This is the special thread where Ally asks Ned to review ILXors.

Yanc3y: Calla Calla Calla Chameleon.

Ned review me!

One tries. :-)

Jel: Rockin' Arenas From Here to MARS!

The 2003 edition of Mr. Strickler came as a surprise to some long-established fans, but for those new to the particular talents on display from this artist, the combination of subtle grace and sometimes extremely bizarre humor turned out to be a killer touch. First circulating as semi-underground tapes among a Manhattan coterie before being hyped and exposed via newer digital means of media access, Strickler's combination of enthusiasms and joyful drunken abandonment received much praise among tastemakers and the general public. Some threads were regarded askance, to be sure -- debates over ARE Weapons in particular led to some fractious commentary, while Calla provoked so much positive comment from Strickler than some believed he was a member of the band. But Strickler's sense of self-sequencing, as well as a firm hand on the production and editing aspect of his work, meant that many saw him as a welcome contribution to the 21st century world of entertainment.

Anthony: Cheerful Catholic Corpulent Canadian Cocksucker

"Blazing through diverse genres without ever becoming tied down to any one sound, M. Matos is an electronica-rock explosion waiting to happen; think Nu Shooz updated for Gen X."

"Every once in a while, a musical genius comes along who challenges our very concept of sound. Jel is that such musician."

"Influenced by the punk-chanteuse-like stylings of Debbie Harry, Exene Cervenka, and Poly Styrene, Ally is half-kitten/half-cat; sometimes sweet but always dangerous."

"With his third album, Anthony Easton expands upon the themes of lust, trust, and sisterhood found on 2000's Just One of the Boys and 2002's Who's Buying the Love These Days?"

http://www.tomheroes.com/images/robbgyro.jpg

Buy this LP

1997
*** 1/2

This one's getting a lot of rotation at the office. Until now, Horace Mann was principally
known as a sultry live act. Caught in the Act lives up to its title. Don't call it a comeback
-- Horace Mann has been here for years -- but never with such rock-rap rock. Imagine the
aching throb of Bob Seger's "Night Moves" grafted, as if by a mad scientist from the
bayou, to the crass hip-hop assault of the No Limit Tank Soldiers, and you haven't come
close to describing the sounds on Caught in the Act. Underneath his antics lies a
melodic artistic maturity that reveals how he has grown since he was a young punk. An
amibitious concept album about John Lennon and riding motorcycles, the main dish of
this formidable meal is the playful "I See You Found The Chips." Horace Mann gained a
reputation early on for being gutsy.

Buy this LP
****

1992

"Surrounded By Myself" shows off his from-the-heart, savvy pop sensibility.

His lyrics about homelessness ("Pants") and the inadequacy of Asian-style centralized
economic planning ("Clever Girl") reach a new level of acoustic and sizzling funk. It's
his most powerful outing in quite a while.

He is an artist as much Brian Eno-produced as he is majestic. Somebody stop me! This
music is understated and quietly assured.

The most audacious cut is the 15-minute prog-rock epic, "Return to My Roots."

At Ned Raggett's most inspired, you think your stereo is going to spontaneously
combust. It's a powerful comeback from a group that never went away.

Our readers respond

Dear Robot,

Glad to see Ned Raggett finally getting some well-deserved praise. I listen to All For Love every day.
Keep up the good work.

-- Ned Raggett fan

Buy this LP

1993
1/2 *

Does anyone over the age of 15 like this stuff?

Does this woman really need more money? Listen for the run-of-the-mill power hooks of
"Again and Again and Again (And Again)" next time you go in for a root canal.

There was a time when Ally was thought to be the future of rock. In 1989, Ally was sitting
on top of the world. Now she's merely disposable. It's hard to believe Ally could get any
more radio-fodder, but he's done it. When Ally sings about slamming old band members
as incompetent flakes, the result is purely bloated and overblown.

I liked it better when it was called Alanis Morrisette's Greatest Hits.

Why are we so blind to see that the ones we hurt are you and me?

Our readers respond

Dear Robot,

Your review of Ally was dead wrong. Sometimes you just have to enjoy a good rock album for what it is.
For the Love of Rock is the record of the year. Your magazine sucks.

Ally forever,

-- Ally fan

Buy this LP

1990
* 1/2

Most of the time, ILX can't shake its reputation for being loud.

ILX offers more of the usual shameless, leather-clad insanity on this one. ILX has been
coasting on their reputation for hit-and-miss fury for too long. "My Watercolors (Have
Painted the Wrong Shade of You)" illustrates the culpability of those who fight to destroy
humanity. Whether singing about being a rebel ("Every Dog Has Its Day") or visions of
World War III ("Every Dog Has Its Day"), the band takes being disposable to the extreme.

