White Williams, 'Smoke' (Tigerbeat6)
Echoing the scruffy synth pop of early Brian Eno -- minus the intellectual pretensions -- Cleveland's Joe "White" Williams cobbles together a likably ragtag version of electronica. For all the squiggly melodies and bumpy computer beats, however, Smoke's strength is his spacey chameleon voice.
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Saves the Day, 'Under the Boards' (Vagrant)
As key as they are to emo's evolution, Saves the Day will always be linked to singer/guitarist/lone original member Chris Conley's identity crisis. He's led STD from their early days aping hardcore heroes Lifetime to the Beatles-tinged commercial flop of 2003's In Reverie to the present: a three-album conceptual saga about self-discovery. Installment No.
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Mannequin Men, 'Fresh Rot' (Flameshovel)
Every note on Fresh Rot could carry a footnote identifying its source -- Television being a major inspiration. As churning guitars generate jagged melodies, singer Kevin Richard plays the sleazy punk poet, hiding his sensitive side behind a sneering facade. Shameless recycling doesn't keep the Chicago quartet's second album from being great fun, however.
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The Redwalls, 'The Redwalls' (Mad Dragon)
The lyrics to "Modern Diet" could be read as the Redwalls' preemptive defense: "They say it's all been done before / And there's really nothing new / I guess that's just your point of view." That song actually dials back the Brit Invasion influence on this irretrievably unoriginal -- yet ultimately sorta likabl
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Radiohead, 'In Rainbows' (inrainbows.com)
The most ironic thing about Radiohead's decision to sell their seventh studio album through the band's website only ten days after informing the world that the record even existed is that Thom Yorke and Co. still aspire to Important Rock Importance at a moment when the Internet's camera-phone ephemera is making such indelible cultural relevance a seeming relic.
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Frightened Rabbit, 'Sings the Greys' (FatCat)
Don't believe the name -- this fervent Scottish trio are anything but fearful, though they're seriously jumpy. Like a young Billy Bragg who's gulped a gallon of espresso, singer Scott Hutchison and crew play a crackling garage hybrid of punk and folk on their stimulating debut.




