I CAN LICK ANY SONOFABITCH IN THE HOUSE
PUT HERE TO BLEED (IN HERE WE TRUST)

Having grown from a one-man project with a tediously attention-grabbing name to a fully functioning, supercharged country-rock band, I Can Lick Any Sonofabitch in the House make a convincing second entry into the canon of blue-collar social commentary with Put Here to Bleed. With a hoarse rasp that is dipped in equal parts Steve Earle redneck angst and Sammy Hagar braggadocio, Mike Damron is a colorful, if not terribly profound songwriter, better at stoking the fires of confrontation over hard-charging anthems than at writing truly memorable songs. Proving that not all good ol' boys tow the line of traditional southern values, everyone from the President to Charleton Heston is lined up and summarily flattened. Unfortunately, Damron is not yet in Earle's league as a songwriter, displaying little grasp of the subtlety or storytelling. Further, easy and obvious rhymes are drawn upon a little too willingly to belabor that point that Damron is, in fact, a small-town progressive with a hard-living pedigree. To that extent, songs like the galloping harmonica-driven sing-along "In the Mud" and the spitefully climatic guitar maelstrom of "Sixsixfive" are good for autobiographical anxiety, just as "The Ballad of Courtney Brown" is a clever critique of the rock industry as well as a pointed swipe at the lead singer of the Dandy Warhols. Like most punk-rock social protest, Damron's stance is more convincing at playing the role of angry everyman than of thoughtful troubadour, as proven by the messy love song "Gone As They Go" and the rousing sing-along "To Be Good" (although the latter ranks as one of the set's more durable tunes). All in all, an entertaining but less than inspiring album. (Matt Fink)

IDLEWILD
THE REMOTE PART (CAPITOL)

Rock is dead. Nobody cares about classic rock today, or so the story goes. Yet a recent surprising statistic reveals that classic rock substantially outsells hip-hop in the U.S., so what's the story, Morning Glory? The story is being told, in youthful part, by a quintet from Edinburgh that seems determined to carry an ever-flickering torch, shining a shimmering light on the graveyard of great UK bands. Though they've been around since 1995, let's introduce Idlewild again: a band for those who find Coldplay somewhat milquetoasty and glance quizzically at Radiohead for (wisely) jettisoning its attempt at becoming the next U2; a hard-rocking band, in the grand arena sense, whose full-throttle anthems with confessional lyrics are wrapped amidst surging guitars, swirling keyboards, and undying drum beats. Idlewild alternately swings the joint and then softens the jagged edges with heartfelt statements backed by piano. Sure, they take themselves too seriously but what's a poor boy like (lead singer) Roddy Woomble to do? He idolizes the usual suspects, from Bob Dylan to Gang of Four, and he and his bandmates obviously want to conquer America, though that seems a futile goal (obvious riches aside). So Idlewild holds its native roots tightly, even employing octogenarian poet Edwin Morgan to recite his "Scottish Fiction" as the album winds down with its majestic title track. The poem is fairly drowned out by guitars and drums, of course, but it's the thought that counts. After all Idlewild was originally a punk band. A surge of galloping electric guitars opens the album in overblown power-pop fashion with a rousingly unembarrasing cry of faith entitled "You Held the World in Your Arms." While this kind of heavily produced rock hasn't sold in America in ages, the song is a radio hit in the British Isles, catapulted by the twin guitars of Rod Jones and Allan Stewart. Better yet is the spunkier "A Modern Way of Letting Go." As if following a template, the band simmers the stew on a nod to Walt Whitman in "American English" with Woomble's heart-on-his-sleeve pleading being foremost among the low-key cut that cascades into a slow crescendo that never quite fades. "Sing a song about myself/Keep singing the song about myself/Not some invisible world," Woomble sings with all the earnestness he can muster. It's calculated and effective, and while the band stumbles somewhat after this trifecta, the ensuing cuts ramble along with plenty o' verve. Idlewild gets gloriously sloppy on "(I Am) What I Am Not," featuring playful drum pounding by Colin Newton, and the punkish "Stay The Same," which is less concerned with soul sharing than concocting wonderful splashes of noise. A mid-tempo cut like "Live In A Hiding Place," with its acoustic guitar fills, is neither here nor there, simply serving as a good lead-in to the rockier (if somewhat pedestrian) "Out Of Routine." But the whole of The Remote Part is far greater than its parts, so if the band doesn't fade away (the original bassist quit abruptly in late 2002, paving the way for newcomer Gavin Fox), then the next album could be an exponential step forward. (David Pyndus)

IMA ROBOT
Monument to the Masses
Virgin
Ima Robot plays a kitschier, trashier, and far more interesting version of the 80's retro new wave synth rock that bands like the Killers and Panic at the Disco! have been selling way too many records with. With an infectious, hyperactive energy and a sound that effectively mixes vintage synth squeals with edgy guitars and Alex Ebert's charismatic vocals, Monument to the Masses has a ton of commercial appeal and deserves an audience the size of the aforementioned bands. And even though the musical influences seem to come from late 70's East Coast new wave, it was hard not to think of Redd Kross when listening to this, because like those Orange Country glam punk visionaries, Ima Robot has an unbridled energy and lack of self-consciousness, which means that they never fail to sound like they are having a blast while they play. --Andy Smith

