When Scott Stevens of the Exies wails “I’m trying, I’m still trying” in the song “Stray,” he perfectly sums up my frustration with A Modern Way of Living With the Truth. Despite the band’s good vibe and a spattering of capable rock tunes, each new attempt seems progressively further off the mark. After the one-two punch of the somber “Leaving Song” and raging “Lay Your Money Down,” the album quickly descends into a tepid collection of modern rock. The Exies attempt a laudable criticism of modern society but radio-safe rockers and first-grade lyrics leave them standing in shallow water. [www.the-exies.com]

Thank fuck for The Fratellis! So it says in the liner notes of the Scottish band’s debut LP, Costello Music, and I’m going to have to agree. I encourage you to even attempt to not enjoy this record. If you’re struggling through the day, The Fratellis will leave you feeling fine. If you’re having a grand ol’ time, The Fratellis will make it even better. It’s that kind of album. What you’ll find within Costello Music are twelve impossibly catchy, danceable rock (indie precursor omitted since being on MTV, featuring in an Apple spot, and calling Interscope your label isn’t indie) tracks. “Flathead,” from said Apple spot and MTV video contains arguably the most elementary guitar solo ever put to wax. Basic, but it works. Imagine a dirtier Franz Ferdinand or a tighter Arctic Monkeys to name two bands who’ve endured similar hype and whose sounds are comparable. The Fratellis are far more versatile than both of them, though, and don’t take themselves nearly as seriously. This is good time music, plain and simple. Thank fuck indeed. [www.thefratellis.com]

Despite heavy critical acclaim, Luscious Jackson never experienced the commercial success of their mid-to-late-'90s peers, probably due to the fact that their sound was out of step with the watered-down grunge dominating that era. Now, years after the fact, Capitol Records has issued this compilation. Included are key tracks, such as "Lady Fingers" and "Naked Eye," the band's only true big hit. A number of other excellent tracks are included, such as "Under Your Skin." With Luscious Jackson back together and recording, this album serves as a great primer for this underrated band. [www.lusciousjackson.us]

It has been ten years since Martin Sexton first appeared on the street corners of Harvard Square, slithering between octaves on acoustic rhythms that forged an alliance between funk and folk. In this last decade, acoustic soul, practiced by a range of artists from India.Arie to Ben Harper, has become its own genre. Sexton, however, has been left behind in the singer-songwriter ghetto. Perhaps his songs are too personal to break into a collective groove. There is nothing on Seeds that is going to spur an arena crowd into holding their t-shirts above their heads, or even answer his question, "Are you ready to rock and roll?" because it is clear that Sexton is not. This is a likeable collection, though, one that will appeal more to the finger-picking crowd than those who want to get down on the one. For an example of how weirdly Sexton crosses his influences, check out "How Far I've Come" and hear traces of "Little Green Apples," "Younger Generation," and "Winchester Cathedral" all balled up into one song. [www.martinsexton.com]

Anything ever written about The Subjects will probably include something about their back-story. This review is no different. Originating in a New York high school isn’t anything special, but when two of the band members were teachers and the other two were students at the school, that’s pretty uncommon. Their debut record, the academically titled With the Ease, Grace, Precision and Cleverness of Human Beings, is a collection of ragged rock songs nodding to The Kinks and The Velvet Underground, sounding more like the former than the latter. The Subjects are at their best when they add touches of psychedelic guitar to the mix, as in the driving, well-crafted “Icicles” or the train-wreck finale, “Melody.” This album took a few listens to grow on me (mostly due to Dave Sheinkopf’s David Byrne-on-helium voice), but I found it to be a good headphones record that improves and gains energy with each track. [www.gosubjectsgo.net]

