INDEX TO REVIEWS

"Tonic" - Medeski, Martin, and Wood
"Muy Divertido! (Very Entertaining!)" - Mark Ribot y Los Cubanos Postizos
"Live At The Fitzgerald Theater 4.21.00" - the Big Wu
"Montage: Exploring The Deep Roots Of Music" - various artists
"Organ-ized: An All-Star Tribute To The Hammond B3 Organ" - various artists
"Live..." - Foxtrot Zulu
"Live From The Moon 10.28.99" - Blind Man's Sun
"I Wanna Be Your Pants" - Huffamoose
"The Health and Happiness Road Show" - the Mermen
self-titled - the Treehouse Project
"This Time" - the Ben Swift Band
"West Is North, East Is South" - Tautologic
"Chilly Submersion" - the Hot Buttered Rum String Band
"Percussion Duets"
"Home" - Annie Minogue

Ask most people to describe Medeski, Martin and Wood's music, and they'll probably go on about John Medeski's bubbling funk organ, the deep dance grooves Billy Martin and Chris Wood lay down, maybe even frequent guest DJ Logic's pyrotechnic scratching and subtle use of sound effects and recorded beats. But a few will remember that MMW began their life as a much more straightahead jazz trio, and that their first two albums, "Notes from the Underground", and "It's a Jungle In Here", showcase Medeski on piano and Wood solely on upright bass, playing harmonically sophisticated, deeply reverent original charts that remind more of Charles Mingus than Herbie Hancock. Their metamorphosis into the electric fusion group most assume they always were was actually a decision of convenience: it wasn't feasible for a group first stating to tour nationally to bring a piano on the road, and rather than resorting to a synthesized piano, Medeski chose to switch to organ, and the group's signature sound was born.

Since the band's ascent to fame three or four years ago John has added a grand piano to his live rig, but it often sat neglected, used to add color and to provide an occasional break from the organ, clearly secondary to the instrument for which he is now best known. And so, after the four-piece Medeski, Martin, Wood and Logic completed a long tour to support 1998's "Combustication", the trio booked a week and a half of shows at New York's ultra-hip Tonic, a club so small it lacks a PA system, to get reacquainted with the acoustic jazz form in an intimate setting. And from those shows has resulted "Tonic", MMW's first live album, and a document of a fascinating moment in the group's career.

The theme of "Tonic" seems to be duality - duality between consonance and dissonance, freedom and structure, original charts and covers (there are four of each, and they alternate), and perhaps between an acoustic band and its electric counterpart, the latter of which speaks more on this lovely disk with its absence than it possibly could with its presence. This is MMW returning to the acoustic format with years of electric experience under their belt, and the recording bristles with the high-voltage current that powered "Shack-Man" and "Combustication", as it flows through a piano trio playing Latin and African-textured jazz that is comfortably straightahead one minute and furiously free the next.

The album opens with Invocation an improvisation that accomplishes the same goal as the improvised beginning of an Indian raga, providing a sketch, musically and conceptually, of the music that is to follow. The piece begins with quiet African percussion, quickly builds to atonal bebop so fast and frenetic it seems in danger of flying off its axis, backs off into swing, rears its head again, and then implodes back into plinking and clanking. Musically, the track encapsulates nicely the territory the band is to cover in the rest of the album. And more importantly, it is the first of many improvisations on the album to return to its starting point as naturally as it flowed from it, bending the music into a circle, the shape of unity and infinity.

This idea is developed much further in the brilliant Thaw, which begins and ends with Billy and Chris creating a low, ominous rumbling reminiscent of the first moments of an earthquake. The rumble grows ever-so-slightly in intensity as John floats Oriental-sounding 4ths chords above. An almost unbearable tension is created as the listener waits for the band to explode - any moment now - into a beat or riff. But instead the rumble continues to grow, slowly, with incredible patience, and come to life. A cymbal crashes, the bass begins to wriggle and move, dancing piano filigrees appear. The first half of Thaw is the musical equivalent of watching a time-lapse of winter turning to spring; a patch of dead earth giving birth to grass and flowers before your eyes, the sun breaking through and life in all of its diversity springing forth from what had minutes before seemed infertile. But never does the group reach the sort of beautiful cacophony that seemed inevitable in the piece's opening moments, and even at the peak of the jam they show a highly measured restraint, which makes all the more powerful the moment that they begin slipping backwards, the teeming mass of music folding back into that from which it came, the rumble reasserting its voice, growing dominant again and eventually subsuming all back into itself. As the track steps over the 11-minute mark the thaw has refrozen, as summer must always give way to winter again, and as the rumble itself fades to silence the opening notes of Hey Joe (yes, that one) slip free of its clutches. That famous ballad of anguish and murder is read here quietly and mournfully, as though the song itself were bleeding to death, alone, in an alley, creating a haunting epilogue to Thaw and "Tonic" both.

Earlier in the album, the cycle of death and rebirth is explored, at much higher frequency, in the other two original tracks, Rise Up and Seven Dead Lies. Both pieces begin with a short head (the only parts of the album's original "compositions" that are actually composed), then quickly dissolve into unfettered improvisation, seemingly never to return to land. But before long, in both cases, atonality snaps back into tonality, the band restates the theme, toys with it a little, and again soars off over uncharted waters, exploring a new path away from the head that will also soon lead back to it, looping and swirling, gathering intensity with each roundtrip journey. The theme, in both cases, is simple, but elegant and powerful, strong enough to bear to the weight of the wild improvisation they repeatedly erect on top of it. And as they build steam with each pass the music begins to burst with creativity and the desire to make each excursion better than the one that preceded it, ideas barely contained in the musicians' minds and hands before they are hurled, kicking and screaming, into life. These wonderful pieces draw in the mind a looping video of a building exploding and reforming in slow motion, like waves rising and receding, chaos and order dancing hand-in-hand and melting into one another until they are indistinguishable.

The balance of the album - Lee Morgan's Afrique, Coltrane's Your Lady and Bud Powell's Buster Rides Again - is more straightahead than the improvisations, but all three, and Afrique especially, embody to a lesser degree the ideas that make the improvisations so magical. And it is a delight to hear the acoustic Medeski, Martin and Wood revisiting the work of their influences in its natural format, while bringing the developments of the ensuing decades to bear in a mature and confident way.

Since "Tonic" was recorded in March of last year MMW have increasingly made acoustic music a focus, and for anyone interested in hearing the birth of this new phase of their career, Tonic exists as a snapshot of a pivotal week in the lives of one of the most important groups in jazz today.