THE INNOCENTS
Pop Factory
Zip Records
The Innocents had some moments in the Australia's pop music sun during the late 70's and very early 80's. Originally, this Tasmanian bred band was known at Beathoven and built up a following by playing gigs at schools both ont heir home island and in Australia proper. Kim Fowley eventually hooked up with them and reportedly had a hand in the name change to the Innocents. The band recorded a Top Ten Australian single called "Sooner or Later" before disappearing back into obscurity. Recently reborn with most of the original band still intact, the Innocents' new Pop Factory release (on San Francisco-based Zip Records) is a throwback to the 70's/80's version of "power pop." With finely crafted, hook-filled songs with soaring multi-part vocal harmonies, the Innocents play a style of music that has timeless qualities. There is also an undeniably lightweight quality to the music, which makes sense when considering the band was writing to appeal to the mainstream of its time. In such jaded times as these, it means that this record will be a breath of fresh air to some (especially people who love 70's AM radio power pop), and more than a bit sappy to many others. Still, you have to admire both the band's passion and skill. --Andy Smith

THE INTERNATIONAL PLAYBOYS
Cobra Blood Hangover
Australian Cattle God Records
High energy and powerful anthemic rock mark the International Playboys latest effort, Cobra Blood Hangover. Another progeny of Austin-based Australian Cattle God Records, the Playboys peddle in no nonsense rock n’ roll marked by guitar wizardry ranging from blues squawk to metal complemented by punk rock vocal style. The high-octane delivery by Monty Carlo differentiates the band from generic rock fare on FM radio, along with streaming riffs and powerful basslines, making Cobra Blood Hangover best not heard during alcohol hangover mornings. Tracks like “Mysterioso Furioso” and “The Ballad of the International Playboys” capture the band’s riot-inducing vigor. The seven-plus minutes’ “Say She Don’t Mind,” with its shifts in ebb and flow, is arguably the best track on the record, while the band goes soft on the folky “The Give A Shitter Is Broken.” The International Playboys have attained cult like status in their home state of Montana, largely due to their incessant touring as well as a starring role in their short film, Ghouls Gone Wild! Recently, the band endeared fans further by winning Pabst Blue Ribbon’s “Montana Band of the Year” accolade.    --Adi Anand

IO
THE WILLOW SNAG (HOPE/HARD TRAVELIN')

Intelligent aggression. IO is a group of Pittsburgh college kids who have assembled a debut as blisteringly assertive as it is studied. Combining musical elements from hardcore punk (via Fugazi), Scandinavian death metal, and the radical British Crass/Flux of Pink Indians movement, with the harder edges of Slint and Big Black, IO is a potent force. While both their liner notes and website are stingy with details, they do reveal they are involved in student radio and that one of the members grew up near Byberry mental institution, near Philadelphia, and they are possibly vegan. While not overtly political, IO's songs are involved with personal politics in a big way, and in both "In Late Autumn Blue" and "Whatever You Hold Dear" there are references to what we are experiencing in the post 9/11 world with lines like "all the old reminders of innocence before this time are bored and tired sentiments, gone" from the former, and "I won't accept your ignorance just because it's wrapped in flags" from the latter. Life during wartime, and yet we've all gone back to normal, except for red, white, and blue disease, and IO--the first hints of dissension, of youth unafraid to question. Everything. Heady stuff, indeed. (d.n.l)

THE ISLEY BROTHERS
GREATEST HITS VOLUME 1 (EPIC/LEGACY)

Few pop franchises have the staying power of the Isley Brothers. From 1959's "Shout" to 2001's "Contagious," the Isleys have rarely been absent from the charts. Greatest Hits Volume 1 is a re-release of a 1984 collection padded out with five extra tracks. While only covering a small portion of the Isleys' career (1969 through 1985), the album's low list price makes it a good buy for casual fans unwilling to invest in a box set. Highlights include guitarist Ernie Isley's inimitable funk-rock workout on "That Lady" (actually a remake of an earlier Isley Brothers tune called "Who's That Lady") and the foreboding 1977 slow jam, "Footsteps in the Dark" (later the foundation for Ice Cube's "It Was a Good Day"). The R&B ballad "Don't Say Goodnight (It's Time for Love)" proves Ronald Isley's falsetto as effective an aphrodisiac as Barry White's baritone, while the proto-funk leanings of 1969's "It's Your Thing" make it one of the Isley's most enduring hits. Given its already-limited focus, the most glaring vacuum on Greatest Hits Volume 1 is the omission of 70s-era cover songs by the Isleys. Their version of "Love the One You're With" makes the original Stephen Stills rendition sound positively trite. However, you probably won't care much once you're deep in the six-minute celebratory groove of "Live It Up." Think of this as a taster and you won't be disappointed. (Greg Beets)

Dan Israel
time I get home (Eclectone)

With a voice on the raspy side of Peter Himmelman, Dan Israel continues to hone his songwriting chops on his first ‘solo’ release since 2000’s well-received Dan Who? Recorded in his basement in Minneapolis, Israel sings personal songs of hope and acceptance, buoyed by lively guitar picking (he also handles bass chores and piano). The songs are well served by restrained backing on drums and Hammond organ, though the keyboard really flourishes on what is ostensibly the title track, “You Know.” Even without his band the Cultivators along for this ride, he plugs in and rocks the joint on “All the Phonies” and “Somebody Better.” But mostly the album is a low-key humble affair with Israel creating fine acoustic songs and sharing them with friends and fans. On the closer “Windowsill” he sings of waiting for life to begin, but Israel sounds ahead of the game if he can maintain his balance. – David Pyndus

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