Sometimes it works. When I was in high school, everyone I knew listened to ILX. These
guys are apparently very sensitive.

Strictly for masochists.

Our readers respond

Dear Robot,

Your review of ILX was dead wrong. Sometimes you just have to enjoy a good rock album for what it is.
...but seriously is the record of the year. Your magazine sucks.

ILX forever,

-- ILX fan

Buy this LP

1999
no stars

Do we really need more songs about disillusionment and loss?

Ladies and Gentlemen, It's Yanc3y is a real letdown. He did it. He finally did it. Yanc3y
hits a new low with Ladies and Gentlemen, It's Yanc3y, his ambitious concept album
about the heartland of America and going on camping trips. Unfortunately, too much of
Ladies and Gentlemen, It's Yanc3y -- like the ballad "(Take Me) Higher," about being a
rebel -- is just unlistenable. On the Brian Eno-produced cut "Gravity's to Blame," he
thinks he's Elvis Costello. Ladies and Gentlemen, It's Yanc3y starts with the poppy
harmonies of "Juliet's Gone To Bed," and only gets worse.

News flash: this album is strictly empty and contrived. As soon as I finish typing, I will
sell this album back to The Wherehouse in exchange for a hot meal.

Ned do Dan.

The latest from Chris V starts with the introspective psychedelia of "Realm of Impossibility," and doesn't let up. At its most rapid-fire, Live at Red Rocks recalls the Stones' Exile on Main Street.

Just listen to the Beatle-esque throb of "Ten Seconds to Love." Chris V understands that recycling musical styles is a pop tradition that's older than the blues.

"Spiral Town" is an eerie ballad about their own troubled past and cross-dressing, with strings hauntingly arranged by Led Zeppelin's John Paul Jones. On this album, Chris V overcomes his demons -- and in top form. Live at Red Rocks gets things off to a urgent start with the tuneful "Breathing."

"Keeper Of The Sloth" is a high-octane exercise in soulful pop sensibility.

I rule.

Dan inspires a higher muse.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a freaknasty ass on my table.

Buy this LP

1997
****

The most audacious cut is the 15-minute prog-rock epic, "Ten Seconds to Love." It's his
most powerful outing in quite a while.

At Mr. Noodles's most inspired, you think your stereo is going to spontaneously
combust. Somebody stop me!

His lyrics about their own troubled past ("Not the Way It Seems") and the simple joy of
life ("Lend us a Dollar") reach a new level of muscular and visionary roar.

He is an artist as much Springsteenian as he is self-aware. This music is full-throttle and
post-rock. "Mr. Awesome" shows off his middle-of-the-road, majestic emotional honesty.
What's love got to do with it, indeed? That's from a song, by the way.

Our readers respond

Dear Robot,

Glad to see Mr. Noodles finally getting some well-deserved praise. I listen to Live at Red Rocks every
day. Keep up the good work.

-- Mr. Noodles fan

R. Robot: I am a robot, you know.

Chris V: Very impressive. (Laughs) But isn't that the way life is these days?

R. Robot: One of your new songs, "No New Messages," should elicit some sharp responses from women´s groups.

Chris V: Let ?em howl!

R. Robot: There´s a part of your audience that´s attracted to the possibility of disaster. It´s like people are rooting for you to lose.

Chris V: It's like being a gladiator.

R. Robot: You guys live the life of rock and roll to the hilt. How can you stay sane in the midst of all this craziness?

Chris V: The people around me.

Chris V: I have a headache you wouldn´t believe.

R. Robot: Not enough sleep?

Chris V: Too much Jack Daniel´s.

Tracer: Fuck You All, I'm In Europe! (said merrily)

1998

Somebody stop me!
It's their most powerful outing in quite a while.

"Theme From Shaft" shows off their Springsteenian, bittersweet grunge.

The strength of this album is its soulful bravado. They are a band as much muscular as they are savvy. All For Love remains a quietly assured album, packed with amazing sounds.

This music is Beatle-esque and sizzling. It's the best thing I've heard since 1987. Now this is what I call rock.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Our readers respond

Dear Robot,

Glad to see Sweaty Vagina finally getting some well-deserved praise. I listen to All For Love every day. Keep up the good work.

-- Sweaty Vagina fan

Doom-E
Megaforce
Buy this LP

1999
1/2

He spends most of his time talking about his favorite subject: disillusionment and loss.
Stylistically, Doom-E's sound can be ferocious, achieving loud racket.

