Once upon a time, the sound of odd southern accents flooded the infant world of independent rock 'n' roll, lifting southern pop fans out from under the redneck-stoner shadows of Lynyrd Skynrd, .38 Special, and all the other loud, longhaired Southern Rock bands. In the early 1980s, artists like Pylon and REM emerged from nowhere; Athens, Georgia became a big "scene" and like magic the DIY-ethos spread throughout old Dixie. In a sense, San Francisco four-track crooner Hudson Bell is a blast from the past, with his gentle, down-home drawl that recalls the days when all anyone could talk about was how you couldn’t understand a damn word Michael Stipe said. Bell, who was born in Louisiana and moved constantly throughout the South as a child, is now an up-and-comer on the Bay Area scene, releasing his beguiling first album earlier last year. At first blush, Captain Of The Old Girls seems like one of those faux-naif, man-child records, à la Daniel Johnston or Beat Happening, the songs half-spoken and delivered with a disarming directness. But it soon becomes apparent that Bell, with his egghead-y lyrics and grandly orchestrated lo-fi arrangements, is definitely following his own muse. Most of all, it's Bell's earnestness you'll notice, even when he sounds a bit spaced-out or pursues a tangled socio-political theme. His soul-bearing sincerity and apparent guilelessness has an endearing tone. It's the sort of thing that's easy to write off as just another act, and yet there's... something there that holds your attention, even if you find yourself wondering just what the heck this guy is talking about. —Lawrence R. Kay

While some bands pride themselves on re-inventing their sound with each release, there are others that you can always count on to stay the same. On their latest release, Gateway, on Relapse, the beloved Bongzilla continues to concoct ridiculously massive riffs attached to a pro-pot message. Screeching feedback drops into a deep, vicious groove of riffs and vocalist Mike Makela’s wicked yowl is almost completely drowned out by the smashing of drums, driving Bongzilla’s THC-induced sound. With songs like “Greenthumb,” “Sunshine Green,” “666lb. Bongsession,” and “Hashdealer,” this Wisconsin-bred band isn’t bashful about their marijuana love-affair. And while Bongzilla carries their attitude and their drug infatuation upfront, at least they aren’t trying to be a band they aren’t. —Kathleen Richards

David Cross is a funny man. As one half of Mr. Show, he and cohort Bob Odenkirk actually restored the inventiveness and hilarity of sketch comedy. A growing number of admirers and a successful string of tour dates have led Sub Pop to release Shut Up You Fucking Baby, a two-CD album culled from two stand-up dates in 2002. What follows is a relentless, scathing routine, set to examine, attack, and expose all that is wrong and ridiculous with our nation to date. From easy targets such as rednecks and aspiring Hollywood wannabes, to timely topics like President Bush and the mind-warped, jingoistic citizenry, Cross lays waste to all the phonies while building laughter and solidarity for all those who know better. Like Lenny Bruce and Richard Pryor before him, Cross tells it like it is, and usually with a sharp and dirty tongue. Through honesty, insight, and casual banter, he allows his audience to connect with him as an everyman and it's in this way that he's a true comedian, in the sense that Jerry Seinfeld is not. —Troy Vadakan

Both Jason Newsted joining Voivod and the release of this EP provide two great arguments for metal. Each song is an amalgam of disjointed riffs that make it challenging to listen to but worthwhile. Strange and heavy, this record could be the theme music for a visit to a Stockton junkyard at 4 am to get parts for a sculpture memorializing the career of Steve Guttenburg. There is no verse/chorus structure in these songs; they jump around in style and tempo, so it takes a careful listen to hear what the artists intended (assuming they know). Tight playing and seamless transitions hold together what could be sixty different thirty-second songs, and make them into four symphonies, with Mike Patton adding his creativity almost as a form of stream of consciousness. My favorite, “Pig Latin,” starts out hokey, switches to industrial/metal, and then turns into a David Lynch-like lounge act in three minutes. —Donner Pardee

While the Bay Area isn’t short of post-rock-influenced bands, it’s not as easy to be described as “experimental” anymore. Ee, the project of Tobin Mori (ex-Korea Girl), continues the delicate melody crusade with its second full-length album (and the first with an almost entirely new line-up), For 100 We Try Harder. The six tracks, (plus three hidden ones, out of a total of 99), explore the subtlety of melody construction that makes rock music a cerebral art form. Though the sound may not be treading unchartered territory, Ee still manages to stretch its parameters, crafting restrained melodies with melodic bass-lines and complimenting sparse guitar parts (“Slow Motion Restart,) and occasionally throwing them into a bucket of feedback and dramatic noise (“Yellow Taravel”). The earnest indie-pop power of “Beijing,” the nod to Neil Young in the mournful, Southern-rock-tinged “Drunk In Carthage,” and the ability to make cold electronic noises into a warm lullaby (track #30), demonstrate that Ee is trying harder than most, and succeeding because of it. —Kathleen Richards