Marc Ribot confidently knew his music would pass any entertainment test as his recent album with Los Cubanos Postizos is called "Muy Divertido (Very Entertaining)". The first Postizos CD focused almost exclusively on the Cuban composer Arsenio Rodriguez, but this CD contains only three of his songs. There are also three Ribot songs, two Pedro Flores songs, one Israel Rodriguez song and one by A.L. Torruellas.

The music is a lighthearted take on Cuban music. Most of the songs have a humorous edge to them such as Los Lomas De New Jersey and El Divorcio. Hearing the English words New Jersey sung in the middle of all this Spanish is quite a funny thing. And another one is hearing the group sing El Divorcio over and over again as the only lyrics to the song. However, Ribot's solo on this tune is no laughing matter. It is noisy, abrasive, fiery and conveys the anger one has towards an ex wife. But it's not just the lyrics that make this album funny. The music itself has a whimsical, playful feel to it. Ribot in particular has always played guitar with a sense of humor. He is one of very few musicians who can get his guitar to make you laugh.

But don't let me mislead you, this is certainly no comedy album. Traditional Cuban songs, melodies, rhythm and percussion weave their way throughout the album and all of the composers are Hispanic except for Ribot. Some of the songs such as Dame Un Cachito Pa'Huele and No Puedo Frenar are authentically Cuban. But on several tunes, such as Jaguey, and Baile Baile Baile, Ribot uses the Cuban music as a springboard for his eclectic and sometimes noisy guitar solos. One of the best songs on the album is El Gaucho Rojo. It is a Ribot original and is a loungey, slinky smooth jazz number.

Veteran downtown keyboardist Anthony Coleman is the man who introduced Ribot to the music of Arsenio Rodriguez. And he has joined the group for this album. Coleman's deep organ grooves are the highlight of Se Formo El Bochinche. The group also includes bassist Brad Jones of the Jazz Passengers and Ornette Coleman's Prime Time; percussionist E.J. Rodriguez of the Lounge Lizards; and drummer Robert J. Rodriguez of Miami Sound Machine. None of the Rodriguez musicians or composers are related. The music of Los Cubanos Postizos could definitely use a horn section to round out their Hispanic sound. But then again, they don't need to change a thing because this CD passed the ultimate nine-hour train trip test.

There was a time when many live albums seemed to be little more than an excuse for record labels to squeeze more money out of fans' pockets without incurring much in the way of studio and production costs, or for bands to fulfill contractual obligations to the label while partying too hard to write new tunes. Records such as "Beach Boys In Concert" and the Rolling Stones' "Got Live If You Want It" didn't offer much in the way of meaningful new interpretations of the material, but at least they were single albums. Chicago later took things to the extreme by releasing a pretty forgettable five-record live set. Monster Top 40 studio acts Neil Diamond and Simon & Garfunkel even developed the odd habit of releasing "greatest hits" collections consisting largely of inferior live versions of their popular songs.

But then there were bands like the Allman Brothers and Grateful Dead who were at their best in concert and built their vinyl reputations on releasing multi-disc live sets which blew away most of their studio work. Now folks such as Phish and Widespread Panic are taking it upon themselves to distribute recordings of their own shows and, much as some traditional bluegrassers hold that a band hasn't fully established itself until releasing a gospel album, one might venture to say that a jam band hasn't fully established itself until it puts out a live disc.

Count the Big Wu among the fully established. Just out is their sophomore release, "Live at the Fitzgerald Theatre 4.21.00", a live album so unpretentious that it even eschews a fancy title for a simple cataloguing of the date and venue. The venue is the ornate Fitzgerald Theatre in St. Paul, home of Garrison Keillor's "A Prairie Home Companion" public radio show. The sold-out gig represents a step up in both elegance and size from the groovy but smaller and funky Cabooze theyíve been calling home in Minneapolis for the past few years.

The show and disc kick off with Minnesota Moon, an apt selection for the setting but an excellent choice of opener anywhere, with the opening line "guess who just walked in the door" and one of the catchiest hooks of any jamband tune. This is not the definitive version of the song (notably lacking are the tenor harmony vocals which graced the verses of both electric and acoustic performances a year ago), but it's a strong one and hey it's a live album, a record of one night's performance, a portrait of a single row in the vast field of time. When the fans rock into action with the hometown line "cryin' like a loon as that Minnesota moon was shinin' bright" it becomes clear that the party is on and the Twin Cities jamband torch has been passed from Cats Under the Stars and the Paul Metsa Band to these folks.

While the band stays pretty close to the structure of the opener, testing the waters as it were, they venture out into deeper seas during the discís second tune, Oxygen. (Oxygen was actually the third number of the concert. The 73-minute album is presented as a set, right down to "we'll be back in 15 minutes" after the closing Gimme A Raise, but it actually consists of ten of the 24 tunes played that night, presented chronologically but not sequentially. Gimme A Raise was, in fact, the 3rd song of the second set.) Anyway, after the second verse of Oxygen, Andy Miller's bouncy bass propels the band into a brief jam reminiscent of a Grateful Dead performance of Hard To Handle circa 1971, then the right channel guitar ventures off into deeper water. (I donít know the band well enough to distinguish between the guitars of Chris Castino and Jason Fladager, but this recording beautifully gives each a channel to call home.)

The rhythm section addresses the main theme again, then the structure gradually dissipates, occasionally bobbing its head above the surface as the left channel guitar serves up wave after wave of choppy rolls for several minutes over floods of organ. The right channel guitar eases into a calmer space and some exquisite interplay in which its delicate, fragile notes are soothed by the melodic bass support lightly in the background, with the guitar gradually picking up into more buoyant confidence. That taken care of, the bass leads the band back into the body of the song, but this tune wonít stay ashore as it fades again into a fairly ambient jam with Al Olikari providing some gently cascading keyboard work. The band sounds at ease afloat out here in uncharted waters (though they only venture far out in this tune and a bit in Southern Energy, generally staying fairly close to the main groove of a song but they're good grooves). Finally, a big wave washes it all up on shore and the band slides right into Elani, Queen of Afghanistan.

Elani is a driving tune typically fueled by Miller's jumpy bass. The band displays here a bit of bizarre Phish/moe. sense of humor while exploring the sounds of odd syllables and words. The vocal melody is engaging, as with most of these tunes.

Greatest of the Big Wu's many strengths is their own affirming energy and Family spirit. As Fladager writes in the liner notes, "it's all about celebration of life and being together in full boogie". All Good highlights the band's positive outlook and fun orientation ("you have no choice but to rejoice"). During a triumphant return to the chorus toward the end of the number, the listener can feel the happy energy filling the hall.

