Tom Waits’ massive new 3-disc collection Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers and Bastards includes at least 30 brand new songs and a barrel full of odds and sods that previously could only be found scattered across any number of soundtracks and bootlegs. From the bluesy barroom stomps, to the aching alley-cat love songs, to the outlandish mutations of sound, word and…entomology, Tom bellows his way through the full gamut of his grizzled gifts. He leans in close and clamors in your face with more bourbon on his breath than ever and, as usual, makes you want to thank him for it from the bottom of your beer stein. [www.anti.com]

Philly’s Creeping Weeds pulls from the pantheon of ‘90s indie greats—Modest Mouse, Built to Spill, Pavement etc. The cover of We Are All Part of a Dream You’re Having is a take on MC Escher-style staircases splashed with bits of vibrant pastel color, suggesting that the record, like the staircases, leads to somewhere not in the immediate field of vision—this isn’t your run-of-the-mill debut. The album comes across as very self-assured and authentic, paying no mind to buzz bands and current trends. Mangled guitars and drums engage in manic antics when there’s no melody to be found (“Derelict”), though the band can nail those as well (“I Wanted to Live (Die)”—which will certainly be on my next mixtape). But they’re just as likely to write a damn good folk song (“Our Country Home”). The self-deprecating name is a hoax, folks—these guys are blooming, bustling flowers, if anything. [www.creepingweeds.com]

Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery; it's also a great way to develop talent at something. While Weird Al Yankovic's lyrics haven't evolved beyond his childish antics (like "Weasel Stomping Day"), his original songs and musical compositions have flourished: "I'll Sue Ya" makes for a passable heavy metal song, "Close But No Cigar" is a catchy dirty jazz piece, and "Don't Download This Song" is a powerful anthem against the RIAA. The best track, "Pancreas" puts the disgusting biological functions of that lovely gland in contrast with the soft rock of Pet Sounds-era Beach Boys, going at one point into a round with lines like "Flow flow flow pancreatic/juice flow flow/into the duodenum," "Insulin, glucagon, comin' from the islets of Langerhans," and "Lipase, amylase and trypsin/they're gonna help with my digestion." For all the throwaway spoofs like "Canadian Idiot" and "Trapped in the Drive-In" (do we need to make fun of either?), Weird Al has managed to make "Straight Outta Lynwood" a rich and textured album, and I'm not kidding. There's the R&B of "Confessions Part III" and the amusing rap that is "White & Nerdy," and the traditional polka medley of pop hits manages to poke fun at everything from Velvet Revolver to Kanye West, Gorillaz, and The Black Eyed Peas -- heck, it even makes Weezer's "Beverly Hills" sound like a decent song. Heck, he even channels Taylor Hicks on his spoof "Do I Creep You Out?" The CD also comes with an embedded DVD track filled with a piss-poor karaoke option (better than nothing, though) and an amusing series of music videos contributed by various independent artists, from the Crumb-like influences of John Kricfalusi's "Close But No Cigar" to Bill Plympton's brilliantly sketched "Don't Download This Song." I was surprised to find such a well-produced album hiding under the layers of parody, but when it comes down to it, you have to really love music to spend so much time ripping off the worst of the worst, and it shows here. You won't find a more eclectic mix of songs recorded by a single artists anywhere else, and whatever you may think of the man's one-liners, his beat's no joke. [www.weirdal.com]

There are three of them here, a guitarist, a bassist, and a drummer, and the first song on Remember the Night Parties sounds enough like “Return to Hot Chicken” from I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One to justify a sound ass beating. But the rest of the record is decidedly different, and The Dismemberment Plan, The Pixies, and Robert Pollard can argue over which one of them got listened to most during studio sessions (though they’d probably just make fun of Frank Black’s weight). But there’s a stubborn quality here that keeps Oxford Collapse interesting, a distinct sense of melody that unites their seemingly disparate circle of influences. This is what emo should be, or what it would be if it weren’t so slutty. “Forgot to Write” falls into Now It’s Overhead territory, “Lady Lawyers” stumbles over a particularly awkward delivery, but these are minor complaints. And when “Kenny Can’t Afford it” resists the temptation to be massive, letting the two minute build-up simmer under a polite “Penny Lane” inspired trumpet, it’s a twitchy premature ejaculation before the orgasm that is “Molasses.” Pretty fucking smart, frankly. I’ve heard worse. Hell, I listen to worse. [www.oxfordcollapse.com]

