There’s so much coming from all around, I can’t take it! You wouldn’t believe how full the drawer is here at the office. You wouldn’t believe how big the pile is next to my stereo that has yet to be touched! So, in the interest (or lack thereof) of job satisfaction (and the doubtable lack thereof), I’m packin’ ’em in this week (relatively speaking).

The keyboard/hairspray rock of the 80s didn’t die, it just reorganized. So now instead of ABC and early Duran Duran, we have these slick, dark, angry guys to reckon with. Great! One such band I actually liked was Machines of Loving Grace. Their latest release, Gilt, is a bit different from the previous release with fewer breaks in the song. This changes the band from a bunch of begrudged philosophers to an outfit resembling a glum, existentialist tank.

They still kept the reasoning that not every second has to be filled with vocals, so you have the time to experience the music. They definitely take more from the keyboard music than industrial. Because of this, they don’t sound much like Nine Inch Nails, which is a good thing. Sure, I like Trent Reznor et al, but how many angry boys do we need destroying electronic equipment because they feel like it?

If NIN is more of what you lean toward, then Nature may be a bit more to your liking. Yeah, they’re the normal four guys with faces chiseled from granite. Lyrically, there’s the same references to killing, crime, etc., and the usage of those S.A.T. words that people still don’t know.

From the get-go, the self-titled album had a great kitsch thing going with a remake of “You Only Live Twice.” It had absolutely nothing of the James Bond element left to it after these boys were finished. There’s also a treat for Quentin Tarantino fans with the song, “Mr. Blond” (sic), as they describe the man doing the hokey-pokey “as he turns the blade around” (That’s what it’s all about!).

It’s nothing new. It’s nothing different, except for the people who are doing it. For people like me, they include a William Vollman quote in the liner notes: “…so fear repetition not; there remain many seas of blood and cream to be traversed.” That may explain why Republicans want to “renew America.”

On a more poetic and less aggressive note, European band Long Fin Killie serves up a different dish with Houdini. Vocally, there is an eerily similarity to Shudder to Think’s Craig Wedren. Musically, the group draws heavily from the ethereal. It makes for a strange, surreal aura that repelled, confused and intrigued.

What does this album justice is the lyrics. It seems more like the writer (the band member responsible is not identified) wrote the lyrics first. This lends a strong literary sense to each song and they stand alone as isolated stories rather than song concepts. You seldom get food like that in music.

At first I didn’t like the album and dismissed it. Later on, I found that this is definitely an album that can make you think, chuckle and say, “Huh?” This album was brought to you by an educated, eccentric poltergeist, without a doubt.

Where excellence and eccentricity is concerned, few guitarists can surpass Leo Kottke. This Minnesota resident plays the twelve-string guitar and it sound like he has three or four hands at least. His Live album is nothing different than anything else he has put out. Where Kottke is concerned, this is the best thing.

When Kottke “sings” or talks, he’s dry, humorous and sleepy like an elated Eeyore. When he doesn’t sing or talk, his guitar does enough of it for him. Some of his songs are aptly titled and the music paints the picture. “Peg Leg” sounds like someone with a peg leg hopping around, dancing a jig or just ambling along. “I Yell at Traffic” seems to illustrate the different paces and densities of traffic as a frustrated pedestrian waits to cross.

As musicians go, the man is nothing short of spectacular. He doesn’t soak the listener in over-sensitive posturing and strained sincerity. He says nothing and makes it happen. He could probably win over someone who loathes acoustic music. Yes, the man is that good!