Isis is a relatively unknown industrial / hardcore act with a very experimental approach that, thanks to their opening spot on Tool’s most recent U.S. stint, has gained a growing mainstream following. What makes this 3-song EP so powerful is the band’s chosen partner for this project. For a group to be so compelled to choose a group that is so opposite as Aereogramme, and in two days produce such cohesive results, deserves recognition in its own rite. Few bands (and equally as few collaborations) ever achieve such a high standard during their existence, especially when venturing so far from their norm. So, the more ethereal aspect of the music that resonates throughout release, is of course attributable to Glasgow’s Aereogramme, who if you have not heard of them, you should definitely check out. What this does for any listener who has been lured in by (sorry - can’t resist the cheesey reference here) the mighty Isis’ musical prowess but still finds something difficult to digest in their music is to dissolve those harsher aspects, providing a much more mellow (this is something the Isis fan need know) and commercially viable, but yet still extremely inspired performance, without engulfing their presence (Denial, the EP’s second, and best, track still rings quite true to Isis’ roots). So, while I stress that this EP may not be for the Isis purist, what it does do is provide the band a potential exposure to a broader audience. Being one of those lured yet tentative admirers, for me it has brought a new-found acceptance for this group, which I believe will allow me to listen to their music with a more appreciative ear in the future. At the very least, the Fishtank concept / series exposes its audience to the potential in popular music and opens the door to some really exciting musical horizons, and as such really deserves recognition. I for one will definitely be keeping my eye out for future releases and encourage our readers to do the same. [www.konkurrent.nl]

Why Try Harder kicks off with the oh-so-familiar track "The Rockafeller Skank," the surf-rock guitar wailing in the background and the catchy lyrics “funk soul brother, check it out now.” Fatboy Slim's infamous mix of house, acid, funk, hip-hop, and techno is in full-effect on this collection, as it should be. Two new tracks have been included on this album, “Champion Sound” which drifts towards an anxious hip-hop feel, with rap vocals, and hypnotic background harmonizing. The other, “That Old Pair of Jeans,” brings a mellow rhythm & blues beat, some '70s piano and choral vocalizing. All the old familiar funky breaks and electronica club dance vibes are here. From the remix of "Brimful of Asha" by Cornershop, and a remix of Groove Armada’s “I See You Baby,” the latter with a heavy, punchy beat, and electro-backing Fatboy Slim style – this remix has everything a good dance club needs to get the party pumpin'.. For anyone who has been a fan of Fatboy Slim this album has all the old favorites. This album is expectedly upbeat – feeding the musical meld that Fatboy mastermind Norman Cook has become famous for. One caveat: although this album is packed full of good tracks, it has a slightly redundant feel. The energy level nearly constant, and the tracks so layered they are occasionally overwhelming. There is nothing above and beyond the call of the usual Fatboy Slim here. But hey. If that’s what you want. You got it. [www.fatboyslim.net]

The debate rages on. Who did first, who does it best, loudest, or hardest? This album is a veritable hall of fame of punk rock. In this corner, a rare demo of the Sex Pistols Anarchy in the UK and a live recording of the Buzzcocks What Do I Get? facing off, in the other corner, a live version of Personality Crisis by the New York Dolls and Beat on the Brat by the Ramones. This sixteen track album has it all. If you’re not familiar with the early days of punk, this is an excellent primer. Kicking off with the Sex Pistols and ending up with Suicidal Tendencies, this albums is a crash course in leather jackets, studded belts, and safety-pins. The second track, by Irish band The Undertones, ups the ante, and leads into the droning base-line and surf-guitar riffs of the Damned’s Neat Neat Neat. The caper for the UK side, is Sham 69, with the punchy, sing-a-long, head bobbing track Hersham Boys. The anxious power of the Dead Boys pushes the envelope, following up the classic tracks Beat on the Brat and Personality Crisis, and makes way for Iggy Pop, the Weirdos, Black Flag, and Johnny Thunders. [www.sanctuaryrecords.com]

Trading Twilight for Daylight is just a bit too endearing for its own good. While the songs are simple and to the point, they ultimately leave vapid thoughts in your head. On the surface, the album comes off as being gleeful indie pop, but just beneath are torn emotions lingering from past relationships. Male and female vocals make this more believable, and the album does get better after the first listen, although not by much. Great Northern lack the energy and charisma of a band like the New Pornographers, a close kindred spirit. The band members are fashionable and attractive but musically, pretty dull. [www.greatnorthernmusic.com]