The subject matter runs the gamut from being a loner ("Call It A Day") to slamming old band members as incompetent flakes ("Mr. Awesome"). In 1990, without much fanfare, Doom-E released his debut single "Be Cool, But Care" on an incredibly obscure indie level. Its muddily-produced, inconsistent noise was a revelation, at least for me, since I was one of four people who heard it. But times have changed. Piece together the story of Doom-E and you have something unique in the world of contemporary music. This defies the logic of the music industry. Megaforce continues the formula perfected on Doom-E's debut: a steady supply of tasty stomp. On the headbanging "What On Earth Do You Mean," Doom-E is exploring new territory. Everybody knows this is nowhere. That's from a Neil Young song, by the way.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Our readers respond

Dear Robot,

Your review of Doom-E was dead wrong. Sometimes you just have to enjoy a good rock album for what it is. Megaforce is the record of the year. Your magazine sucks.

Doom-E forever,

-- Doom-E fan

1999
1/2

Listen for the hit-and-miss fury of "My Mind's Got a Mind of its Own" next time you go in for a root canal. When The Jel sings about mental illness, the result is purely shameless. I liked it better when it was called Pearl Jam's Greatest Hits.

The Jel is not so much of a musician, but an exercise in marketing. There was a time when The Jel was thought to be the future of rock. Does this guy really need more money?

In 1989, The Jel was sitting on top of the world. Now he's merely stagnant. Singing about emptiness in the muddily-produced "I'm With Stupid," The Jel sounds like he's having about as much fun as a dying hyena. Everybody knows this is nowhere. That's from a Neil Young song, by the way.

1993
***1/2

A penchant for bone-crunching noise makes Euromantique truly formidable.
Until now, Ally was principally known as a compelling live act. This one's getting a lot of rotation at the office. Ally's apocalypse is truly gutsy, all thanks to the thudding production by Brian Eno. Her pandemonium has made her the hero of a whole new generation. Ally gained a reputation early on for being sizzling. Underneath her antics lies a explosive artistic maturity that reveals how she has grown since she was a young new-waver. Imagine the aching aggression of Joni Mitchell's "Clouds" grafted, as if by a mad scientist from the bayou, to the crass hip-hop assault of the No Limit Tank Soldiers, and you haven't come close to describing the sounds on Euromantique.

I'm just kidding, I never actually listened to this album.

1995
***1/2

MC Crudders And DJ Grizz gained a reputation early on for being sizzling. Their sonic assault has made them the heroes of a whole new generation. Don't call it a comeback -- MC Crudders And DJ Grizz has been here for years -- but never with such full-throttle yearning. This one's getting a lot of rotation at the office. Imagine the aching emotional honesty of Bob Seger's "Night Moves" grafted, as if by a mad scientist from the bayou, to the crass hip-hop assault of the No Limit Tank Soldiers, and you haven't come close to describing the sounds on You Sons of Bitches, It's MC Crudders And DJ Grizz.
A penchant for Stonesy bluster makes You Sons of Bitches, It's MC Crudders And DJ Grizz truly quietly assured. MC Crudders And DJ Grizz superimposes lyrics about their own troubled past and growing up listening to Rush over throbbing bass lines. An amibitious concept album about Elvis and the bar where they used to shoot pool, the main dish of this savvy meal is the distorted "Ten Seconds to Love." Good stuff.

1990

Their lyrics about James Dean ("Parabola Paratrooper") and strange women uttering strange truths ("Spiral Town") reach a new level of fist-pumping and savvy bad attitude.
At Jodie Foster Wallace's most inspired, you think your stereo is going to spontaneously combust. Somebody stop me! This music is unadorned and quietly assured. The most audacious cut is the 15-minute prog-rock epic, "(I'm Gonna) Hibernate."

...and then there was Jodie Foster Wallace remains a melodic album, packed with amazing sounds. They are a band as much Beatle-esque as they are visionary. "The Blot On Me" shows off their Stonesy, jaw-dropping yearning. Hands down, the album of the year.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Our readers respond

Dear Robot,

Glad to see Jodie Foster Wallace finally getting some well-deserved praise. I listen to ...and then there was Jodie Foster Wallace every day. Keep up the good work.

-- Jodie Foster Wallace fan

by R. Robot

Ned Raggett has changed his tune again. "You know, Saddam hasn't actually invaded anything for a while," he says. Really? Really? Now that's just contemptibly obsessive and even
dangerous hatred of America.

However, in the end the case for the patriotic truth is the strongest one. In 1938, George Orwell wrote, "The ad-hominem hatred of America of the cynics is little more than treachery."
Instead of constructing arguments based on logic, the Democrats assume that whatever they want to be true must be. "This whole thing is bullshit," says Al Gore. Isn't it clear by now
that a tyrant has already tried to get his hands on uranium? Instead of constructing arguments based on logic, the Democrats assume that whatever they want to be true must be. "The
dementia of R. Robot's recent writing suggests he has run out of space on drive C," says Ned Raggett. But this is standard political debate for the pro-shoplifting Islam-O-traitors of the
Left, who respond to completely logical arguments with irrational name-calling.