There are two songs here which also appeared on the first album, and each of them is somewhat transformed on stage. As one would expect, the studio recording has more focus on the craftsmanship of the songs while the live effort concentrates a bit more on the spirit of the groove. Puerto Rico, which appeared on the first record as a delicate ballad in which one can imagine the protagonist waking up in the morning and fumbling for a smoke and some coffee, springs to life here as a groove-laden cruise down the highway. Its catchy chorus keeps the good energy flowing. There's a sense of determination of the human spirit amidst everyday trials in these songs which is quite like that which permeates much of the Deadís body of lyrics. These guys are all about American adventure -- heading out and hitting your own highway, but with lots of friends along.

In Southern Energy, we are treated to some "lounge Wu" verses with a bit of a calypso beat. In true southern fashion - a nice touch from this northern band - twin guitars lead out of main body of the tune into a tender jam for which it would seem appropriate to be lying in the sun sipping a tropical drink. Then the band becomes a many-armed beast and takes off in a southern-fried frenzy. Drummer Terry VanDeWalker keeps that calypso beat close at hand through a jam with off-beat stops and starts, after which the band revs back into the song. This leads naturally into a Harry Belafonte tune, although these two numbers were not played consecutively on April 21.

Man Smart, Woman Smarter follows the basic Grateful groove, though with virtually no guitar (just drums, bass and organ) until after the 1st verse and a gender reversal ("it's the people who say women are leading the men astray"). A sign of this band's maturity is that the relief of a Dead cover is not needed to spark interest; in fact it would almost get in the way if not for its fairly laid back presentation. The Big Wu's original compositions are strong enough to stand on their own.

Dancing With Lula has yet another bass-led intro. This is a country song in funk clothing, with a revival ending complete with hand clapping and four-part harmonies.

The opening statement of Jazz 88 is a riff reminiscent of Walk Don't Run, a Ventures tune so catchy that it hit the Top 40 twice. The effect is similar here. This is another song about individuals "takin' the long way 'cause that's just like me; I never thought traffic was important." Maybe so, but there's bound to be more and more traffic outside of Big Wu shows as more and more individuals hook up with this stuff.

The traffic theme continues in the disc-ending Gimme A Raise (a gimmicky pop ditty on the studio record which becomes something of a working class anthem in the live setting), but we're out of the country weekend now, back to urban rush hour and the work week. The band drops us off there gently, though, and weíre better off for having made the journey. And we're going to need that raise and two-week holiday in order to head out for some more Big Wu shows.

"Live at the Fitzgerald Theatre 4.21.00" holds up as a very strong record. It may not turn out to be the Big Wu's masterpiece, but it's a cool remnant of a neat moment in time. It's like a crunchy tape of a hot show, which is exactly the idea.

The Big Wu will be venturing out of the heartland for some east coast shows in late July and early August. "It's all in a flow; tune on in."

After amusing myself with the strange juxtaposition of bands gathered into this compilation, I tried to imagine an even stranger one within the Jambands genre. I didn't do very well. The creators of this disc certainly did their homework, though. By grabbing just the right number of artists from the jazz, soul, rock, and.. uh, other categories, this CD is a perfect exploration into the vast spectrum of music that today's bands have incorporated and melted into their own sounds.

Instead of going in order, I will try and group these bands together by the backgrounds they come from, since that is the only way the disc is really listenable to me. In given order, there are too many jumps between styles, when I am used to listening to an entire tape by a single band.

Starting from the soul end, we have what was the biggest surprise for me, Boston's Actual Proof. Judging from my only exposures to them, playing fast, euphoric techno-like beats in the dark Wetlands basement, I did not expect their album cuts, Truth and Grounded, to be so laid back. The rock solid beats, and 70's-style guitar and flute were extremely refreshing to hear, and gave me much more of an insight into the band's past, much like listening to Lake Trout's early jazz/pop days. Their presence screams out on this album, if not just for the absolutely unique voice of Marc Holmes. Crossing the funk/soul line, we have the Addison Groove Project's Nuggets The Shaker. As was the case with many of these bands, this was my first time hearing them. I am definitely not one to judge a band on a single song, but I could definitely appreciate what I was hearing. Again, it was a little of a 70's throwback, and I liked the end result, even though it barely hinted at any kind of exploratory jamming.. but if they're simply packaged as "The Funk", then I might have to get some.

Next, I'll skip to The Miracle Orchestra's track, Hankus Spankus. They provide a straight ahead four-piece jazz tune, which is executed very well with some nice soloing in the middle. I tried listening to it multiple times, but couldn't seem to find anything else in there. Doesn't mean it sucked, but also nothing to really distinguish it like most modern jambands strive to do. Alas, it was completely upstaged by the impressive Jitterfried, by ulu. I'll admit, I have expressed my indifference and even dislike for the band in the past, but this track makes me feel bad for doing so. When I find myself at one of their shows (which, strangely, keeps happening), there are always one or two moments where the entire band comes together to deliver a tight and powerful performance, and this is one of those moments captured on disc. A huge, sweeping climax during an early sax solo definitely sets the tone.

Since I didn't have anywhere else to put this, and we're coming to the end of the soul/funk/jazz portion of the disc, it's time to mention viperHouse. They contributed a track entitled The Last Night, and is definitely more listenable than the one performance of their's I attended last year. I still can't figure them out, though. Singer Heloise Williams delivered a light, relaxed vocal line, that seemed so uninterested with standing out that she blended in with the rest of the musicians, and seemed to join the rest of the rhythm section. Maybe I just can't put it into words right, but it was a cool effect. The track had the loungey feel of a mellow jazz ensemble from the early 20th century, which I dug as well. Almost like one of the slow tunes from a Squirrel Nut Zippers album. And finally, rounding out this section, and providing a great musical segue to the next part (even if I couldn't come up with a good literary one) is Schleigho, with Palendrome. As far as I can tell, it's not. But it's damn good Schleigho, and they can do the jazz/funk fusion thing as good as the best of them when they really want to. Schleigho is definitely often misunderstood and underappreciated for their complex songwriting, but when given a chance to come forward as musicians, they almost never let down. One of their discs was locked into my CD player for two weeks of summer Phish tour, and wouldn't come out.

Are you ready to rock?

I apologize. I couldn't think of a better segue.