There’s something about Hot Water Music’s Caution that just sucks you in. I tried to write it off after the first two songs, feeling that I’d heard them before, until I realized that I really wanted to hear them again. The record starts with “Remedy,” a strong punk sing-along anthem and an incredibly energetic opener, and “Trusty Chords,” a song about how music can provide a base for people in limbo to hold on to. It’s the sentiment in “Chords” that did it – anyone with a passion for music can relate to the feeling that it’s one-chord progression, one sequence keeping them going. Caution does suffer from the kind of predictability that’s come to be associated with Epitaph bands: it all sounds the same after a while. Or it all sounds like Bad Religion. Still, there’s something powerful in the way the raw vocals and loud rock on Caution come across and make listening, and singing along, into a strong emotional experience. —Jessica Hilberman

A few months ago, LA-based slow-core-meets-grunge-rock trio, Idaho, released a collection of 17 songs that never quite made their six other albums. Being the proud owner of every one of those six albums, I tested my know-it-all-ness by guessing the year on every song…and failed at almost every attempt. So how could a longtime Idaho fan not recognize what era each song came from? Well, probably because in the decade Idaho has existed, not much has changed. Sure, the earlier years were marked with a more carefree angst and a simpler three-piece-band structure while the later years crouched lower behind the curtain with more intricate guitar feedback and electronic knick-knacks. But in every album, there’s always been a little of all those elements, including frontman Jeff Martin’s gorgeous tired voice that succeeds in not making a comparison to the likes of Tom Waits. Listeners who felt that rockier songs like “Pomegranate Bleeding” were some of Idaho’s best work will appreciate the grunge nostalgia of the first half of We Were Young…while the latter half of the album really could have fit in any era. Which leaves us to wonder: Is the album-title the reason why these songs weren’t released back then, an apology for these songs, or should the tense perhaps be changed to the present? We hope it’s the first. —Delphine Hwang

Iron and Wine is one Sam Beam, a seemingly earthy, sensitive folksy fellow residing in Miami, Florida (of all places!?). Featured here are a series of intimate, stripped down recordings imaginably plucked out under the low rustle of fallen autumn leaves and a pale moonlight. The sound is simple and sparse, owing a heavy debt to American roots music, the music of the Appalachias, a steadily plucked banjo, the slide of a bottleneck, the warm invitation of a sweet and subtle voice setting forth such poetic brilliance and spinning tales of love, loneliness, mystery, and myth so timeless that it only seems appropriate to the see the abbreviation “(trad.)” behind every song title. Sam Beam would sit comfortably at a table with Will Oldham and David Pajo, and often he does sound like an even more subdued Nick Drake, but comparisons should stand as reference points only, for they obscure the essence of a truly unique and sincere artist. —Troy Vadakan

It's so deliciously Seattle to celebrate the great tradition of drinking, and these five fellas have tapped into that thematic horn-o-plenty. The incidental nature of the lyrical content is reflected in the incidental song titles. Ultimately, Don Caballero's titles are funnier. Perhaps I'm a little jaded about this band because of the apparent shift that has occurred in the musical sensibilities of its members. Two members were in Kill Sadie, and another was the guitarist for Botch. While it's fruitless to compare the music of those bands to that of MTB, one can't help but contrast the incendiary conviction of the former bands with the whimsical resignation of the latter. Having said that, I confess that I'm a sucker for this music. Jake's voice is coyly deadpan, and immediately endearing. Dave's intricate textural melodies of fret-tapped notes trickle sweetly into one’s ears, while Matt's synth is the satin bow on the whole stupid package. I listen to it all the goddamned time, and I can't wait to buy the brand new full-length. Fuckers. —MS

With the release of Live From Camp X-Ray, RFTC now have it well within their rights to rename themselves “Rocket we rock like holy fuckin' shit from the motherfuckin' Crypt”. Abandoning the pseudo-rockabilly flavors of previous efforts, X-Ray harkens back to the pure adrenaline of Circa Now and Paint as a Fragrance, with the added bonus of a horn section. The opening track, “I’m Not Invisible,” has a demolition-derby-driver-on-speed type-of-feel, literally reeking of sweat, gasoline, and pomade. Other standout tunes include “Get Down” and the eloquent “Bucket of Piss”. Also of note are “I Wanna Know What I Wanna Know” and “Can You Hear It”, both of which add a string section to the RFTC stew, which when combined with the horns and the patented RFTC psycho-noise-surf guitar make for the sonic equivalent to a fat lip. Facial swelling has never sounded so good. —Wendell Scott