"I will not condone a course of action that will lead us to war," said Ned Raggett on the set of The Real World, refusing to disclose his own position, which is breathtakingly vile and
anti-peace.

"This whole thing is bullshit," said Ned Raggett at the Commonwealth Club in San Francisco, refusing to disclose his own position, which is contemptibly Jazzercized and
anti-crusading.

by R. Robot

Isn't it clear by now that the world is menaced by a defeatist evil-doer who has already gassed his own people? Refusing to stand behind the President, Islamists would rather engage in
bizarrely untrustworthy duplicity as usual. "Don't hurt me," Al Gore said last week. Bizarrely, Horace Mann wants to have his cake and eat it, too. I suppose some notice should be paid
to the performance that the untrustworthy Horace Mann delivered Monday on Meet the Press. "So you're basically saying the Department of Homeland Security would be like the FBI,
except that it would specially train its agents to tell us when they heard rumors that some guy 'plans to crash hijacked planes into buildings,'" he said. Are there limits to this
negativism? Walter Mondale, cunningly, is a formerly important loser.

Contemptuously, when Jenna Bush asks for unique duty, gatekeepers would rather coerce pro-shoplifting moral equivalence. How outrageous!

Such is the mind of the Left.

Shockingly, to be one of the obsessive and even dangerous don't-help-other-countries chorus is to dither and shroud in a smokescreen.

1999

This music is from-the-heart and visionary. At Luna's most inspired, you think your stereo is going to spontaneously combust. What's unbelievable is how melodic her trademark falsetto pop artistry has gotten.
It's the best thing I've heard since 1987. The most audacious cut is the 15-minute prog-rock epic, "Not the Way It Seems." "Poster Child, Running Wild" shows off her understated, post-rock vocal interplay. Her lyrics about disillusionment and loss ("Try To Breathe") and the simple joy of life ("Call It A Day") reach a new level of radio-friendly and quietly assured bad attitude. Somebody stop me!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Our readers respond

Dear Robot,

Glad to see Luna finally getting some well-deserved praise. I listen to Luna every day. Keep up the good work.

-- Luna fan

1. BELLA, 1863
2. Ryuichi Sakuma, Never Mind, It's Ryuichi Sakuma
3. Tatsuha Uesugi, We're Back
4. Jeremy Brannon, Radio K.A.O.S.
5. Matt Thiessen From Relient K, High On Drugs
6. Matt Thiessen, Caught in the Act
7. Kaworu Nagisa, 1863
8. Matt Thiessen, Man Without A Country
9. Matt Thiessen, Matt Thiessen II
10. Dexter Lesaca, Dexter Lesaca
11. Mick Jagger, Let Your Soul Fall Out
12. Leon Redbone, Swallow This Live
13. Kate Pierson From The B-52s, High On Drugs
14. Bill Clinton, Never Mind, It's Bill Clinton
15. Kev Curran, Mail Order Monster
16. Kev Curran, Is There In Truth No Beauty?
17. Chris V, Olias of Sunhillow
18. Chris V, Days of Thunder: The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack
19. Momus, Back to Reality
20. Horace Mann, So Far, So Good

R. Robot: I read that you trashed Hyde Park.

Spencer Chow: That´s just a rumor.

R. Robot: What are the new songs like?

Spencer Chow: More Brian Eno-produced than ever. The working title for the next album is Poster Child, Running Wild, but that could change. We played some of the new material at the Palace Hotel Ballroom and it went over really well.

R. Robot: And will we see a video, too?

Spencer Chow: Yeah, we're filming a video. Charlize Theron makes an appearance in it. It's basically about the cage of human existence, the scars left from the Civil War, that kind of thing.

R. Robot: One of your new songs, "Everything Is Possible (But Nothing Is Real)," should elicit some sharp responses from women´s groups.

Spencer Chow: Let ‘em howl!

R. Robot: If you weren´t doing this, what would you be doing?

Spencer Chow: I can´t imagine myself doing anything else. Maybe something that had to do with art. How about you?

R. Robot: I can´t do anything besides write about rock.

R. Robot: There´s a part of your audience that´s attracted to the possibility of disaster. It´s like people are rooting for you to lose.

Spencer Chow: It's like being a gladiator.

The Jel
The Jel

1992
***1/2

The Jel is unsafe at any speed. There's no shortage of playful Beach Boys-inspired harmony here, especially on "Topless Woman, Bottomless Cup." "Realm of Impossibility" won't win any Grammies this year. The master of acoustic songwriting is back. Once pegged as a one-hit wonder, The Jel is here to stay.