Cursed by Sterling sounds just like its name. Music recalls vampires, werewolves, and more abstractly, all things dark. A comparison to make would be Godspeed You Black Emperor!, the main difference between GYBE! and Sterling being that Sterling are somewhat heavier, with an almost heavy stoner rock vibe. Sterling is more serious than your average stoner band, though, and the production is also a bit more nuanced. There are only three songs (all instrumentals) on the album, one of which clocks in at around 13 minutes, giving it an epic feel. That's the main drawback though; it's tough to pull off such long song structures and remain thoroughly interesting. [www.file-13.com]

We say, “we would like Olivia Tremor Control, but their Ivory Tower pretensions are intolerable, and anyway, they just rip off The Beatles.” Then we play The New Pornographers, and the melodies pour over our widening smiles into our amplified ears. “This is good, but sometimes we want to empathize, you know? This is all charm.” So they say, “here, listen to this, the fuzz guitars will drive sweetened hooks smoothly down your gullets, and the lyrics are clever, but steadfastly sincere.” And they hand us Grand Champeen. We listen, contort our faces into contemplative stares; this is sort of what we wanted. “Good, shall I leave it on?” “No, we don’t need to hear it again.” [www.grandchampeen.com]

Comparisons to Jeff Buckley are not and should not be tossed around freely. Not to say Jon Garcia holds a candle to the late idol’s once-in-a-lifetime talent, but appreciators of the younger Buckley’s music might find solace in this self-released debut. The Austin-by-way-of Portland, Oregon songwriter follows Buckley’s formula of heart-felt lyrics, impressive vocal intonations, furiously expressive chord structures, a hint of punk sensibility, and a level of female appeal that won’t frighten nose-lifting males. While most are aware Buckley’s life and career met a tragic end, it’s promising that Garcia, unlike Buckley, will fulfill his potential and make effortlessly emotional albums for a long time to come. [www.jongarcia.org]

Just what the world needs. Another kick ass band from Champaign, Illinois. The Beauty Shop is three guys, now down to two, with a bass player change, from the Land of Lincoln. They made it first across the pond on Snapper, the label that brought you Peter Green and Splinter Group. Plus a lot of live recordings made by bands that were relevant before bands became mere clothing lines. I think I may have first encountered Snapper a few years ago when I got to meet Peter Green at a Splinter Group concert in Santa Rosa, CA. John "the Godfather of the British Blues" Mayall opened for the guy who B.B. King once said was "the only one who ever scared me." Snapper Records comes in on the fact U.S. Customs figured there must be something suspicious about a guy who changed his name from Greenbaum and grew up on the wrong side of the tracks in the East End of London. So, they confiscated all the band's CDs at the Canadian border. Apparently Snapper passes muster these days because copies of "Crisis Helpline" are readily available here. All songs are by songwriter/guitarist John Hoffleur who's accompanied by new bassist, Ariane Peralta. They produce the likes of "Paper Hearts For Josie," which Hoffleur says is the saddest song he's ever heard. There's a good story about that on the interview video at www.thebeautyshopband.com. There the head Beauty Shopper also offers downloads of "Monster," "...Josie," and the haunting "Rumpelkiltskin Lives." The latter, suffice it to say, is about Columbine. "Monster" covers mental health issues and the others are all influenced by "stuff you hear and stuff you see." Hoeffleur adds that he "likes to play music, not listen to other people's music." Then he invites you to put "Crisis Helpline" on the soundtrack of your life. Just don't forget; you may have to "pay your toll to the Troll" in order to do so. Bonus Points: One English critic notes that "Violent Femmes fans will find much to please them" in the music of The Beauty Shop. [www.thebeautyshopband.com]