Sex Change is Trans-Am's feel-good album. To me, the first few songs sound like Kraftwerk or Tangerine Dream jamming with the Grateful Dead. The first two songs are filler. The tempo picks up with some electro moves on "Obscene Strategies", but unfortunately sounds like a Bobby Conn throwaway track. "Conspiracy of the Gods" is sort of a soundtrack to driving around in, well, a Trans-Am. The best part of this track is the syncopated percussion and the ridiculous '80s guitar riffs, which leads me to believe this is sort of a commentary on the naivety of typical American life. It seems like they are just playing around and having a good time with things like vocoders, old drum machines and keyboards. The turning point of the album is on "4,738 Regrets", where the playing seems more heartfelt but static. The overall momentum of these tracks is sort of uphill and the feeling optimistic. One of my favorite parts of the record is the drums on "Tesco vs. Sainsbury's": a driving, propulsive rhythm that takes flight when you add in the staccato synth line and the epic, atmospheric ending. "Shining Path" contains the best riff, but ultimately doesn't really go anywhere like much of the album. The grandiose closer "Triangular Pyramid" is the shining moment, an ironically moving experience with a humorous ending. Nothing too brilliant on Sex Change, but maybe that's the point. Just listen to this and have some fun. [www.transband.com]

Mike Wilhelm, who was the Flamin' Groovies' lead guitarist for six years, likes to introduce Robert Johnson's "Love In Vain," with this: "Here's a song Robert Johnson stole from Mick Jagger back in 1936." The Groovies are a band everyone's been stealing from since Roy Loney was still in the group. In 2000, when the San Francisco Chronicle's "critics" made a Pink Sheet list of the 100 Best Bands in SF History, the Groovies were number four, right after the Grateful Dead, and somewhat before Santana, Neil Young, and all those offshoots of Jefferson Airplane and the Dead. There are still famous git pickers who won't appear on stage with Wilhelm. You can hear the reasons herein. Of course the group does have Cyril Jordan, he of the perfect George Harrison imitation, leader and founder; Chris Wilson, George Alexander and David Wright, with an occasional appearance by Danny Mihm, original Groovies' drummer and some Welsh blues by Dave Edmunds to boot. As if that wasn't enough, they shake some action, let the boy rock and roll, please please you, paint it black and don't put you on. And that's just for starters. Wilhelm, about Bob Dylan's age these days and hanging with the Lake County Blues Band "up north" still does a mean Chuck Berry duck walk when the spirit moves him. Cyril has a new band, Magic Christian, with Praire Prince, Paul Kopf, and Alec Palao. Please spend a few moments on Palao's liner notes for this set. He also did those on The Amazing Charlatans and The Zombies' box set among others. Disc One, Shake Some Action is considered the ultimate Groovies release by many but still has James Ferrel on guitar. There's nothing wrong with Ferrel but both "Now" and "Jumpin'In The Night" have Wilhelm (or "Willie," as Jordan calls him) the man whom Cherry Garcia told photographer Herb Green way back in the sixties was his favorite guitarist. Pigpen was Mike's favorite. They used to play slide guitar together at the old Dead House up Ashbury just past that famous sign and Ben And Jerry's where the waitress had only 27 piercings the last time I talked to her. Disc Two, Now, just feels a whole lot better taking you down to that house of blue lights. There's a place, yeah, my baby. I hate to dwell on one guy but when you've seen the guitarist Larry "Mojo" Platz, the man with the single greatest name in the blues, called "a 12 on a scale of one to ten...I'm a two," it's hard not to do so. Forgive me my trespasses and join the Groovies, all of them, for a jump in the night. It's absolutely, sweet, Marie. Disc Three, Jumpin' In The Night is sort of the last official Groovies CD yet there are numerous boots out there including some of their legendary Phil Spector sessions. I've heard some of that at Wilhelm's home studio. The Byrds get a couple of readings here too - "5D" and "It Won't Be Wrong." One time Wilhelm came to my then home in Clear Lake Oaks and talked about the Groovies' European tours non-stop for about eight hours. Wish I had a tape but one story will do. When the Groovies played Manchester, a town known as "a hard room to play," they'd been followed by the Stranglers the night before. Hugh and the boys had received a negative review from one of Manchester's acerbic scribes. So the band went out the next night, found the guy and beat the crap out of him. The Groovies came onstage in their Beatles outfits and faced a very hostile crowd. So, they left the stage and Jordan sent Wilhelm out alone and he made only one comment: "We agree with the Stranglers." You will too. []