The lyrics are darker and more introspective than on earlier releases. One of The Jel's pleasant surprises is that Roger Waters stopped by the studio to lend his gravelly, scornful vocals to the chorus of "She," a meditation on the summer of 1964. A Bar Mitzvah-like smorgasboard of sounds is offered up here, from the hushed "Lets Go Psychlo" to the narcotic vocal interplay of "Poster Child, Running Wild"

1994
1/2

The subject matter runs the gamut from the summer of 1964 ("You Look Like Someone I Know") to cross-dressing ("But You Said").
Piece together the story of Mandee and you have something unique in the world of contemporary music. If you enjoy muddily-produced power hooks, you'll like the latest release from Mandee. In 1990, without much fanfare, Mandee released her debut single "I'm A Slave For You" on an incredibly obscure indie level. Its full-throttle, loud emotional honesty was a revelation, at least for me, since I was one of four people who heard it. But times have changed. She spends most of her time talking about her favorite subject: being a loner.

The tunelessness on the new single "Song #4" will blast Mandee into the mainstream, mostly thanks to the heavy use of flange.

This defies the logic of the music industry. The latest from Mandee starts with the poignant bravado of "Lets Go Psychlo," and the last song, "I'm So (Insecure)," is aggressive.

Then again, we wouldn't have it any other way.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Our readers respond

Dear Robot,

Your review of Mandee was dead wrong. Sometimes you just have to enjoy a good rock album for what it is. Days of Thunder: The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack is the record of the year. Your magazine sucks.

Mandee forever,

-- Mandee fan

1996
***1/2

On his major-label debut, Donut Bitch demonstrates an affinity for leather-clad pandemonium. The lyrics are darker and more introspective than on earlier releases. What a long, strange trip it's been for Donut Bitch. One of Let Your Soul Fall Out's pleasant surprises is that Roger Waters stopped by the studio to lend his gravelly, scornful vocals to the chorus of "Clever Girl," a meditation on the environment.
Once pegged as a one-hit wonder, Donut Bitch is here to stay.

How many artists have reinvented themselves as successfully as Donut Bitch? There's no shortage of brooding power hooks here, especially on "Do They Know It's Channukah."

A Bar Mitzvah-like smorgasboard of sounds is offered up here, from the hushed "Donovan" to the muddily-produced noise of "My Masquerade."

1994
no stars

On the Brian Eno-produced cut "Gravity's to Blame," he thinks he's Elvis Costello. This stuff wouldn't sound out of place in a Chilean torture den.
Do we really need more songs about sexy women? High On Drugs starts with the Brian Eno-produced grunge of "Hear Myself Think," and only gets worse. News flash: this album is strictly unlistenable. High On Drugs is a real letdown. Doom-E hits a new low with High On Drugs, his ambitious concept album about the cage of human existence and being on the road for 40 days. Beatle-esque throb doesn't get any more bottom-of-the-barrel.

As soon as I finish typing, I will sell this album back to The Wherehouse in exchange for a hot meal.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Our readers respond

Dear Robot,

Your review of Doom-E was dead wrong. Sometimes you just have to enjoy a good rock album for what it is. High On Drugs is the record of the year. Your magazine sucks.

Doom-E forever,

-- Doom-E fan

1990
**1/2

Call it a tragical history tour.

Sometimes it works. "Life Is Cheap" illustrates the culpability of those who fight to destroy humanity. Alex In NYC's attempt to broaden his sound -- even integrating Serbian war hymns with the emotional honesty of the thick "Unnatural Selection" -- isn't entirely an artistic success. Never before has an artist taken as many chances in the studio as Alex In NYC.

This guy is apparently very sensitive. No surprises here.

Most of the time, Alex In NYC can't shake a reputation for being enigmatic.

Sensitive like a day drinking beer and swearing.

1990
***1/2

The queen of delightful blue-eyed soul is back. "Breathing" won't win any Grammies this year. How many artists have reinvented themselves as successfully as Felicity Redwell? One of No More Mr. Nice Guy's pleasant surprises that Roger Waters stopped by the studio to lend his gravelly, scornful vocals to the chorus of "Caught in the Act," a meditation on conformity. There's no shortage of from-the-heart songcraft here, especially on "Do They Know It's Channukah." Felicity Redwell is unsafe at any speed. Once pegged as a one-hit wonder, Felicity Redwell is here to stay.
The lyrics are darker and more introspective than on earlier releases. It's a long, strange trip, but it's one worth taking.

1995
***1/2

There's no shortage of tuneful teen anthems here, especially on "Spandex Woman." One of It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Ronan Back's pleasant surprises is that Roger Waters stopped by the studio to lend his gravelly, scornful vocals to the chorus of "No Child Left Behind," a meditation on Elvis. On his major-label debut, Ronan demonstrates an affinity for power-pop songwriting. A Bar Mitzvah-like smorgasboard of sounds is offered up here, from the hushed "No New Messages" to the rock-rap pop sensibility of "Waiting for the Fire."
The lyrics are darker and more introspective than on earlier releases.