Gilby Clarke says "no one understands his hell." Hopefully it's not as agonizing as the one carved out by the always outgunned, and roses, Axel "You Can Call Me Angst" Rose. Rose finds the adulation of millions, millions of dollars and a once killer band to be more than a poor boy playing in a rock 'n' roll band can handle. Where Axel rosed off into the sunset as GNR split, Clarke made several solo albums, played guitar for Heart and Nancy Sinatra, recorded a one off with Duff McKagan and another one with Slash. He also formed the Blues Mafia and The Starfuckers to keep him busy gigging when he wasn't busy gigging. In other words the dude filled out quite a resume. Along the way leaving two recordings by Kill For Thrills and the now collector's item, "Candy" by his first band, The Killers. I know I forgot something so I should mention that he rode his Hog out to Sturgis a couple of years back to gather with all of the other Hoghuggers and play another gig with Heart. I want to hear: "Heart: Live At Sturgis." Clarke also handed in a good cover of the Stones' "Dead Flowers" on the Stones recent covers compilation. That one's a good glimpse of Gilby's and Mick's and all those other guys' "hell no one can understand." He reminds me of two of my guitar playing friends most interesting business cards. One reads: "Hired Gun - Electric, Acoustic, Resonator, Finger Picking, Delta Slide, 12 Strings, Blues, Ballads, Ragtime, Rock 'N' Roll, Instrumentals, recording sessions." He left off the duck walk he still does on occasion. The other lists the many attributes of a now departed singer/songwriter with one of those voices God only hands out to those hiding behind the door. His most striking quality was listed front and center. "Mattress Tester" it read. I don't know if Gilby tests mattresses but he does offer cuts from most of those aforementioned CDs including the solo ones: "Swag," "Rubber," "Hangover" and "99 Live." Clem Burke of Blondie plays drums here and Slash shows up a time or two. Check out "Kill Me Or Cure Me," "Tijuana Jail" (en espanol), "Black," "Punk Rock Pollution" and other uplifting numbers matching the Johnny Depp Death's Heads Clarke favors on his clothing. (Not a line, I hope.) In any case, this "kid" sure can play the guitar. [www.gilbyclarke.com]

Octoberman seems a good companion to spend some time with. His album, These Trails Are Old And New, has the songs of world traveler Mac Morrisette on guitars, bass, casio, guitele, and drum machines joined by co-producer, drum machine wizard and whistler, James Henderson. Throw in some cello, mandolin, harmonica, glockenspiel, keys and harmonies by various friends and you get nine melodious tunes. Covering ex-pats, paper, rocks and scissors; footprints, Tokyo Nightmares and a "man who couldn't speak." As an added bonus you can always expend some REM time gazing on the front cover photo and trying to figure out which Asian country has so darn many mopeds, all going in a different direction, at the same time. [octoberman.ca]

There would be no arguing that John Lennon is one of the most celebrated and beloved figures in rock history. The listenability of the entire Lennon catalogue, however, is very debatable. With "Pussy Cats", New York's The Walkmen have gone out a limb in favor of paying tribute to one of Lennon's least-known and least-loved albums. Although the musicianship and production are good, and despite the Walkmen's enthusiastic delivery, the basic result is a set of covers-of-covers. Alas, a good case could be made for Lennon and Harry Nilsson (co-conspirators during Lennon's "lost weekend") to never have made the album in the first place. The Walkmen might have done well to leave it alone as well. I'd like to be able to give this album a higher rating because it is an interesting idea and because the Walkmen are absolutely committed to carrying it out, but the fact remains that you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. [www.thewalkmen.com]

It took me until track ten to realize that The Chaos in Order is solely an exercise in mimesis, and I’ve now forgotten why, when I first heard the band’s wistful piano coax out an entirely too appropriate cello, and Shana Levy’s early morning voice quietly bemoan her romantic woes, I thought it would be anything more. Maybe because Let’s Go Sailing is a moniker that could only be justified by some kind of ultimate post-post-modern irony, or maybe because the liner notes are scribbled over a drawing of a fantasy city most likely inhabited by Rupert the Bear, where the houses are brightly colored and the lines aren’t completely straight. Nobody serious could be this sincere, there has to be a catch. Except apparently there's not, and Let's Go Sailing require themselves to be recognized for their merits. It doesn't help then that there isn't a single new idea here, until you realize that rarely are these kinds of ideas this well-composed, or this nostalgically beautiful, in a way that only a city with brightly colored houses can be. [letsgosailingmusic.com]