The rest of these bands, for the most part, seem to come from the Dead/Phish school of improvisation. The most obvious example here is The Dude Of Life. He contributes Francella, which, for what it's worth, is classic Dude. The off-time, off-color lyrics are all over the place, backed by a damn good, if a little cheesy, classic rock band. The Dude is definitely an acquired taste, but if you've got it, then you won't be disappointed. For a closer approximation to the music of the Dead and Phish, but managing to sound very original at the same time, there's Uncle Sammy. They're the only other band with two tracks on the disc, Rikki Rabbit and Sociology. Both featured great, intricate songwriting, reminding me a little bit of Phish's earlier compositions, with nice jams in the middle. The only thing that bothered me was the jam in Rikki Rabbit, when all I could hear was Marc Brownstein's (from The Disco Biscuits) Nughuffer. Moving into the catchier songs, we have Foxtrot Zulu's A Pretty Perfect Goddamn Day, which frankly, didn't do anything for me. It's probably just the song, which is extremely radio-sounding and doesn't seem to go much of anywhere. Much more to my tastes, and definitely the track I have listened to most on the album, is Kangaroo, by The Big Wu. I haven't heard any of their other music, and I'm told this song doesn't really reflect how they sound live, but it is a fantastically crafted piece of pop music. Tight vocal harmonies (something very rare these days), catchy melodies, and a double-lead, Allman Brothers influenced guitar ending section that is to die for. The song has been stuck in my head since I first got the disc a month ago.

Fitting in even less categories here than viperHouse, and bringing an end to the album (not literally), is Fat Mama, recent Jammy winners, with their Riot Remix: Asimov Cocktail. It's something of a futuristic pseudo-techno piece, with spacey, free sounds over their DJ's scratching and mellow beats. The track doesn't feel like a song, but more of an eight minute segment of an hour long jam. Definitely interesting and compelling to listen to, even if I can't really figure it all out.

It's about time there was an album dedicated to the Hammond B3 organ. "Organ-ized," released on High Street Records, features an array of celebrity organists ranging from John Medeski to Jimmy Smith. You may not have heard of all the players on this album, but it is a solid sampling of the various talents out there who know their way around the widely appreciated B3. This album has the groove.

Joey DeFrancesco's Ashley Blue opens the disc with perhaps less fire than one would hope for. The liner notes to "Organ-ized" remind us that the Hammond B3, along with other great organs, first made its way onto the music scene via skating rinks and then moved on from there. Unfortunately, Ashley Blue sounds a little too similar to this pre-evolutionary Hammond B3 compared to what we've been hearing in the past twenty or thirty years. But there's no need to reach for those ice skates yet, because John Medeski's Swamp Road comes next, complete with the telltale sounds of DJ Logic's turntables throughout. Possibly the hippest track on the album, Medeski shines through as today's star of the Hammond B3.

Highlights of the album, aside from Swamp Road, include Tommy Eyre's I've Got to Find My Baby (penned by Chuck Berry) and Galactic's My Little Humidor. All three of these tracks have The Groove, the instrumentation is tight, and the Hammond is highlighted amply in the arrangements. These songs shine because they feature instrumentation that helps embellish the sound of the organ rather than distract from it. Occasionally, such as on Michael Omartian's Say Something, it is easy to become distracted from the warm sounds of the B3 due to backing instruments: in this case, it is the lite-jazz sounds of a synthesizer in the background. Tracks such as Art Neville's Micky Fick and Jimmy Smith's There Will Never Be Another You suffer the reverse problem - there is little for the B3 to rely on for backup and therefore, these cuts become slightly treacherous to listen to.

Overall, it is difficult to have an album solely dedicated to the Hammond B3 that does not have a groove, and "Organ-ized" definitely succeeds in this category. There is a little something for the classic organ fans (such as Smith's and Neville's contributions), and there are also tracks that will appeal to the younger generation of B3 aficionados (namely the tracks from Medeski and Galactic). The even better news is that there is some crossover between these two categories, such as Mick Weaver's rendition of the Joe Zawinul classic Mercy, Mercy, Mercy. Also worthy of any listener's time are Drop Shot by Ricky Peterson and Yes Sir by Reuben Wilson, two tracks which feature horn sections and a solid groove. Some of these tunes may be a little on the lighter side for some listeners, but for the sake of one of music's greatest organs, give it a try.

Foxtrot Zulu has released a monster attempt at capturing their live sound on CD - appropriately entitled "Live...". Complete with the sound of screaming fans and candid photos of the musicians themselves caught in all kinds of "Jam-faces", this CD really does an excellent job of capturing the live feel.

With a BIG sound, Foxtrot Zulu attacks each song with a fever usually reserved for lives performances, and street performers on tequila. I was personally taken with special guest Eric Neff's violin playing during Raygay Rocky (not to mention a little disappointed that he is a special guest and not a permanent member). As a matter of fact, Raygay Rocky is one hell of a kick-ass cut. Special highlight should be placed on percussionist Paul Miller's special blend of timing, speed and groove. He adds that extra level I think the band needs to take them into that "whole other sound". A sound where the rhythm goes from being a necessary timing signature to an undulating current that takes hold of the dancers in a sinister way, causing them to sway and buck with parts of their bodies usually reserved for more "private" matters. Foxtrot Zulu has definitely mastered the art of the incessant groove.

For adding color to form, there is the horn. Here again, they have done a fine job of blending in a needed part without confusing the sound with any one particular instrument who is trying to take over the whole stage. Jeff Light's trumpet sprays strokes of color over a complicated landscape of jazz-fused, down and dirty rock and roll, while Terryston Chwan Kyan stokes his sax when he's not grinding on his mandolin. Both are fitting vocalists for this ensemble, a feat that is sometimes hard to capture in any given group. It seems that the running trend is to take the readily available members, and whomever happens to have the best voice, or the ability to sing and play at the same time... gets to sing. Or to bring some dude on stage who sings really well and has incredible stage presence (usually by being able to get women to gyrate in their seats, regardless of how much he drinks between sets [see under the sub-heading "Jim Morrison"]), then get him to belt out the lyrics. Instead, Foxtrot has been lucky enough to fill these seats with only their primary musicians.

This review would be incredibly incomplete if I weren't to mentioning those instruments/musicians that every rock and roll-based band needs to carry out the task. I am speaking of course of the guitars; bass, rhythm and lead. Here you will find respectively Brad Haas, Nate Edmunds, and Neal Jones grinding out the melodies and rhythms. I must admit, as far as I can tell there aren't any showoffs here. There are plenty of solos as well as some hair-raising sound distortion, but I don't hear any of the limelight grubbing that can eventually lead to the ultimate demise of a good band. In fact it is precisely this level of sharing in the music that is to me, the difference between what helps a good band endure to become a great band, as opposed to a great band flying out of the chute, rising fast and burning brightly, then merely going the way of the Dodo.