You know that climactic point in a movie when the film suddenly cuts to slow-motion and an out-of-control car goes careening off the cliff. The camera shows the car from the side, and then from the top and then fades to the face of the driver. The look he wears in that moment of realizing his own destruction is one of surprise, disappointment, fear, and peace. The soundtrack to this tragically beautiful moment is perfectly explained in the melodic swoons and explosions of Sigur Rós’ follow-up to their 2000 stateside debut Ágætis Byrjún. Perhaps taking pity on the American inability to pronounce the title, the new album has been named ( ), taken from the vague images on the CD cover. The ( )s in fact look more like pork sausages than parentheses, but this must be an artful representation as there is literally no text in the CD sleeve: no song names, no album creds, no lyrics. Which is not surprising considering that lead singer Jonsi Birgisson sings in his make-believe language of “hopelandic” throughout. It’s beautiful but a little overwhelming if you’re not in the mood. Think emo Enya and you’re about halfway there. —Steve Ford

Chances are that if you are one of those diehard Neurosis fans, this disc is already in your possession and you love it, love it, love it. On the other hand, if you’re like me, and have relatively very little experience with the music-machine that is Steve Von Till, you’re in for an amazing introduction. I will preface this by saying that this release will not suit everyone’s taste. Von Till’s voice has a smoky, rich quality that sounds something just this side of Mark Lanegan. But what makes this release so praiseworthy, and for that matter so unique, is that Von Till’s songs sound like the material of some traveling bard: spinning tale after tale of a time and a people heartily steeped in myth and folklore. Aptly minimal instrumentation creates an atmosphere ripe for the telling of these stories and Von Till has successfully adapted his own style as well as some traditional poems to create a somber but incredibly interesting set. —Steve Ford

Hardcore Breakout is a new compilation from NRA that includes the re-release of the two previous ones in the same series, and is the Berkeley label’s first comp since the essential War and Peace double disk. This one has a total of 75 tracks on three disks, with 40 exclusive tracks for all you collectors. Some highlights from the newest addition include Anti-Flag, covering the Bad Genes-tune “Rock the Boat”; JFA with Jello Biafra doing “Clown Part” (the first recording for a while from Ultraman); and UK Subs’ “War on the Pentagon”. It also has some standout tracks from local bands: Swingin’ Utters, Loudmouths, and Jack Killed Jill. Volumes 1 & 2 provide the perfect side-dish: early Samiam and No Use for a Name (pre-pop punk), Reagan Youth, Ultraman, Kraut, and Jawbreaker. Hardcore Breakout is a great collection to find new bands, or revisit old friends. —Donner Pardee

TKO’s new comp has some good, loud rock-‘n’-roll tracks. A few songs stand out from the others but there is a narrow genre here that most fit into. There are not a lot of attempts to explore outside of it and some do it better than others. Electric Frankenstein and RPG have good tracks in the given mode. The Reducers SF’s “No Control” stuck with me because of some of their dynamics and because it was not just a wall of guitar. Bottles and Skulls have a style in their delivery that most of the others lacked. I am slightly perplexed by the Business track: catchy enough that it will probably be sung around the campfire at summer camp, but I can’t get over the clap track in the chorus. Every time I hear it I die laughing! I think I’ll stick with my worn copy of Suburban Rebels. —Donner Pardee

The Detroit label, Small Stone records, has released a mammoth, two-disc compilation of over 35 of today’s most talented underground heavy-rock bands, covering the who’s-who of the best of 1970s rock-‘n’-roll: Jethro Tull, Ted Nugent, CCR, Rush, Led Zeppelin, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Hawkwind, and Neil Young, to name a few. Most of the 35 tracks seem to stick close to the originals, while others completely re-interpret: Porn (The Men Of)’s super sludgy, slow, fuzzed-out version of Neil Young’s “Out On The Weekend,” and Milligram’s equally muddy cover of Cactus’ “Rumblin’ Man.” Other notable tracks include Spirit Caravan’s cover of Sabbath’s “Wicked World,” which includes a blazing guitar solo, and Disengage’s version of Zeppelin’s “Communication Breakdown.” If you grew up in ‘70s or even if you were a just a toddler at the time, Sucking is equally an education in who you missed and in who you’re missing now. —Kathleen Richards

This 4-song EP is the latest offering from Ken Andrews, most known for his 90’s alt-rock group, Failure, and more recently for his engineering and mixing skills for such artists as Creeper Lagoon, Sense Field, and A Perfect Circle. In between, he experimented as his synthesizer/drum machine-heavy persona, ON, which demonstrated his obsessive-compulsive habit for tweaking knobs. Year Of The Rabbit, his first attempt at creating a band since Failure, is effectively a nice compromise between the two. The beginning track, “Hunted” bleeds Failure influence in the Fantastic Planet era—romanticized post-grunge rock flattered with sweeping melodies. In the second track, “Rabbit Hole,” the ‘80s pop of The Cars collides with the deafening urgency of Nirvana. The last two tracks are both b-sides and won’t appear on their debut (which is already slated to be released by Elektra this year). “Burn” and their cover of the Stone Roses' “I Wanna Be Adored,” shows Andrews’ penchant for giving noisy guitar rock a slick sound and a pop hook. These songs may not go over well with hardcore indie types, but if you liked ‘90s alt-rock and you’re not opposed to the pop grandiosity of new wave, this band rules. —Kathleen Richards