Having opened for the likes of Blues Traveler and The Weepies and landing a recent spot at Jam Cruise 5, an event which featured Umphrey’s McGee, Galactic, Railroad Earth and others, Rolla has begun to cultivate a definite presence in the world of acoustic/folk rock. Despite the nature of their tour mates, however, it would be a mistake to write the New England quartet off as another in a long, casual line of jam bands. Though the group’s mellow sound, centered on the vocal/instrumental interplay between vocalists/guitarists Fuzz (formerly of Deep Banana Blackout) and Carrie, might appeal to fans of such artists; Rolla’s music is more grounded in the tuneful stylings of '60s pop and modern day indie rock. While nothing musically earth-shattering takes place on Fits & Starts, their newest release, the six-song EP is an apt showcase for the band’s strengths (simply structured pop/rock songs with engaging vocal harmonies and quirky arrangements). Highlights include “How Do You Do It?” which features Carrie’s considerable vocal talents against a backdrop of funky rhythms and retro guitar sounds. “You Fell Down” employs a more organic, melancholy feel as the vocal duo sings “You fell down pretty hard….you fell into my arms.” Following a nicely paced acoustic shuffle and featuring more superbly pristine harmonies, “I’m Happy” is another of the record’s strongest tracks. Fans of indie/folk/melodic modern rock questing to find a new artist to enjoy should give Rolla a listen as Fits & Starts is a satisfying glimpse at a band that deserves the attention they’re beginning to receive. [www.rollaband.com]

Sophomore efforts are always greeted with trepidation. Can they do it again? Will they do it again…and repeat themselves, boring us to tears? Here’s my take on the second record from UK sensation Kasabian. Sounding much less psychedelic and a lot less processed, pardon the pun, Empire takes the original formula that made them so damned catchy in the first time and roughs it up a bit. Though the sound is overall less psychedelic, and though it falls a little flat compared to their debut, Empire still has a lot to recommend it. Pick it up if you loved the first one…maybe skip it if you didn’t. [www.kasabian.co.uk]

Canadian rockers The Dears hit their stride with the beautiful and melodic Gang of Losers. The music is gut-wrenchingly beautiful and sparkles with craftsmanship, while the lyrics challenge, inviting you to read them on the kind of grey Saturday night when you just want to stay in listening to something compelling instead of going out. Music perfect for hearing at an intimate club, rushing in from the snow… [www.thedears.org]

Trilobite’s experimental folk is rooted in the stringed instrumentation and rustic vocals of yore, but the New Mexican troupe’s most effective (though subtle) weapon is vocalist Mark Ray Lewis—the man’s a bona fide literary talent, as his O. Henry award and Stegner Fellowship at Stanford University prove. Self-released and recorded, Trilobite’s debut flourishes with smoky vocals, bucolic instruments and songwriting that, despite not playing to any “freak-folk” hipness, ultimately sounds as comfortable in the modern age as it would half a century ago. [www.myspace.com]