In October 1999 Blind Man's Sun (BMS) performed a series of six multimedia concerts at the Elbow Room in New York City. The series was called The Sun Chronicles and was supposed to be a fictional account of BMS history beginning with its Syracuse origins and ending with the first live concert ever on the moon. This live CD contains portions of the final show of the series, the show that is "Live From the Moon". The jam band label Phoenix Presents was there to capture the moment and issue this CD for a cheap $10 as part of their ongoing live CD series. As it turns out this show was not just the final show of a concert series, but the final Blind Man's Sun concert ever because the band has broken up. It is quite ironic considering the Sun Chronicles series was supposed to be their history. Perhaps the band should reform to perform episode seven so the Chronicles can conclude with band's demise. It could be a modern day jam band version of "The Last Waltz."

Blind Man's Sun with their long songs, lofty concepts and multimedia live shows were on their way to becoming an excellent progressive/art rock band. Their music is a breezy, light version of progressive rock with a bit of calypso thrown in there. It is the calypso addition that gives BMS their signature sound. The marimba is to BMS what the flute was to Jethro Tull. Yes, believe it or not Kevin's (no last name) marimba playing is the star of this CD. The marimba gives the music the bright, airy tone and the calypso feel. And BMS would be lost without it. The marimba is similar to a set of vibes. The bars the player strikes with mallets are usually made of rosewood and are arranged similar to the keys on a piano. There are full length resonators below each bar. The marimba is featured prominently in almost every song on this CD and is BMS secret weapon. BMS use the marimba not just for texture but also as a lead instrument. Several songs feature soaring marimba solos. The marimba spectacularly shines on the funky instrumental Mental Affairs Jam. On this tune a deep funk bass groove is combined with the high pitched marimba to create a sensational sonic sandwich.

The album opens with Living Conditions, a song that begins with a big bombastic wall of electric sound that commands your immediate attention. Suddenly the thundering introduction abruptly changes into a smooth, mellow funk tune. For some odd reason I seem to think this song sounds like Sade on speed. The album's longest track is simply titled 1.4 and the band magically landed on the moon in the middle of it. After the lunar landing the band launches into a lengthy, dramatic, beautiful sequence. The keyboards and guitar gradually build and build and build until finally the entire band joins in for a shimmering climax. The fluid, spiraling guitar runs are guitarist Dave's (no last name) best work on the album. His joyful solos convey the tremendous sense of victory the band had when they finally landed on the moon.

BMS have a somewhat original sound, but they have also heavily borrowed a few musical and visual ideas from other bands. Unfortunately, the most blatant example of this occurs right on the cover. Each member of BMS is drawn as a giant eyeball playing an instrument. The eccentric, mysterious San Francisco band The Residents have dressed up as giant eyeballs for twenty years. Luckily for BMS some of the musical loans from their predecessors are subtler. Such as the swirling guitar introduction to Haus, which is similar to the Phish song the Curtain. Or on Shadows, which feels like the Grateful Dead's Eyes of the World. It has the same rhythmic laid back shuffle as Eyes and the guitar noodling has the tone of Jerry Garcia. Phish's influence creeps in again during the last song of the album, How Flows the Stream. Portions of this song sound similar to the frantic guitar solos in the Phish songs Chalkdust Torture and David Bowie. How Flows the Stream? the title asks. NOWHERE! is the answer because the band has broken up. How Flows the Stream turned out to be last BMS song ever played. The band seemed to sense this as this song is both hard rocking and emotional at the same time. It starts out as a fast paced rocker but slows down to become reflective and introspective. It's as though the band knew it would be their last moments on stage together and wanted to make the music more emotional and meaningful. The song drifts off as the band sing "Tell me do you want the answer, it's so much better when I take it slow." Well, this band slowed up so much they have come to a complete stop. But, remember my train kept a rollin' all day long while I listened to this CD. "Live From the Moon" passed the difficult nine-hour train trip test with flying colors.

Another cheery resemblance to mid-nineties Seattle pop, Huffamoose's latest contraption may make the listener reminiscent for early Alice In Chains, or even 311, with just a hint of a Barenaked Ladies-type humor wrapped neatly inside. However, that is where the fun basically ends. The album comes and goes quickly, with little obvious knowledge of track differences. In fact, one could leave the room and come back a good thirty minutes later and still think they are listening to the same song they had originally left during. This is not because Huffamoose has decided to incorporate a continuous album, a la Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon", or even Phish's "Rift", but more so because every song carries along with it very similar tunes, harmonies, and general feel.

New Hit Song will probably be anything but that, despite its nod towards circumstantial pop. The lead vocals are solid, which is something that will carry through the entire album, but there is not much to back them up with. Zero Hours attempts to pick up the pieces where New Hit Song fell short, yet an annoyingly catching tune is all that comes out of it. Isn't It Remarkable, a ballad of sorts that simply goes through the motions, finally showcases the rest of the musicians in a positive light. From there, the listener is then introduced to I Wanna Be Your Pants, which is also the namesake of the album. Despite its undeniably creative name, the tune is an oddity in itself. The guitar lines do not seem to mix well with the percussion and the vocals, yet the eclectic lyrics tie it all together into a messy semblance of what seems to be another pop song lost in an array of misplaced talent.

From there, the album takes another strange turn. Half Empty is all too reminiscent of America's Horse With No Name, which pieced with the rest of the album, seems all too abnormal. It plays like a ballad one may hear while entering a country store in the middle of suburban Indiana. It's soothing and pretty, but eerily so. Repetitive guitar lines and weak lyrics in Sunshine make way for what are the best two tracks on the album -- Canada, an ode to the country in its own right, and Inspirational Song, a tune that seems to be Huffamoose making fun of themselves, or other bands in their position. During these two songs, everything is tight, humorous, and musical. In fact, what the entire album has been missing is that simple musicality, which is so hard to find these days anywhere. If Huffamoose kept the same sentiment throughout the album, this would be quite the different release.

Johnny Depp Day and the rest of the album continually fall into the trap of musical chairs- where each member of the band attempts to show their stuff as best as possible and comes up short regardless. All in all, "I Wanna Be Your Pants" is only a failure in the form that good music can be made from them. It is obvious that they have an immense amount of talent lurking beneath slightly unbearable attempts at pop rock. Perhaps if they took all their good points and fused it all together into something musical, they'd be the next big thing. But for now, it returns to my shelf for a while.

Now here's something you don't see everyday. A solid album full of creative musical ideas written and inspired by surfers. That's right, I said surfers. Usually when most people think of surf music, they think Dick Dale and the jumpy staccato guitar lines on the "Pulp Fiction" soundtrack. This is another kind of animal entirely. Almost all of the songs on "The Amazing California Health and Happiness Road Show" (to be abbreviated from here on for obvious reasons) are of a more mellow variety.