The master of understated Beach Boys-inspired harmony is back. Once pegged as a one-hit wonder, Ronan is here to stay. "Revolution, Or Else" won't win any Grammies this year. It's a powerful comeback from a group that never went away.

1983

Only a few fortunate hundred bought this album in its pressing of 1000 purple-vinyl copies, but every single one of those buyers went on to form epochal bands of their own. Melding the seamless harmonies of the Beach Boys to the furious chaos of Metal Machine Music to the street-savvy beats of his childhood in the barrios of Pittsburgh, the enigmatic Mookieproof soared with this, his only release. Rumors periodically surface of a pudgy, drug-addled muso haunting the studios of East Liberty, but no sure traces remain of the haunting vision seared in the very grooves of Step Off, Mookies.

Our readers respond

"Eye-opening. Now I know where Kevin Shields got all that shit." --Ned Raggett

"Decent, but not fit to clean Donald Fagan's fecal-smeared toilet bowl." --JBR

"What a ponce." --Momus

(and that's only the debut!)

*Just askin'*

And it takes a brave person to admit it, Ally.

See, I'd dare both Ned and Ally to give their own reviews of me. One, two, three, go...

(stopwatch starts ticking)

1992
no stars

Narcotic vocal interplay doesn't get any more stagnant.
You would have to be a total idiot to buy this superficial album.

News flash: this album is strictly torturous.

Jess Harvell starts with the falsetto bad attitude of "Hear Myself Think," and only gets worse. Unfortunately, too much of Jess Harvell -- like the ballad "Lets Go Psychlo," about producer Brian Eno -- is just worthless. He did it. He finally did it. Jess Harvell hits a new low with Jess Harvell, his ambitious concept album about homelessness and being on the road for 40 days. There's plenty of lyrical mumbo-jumbo about prayer in school, but lackluster teen anthems. You might as well spend 49 minutes listening to your dishwasher.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Our readers respond

Dear Robot,

Your review of Jess Harvell was dead wrong. Sometimes you just have to enjoy a good rock album for what it is. Jess Harvell is the record of the year. Your magazine sucks.

Jess Harvell forever,

-- Jess Harvell fan

four continues the formula perfected on Chris Barrus's debut: a steady supply of loud tunelessness. On the metallic "Women Notice Things Like That," Chris Barrus is exploring new territory.

Stylistically, Chris Barrus's sound can be gloomy, achieving confident agony.

The first thing you notice, on "The Fullest Extent of the Jam," is how ferocious Chris Barrus's trademark apocalypse has gotten. The subject matter runs the gamut from rock's sacred cows ("Everything Is Possible (But Nothing Is Real)") to pretending to be a pirate ("She").

If you enjoy bone-crunching angst, you'll like the latest release from Chris Barrus. In 1990, without much fanfare, Chris Barrus released his debut single "Kylie's Electric Toothbrush" on an incredibly obscure indie level. Its Black Sabbath-inspired, smoldering insanity was a revelation, at least for me, since I was one of four people who heard it. But times have changed.

He spends most of his time talking about his favorite subject: girls who are really messed up. Give this one a try.

Our readers respond

Dear Robot,

Your review of Chris Barrus was dead wrong. Sometimes you just have to enjoy a good rock album for what it is. four is the record of the year. Your magazine sucks.

Chris Barrus forever,

-- Chris Barrus fan

1994
***1/2

An ambitious concept album about Elian Gonzales and homeless prophets, the main dish of this eclectic meal is the power-riffing "Somewhat Hurt."

J.Lu gained a reputation early on for being savvy.

Don't call it a comeback -- J.Lu has been here for years -- but never with such distorted yearning. Imagine the aching guitar work of Joni Mitchell's "Clouds" grafted, as if by a mad scientist from the bayou, to the crass hip-hop assault of the No Limit Tank Soldiers, and you haven't come close to describing the sounds on J.Lusongs. Underneath her antics lies a sultry artistic maturity that reveals how she has grown since she was a young new-waver. J.Lu's walls of sound is truly gutsy, all thanks to the Springsteenian production by Brian Eno. Until now, J.Lu was principally known as a formidable live act. J.Lusongs lives up to its title. At $18.99 it's worth your money.

Like everything from this period it sounds hopelessly dated now, but at the time this was some seriously ill stuff. Toning down the relentless sex talk of the earlier Def Wish, J.Lu wafts an occasionally sloppy but undeniable mixture of blunt smoke (predating the concoction that would make The Chronic go multi-platinum a few years later), party beats, big boasts, and infectious horn stabs. Also, possibly the first hip-hop LP to discuss both Sha Na Na and Room 222. Hard to find these days, but worth tracking down for fans of that golden age flavor.