I knew something was up when I received my copy of An Albatross' latest album, Blessphemy (Of the Peace Beast Feastgiver and the Bear Warp Kumite) and noticed that the release date was almost 7 months ago. My suspicions were confirmed upon my first listen to this record, which is pretty much a fast-paced wall of noise that seems almost purposeless in its approach. Everything about this album seems pointless, except for how fast it moves, which allows you to get to the end faster. The guitars tend to just chug along at breakneck speed and are unnecessarily loud, though unfortunately not loud enough to cover up the obnoxious, high-pitched screaming that are this band's excuse for vocals. The drums, at least, are done well, though the production seems distant and gives no weight to the sound. Frankly, the most redeeming quality of the album is its length at just over twenty-seven minutes. Otherwise, I don't see many good things to say about this album. In the end, it just all seems like needless noise. [www.analbatross.com]

Already the recipients of tremendous buzz, Brooklyn’s Phonograph have a lot to live up to—it seems like every mention of the band is accompanied by Wilco and Tom Petty comparisons, though I wanna say I hear the slightest hints of Television-esque guitars creeping into the background on occasion. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot sounds like an enormous influence, but don’t shortchange the band just yet. The debut record features guests from the likes of Tony Maimone (Book of Knots, formerly of Pere Ubu, etc.) and the Mekons’ Steve Goulding, while Jeff Tweedy and the boys have requested the band as an opener in the past. It’s unclear whether or not the men of Phonograph consider their band to be the new Americana (as one track’s title suggests), though we wouldn’t be fretting if that turned out to be the case. [www.arclightrecords.com]

Gomez doesn’t fit in the boxes in which music lovers like to place modern British acts. They’re not Beatles wannabes. They’re not the spacey Radiohead type, nor Robbie Williams (thank God). No, they’re a five-piece rock group that has some tinges of folk, blues, and country. They’re a group that caters to the Dave Matthews band crowd and yet they’re not DMB either, as one of their latest, and critically acclaimed albums, How We Operate, attests. No, like I said, they’re Gomez (Ben Ottewell, Tom Gray, Paul Blackburn, Ian Ball, and Olly Peacock, whose name would be good in soft-core porn films), and their 2-CD set of songs is a welcome introduction to those who might not know who they are yet. There are songs on the album like "Dire Tribe," a song that starts with odd beeps and laughter before developing into a humorous rootsy boot-slappin' tune, a la Black Crowes. "Champagne for Monkeys" is a shuffling little ditty that the Beatles might have made when high and had a few extra minutes in the recording studio. So, yeah, sure, there are some songs just thrown in as filler, and sure some of the lyrics are kind of simplistic, but there could be worse albums to listen to while you’re, say, washing your car on a summer day with the boom box keeping you company. Like listening to Robbie Williams. [www.gomeztheband.com]

Hurray, we’re back to the '80s! Max Headroom! Rubix Cubes! Episodes of “Riptide!” Perhaps not, but Love Arcade’s fun, peppy, hand-clappy, zippy tunes sure sound like those bubbly days of yore. Of course, the writer, producer, engineer, mixer, videographer, graphic designer, instrumentalist, singer, genius (?!?!) was in diapers when the '80s were wrapping up. It's still illegal for Love Arcade (Christian Berishaj) to drink. He was a Detroit teenager when he signed with Atlantic Records. He’s toured with Yellowcard, Hit the Lights, and others. He likes performing wearing angel wings. And perhaps he is an angel come down from music Heaven. Perhaps not. I mean, there’s some excellent songs here (“Keep in Comin’”, “Sara”) but some songs are kind of annoying (if I listen to any more of “Passenger” my ears are going to bleed) and, well, he’s still a kid! There’s much to learn, right? Of course! For instance, we’re not in the '80s anymore, are we? And, sadly, you innocent, naïve Christian Berishaj, it’s hard to find episodes of “Riptide” on cable. [www.lovearcade.net]