The Mermen are not new to the national music scene and raised a few eyebrows briefly in the early 90's before taking a break from music to focus on other things. Jim Thomas is the main man here, playing most of the guitar lines himself and adding a few vocal chants here and there. Otherwise, the album is mostly instrumental. Vince Littleton does most of the drumming and even adds some djembe on a track. Alan Whitman plays bass on the majority of the tracks as well. There are a handful of other players who add some well-organized texture to the album, but no one overshadows any of the others.

All the songs on the album are grounded in the same sort of peaceful, flowing melodies, but the elements that make up the songs are swapped back and forth to produce 14 unique tracks on the CD. Unto The Resplendent is a good pick for the first track. It presents a several cascading layers of sound that vary in the degree of their intensity. The guitar lines have a little sustaining effect to them that really creates a unique sound that sets the mood for the entire album. On the humorously titled White Trash Raga, Randy Clark adds a sarod (an instrument similar to a sitar) to create an mysterious sound throughout. The eastern influence of this track is undeniable, yet they combine it with their own rhythms to come up with something far from ordinary. Derek Trucks' Deltaraga is the only song I would even begin to compare it to.

Merry Go Round is a very dreamy, childlike song that fits its title well, with a slowly spinning groove. Likewise, Sway is a pensive, trance-like tune that weaves and bobs like a raft adrift on the open sea. As the guitars crescendo, they give off some feedback that sounds exactly like surf crashing on the beach. Hats off to Johannes Luley who aided Thomas in production of the album and added guitar to several of the tracks himself. Not all of the tracks on the album are representative of a summer daydream, though. Emmylou Rides Clarence West and Then South is closer to the Dick Dale sound I was expecting to hear on the album, but even here it is tempered with a fair dose of harmony to create a western folk feel to it. Little Skinny Kitty is also in that same vein with more aggressive guitar playing throughout. Bare White starts off sounding like the dinner music you might hear at an uptown cocktail bar, but then contains a few guitar parts smothered with distortion near the end to bring the listener back to reality.

Overall, The Mermen's latest offering is an excellent album. Jim Thomas and his bandmates have obviously retained all of the creative influences that launched their career many years ago. Their time spent at the beach on hiatus certainly didn't take anything away, either. I would be very curious to see how well they can duplicate these sounds in a live environment. There are certainly enough improvisational elements on this album to indicate that they have the potential to put on a good live show as well. "The Amazing California Health and Happiness Roadshow" is a feel good album with plenty of artistic integrity to hold it up. This is a perfect album to take to the beach for a relaxing summer's weekend.

Considering the continuation of jazz's progression for the jamband masses, many albums are slowly dissolving into each other. Modern jazz, if such a term can be applicable, reeks of groove rather than substance. Too often the advancements made by the two Johns, Zorn and Coltrane, are deemed useless, analyzed as self interested, quirky artistic audacity.

Out of this mist, comes an unknown project for many: The Treehouse Project. Consisting of Michael Reed (drums), Matt Thompson (bass), George Kalantzis (guitars) and Dave McDonnell (saxophones), this quartet forges a line through all of these groove oriented jazz acts, seemingly exhibiting the ways in which music can move, yet yield a certain artistic sensibility. Throughout their eponymous debut, The Treehouse Project shows they can easily play the jazz of John Scofield, Marc Ribot, John Zorn and Miles Davis. Yet, by mixing such a wide variety of influences on to an album recorded in one day, the energy never becomes lost; reverence becomes replaced by authenticity and moving beyond the boundaries currently lying in the jazz genre.

The first musical style which this quartet so easily deposits into their musical bag, the new groove jazz, contains a wholly developed sound, surpassing the blow-your-mind repetition of other acts. On Krista, Michael Reed plays all of the beats and plus adds plenty of texture into all of the immediate hidden places, while Thompson thumps like mad. When Kalantzis guitar enters, the listener will immediately check the CD playing, not believing the shards of electricity being thrown around; voodoo shaman going crazily into the banal genre, adapting the music to THEIR needs, like jazz used to be, "Rebirth of the Cool", hip-make-you-read Proust sounds.

To prove their point, the quartet erects the slow, snake-like sounds of Super 8. Commencing with a bass rhythm which will conjure images of songs by The Slip, The Treehouse Project gentle moves into a nice jazz shuffle, allowing the proper territory for McDonnell to reveal his intuitive saxophone lines. After McDonnell builds some melody, Kalantzis enters, this time sensuous and relaxed, bending notes and lines, floating over Thompson and Reeds gorgeous melodies.

With the conclusion of Super 8 the album continues through various jazz based shuffles and rhythms, building further upon the standard, excepted foundation. As the album progresses though, the music moves further into the avante-guard realm, seemingly leaving behind the idiom which The Treehouse Project can so easily play. Probably the most gorgeous departure from standard jazz fare can be located in the Marc Ribot inspired Piqua City Limits. Featuring Kalantzis most inspiring acoustic guitar playing, the song has a surf music sound, with a folk/country feel. Had Kalantzis selected to play an electric guitar, Piqua City Limits would have sounded like an outtake from Ribot's adventurous "Yo! I Killed Your God." Instead, the music shuffles and inspires, as slide guitar meets acoustic strumming, backed by some of Thompson's more sentimental progressions. Once the chorus enters, lead by McDonnell, suddenly the notion of returning to the banal sounds of jazz/funk are useless; why be taken to the edges of moksha and suddenly turn your back on the aged shaman?

What makes the debut release by the Treehouse Project so intellectually and spiritually stimulating?: SOUL, an often-overused term; a cliché in many circles. If their eponymous debut points to the future, The Treehouse Project may never be a household name, which probably suits their attitudes. Somehow their love of music spawned a jazz release worthy of praise, possibly of the trendy hyperbolic statement, "Jazz release of the year." Never mind such pretentious statements, merely acquire the album, and sit back; suddenly the number of pertinent CDs in your collection diminished significantly, as The Treehouse Projects veracity, vivacious nature yields a mix making other releases numbSOUL

At one point in American musical history, a certain entity came oozing into existence, a pure product of the evolved place rock music has earned in our society: the garage band, a group that gets formed with occasionally heady superstar fantasies, but mostly just with the realization that anybody can produce sounds as cool as those he hears around him. It's always been a symbol of some kind of suburban freedom. Even if a garage band never busts loose from its creative and financial moorings, it at least has the potential to -- like some shot at entering the stratosphere, it's one symbol of the American Dream still left intact.

