If you haven't heard of these guys, go ahead and put them on your short list of new favorite bands. The Casket Lottery and Small Brown Bike are both gone, but because of their chemistry in past collaborative efforts, ex-band members Nathan Ellis, Ben Reed, Mike Reed, and Jeff Gensterblum are creating amazing music together in a long-distance love affair they call Able Baker Fox. And it's damn good (as you can tell from the 10-inch they put out together in 2002, available on Second Nature). They're already making waves, playing one of the Hot Water Music reunion shows in Chicago in early February. Voices was recorded in 2007 with familiar name Ed Rose out in Kansas, and the vinyl comes in yellow/black, blue/orange, and a special edition yellow, only available at that Hot Water reunion show.

This is one of those albums on which you don't want to skip a single track. "October" starts the album out and gets your fists pumping -- powerful guitars, intense bass lines, solid drumming, and plenty of awesome sing-a-long anthemic vocals guide you through the variations on this album. "Face on Fire" is driving, with a gnarly guitar solo on a song that's sure to be a crowd pleaser live (how many will be grabbing for the microphones, trying to yell "Face on fire!" with fists raised to the sky?). "Twenty Centuries" has amazing group backing vocals, with some great dueling vocals courtesy of Ellis and Mike Reed.

The lyrics speak to so many of us, probably, that have been through some years that have calloused us. And the whole album makes me feel like it's all going to be okay -- that there's other people who are keepin' on keepin' on. "Whispering" reminds us as the album closes: "Hey don't stop / Take a look at what you've got / Hey don't quit / Not while you're living it / Did you hear what your heart is whispering? / Aren't you listening? / Why aren't you listening?" Yeah. Fuck, yeah. (Teri Sue Bailey // 02/18/08)

Southern rock need not be ridden to compilation albums sold on TV in the wee hours of the night. ASG has got the goods and has pushed the genre enough to show real ingenuity. With their fourth album, Win Us Over, the band from North Carolina delivers tracks that will please both Skynyrd fans and prog-rock snobs alike.

The disc opens with "Right Death Before," and immediately you know you're in for a ride, with wailing harmonics, and drum skins that must be begging for forgiveness. Then there's the vocals -- unique tonal qualities and melodies that make you wonder why guitarist Jason Shi didn't step up to the mic from the beginning (ASG was an instrumental band, looking for a vocalist, till Shi gave in). The tracks continue with more original riffs, entertaining guitar accompaniments, and beats to abuse your steering wheel to. "Coffee Depression Sunshine" is the first opportunity you'll have to avoid a kick drum in your face; the chill mood of the track at first seems an oddball, but the lyrics create such haunting imagery that it feels worthy.

Ah, yes, the lyrics. If there's anything that can be faulted on Win Us Over, it's the lyrics. You'd be hard pressed to find a track that doesn't include references to god, death, violence, or rebirth (sometimes all of the above). The bias towards metal-like lyrics doesn't do the music justice for most of this disc, and I think we'll see ASG sharpening their pencils soon, if they aren't already. There are no exceptions to this theme, but there are exceptional moments; impressive and original unplugged sounds, marvelous harmonies, and time changes that make your head nod with approval, over and over again.

Despite the doom-and-gloom lyrics, you can see these guys are enjoying their work. The angels tracking their souls on the title track "Win Us Over" may very well be the kind with wings. ASG's sound, however, tells me they're the kind that ride Harleys. The disc concludes with "Bombs Away," a tease at barely over two minutes, but the downtempo pace is a fitting end to the furiousness that precedes it.

The disc is a roller coaster ride through heaven, hell, disappointment, and redemption. Overall, it just fucking rocks. (Quinn Alexander // 02/18/08)

The boys in A>S>H>S have been grooving around Houston for about a decade now, recently releasing their first album Audible Stellar Hypnotic Situations. Their instrumental sound has an electronic/jazzy/funk feel to it, peppered with turntables and saxophones; think Thievery Corporation dabbling in trance music. Or a really good porno soundtrack. Dark trip-hop overtones hold the album together, and the sound is surprisingly mature and polished for a debut release.