Our readers respond

Dear Robot

No shit, Sherlock.

-J.Lu Fan #1

I swear I'm not schizophrenic. :o)

1993
**1/2

Stylistically, Chaki's sound can be falsetto, achieving smoldering pop sensibility. This defies the logic of the music industry. He spends most of his time talking about his favorite subject: producer Brian Eno. In 1990, without much fanfare, Chaki released his debut single "Doctor Dream" on an incredibly obscure indie level. Its R.E.M.-lite, loud blue-eyed soul was a revelation, at least for me, since I was one of four people who heard it. But times have changed. Piece together the story of Chaki and you have something unique in the world of contemporary music.
If you enjoy understated vocal interplay, you'll like the latest release from Chaki. The first thing you notice, on "No Child Left Behind," is how tuneful Chaki's trademark songwriting has gotten. 1863 continues the formula perfected on Chaki's debut: a steady supply of confident rock. Is there anybody out there?

1998
***1/2

Days of Thunder: The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack lives up to its title. Until now, Innocent Dreamer was principally known as a bittersweet live act. Innocent Dreamer gained a reputation early on for being savvy. Her teen anthems has made her the hero of a whole new generation. Innocent Dreamer's songwriting is truly melodic, all thanks to the radio-friendly production by Brian Eno.

Underneath her antics lies a compelling artistic maturity that reveals how she has grown since she was a young new-waver. An amibitious concept album about homelessness and going on camping trips, the main dish of this formidable meal is the playful "The Fullest Extent of the Jam." Imagine the aching blue-eyed soul of Joni Mitchell's "Clouds" grafted, as if by a mad scientist from the bayou, to the crass hip-hop assault of the No Limit Tank Soldiers, and you haven't come close to describing the sounds on Days of Thunder: The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack. Now this is what I call rock.

Long considered a touchstone in that glorious intersection between power-pop and Afro-beat called (rather unfortunately) "Ethio-Wave," this classic work retains all its witty glory ("I Invite You to Chat" is, reportedly, the only song to make Elvis Costello cry) and primal punch ("Ouch! Stop Hitting Me in the Heart") even now. But the recent revelation that the melodies of every song can be combined into one huge sonata for panflute and technorchestra (as demonstrated on Oh Yes We DID, You Mothas: The Remix Project) has elevated this from a pleasant if wordy trifle to one of the most crucial records of its time--or any time. (Docked one-half star for excessive swearing and endorsement of la vida Ababa.)

Robot replies: "This record freakin' roolz, you meaty bastids."

1991

**

Just listen to the metallic agony of "Try To Breathe." Tad is more anything-goes than ever. On this album, Tad overcomes his demons -- and in top form. He did it. He finally did it. For all his Black Sabbath-inspired racket, Tad has never been easy to understand. At its most smoldering, Tadsongs recalls the Stones' Exile on Main Street.
"I See You Found The Chips" is a rapid-fire exercise in horrifying noise. Tadsongs gets things off to a tasty start with the twisted and insane "Every Man A King."

1995

****

This music is R.E.M.-lite and quietly assured. "Caught in the Act" shows off her falsetto, jaw-dropping throb.
Her lyrics about Elian Gonzales ("I Gave My Heart To Goofy Once, But Goofy Gave It Back") and cross-dressing ("Poster Child, Running Wild") reach a new level of radio-friendly and exhilarating grunge. At Mary's most inspired, you think your stereo is going to spontaneously combust.

It's the best thing I've heard since 1987.

It's her most powerful outing in quite a while.

The strength of this album is its power-pop teen anthems. Somebody stop me! It's a powerful comeback from a group that never went away.

Rosemary Gilbert
Innuendo
Buy this LP

1994

****

"Waiting for the Fire" shows off her playful, savvy blue-eyed soul. At Rosemary Gilbert's most inspired, you think your stereo is going to spontaneously combust. This music is acoustic and self-aware. The most audacious cut is the 15-minute prog-rock epic, "All You Blokes." Somebody stop me! Her lyrics about being a rebel ("Why Can't They Party Like Us") and growing up listening to Rush ("Somewhat Hurt") reach a new level of faux-Quincy Jones and quietly assured funk.
What's unbelievable is how sizzling her trademark delightful Beach Boys-inspired harmony has gotten. It's the best thing I've heard since 1987.

(what came out in '87 that the robot loves so much?)

Between my affinity for the complete works of Kevin Rowland and my posing of the musical question, "Do They Know It's Chanukkah Time at All?" (Answer: of course not! The world does not revolve around our Judeo-Christian monoculture.) Ally has me pegged to a T.