The bands have always mirrored popular trends. In the early 1960s, people made surf rock. In the late 1970s, punk and New Wave. When I was in high school, it seemed like everybody was starting ska bands. Now, it appears that people are starting jambands. This is a wonderful development. Playing improvised music requires one to think in new ways. Only good things can come of it. The Ben Swift Band seems to be a product of this particular development -- though that's not to diminish what they do, or even brandish them as a garage band, which implies an amateurish approach. While the band is still somewhat immature musically speaking, they do have a strikingly original sound.

The lineup of the trio is singer/songwriter Ben Swift on acoustic guitar and vocals, Scott Kessel on drums and percussion, and - the pearl in the oyster - bassist, trombonist, and wielder-of-conch-shell Dan Fox. In many places, especially during the songs themselves, the music edges on the Dave Matthews end of the scale. Swift's voice borders on a fairly typical Matthews-influenced singer-songwriter growl from time-to-time, but to call these guys a DMB rip-off would be to discount them immensely. When the band ventures into improvisation, which is quite often, they begin to enter more original territory.

There is a looseness in the jamming compatible with the Burlington-based trio of No Glue, though without nearly the deftness of that outfit. The Ben Swift Band doesn't sound like a group with a particularly defined musical direction. More, they sound like a group of guys in pursuit of some cool sounds, without much more direction than that. And, at this early stage in their career, that's more than okay. They're a band still searching for their exact voice -- and there is one that will likely be found eventually.

"Live At Unity College" is obviously a homespun affair, done on CD-R with front and back covers likely produced on a color printer or copier. It, too, is the product of evolution: the placement of CD-R drives into the hands of musicians. This makes it easier for bands to get their work out there. In the broader sense, this is great. It gives artists chances to get their stuff into circulation. There's nothing wrong with putting a CD out as early in their development as the Ben Swift Band has, it's just that they could've stood to do it a little bit later.

The disc opening Poughkeepsie/Pity The Radio moves through a variety of spaces over the course of its 20+ minutes, with the band trying out different combinations of textures. Throughout, the acoustic guitar - occasionally, it seems, filtered through a wah-wah pedal - gives everything a tinny edge. The mix of trombone, bass, and conch shell provides a constantly warm low-end hum, which is really what gives the band its defining sound. It is this hum that needs to be exploited in order for the band to reach its full potential. Right now, it seems as if the guitar and the drums are placed whole on top of the low-end. These two instruments need to interact, weave their way in and out, of this hum for the band to come fully formed.

The band gets a little bit closer on the second track, Wash You Clean, which comes perilously close at times to turning into the indulgent singer-songwriter ballad. The band's nearly trancelike grooves in the jam save it from that fate, however. The band has a raw kind of wisdom to it. They have a knack for making gorgeous sounds, though they still seem a little unsure as to how to integrate those sounds into a fluid whole.

Beginning with an avante-guard string quartet track, Tautologic's "West is North, East is South," makes the listener considerably ponder the textures of music. As soon as the orchestration falls away, a drum beat, pop sound enters, complete with echoed voices, reminiscent of "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart Clubs Band". Overall, even by adding strange sensibilities to pop music, Tautologic throughout "West is North, East is South," eradicates the listeners' interests by adding plaguing vocals. Not even the wealth of orchestration or studio effects (according to the liner notes, the album cost fifteen thousand dollars to make) can hide some hideous vocals.

"West is North, East is South" must be listened to in one sitting, from one track to the next without skipping around because textures from one song mix into to the next, often adding or subtracting certain sensibilities. For example, the outre Hype Dark yields the acoustic pop strains of Jim's Home Brew; resulting in a turn from string quartet fueled studio knob twists to a folk tune with cello's. The effect could be considered quite stirring, even magnificent, as Tautologic ventures into the land of creating an album, not twelve hit singles. However, the vocals once again stand out, deterring the listener from truly soaking in the sonic plentitude. Too often Ethan Sellers' voice sounds like a mellow punk voice, which over time can become seriously grating, even annoying.

Sadly the listener can never truly enjoy the wonderful textures commingled on "West is North, East is South." The Irish jig feel sentimentality of Glasgow Smile, Beatles piano rock of Lazy Sundays, 60's pop feel of Love Bus remain pleasant and inspiring. On these tracks, the listener can gain a real view of Tautologic's musical intelligence, plus their remarkable ability to add in strange effects despite the often-acoustic backdrop.

Ethan Sellers and Pat Buzby of Tautologic really love music, and seem willing to fuse numerous genres of music. While Buzby and Sellers are often successful in their compositions on "West is North, East is South," the vocals prevent the album from reaching the experimental/influential territories of "Pet Sounds." In any event, "West is North, East is South" reveals Tautologic's promise and a bright future with the establishment of cleaner/sweeter vocal harmonies.

Journal entry 5/28/00: "Swimming in the car up through the mountains, on the 84, headed to La Honda; land of the Pranksters. Blue skies and sun shine through the enormous redwoods. Finally, La Honda, nothing more than a quaint roadside stop, with the Merry Pranksters Café next to a biker dive. A little bit of orange juice to wake me up, which became completely unnecessary the minute the Hot Buttered Rum String Band took the stage. Some original to open which blew me away; reminded me of an electric band jamming, but they were just some twenty something bluegrass musicians. I smiled, sweat in the sun, enjoying their spin on bluegrass knowing I had seen a band worthy of praise in the bluegrass/jamband community."

Comparisons to the Yonder Mountain String Band will be inevitable for the Hot Buttered Rum String Band (or HBRSB for short). Consisting of four members, yielding the potent mix of banjo, mandolin, upright bass, guitar combined with four part harmonies, many first time listeners will connect HBRSB to the now infamous Nederland based string band. However, listening to their debut album, containing twelve live tracks and two studio cuts, the HBRSB sounds remarkably original. In fact, if Yonder Mountain String Band plays "newgrass", then HBRSB plays "new-newgrass" or possibly "psychedelic-bluegrass." Yet such titles detract from the brilliant, wood based jams and songs encapsulated in the microscopic laser readable grooves of "Chilly Submersion"; playing at times akin to the bluegrass super group Strength In Numbers.

One track in particular, Dovetail Joint clearly reveals the strange brew of bluegrass being concocted by these four adventurous musicians. Beginning with a syncopated opening, the song briskly moves into standard bluegrass territory, until suddenly reaching a slow, fairly psychedelic bridge, where Nat Keefe and Zachary Matthews croon "A long lost girl in a far gone world." After the moving tempo change, Dovetail Joint returns to standard bluegrass paradigms, discussing the mountain landscape and trains. After finishing their vocal work, the four musicians, led by Zachary Matthews' clear mandolin playing, depart into a compelling jam, reminiscent of Old and In the Way's ensemble jams in various versions of Midnight Moonlight. Bluegrass at the core, the HBRSB moves beyond the standard expectations of the music, far removed from the banal two-four chop.