This music works well in the background (desk job, anyone?), and midway through the CD, my left toe caught the bug and started tapping; a good sign. Congo drums add a little jungle flair to a few tracks and provide some earthy contrast to the predominantly electronic vibes. Turntables scratch around most of the songs, and the song "Nova" adds some levity with a few Clark Griswold samples ("Excuse me, holmes?"). The standout track, "Lost," showcases machine-gun snares and nebulous space soundscapes, with a drawly saxophone right at the peak.

Most of the songs are over eight minutes long, giving all the members a chance to show off. With no prominent melody in most tracks, these jams and solos drive the album. The variety of instrumentation and talented musicians gives A>S>H>S plenty of room to play around onstage live. Don't worry about band chemistry, either; the last two tracks were improvised in-studio and sound solid.

This type of music is usually appropriate for the club scene and upscale lounges, at least somewhere where guys need a button-down. A>S>H>S, however, owns and often performs at their own warehouse southeast of downtown Houston. According to their Website, the performances there "showcase live suspension rituals, fire breathing robots, and fire dancers with raw unadulterated music." Holy shit. Drinks, robots, space-beats, and fire? Yes, please. (Alex Li // 02/01/08)

On their self-titled EP, Houston band Balero plays instrumental heavy metal. One of the biggest things that annoys me about metal is the singing, so these guys are already more up my alley than most current metal bands. And hey, Slint used death-metal pedals and nobody complained, so why shouldn't everybody else? The guys in Balero have a decent feel for dynamics, and they're tight. The problem is that the band seems to be hoping a singer will show up, rather than trying to write music that works on its own -- they're instrumental because they can't find a singer, not because they deliberately want to play instrumentals.

That's a big part of the reason the songs sound the same. They've all got the same sort of feel, because they use the same ideas over and over. The last three songs ("The Voyage," "El Mere," and "Well Look Who It Is") are almost entirely built on similar-sounding power chord riffs. And the first song, "Drop The Bomb," uses a guitar line that sounds much like a line in "El Mere." To top it all off, the first three ("Bomb," "Voyage," and "Mere") are all in the same key. All of this makes them sound very much the same.

The last track, "Well Look Who It Is," starts off differently, at least -- it starts out like some droning Slint-type tune, and there's a nice slightly dissonant riff in the middle, but then most of the song is exactly like "Voyage" and "Mere." Even with some overdubbed guitar parts, it goes on for longer than it should (a whole five minutes, for some reason).

If Balero had intended to have a singer, or even an instrumental melody line or something, the songs might have worked better that way, but as it is, it all sounds the same: like it's missing something. (Henry Mayer // 02/01/08)

Music bloggers love to compare The Besnard Lakes to the Beach Boys. It's true; try navigating your way through the webosphere to find a blog and/or zine that doesn't -- they're not there. And yes, this six-piece indie outfit from Montreal has clearly taken some harmonic cues from the '60s (pre-Uncle Jessie on drums) super group, particularly on the gorgeously-crafted "For Agent 13," but that's only part of the story. On The Besnard Lakes Are The Dark Horse (released February 20th on Jagjaguwar), husband and wife Jace Lasek and Olga Goreas take listeners through an expansive array of orchestral pop-rock that's reminiscent of early Sigur Rós, placing them firmly in the center of the post-rock genre made hugely popular these days by the likes of Grizzly Bear and Menomena.

But there is something different about The Besnard Lakes, something that allows listeners to relate to them in ways they can't to other bands in this genre -- they don't take themselves too seriously. Whether singing about spies, riding the rails, or the pleasures of begging a girl not to leave, The Besnard Lakes get it. They seem to understand what it takes to exist in a world that is at the same time critically adored and popularly accessible -- and, as we all know, there are but a few bands that are allowed to live there with them (or maybe just one; Sufjan, anyone?). The Besnard Lakes Are The Dark Horse will stay with you for days -- try to listen to it and not want to listen to it again. And then again. It might be impossible. And isn't it wonderful to stumble upon an album that can do that?

