Swingin’ Utters

“Live in a Dive” (Fat Wreck Chords)

Compare to: NOFX, No Ise for a Name, Lagwagon

Fat Wreck Chords is known for producing excellent punk rock. Among the many bands on the Fat label, the Swingin’ Utters is one of its bigger names.

After five full-length releases and countless EPs and singles, the Utters have finally come out with its own “Live in a Dive” album.

Composed of its greatest hits, the Utters’ “Live in a Dive” album has a whopping 23 tracks but almost all of them are only about two-and-a-half minutes.

The short length compounds to the problem of the strictly average quality of the tracks. About 80 percent of the tracks are generic, three-chord, power punk heard again and again. Just as a song is starting to build up … it’s over. The Utters shout some profanity and move on to the next song.

Another gripe is singer Johnny Bonnel’s vocals. They are slightly muffled and slurred. Maybe Bonnel had one drink too many during the recording? Fortunately, everything else sounds loud and rocking.

The energy displayed by the Utters is excellent. The band members really dive into their performances. One can only imagine seeing the Utters live. It’s unfortunate their performance did not translate as well into the album.

Also, there are still a few standout tracks. “Don’t Ask Why,” “Nowhere Fast,” “Hopeless Vows” and “Mother of the Mad” are gems that redeem the album from falling headfirst into the “average” category.

Is the CD worthy of a purchase? Yes and no. Utters fans and punk fans will appreciate this album, but everyone else will probably be disappointed.

There are better “Live in a Dive” albums on the Fat label.

— Jay Kim

Metallica

“Some Kind of Monster” (Elektra)

Compare to: Godsmack, Disturbed, Sevendust

Metallica’s latest EP offering, “Some Kind of Monster”, is nothing more than a blatant promotion for its upcoming documentary film of the same name — but that’s all it’s intended to be.

The EP contains eight tracks, two of which are different edits of the title song. The remaining six are live cuts from a June 2003 show in Paris, evidenced by James Hetfield’s embarrassing attempts at basic French phrases.

Musically, the EP is nothing special. Aside from the screaming crowd, Metallica live sounds very similar to Metallica in a recording studio, and the eight-minute version of “Some Kind of Monster” loses none of its charm when it’s chopped down to four minutes for the edited track.

Two trailers for the upcoming documentary are included on the EP to quench the burning desire to look into the lives of the whiniest metal band in existence. The movie documents the band’s group therapy and how it confronted the personal issues of each member. From the trailers, it appears that this rockumentary is hard-hitting emotional drivel. Congratulations Metallica, you have found a way to profit from your incessant bitching.

The band’s Web site pats itself on the back for opening the movie in two venues and having a higher per-screen average than “Spider-Man 2” for a single day. Apparently, there are still Metallica fans out there who didn’t jump the bandwagon after the release of “Load” and the unveiling of the new short-haired rocker look.

Only the most hardcore fan would be willing to shell out money to buy this “Special collector’s edition EP” to satisfy his or her need to own a piece of everything Metallica.

— Krista Driscoll

Busdriver

“Cosmic Cleavage” (Big Dada)

Compare to: 2Mex, Radioinactive, Doseone

Busdriver doesn’t just rap. He slippity-slaps rap in its face and/or buttocks.

The verbal contortionist from the Los Angeles underground has rapped along with Bach, gargling solos, and party whistles, among other odd sounds. He vomits flamboyancy like a Robin Williams routine over splashy jazz beats.

“Cosmic Cleavage” is a 30-minute hip-hop cartoon, featuring Busdriver as a man with a mouth that moves like Flubber. He meanders with merry melodies at times, regretting his tendency to “do too much unnecessary thinking,” which prevents him from “getting the hairy pink thing.” Needless to say, Busdriver’s mind is in another world.

Following in the same style as his previous projects, “Cosmic Cleavage” is another work of abstract art for hip-hoppers with a punk mindset.

Busdriver isn’t content ever hitting the same note more than twice in a row, skipping up and down the musical scale like a hyperactive kid at a carnival. Does Busdriver sing? Well, maybe. He’ll either annoy the hell out of listeners or put them in a happy-happy-joy-joy kind of mood.

Although “Cosmic Cleavage” plays out more succinctly than his triumphant “Temporary Forever,” it has no grand slam track and suffers further from actually being shorter than a Saturday morning cartoon.

Busdriver’s quick, quirky streams of consciousness are delivered like the Swedish Chef, though his message is a tad more egotistical and much more crass than anything Jim Henson and friends would ever want kids learning. Any adventure with Busdriver ensures a great deal of bumps and odd sites. Listeners are advised to take a deep breath before getting on the bus.

— Andrew Mabe

Taking Back Sunday

“Where You Want To Be” (Victory)

Compare to: Finch, Story of the Year, Braid

Adam Lazzara should be dead by now. Forget the tired clich‚ of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll — it’s truly amazing the swaggering lead singer of Taking Back Sunday is still breathing. This is the same guy who canceled tour dates for a broken hip after a security guard tackled him at his own concert, fell from ceilings and took concussions from his own out-of-control microphone swinging.

Okay, so the guy’s an asshole. And maybe he’s earned a few of the hits he’s taken. But it doesn’t change the fact that “Where You Want To Be,” the band’s sophomore effort, is twice as mature as its 2002 release, “Tell All Your Friends,” and a thousand times more cohesive than anything to come out of the post-punk camp in recent months.

Nolan’s heated departure last year may have caused the devoted legion of TBS fans to quake in their Converse, but replacing him with Fred Mascherino has changed the band’s dynamic for the better. While Mascherino lacks the guttural scream that gave Taking Back Sunday its trademark call-and-response sound, he replaces it with a fuller, more melodic tone that, miraculously, harmonizes perfectly with Lazzara’s bloody-raw vocals.

Fortunately, the band didn’t waste any time figuring out how to use its new ace-in-the-hole vocalist. Songs like “Set Phasers to Stun” and the acoustic ballad “New American Classic” give Mascherino the most time to shine. Most impressive, however, is the engulfing “One-Eighty by Summer,” which brings the entire album to a heartbreaking climax.

Of course, “Where You Want To Be,” even with its roster changes and tricked-out songwriting, doesn’t stray far from the trademark Taking Back Sunday formula; but then again, maybe that’s the point. Now that he’s developed a time-tested musical style to call his own, Lazzara finally has a vehicle for acting out the strutting two-dimensional character he’s become.

— Aaron Ladage