Hmmm, I guess this is what they call emo. Which by now I think, has run its course. You are just as likely to see a frat boy jock-type at an emo show as a frail, eyeliner-wearing youngster. This band claimed on their website that they did not want to be on a corporate label, yet here they are with the typical production. The idea of the band as they describe themselves is to write pop with a lot of layers, although upon listening to this there really isn't so much more going on than your average modern rock radio band (just updated to sound a little more forced). I mean, Radiohead was writing more layered material years ago, as have a ton of other bands, to greater effect. This EP is not a horrible listen (although there may be some cringe-inducing lyrics and oversinging) but it is pretty banal. I don't know what else there is to say. [manicband.net]

This album charges out of the gates with three good to above average tunes, then loses all momentum. Inane song titles such as "Keep Wasting Your Time" along with most of the lyrics here prove to be inadvertently scary. It's as if they are admitting that the "empire" has already won and you might as well go with it (which is probably the truth but the easy way out). The play-on-words song title "This Machine Blows Minds!!!" will have Woody Guthrie rolling over in his grave. The singing here is too loud in the mix and sounds amateurish; there really wasn't much here to keep me coming back for another listen. After the first three tracks which really aren't half-bad, the rest of the album sounds too much the same...especially the beats. It's as if the band are getting tired of themselves by the end of the recording. [myspace.com]

At this point, it’s a chore to hear Isaac Brock contemplate his mortality. Because sure, “Satin in a Coffin” was a great song, and lines like “you wasted life why wouldn’t you waste the afterlife?” reestablished an invigorating brilliance in existential inquiry--I mean, Brock wrote the book on making pop culture philosophy sound sharp and insightful--it’s just that by now, lines like “I wish death on myself” are like liberal political analysts on "The Daily Show." It’s just that they’re tired. Otherwise, major label life seems to be agreeing with the boys from Washington; the songs are relatively cheerful, and by pre-Moon and Antarctica standards they’re fucking jubilant. Isaac’s still spending most of his time in his car, covering every interstate in America, and he still can’t resist delving into the epistemological observations he’s so keen to make. He still swears like a raucous skinhead too, but I’m learning to make peace with that. Musically, the band continues in the tradition of pre-9/11 albums. If Good News For People Who Like Bad News was the band’s proof that you could fill an album with Middle Eastern string instruments and Tom Waits impressions and still have a hit single, We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank is their sleek, sexy return to form, and “Dashboard” is the accompanying balls-out homecoming party (it’s got trumpets!) “March into the Sea” is both vintage Mouse and shameless Pixies theft, crashing through track one like Steve McQueen through a saloon door. As a single, “Dashboard” falters, acting carelessly impervious to the needs of the audience it’s employed to entertain. This strikes me as particularly odd, because “Fire it Up,” “Florida,” and “Missed the Boat” were all birthed from the kind of placating semen that knows how to top charts. Perhaps of note is that Johnny Marr’s presence is almost completely unfelt here, and probably for the better, because there isn’t a lot he could do to make this band sound more competent. Even after their induction into mass culture, Modest Mouse remain in the nearly diminished pool of indie rock bands that actually matter. And for the first time Isaac seems fully aware of this; “Fly Trapped in a Jar” and “Education” both ooze with the kind of shameless confidence that could have made “Tiny Cities Made of Ashes” from The Moon and Antarctica a passable song. There are actually several moments I can pinpoint, though he’d never actually say so, where Isaac actually seems to embrace his enduring vitality. Suck it, “Float On” haters. [www.modestmouse.com]