There is something great happening in Montreal these days, and The Besnard Lakes are doing their part in making us all jealous we don't live there. (Brandon Hernsberger // 02/28/08)

Nothing short of "amazing" should be used to sum up the newest addition to the Bloodsimple world. With it being over two years since their first debut album, A Cruel World, the now-four-member crew has proven their place in the metal scene with the follow-up album Red Harvest. This new collection definitely shows how much they've grown, from a semi-small NY group into the big hit they are today, with tracks like "Whiskey Bent And Hellbound (HELLMYR)," "Dead Man Walking," and "Out To Get You."

Bloodsimple has fine-tuned their sound and made it their own. Unlike most new music coming out, Bloodsimple has reintroduced solos back into the lost relic that we call metal. With help from record producer Machine (Lamb Of God/White Zombie), the quartet flew through the recording of this album in just two short months. Despite losing drummer Chris Hamilton, the band soldiered on, with Mike Froedge filling in for them in the studio.

The concept for Red Harvest was based on a 1929 detective novel, also conveniently titled Red Harvest. The lyrics were constructed based on characters like those mentioned in the novel. For example, in "Dead Man Walking": "Look at me I'm a dead man walking / Put another nail in my coffin / On the hill I see the bodies burning / Burn, Burn, Burn it down." Sounds like their recent touring buddy Chad Gray (Hellyeah/Mudvayne) must have rubbed off some of the same vocal styling to front man Tim Williams, as seen on such tracks as "Whiskey Bent And Hellbound (HELLMYR)." Track two, "Red Harvest," sounds similar to Killswitch Engage and displays a perfect blend of deep, crunchy chops, mixed with high-end harmonic overtones.

All in all, from the bluesy spoken-word intro to the speedy, machine-gun-style riff ending, you'll never tire of this album; it's one to definitely add to your collection. (Chris Reed // 02/01/08)

Sometimes dorks really do make the best music. Something about the goofy Buddy Holly-esque glasses, shaggy hair, and lankiness combines to create music that is clever, catchy, and not completely devoid of lyrical merit. Built By Snow may strike the average appreciator of music as just another indie-rock band out of Austin, but the one thing they have that sets them apart from the rest is their sense of humor. After winning a Battle of the Bands competition, the quirky quartet used their contest earnings to produce the 7-song EP Noise. Their sound is reminiscent of Weezer's Pinkerton days, complete with silly lyrics, brash guitar riffs and distinctive vocal harmonies. "Juliana" is an awesome ode to geek-chic love; the indie-rock ballad has comfortably muted strumming that plays well against the more pronounced and emotionally charged vocals. The Noise EP, while not a nod to anything particularly new or innovative, is fun and unexpectedly impressive for a first release. (Brigitte Zabak // 02/28/08)

Sweet Jesus. I'm having a real hard time digesting the fact that Quantum Fucking is now officially the Fatal Flying Guilloteens' tenth release. I was almost positive the ground would open up and swallow the band whole before the universe would allow that much Guilloteens-ness to exist in the world. Damn... The album pretty much picks up where the Guilloteens' last album, Get Knifed, left off, eschewing the sloppy garage-ness of years past in favor of a tight, tight, tight, math-rock-y/NYC noise hybrid that doesn't careen drunkenly around the room so much as step straight in and punch you in the face, hard.

Which is a good thing, believe it. Because over the span of their ridiculously long life, the band has dialed in what they do so it's a damn science, and crafting it into something heavy and sharp and jagged; it's amazing to experience, but dangerous at the same time. "Reveal The Rats," Quantum Fucking's first "single," such as it is, lays out the band's cunningly devised gameplan: the Roy Mata's bass and John Adams's drums drive on through like a freight train, knocking you off your feet and keeping you down while Brian McManus (who's since left the band and been replaced by Bring Back the Guns' Erik Bogle) and Shawn Adolph's guitars chime, scrape, and screech, almost Yeah Yeah Yeahs-style, over your head and singer/drummer Mike Bonilla (both he and Adolph tackle the vocal duties on this one) rants and spits about extermination. Despite the song's title, by the way, I honestly can't tell if Bonilla's singing about killing off actual rats or snuffing out people. Ah, fun.