Having to overcome the hurdles of being a so-called supergroup is rarely easy for band, and usually isn’t accomplished. Only Crime manage to jump a few of those on Virulence, the band’s second release, but ultimately aren’t on par with its members’ more groundbreaking projects—Bane, Good Riddance, The Descendents—and so on. The record is obviously steeped in melodic hardcore—Good Riddance’s Russ Rankin is one of the style’s foremost vocalists. Bill Stevenson has been the prime force behind the caffeine-fueled pop-punk for The Descendents and ALL for two decades, in addition to spending time smacking skins for Black Flag and producing too many records to count. Converge guitarist-turned Bane founder Aaron Dalbec and Hagfish alum Doni and Zach Blair round out the all-star crew, giving Only Crime one of the most formidable and well-established line-ups that punk rock has even seen. Expectations aside, Virulence is a better-than-average modern punk rock album—but it doesn’t stand out as particular exciting or ambitious, either. Tracks like “Eyes of the World” and “Just Us” feature the kind of riffing found on early Bane records, but Rankin’s coarse singing carry the songs into melodic verses atypical of anything considered hardcore. Much of Virulence feels like it’s limiting itself, afraid to attempt things out of the norm. Then again, that’s a plague on nearly the entire modern punk scene, and not that many people seem to be complaining. Beyond that, Only Crime’s learned veterans wind up with another pretty good record, for what it is. Don’t think you’ll get blown away, but if you’re a fan of all the members’ previous bands (or like the idea of a heavier Good Riddance/poppier, less tough Bane) then this won’t be a disappointment. [www.fatwreck.com]

A full-length collaboration between two sorta like-minded bands, The House of Apples and Eyeballs winds up as an ambitiously kaleidoscopic effort of experimental pop effrontery and instrumental exclusivity. Austin's The Octopus Project and Pittsburgh's Black Moth Super Rainbow are kindred spirits in weirdness, welding bizarre soundscapes with blithe indie pop tinkering. The results of the pairing are as psychedelic as some of the tracks' names would suggest--"Lollipopsichord," "Royal Firecracker Teeth," "Helium Tea." Spacy keyboards run amok while drums shift from synthetic to real to synthetic again. Trippy melodies peruse the possibility of becoming background music to any number of independent films. Dizziness may ensue while listening too intently, but don't say you weren't warned. [www.graveface.com]

The Apples’ helium-guzzlin’, feel-good pop has been the nucleus of the famed Elephant 6 collective for a dozen years, and New Magnetic Wonder comes in as the band’s sixth in a string of sometimes brilliant, sometimes ho-hum LPs. I won’t feign to understand Apples leader Robert Schneider’s newly-created “Non-Pythagorean scale,” which he seems to employ only in brief segues on the record, but I can say it doesn’t feel as though the band is fulfilling its potential. These tracks feel more chunky and electronic than their fuzzier predecessors, but there are still a handful of stellar tracks thrown in—“Sunndal Song” is one of Hilarie Sidney’s final contributions to the Apples catalog, as she left the band this past fall to concentrate on her other group The High Water Marks. “7 Stars” and “Same Old Drag” display Schneider at his most refined bubbliness, but it’s hard to shake the idea that he’s capable of much, much more. [www.applesinstereo.com]

Ratatat is instrumentalist and programmer Evan Mast and guitarist Mike Stroud. They used to be called Cherry, not to be confused with Nenah Cherry, Eagle Eye Cherry, and the Warrant song “Cherry Pie.” I’m glad they call themselves Ratatat these days because that’s what their odd, fun, instrumental is like, a ratatat of interesting grooves, instrumentation, ascents and descents. It’s a sonic tapestry, their new album is. It’s quixotic in a way. Come, Evan and Mike say to the indie rock Sancho Panzas of today, let us slay boring records with gusto and moxie for the love of new musical styles. Come, they say, join us in our striking guitar chords, our keyboard shenanigans, our danceable beats. We will roam the musical countryside with a sense of nobility and with a sense of direction few bands have traversed. We’ll be like Beck but without the inane rapping in front of our musical wonderments! We’ll be like The Go Team! but without the cheerleaders! We’ll be like Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells albums without the ties to “The Exorcist.” We’ll be a new type of music that radio stations should latch on too because it’s new and different and good and wholesome and noble! Come, Mast and Stroud say, let us slay the crappy music of today, let’s destroy Warrant once and for all. [www.ratatatmusic.com]

