Kudos Shmudos.

In this month's issue of Zero, my editor was kind enough to publish my first piece of hate mail regarding an article I wrote for the May issue (The Drogues). It was received from a disgruntled and rather confusing reader who went on to suggest that if I want to continue my career as a rock critic, I should listen to some Ozzy Osbourne and "get a bloody clue." Yeah right, buddy. I need to broaden my horizons and experience the solo career of Black Sabbath's former, half-dead, lead singer. My musical repertiore is yet incomplete in lacking fucking Ozzy.

You're an idiot.

Furthermore, I reviewed a local punk band and compared them to The Buzzcocks...where then is the Ozzy prescription warranted from? The guy's criticism was not my being partial to the punk genre...in fact it isn't really clear what his problem was. I would thank him though if I got the chance. Bonus opportunity for my name to be published...even if it was misspelled.

P.S. The picture in the above right hand corner is supposedly of Mike Patton's hands.

A BAND OF BEES - FREE THE BEES published August 2006, Zero Magazine

This is a weird dilemma. Imagine that you are so sick of all this nostalgia music: Interpol with 80's homage and Wolfmother with their enormously obvious nod to Led Zeppelin. Then you hear a band like Band of Bees that is just so colorful and swanky but is nothing more than a time warp to the 60's. The 60's! Who does that? And those who might take on this sound certainly don't make it definitive of their style. But these guys…

This album dives right in. It makes no attempts to take an era-specific genre and add modern twists to it. Taking something old and innovating on it is what truly makes it interesting and it is obvious that this is not the philosophy of The Bees. Bands like these are normally only good for parties, clubs, or any live venue just for the vintage atmosphere. But this band does it so well, purely and pristinely. It is truly as if someone could hand you this record and tell you these guys hit their peek in '65 and burnt out by '70 and you would take the bait. Therein lies the dilemma. Even if you are so tired of the nostalgia music, you might just love this band all the same. Try not to fight it.

THE WEEGS - THE MILLION SOUNDS OF BLACK published August 2006, Zero Magazine

I can really only equate the first track of The Million Sounds of Black to what I think would be the sound of drowning. It's spooky, watery and just seems wrong. I'm not a fan of drowning and I doubt many are but nonetheless anyone would be compelled to listen further. That is, anyone who craves the weird. Anyone who thirsts for dissonance and a slight discomfort to their melody.

San Francisco's The Weegs to me sound like the love child born of an orgy between Mr. Bungle, Devo, and maybe a little Flaming Lips. File under "what the fuck?" The sound is thin and has a still-in-utero air to it but it surpasses potential greatness into just plain greatness. In fact, the thinness of this project might be a more alluring aspect to it since bands in the experimental genre have the tendency to thicken up their sound thinking that intricacy is their only weapon. In other words, The Weegs are thumbs up as is. No polishing required.

ROUND THREE FIGHT - FORGET WHAT YOU'VE HEARD, TRUST WHAT YOU KNOW published August 5, 2006, The Owl Mag

Round Three Fight's Forget What You've Heard, Trust What You Know follows all the mandatory pop punk rules: sufficient energy, vocals with a boy-ish charm, singable choruses, harmonies in the right places, subject matter light, sugary, rooted in teen angst. Think of blink-182 when they weren't cracking dirty jokes and just make them a little more forlorn.

Whether you will like this album really depends on whether or not the above mentioned criteria are what get you going. They fit the mold perfectly but somehow fail to carve their own niche within the genre. With a sea of bands out there making the same kinds of music, it is an arduous challenge to stick out. After a few tracks of this album, you might be begging for a scream or a minor chord somewhere in there just to mix it up a bit.

SICBAY - SUSPICIOUS ICONS published July 9, 2006, The Owl Mag

Suspicious Icons compromises nothing while deliciously hinting at punk upbringings. The guitars are thin and simple, but slowed down just enough to appreciate while slicked over with muddy tones. Vocalist Nick Sakes is a cornucopia of textures and at his most gruff takes punk back to simpler times. It abandons youthful obnoxiousness and polishes it with mature intricacy.

The sound of this album is utterly genreless. Therein lies your new rebellion. It’s no longer about belonging to a movement so ferociously that you become as stubborn and close-minded as the figures (parents) that you rage against. It’s about being you, all the combinations of eras and experiences. In this respect, Suspicious Icons can speak for everyone.