, I'd argue, the Golden Age of live albums. You had The Who's Live At Leeds, The MC5's Kick Out The Jams, Velvet Underground's Live 1969, The Rolling Stones' Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out!, and a slew of fine Bob Dylan bootlegs (the two best being released under the "Bootleg Series" as Live 1964 and Live 1966--go buy them if you haven't).

However, ranking at the top of this pile of finely polished diamonds is Jimi Hendrix's performance at the Filmore East on New Year's Eve, 1969. As far as I'm concerned, this release is in a class of its own. What makes it even better is that Band Of Gypsys was released primarily due to CONTRACTUAL OBLIGATIONS (!). Yet not one second of this album sounds like Jimi "going through the motions." If anything, this was the pinnacle of his recorded output (rivalled ONLY by Electric Ladyland, and that album is almost double the length).

Band Of Gypsys represents an evolution from Hendrix's earlier works with The Experience. Jimi was trying to dispell the overblown image that the public and press had saddled upon him after his showboating performances at earlier live venues such as the Monterey Pop Festival. He was trying to move in a more funk-based, introspective, and earthy direction. After The Experience disbanded (bassist Noel Redding quit) in June 1969, Jimi tried experimenting with various lineups in future performances, including a big band dubbed Gypsy, Sun, & Rainbows that headlined at Woodstock that August.

However, that band didn't pan out for very long. Jimi was soon looking for a new band, finally settling on bassist and old Army buddy Billy Cox and drummer Buddy Miles. The resulting Band Of Gypsys headlined at the Filmore, fulfilling the contract and then some.

This is on the short side for a live album, being 45 minutes long and containing only six songs. However, the key here is QUALITY. Jimi himself, along with Eddie Kramer, had a hand in producing, editing, and remixing the album. This is important; Jimi clearly had a better ear than anyone when it came to his own performances, as later hack jobs by Alan Douglas and the slightly less grievous edits by Eddie Kramer on Jimi's postumous releases did no justice to his sound at all (there is now a two-disc "complete" version of the Filmore Concerts in print produced by Kramer; if you are a completist it's worth picking up despite some questionable edits).

That's all well and good, but I suppose I should probably talk about the music now. Band Of Gypsys is worth every superlative heaped on it. After all, it kicks off with the uber-funky Who Knows (the shortest 9 minutes of your life) and MACHINE GUN. 'Nuff said. By the way, this is arguably the best recorded take of Machine Gun--Jimi never played it the same way twice. With Buddy Miles' rifle-shot drumming and Jimi's amazing Stratocaster gymnastics, it simulates the sound of no-man's land better than any metal recording I've heard to date. At the 4:00 mark, Jimi hits that one note, raising it to air-siren intensity, in a way that takes your breath. For me, there are only a small handful of compositions that reveal the full potential of the six-string guitar. Machine Gun stands at the top of that elite class. At the end, the crowd is practically rapt with amazement; there is a moment of disbelieving silence, then the audience rises in standing ovation, filling the venue with its roaring approval. Probably the greatest thing they ever witnessed; I seriously wish I was there.

The album would be worth purchasing for those two songs alone, but wait, it gets BETTER. Next up is Changes, a great funk groove in which Buddy takes the lead with his soulful vocals, and engages with Jimi in some great call-and-response toward the end, getting the crowd involved too. Jimi's solo that comes in at 2:00 absolutely SMOKES. Power Of Soul and Message To Love are also grand statements of Jimi's new musical vision, and We Gotta Live Together concludes the album on another Miles-led R&B raveup.

There is a lot of debate among the hardcore Jimi fans over whether who was better at backing Jimi--Miles and Cox, or Mitchell and Redding? I think that point is irrelevant. Both lineups had their strengths and worked appropriately with the styles Jimi adopted. However, I will say that Cox was generally a vast improvement over Redding on bass. Before his death in 1970, Jimi played a few shows with Mitchell and Cox. It's too bad that Jimi passed on before the potential of that lineup could be realized.

Alright, I've rambled long enough. Suffice to say, no music fan's libary is complete without this release. Sell your mother if you have to. It's worth it.

Punk has had a long and proud tradition of being involved in left-wing radical politics. However, the best punk bands weren't just about the preachy lyrics; they combined the polemics with a distinctive and memorable sound. Joe Strummer of The Clash knew this, as did Jello Biafra (Dead Kennedys) and D. Boon and Mike Watt (Minutemen).

Anti-Flag apparently doesn't realize this. These guys hang their hat on their "radical" lyrics and not much else. Note that MANY punk and metal bands prior to Anti-Flag were spewing similar political invective with far more wit, flair, and intelligence than this band's ham-handed, juvenile anthems. It doesn't help Anti-Flag's case that they frequently approach open hypocrisy. Case in point: Anti-Flag claim to be anti-violence. Riiiight. With songs titled "Kill The Rich," how am I supposed to take this swill seriously?

Moreover, the music is just godawful. Yes, I realize punk is supposed to be amateurish, but this is plain terrible, not to mention about as "edgy" as a teddy bear. I've heard junior high school NOFX ripoffs play better than this. Anti-Flag apparently has two singers, but both suck equally, and the band sounds about as instrumentally proficient as I am (not very).

In summary, Anti-Flag is another batch of inept fashion "punks" regurgitating the same ol' protests and trying to pass them off as "rebellious." Sorry, I'm not falling for it. Spend your lawn-mowing money wisely kids, and pick up records by The Clash, Dead Kennedys, Black Flag, Bad Brains, Minutemen, Wire, MC5 etc. Your listening will be all the better for it.