Teenage Graffiti is a very apt title for the Pink Spiders’ third release. I imagine the band to be what a lot of our favorite bands were like a decade prior to breaking out. Musically, the Pink Spiders give nods to OK Go on several tracks, but without Damien Kulash’s sly quality or, frankly, rock-solid hooks. I can also hear shades of other recent rock powerhouses--Yellowcard (who are thanked in the liner notes) and the All-American Rejects are both audible within the songs. In fact, the album’s lead single, “Little Razorblade”, which received airplay on MTV, sounds like it could have been ripped right off a Yellowcard album. That is to say, it sounds like a punk band that could be listenable when they grow up. However, the Pink Spiders have more promise than the Yellowcards and the All-American Rejects of the world. Although the lead-off track and single are relatively weak, there are some very interesting moments shoved into the middle of the disc, where most bands hide their filler. “Nobody Baby”, all the way down at track seven, is a nasty song worthy of The Hives. Although it suffers from some weak lyrics (as does much of the record), lead singer Matt Friction slings out “'Cause everybody here is nobody, baby, and that’s the goddamn truth” with enviable conviction-- and makes the point that sometimes style can defeat content. “Hollywood Fix” covers current pop music’s most tired subject, but it’s a hell of a jam. “Back to the Middle” is probably the strongest song on the record, and is a proper supporting argument to drummer Bob Ferrari’s claim to “world’s greatest drummer”. Teenage Graffiti is a very teenage album, but the potential of the Pink Spiders, both instrumentally and charismatically, is great. In three years and two records, they could become a really exciting band. In other words, don’t buy it for yourself. Buy it for a teenager--maybe you have a little brother or sister who likes to listen to music? The Pink Spiders might be the training bra that helps develop a big, bosomy love of real rock music. Give the tyke a copy of this record, water and sunlight, and monitor his/her growth closely. Who knows? In three years maybe they’ll both be brilliant. [www.pinkspiders.com]

Not “bouncing here and there and everywhere” as its namesake’s persona would suggest, Arizona’s Grumpy Bear delivers three somber, meager offerings. “Brittle Bride” is a tender tearjerker of a campfire song, while “In the Morning” is less sleepy in its acoustic, double-vocal approach, though 74 seconds doesn’t let it wander beyond its immediate horizon. “Church Mouse” might be saying something important in its lyrics, but the vocals are too muddled and hazy to discern any message that may lie within; still, the track’s melody is subtly hypnotic and despondent. Most immediately Kansas act Boo Hiss (Doby Watson, really) brings to mind a Davey von Bohlen exploring his freak-folk leaning tendencies—that warm lisp and ‘90s emo pioneer are inseparable in the minds of all 20-somethings. “Fertile Landscapes” is cold and mournful before diving headfirst into sonic carnage for its end—Watson pairs his natural vocalizing with a distorted wail to drop the narrator into what sounds to be pretty harrowing emotional depths. “Lawnmower” is 59 seconds of “oohs” and “oms” and no relevant reason for inclusion. “Reborn (Song of the Soil)” revisits the earth for the final time here, this time with a trumpet. It’s like, I don’t know, the Lovely Sparrows without the desire to make pretty melodies…and an obsession for lots of organic noise. Limited to a mere 250 copies, The Wandering Bark EP feels like a mini-collection of throwaways, leaving you wondering, what was really the point? A couple of good tracks, but give us a full-length any day of the week, please. [www.tractrecords.com]