Oh Lord, I was not let to be misunderstood. 13 years in the making, but the deliverance was all the sweeter for it.

Di Smith
In Spite Of Ourselves
Buy this LP

1995
1/2

On the hit-and-miss live bonus track "Return to My Roots," Di Smith sounds like she's having a great time, unlike the audience. In Spite Of Ourselves will keep the used CD section of your record store stocked for years.
In 1989, Di Smith was sitting on top of the world. Now she's merely shameless. Di Smith is not so much of a musician, but an exercise in marketing. It's hard to believe Di Smith could get any more bloated and overblown, but he's done it. Listen for the disposable power hooks of "Theme From Shaft" next time you go in for a root canal. Does this woman really need more money? Singing about rock's sacred cows in the Stonesy "Wrong Side Of Bed," Di Smith sounds like she's having about as much fun as a dying hyena.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Our readers respond

Dear Robot,

Your review of Di Smith was dead wrong. Sometimes you just have to enjoy a good rock album for what it is. In Spite Of Ourselves is the record of the year. Your magazine sucks.

Di Smith forever,

-- Di Smith fan

i am referred to as both a he and a she in this review, man I DEFY GENDER!!

It's all so clear now.

ANYWAY I will take care of pending requests soon. Patience, good peoples.

1991
***1/2

Jimmy The Mod can be hard to swallow, but his willingness to break boundaries makes him worthwhile.
It's only fitting that Jimmy The Mod's new album is called Radio K.A.O.S..

Fans of thick sonic assault will find much to like on Radio K.A.O.S., especially on "Away the Lads," a song about being a loner.

He takes on teenage confusion ("Parabola Paratrooper") and visions of World War III ("No Time To Lose").

It's better to burn out than it is to fade away, and no one knows this better than Jimmy The Mod.

He hasn't sold out. It's sad that the artists who most successfully express our fears and anxieties are least able to cope with the burdens of fame.

Accept no imitations. This is no game -- those were ninjas!

The thing I enjoyed in 1987 was "Appetite for Destruction."

(though "R. Robot"'s voice sounds suspiciously like that of an ILXor)

What is ILX?

You should get a Friendster profile going. That'd be incredible.

1999
1/2

dreams lives up to its title.
This one's getting a lot of rotation at the office. Until now, Nichole Graham was principally known as a sultry live act. Imagine the aching emotional honesty of Joni Mitchell's "Clouds" grafted, as if by a mad scientist from the bayou, to the crass hip-hop assault of the No Limit Tank Soldiers, and you haven't come close to describing the sounds on dreams.

Every chord change on "Square Root of You" will break your heart.

A penchant for muscular roar makes dreams truly eclectic. An amibitious concept album about James Dean and the bar where they used to shoot pool, the main dish of this formidable meal is the distorted "Lets Go Psychlo." Nichole Graham gained a reputation early on for being melodic. It may well be the most important purchase you make, ever.

HOTOTOSIGU NOIZE: The Monster of Dread Mirth -- *gif of fractal construction of towering pointy things, with explosions*

Slocki: "Kevin Smith est une charge de merde putréfiée." *mange le poutine*

Jaymc: (out loud): "Chicago, My Kind of Town." (inwardly): "Am I noize enough for you?"

Oh dear, I seem to be making rather a mess of things tonight...

Gear: "I’ve seen things you people wouldn't believe. Analin' hipsters all wired on the cushions of my couch. I watched midgets glitter in the dark near my old desk job. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. And thank god, I don't want to think about them any more."

Trayce: Supporting Hair Coloring Products Since 1647.

J.D.: not richey edwards but an incredible simulation

Mullygrubber: When wallabies fear, Super Carrot's dad is there!

PinkPanther: "For life!" *hoists drink skyward, accidentally falls into the Cam*

Not-Goodwin: *review removed on legal advice*

Kate: I AM THE PAISLEY QUEEN, I CAN DO ANYTHING!

I’m intrigued Ned.

shot down like a dawg, yo.

Huk-L: ...so what WOULD a Can-Con for comics result in? I think it would go something like this...

M. White: Elegance, decadence, M. White endless

(Alternately, substitute "Raggett" for "Malkovich.")

Luna: This is the post where I say: "FUCK ALL THE HATERS!" *applause, drinks all around*

O'so: When Dorothy Parker meets Bad Badtz-Maru

Allow me to apologize in advance.

Afterwards he was gladiate her.

Nickalicious: Making Love To the Trees -- sorry, IN AMONG the Trees -- Is My Business. *lights up*

Walter Kranz: "I apologize for not looking like I 'should' just because I'm a responsible adult. Fucker." *sets cell phone to vibrate*

Ian Reise-Moraine: Now I see as through a glass darkly.