Which does not mean the HBRSB avoids traditional bluegrass. On "Chilly Submersion," fiddle tunes like Red Haired Boy and Cripple Creek will satisfy the traditional bluegrass fan. Although, one should note, even these predictable fiddle tunes contain outré meanderings, often belying their Appalachian origins. Of note, Red Haired Boy ends with all four musicians playing the same musical scales; which does not seem so esoteric, until the listener realizes Bryan Horne has been playing on upright bass the same lines being picked by Zachary Matthews on mandolin. In fact, throughout "Chilly Submersion," the listener will find multiple enormous solos by Bryan Horne, often more jazz based than bluegrass.

The HBRSB, like their Nederland brethren also display a sincere desire to write traditionally based originals, such as Look Again and Quittin Time. Commencing with a barber shop quartet harmony, the band finally breaks into a bluegrass romp on Quittin Time, singing about working with a Skill saw and getting ready for some cold beers; thus fulfilling the necessary bluegrass lyrical necessities. The standard lyrical fare not covered in Quittin Time can be located in Look Again, where river references are abundant. While such uses of bluegrass lyrical idioms could be considered irreverent, the HBRSB uses the lyrics as a nod toward the past, and with the intent to bring them into a modern setting.

Exhibiting conspicuous comfort flying through standard bluegrass fare as well as wild Dead-based jams, the HBRSB also reveals a love for the jazz side of bluegrass. Two songs, the gorgeous Glacial Enchantment and the funk filled Sunrise Song reveal a strong connection to the music of Bela Fleck and Sam Bush. The Bela Fleck reference can become noticeable in Ian Waights Sunrise Song. With a magnificent opening by Waight, the rest of the band slowly enters: first Bryan Horne's upright, then Nat Keefe's jazz picking, before Matthews' brisk mandolin enters with the melody. After the opening, Waights banjo exits, and Matthews' chops adding chords and notes here and there ala Sam Bush, as Nat Keefe adds subtle jazz phrasings. Suddenly, Waight reenters with some of the most inspiring chordal progressions on the album; entering his name into the pantheon of banjo geniuses. At this point, Sunrise Song rivals most of the tracks on Strength In Numbers infamous "Telluride Sessions." Fairly lofty territory for a young bluegrass band.

While a renewed interest in bluegrass continues, few bands are traversing into the musical terrain of the HBRSB. "Chilly Submersion," in a few years will merely be the bands demo documenting their inception, as they continue to develop their sound and chops beyond our wildest dreams. Rating their progress after only one year together, given Matthews continued instruction from mandolin great Radim Zenkl, Hornes' jazz infused upright bass filigrees, Keefe's syrupy tenor mixed with quick guitar riffs and inspiring songwriting, all combined with Waight's Fleck-instilled banjo style, the HBRSB will become a fulgent star in the black Sierra Nevada cosmos. Get on the train early, and enjoy the ride.

For many listeners the title of this CD offers all they'll need to know about its content: Percussion Duets. Many will be drawn to it for the caliber of the musicians and also because they have an intense personal or professional interest in percussion. However, this review is geared towards the general listener who otherwise may not be inspired to immediately pick it up based on the title.

The album was recorded over a two-day period in a vacant film studio and soundstage in Brooklyn. Some of the tracks are various thematic material that Billy Martin had compiled and wanted to record. John Medeski lends his gifts to two tunes but remains relatively low-key. The CD cover shows a chart of one of the percussion themes.

When I first listened to this CD at home, it didn't captivate me. But then I listened to it on the train for what became a thoroughly enjoyable experience. It was quite interesting to listen to this CD in this context, because the train too can certainly be thought of as a percussion instrument. The constant, rhythmic click clack sound of the train rolling over the tracks became another instrument on the CD. The throbbing beats of the music seemed to push my train to go faster and faster and was a nice psychological boost to make the time fly.

Medeski appears on the opening cut, Hawaiian Eye, and on Amulet, but doesn't do much on either tune. He simply adds some toy piano twinkles to both extremely brief tunes. Hawaiian Eye is a pleasant interlude but Amulet is virtually unlistenable. Someone is scraping their cymbals to create a high pitched squeal similar to nails against a chalkboard. OUCH! A much nicer effect is created on Savannah. This track has a pleasing, open-air feel. Listening to it, I was transported to an African Savannah with graceful gazelles, zebras and giraffes. Billy Martin plays a drum machine for two tracks - Beatbox 1 and Beatbox 2. Previously I described the train as an additional percussion instrument. But the drum machine on Beatbox 1 sounds like a train itself. In fact, there were a few sounds that even sounded identical to a train whistle (so much so that I had to replay the song to see if the whistle sound was the train or the disc). This CD really seemed to enhance my trip. The train and the CD were making wonderful music together and I was caught in the middle of it all this magic. The train became a third instrument and suddenly I was listening to Percussion Trios instead.

This is an album that obviously holds interest for student or fans of percussion, as Martin and Weston are talented players. Beyond that for the average music fan such as myself it all comes down to context. If you're in the mood (for instamce, you happen to Amtrak-bound) then you'll get quite a bit out of this release.

This disc leaves me in a bit of a quandary. Being an independent artist myself, it gives me little pleasure to see others on the scene falling into traps, and certainly Annie Minogue can sing and write memorable songs.

Nonetheless, from the moment the opening cut Paper Doll faded in, one fact became clear: this CD is quite remniscent of Sarah McLachlan. Minogue's vocals are similar, and the production is identical. It's the 70's singer-songwriter sound converted into modern stadium fare with big drum sounds and grandiose choruses, with a 90's edge courtesy of hip-hop loops and distorted guitars. The lyrics also cover the same ground: episodes of self-revelation and the challenging or reaffirmation of romantic values.

I'm not sure who's at fault, but I'm hoping it's not Minogue. To be fair, she does Sarah as well as Sarah usually does, with a gutsier singing style and an equally wide range. Her musicians and producers don't miss a step, either, and the handful of unique touches (the cello and Middle Eastern guitar riffs on I or the mandolins on Where I Used To Sleep) are welcome. She also has enough of a way with a melody that I'm willing to overlook the clunkier songwriting moments, such as the occasional semi-literate chorus ("The further I go, the better I am to see you again") or scansion problem (I forces her to pronounce "thoughtless" as "though-less").

Many people might enjoy this CD. However, here's hoping that Minogue can find additional musical territory of her own the next time out.