The rest of Quantum Fucking follows suit, for the most part. Tracks like "Charts," "The Siren," "Fantasy Licks With Platinum Ceiling," and "Hello, Boss!!!" are intense, churning, and desperate, the soundtrack to a too-late night of paranoia, self-mutilation, and bad speed; the lone "melody" on here, such as it is, appears briefly in "Illegal Weapons Party," probably the least-menacing song on the disc. It's weird to say, too, but with this album the band's really hit the mark in terms of the actual songs and not just the sound. While I'm definitely very fond of the Guilloteens' older stuff (the one concession to the "old" FFGs sound is "Tiger vs. Gator," midway through the album), Quantum Fucking may be their first real "album," the first collection of tracks that seems to hold together. Best of all, it's one that seems to hold up well even after repeated listenings.

There are resemblances to a ton of like-minded people scattered throughout -- "Great Apes" plays like an amped-up Frodus track (especially towards the end, with the "The apes, they're here / They walk among us / We made them!" bit), "Non-Original Talent" at times sounds like a distant cousin to June of 44, and several other tracks bring to mind Polvo, Nomeansno, Hella, or Out of the Races and Onto the Tracks-era Rapture. In the end, though, it's all Guilloteens, and fuck the comparisons. These guys have gone from being a gimmicky-yet-fun joke band to one of those bands other bands get compared to, and that's no mean feat.

[Fatal Flying Guilloteens are playing 2/1/08 at The Proletariat, with Whorehound, O Pioneers!!!, & Cop Warmth.] (Jeremy Hart // 02/01/08)

You know, if Firebug had spent less time on fancy packaging and boastful self-reviews, they might have actually found the time to write the amazing songs they claim to. The reality is that they came out with half-assed, clichéd pseudo-rock and roll. In their defense, the material is really not all that bad, but with the way they hype themselves up, I got kind of offended at such a big letdown. Their PR guy included a little snippet in the press packet asking me to "try to imagine Erykah Badu fronting a delta blues guitar driven rock group." I'm going to let you know right now that I tried very, very hard to find evidence of any of those descriptions in the songs.

My first point is that the white girl with pigtails and an expensive guitar has nothing in common with Erykah Badu. Beyond the image issue, there is not a drop of soul in Juliette Tworsey's voice. She fits more into the Sheryl Crow pseudo-angsty-singer-songwriter rock vein. "Sittin' there / Sippin' your whiskey / So bitter"? I was half-expecting some reworded stab at that being the first and deepest cut that the unnamed, male offender perpetrated.

Okay, we've dealt with the Erykah Badu disaster; moving on. Um, Delta blues? Has Mr. Curt (he provided no last name; figures) ever seen the Delta? Or at least heard anything that's come out of there? The Mississippi Delta does not typically describe polished radio-rock anthems. A really grungy guitar solo usually comes out at one point or another in the Delta, but not so with Ms. Tworsey and company. Not to say that there's no guitar featured. Oh, no; there's guitar, but it's usually somewhere between Trans-Siberian Orchestra's melodramatic melodies and Alanis Morrisette. I can't say Robert Johnson would be singing their praises. On the third track, lead guitarist Jules Shapiro tries out his slide chops, but even then it keeps that singer-songwriter, soft rock feel. The song is actually pretty solid -- solo guitar and vocals intro, full band kicks in, and the rest of the song is a crescendo. It could be a top forty hit. Almost. But still, it has nothing to do with the damn Delta.

And the final claim: "guitar driven rock group." Is there a more subjective description? Guitar-driven? Does that just mean if they have a guitarist and he plays for the whole song, they are guitar-driven? Does he have to be soloing all the time? Does he have to be the frontman? And "rock group"? The term "rock" has become so subjective, misinterpreted, and generalized that it has lost nearly all of its definition and credibility.

I may be coming off as unnecessarily harsh, and that's only half true. I don't mean to sound like a complete purist asshole. But come on -- super fancy packaging on the disc, their PR guy writes up some shlock on their remarkable originality and greatness, and the band bio is an overdone piece on how many radio stations and famous people they've played with. Then you take a listen to the music and realize that hundreds of other radio rockers have written the same tunes hundreds of times before. There's nothing wrong with doing radio rock if that's what you're into, but don't claim to be something exciting and innovative that I've never heard before. (Steven O'Sullivan // 02/01/08)

Wow, this is different. Upon listening to The Forms self-titled second CD (the follow-up to Icarus, released in 2004), I had to go on the Web to find video of The Forms and see how they were producing those sounds. The Forms play fairly quiet, smooth, atmospheric music that follows these riffs and then they somehow harmonize the vocals off the riffs, and the final result is rocking. I'm just glad there is someone out there making music like this. On their Myspace, under the obligatory "Sounds Like" field, they put "hermits in a laboratory." I really can't do better than that description. And reading their bio, it seems they labored and stressed in the studio (with audio engineer Steve Albini) to get all the details of this intricate CD right, all while trying to stay under budget.

It must be stated that lead singer/guitarist Alex Tween has an excellent voice, and the band harmonizes together well. The bass is very low-toned and shifts like they are actually rotating the tuning key to get the sound. The drums change volume and accent well, while the guitars or piano lead the riffs. My favorite tracks from the CD are "Red Gun," the most accessible song, piano-opener "Knowledge in Hand," and the stretchy waves of "Blue Whale." The lyrics are abstract and repetitive, as the band paints images through harmonies and vocal layers. The Forms' presentation also fits; the band pictures and album cover are artful, understated, and mysterious -- just like their music. The Forms create a new sonic world that hopefully this world is ready for. (Pedro // 02/28/08)

There are some bands that attract fans by the ferocity of their music alone. They make sure that every kick, every hit of the tom, every bass note rumbles, making itself known and felt. Whether a song is awesome or awful is irrelevant. Luckily, the King Hen is not one of those bands; however, they could seriously stand to learn something from them.

From start to finish, each of the seven songs on their self-titled album is carried by solid guitar skills, flip-flopping between fuzzy grunge and pretty and melodic sounds. Their blistering energy especially stands out on the dizzying opener "Bad Magnet" and fast-paced "Too Far to Tell," but frustratingly, the other aspects of the music don't quite match the guitars' quality or fervor. The vocals, going for that Ian MacKaye half-yell kind of singing, sometimes come across as limp and bored. The bass needs to be cranked up throughout the whole album, and it doesn't help that the drums, already kind of sloppy, sound as if they were recorded from the room next door.

This isn't meant to be strictly a critique of production, mind you -- the songs themselves are definitely enjoyable, and the band has the potential for one hell of a live show. The problem is that the music wants to shake you by the shoulders, but as it is, the end result is a few pokes to the chest, falling just short of the high intensity the songs demand. (Marianne Do // 02/28/08)

DC-based band Le Loup includes eight musicians, (or, "a collective of talented young artists and entrepreneurs," according to their Website) who have collaborated to create The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations' Millennium General Assembly. Don't let the complicated title scare you away -- the album is good. Like Sufjan Stevens but less grandiose, The Throne holds a rich and layered sound that is upbeat and serious, enchanting and substantial. It's difficult to highlight certain tracks, especially since the album should be taken as a story; it's a personal, spiritual journey developing canorously in a beautiful collision of banjos, campsite choirs, and synth beats.

The album begins with "Canto I," which holds a spoken narrative of a person's mental wanderings. The album remains in the theme of a life's meaning in question into "Outside of this Car, The End of the World!," a catchy and repetitive song which claims, "This could be the end of the world." The first four tracks lead to a literal thunderstorm, opening up to the ethereal "We are Gods! We are Wolves!," then to the two understated gems (and my personal favorites) of the album, "Breathing Rapture" and "Look to the West." Le Loup's The Throne has the feeling of being born in a forest, in a cabin; it's mysterious and pretty, and deserving of a complete (no track skimming!) listen. (Liesl Klinkerman // 02/01/08)