Creeper Lagoon's last two releases, 1998's I Become Small and Go and 2000's Watering Ghost Garden, hinted that the San Francisco quartet was intent on supplanting Pavement as champion of knotty indie idiosyncracy. Well, things have changed a little on their DreamWorks debut. Now it appears that Creeper are trying on the mantle of Seriously Big Rock Band, taking cues from the likes of Smashing Pumpkins, Radiohead and the Flaming Lips. You can't say they don't know what they're doing -- "Naked Days" and the seven-minute-plus "Keep From Moving," boast a Cinerama splendor -- but you also can't help wishing for more of a distinctive personality to go along with the slickness. Four producers were needed to finish this album, which kinda shows; the result sometimes sounds more like a compromise solution than a statement of purpose. That said, songs like "Sunfair" and "Hey Sister" are almost unfairly loaded with swoon-inducing pop hooks, the crafting of which, for most bands, would be purpose enough. (MAC RANDALL)

Red House Painters Old Ramon (Sub Pop)

Dispelling the belief that Mark Kozelek can only write songs about women who have scorned him, the sixth Red House Painters album opens with an upbeat tribute to his cat, titled "Wop-a-din-din." But the San Francisco band's introspective disciples need not worry. Aside from the odd lyrical twist here and clunky rock riff there, Old Ramon -- originally slated for release in 1998 -- fits quite easily alongside soul-stirring predecessors like Ocean Beach and Songs for a Blue Guitar. If anything, Kozelek has withdrawn further into his own world, decorating the songs with uneasy, intimate details. He ponders driving Sunset Boulevard with a vintage punk compilation in the tape deck ("Cruiser"); pays tribute to John Denver ("Golden"); and lulls himself to sleep with a electrifying tones that recall Neil Young at his most piercing ("Void"). It's difficult but staggering stuff. (AIDIN VAZIRI)

Paula Frazer Indoor Universe (Birdman)

Like the bittersweet tunes that invariably accompany the last dance, Paula Frazer's songs are imbued with sentimental romance and a nostalgic longing for the past. Indoor Universe is the first release to bear the singer's own name rather than that of her ever-revolving band of outsiders Tarnation -- but whatever the handle, her way with a song remains the same. Whether it's the piano-based pop of "Not So Bad, Not So Good," the spaghetti western score of "That You Know" or the horn-laced puppy dog bounce of "Everywhere," Frazer delivers the goods with the polish of a beauty school graduate. For the most part, her delivery recalls the seductive countrypolitan sneer of Patsy Cline dipped into the android-like indifference of Sixties' pop icons like Francoise Hardy -- but the organ-based "Stay As You Are" and "Mean Things" prove she can give up the funk when the need arises. (ROB O'CONNOR)

Trans-Global Underground Yes Boss Food Corner (Mondo Rhythmica/Ark 21)

This trippy, trancy musical collective borrows from just about every genre imaginable to create their mystical brew. Funky rhythms and fractured BPMs ricochet into folk harmonizing; soulful crooning and dreamy dance rock melt into droning Indian riffage. These are songs that ooze out of your speakers and wrap themselves around you, urging you to join in the dance (even the album's cover advises, "If you see a barrier, break it"). It's like having a portable discotheque at your disposal, single-mindedly designed to get you in the groove . . . proving, in the process, that tablas and harmonica can peacefully coexist. If you've got time to spare, the Trans-Global Underground is just waiting to take you away. Or you may prefer to heed the call of "Scorch": "Set the spirit free! Feel the heat!" (GILLIAN G. GAAR)

Unwound Leaves Turn Inside You (Kill Rock Stars)

Given all the egos and over indulgence in rock music lately, listening to an album as avowedly unassuming as Unwound's latest effort is like taking a walk in a peaceful park. The majority of the tunes on this, the band's long-awaited eighth studio album, are sly mixes of unencumbered rhythms, supple guitars and sheepish vocals that recall a pre-Murmur R.E.M. Yes, songs like "October All Over" and "Look a Ghost" demonstrate that Vern Rumsey and company can still kick out the art-punk jams Sonic Youth-style. But it's on the tunes where they get a little help from their friends -- like "Terminus," which boasts a playful string section -- that make this more than just another trip down indie rock lane. As a bonus, the album's seventy-odd minutes are spread over two discs, leaving room for a pair of music videos you won't see on TRL. (PAUL SEMEL)

The Silos Laser Beam Next Door (Checkered Past)

Singer-guitarist Walter Salas-Humara has a way of playing simple, fast-and-loud rock & roll while making it seem ominous and dramatic. It's a great illusion -- sort of Chuck Berry and the Cowboy Junkies at the same time -- especially on slow-building anthems like the opening "Satisfied" and the Spanish-language roar "One World." Salas-Humara, who has led the Silos in one lineup or another since the mid-Eighties, hasn't been a Next Big Thing since 1987, when Cuba topped rock critics' polls everywhere. But he continues to release a strong new album every few years, and even his goofiest trifles, like the closing "Wookey Do," retain the adrenaline of an all-night party. Lest you confuse his unaggressive warbling for that of lite-funk superstar Dave Matthews, consider this observation from "I Believe": "All the hippies smell like gasoline." (STEVE KNOPPER)

Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 Bob Dinners and Larry Noodles Present Tubby Turdner's Celebrity Avalanche (Communion)

These Bay Area surrealists have spent more than a decade messing with the synapses of anyone gutsy enough to get in the ring and stand up to their barrage of bluegrass-inflected No Wave cum bibliophile avant-pop. Despite the twisted title, the band's ninth album is markedly more conventional than the majority of its previous releases -- which, admittedly, is akin to saying "more politically conservative than Tom Morello." The chattering dialogue that once filled every nook and cranny of TFUL's sonic constructions is largely consigned to the lower floors, where bassist Anne Eickelberg and drummer Jay Paget tumble and tangle amid the shifting sands of tunes like the low-rider spazz-fest "El Cerrito" and the contorted "Holy Ghost." Funnily enough, they pull off the straightforward stuff with aplomb, imbuing "Another Clip" with top-down, can't-drive-fifty-five compulsion and adorning the deceptively jaunty "Boob Feeler" with bits and pieces purloined from Frank Black's closet. Shiny, happy and hackle-raising all at once, Celebrity Avalanche might seem like an art project at first blush, but burrow inside and you'll find yourself bathed in the same sort of giddy glow thrown off by a classic Dean Martin roast. (DAVID SPRAGUE)

Big Dumb Face Duke Lion Fights the Terror (Interscope)

Wes Borland is the odd man out in Limp Bizkit -- the freak who hangs with the jocks. He's also their secret weapon, a lateral thinker among mook-rock guitarists. And, as he never hesitates to mention, he's a gigantic fan of the Pennsylvania cult band Ween. Hence his solo project Big Dumb Face, whose debut album is practically a love letter to Ween. Unfortunately, Borland has picked up Ween's affectations (pitch-altered vocals with wacky accents, ultra-chintzy synthesized beats) without the songcraft that lets them embody the genres they mock. BDF's loud-and-fast moments are remarkably bloodless -- you'd think Borland, of all people, could devise better metal parodies. He works up a functional head of silliness a few times, notably on "Mighty Penis Laser" (pronounced to rhyme with tennis) and the wild-eyed Dada hymn "Kali Is the Sweethog." But this is strictly side-projectsville: an indulgence for a star whose strengths don't match what he likes to listen to. (DOUGLAS WOLK)

The Volebeats Mosquito Spiral (Third Gear/Rainbow Quartz)

Detroit Rock City is far more famous for the Stooges, Motown and automobiles than it is for alternative country. But for more than a decade, the sporadic-but-enjoyable output of the twangy Volebeats, has been one of its finest exports. Mosquito Spiral, the band's fourth full-length album, finds them returning to the rootsy pop of their previous work, following a brief detour into spaghetti western territory on their last release, Solitude. Heavy on reverb-drenched guitar jangle, twelve-string chime and soaring melodies, Mosquito Spiral displays the talents of the band's three songwriters -- Jordan Oakes, Matthew Smith (also of Outrageous Cherry) and Bob McCreedy (who has since left to pursue a solo career) -- in equal measure. Smith's compositions are tightly wound and diverse -- wistful on the minor-key chorus of "Not Here Not Gone," deeply countrified on "I Tried to Tell You" and a dead-on Beach Boys homage on "I Just Want Someone to Love (For the Summer)." Oakes' and McCreedy's songs, on the other hand, have the open feel and slack guitar picking of early R.E.M. or the Windbreakers. Still, the album is remarkably cohesive, considering its varied sources (not to mention McCreedy's imminent departure). Fans of the Volebeats' plaintive underground classics, like "Sky and the Ocean," will find a lot to like here. (MEREDITH OCHS)

Son of Sam Songs from the Earth (Nitro)

Billed, honestly enough, "former members of Samhain and Danzig," this ten-tune selection is more than just a semi-all star gathering of Goth heavyweights purveying a bit of the bonecrush. And while Glenn Danzig is nowhere in sight, his influence pervades this recording, the most Misfits-esque disc to roll down the pike in eons -- which is ironic, given that none of these gents actually served alongside Mr. "Twist of Cain" in that group. Speedy, only moderately gloomy and full of the "whoah-oh" choruses that Misfits freaks loved, Son of Sam rolls from number to number in a slicker fashion than the 'Fits ever did. Singer Davey Havok may have picked up more than his fair share of crooning Glenn-isms, but he doesn't hesitate to foray into upper-register howling like a good ol' late-Eighties hair farmer. Songs of note include "Of Power" (named in part to commemorate the assistance of former Circus of Power guitarist Ricky Mahler) and "Satiate", a tune good enough to have made the Misfits' Walk Among Us, had it been recorded twenty years ago! Sure, the market they're aiming for is small -- and rapidly aging -- but it is reassuring to know that old-fashioned comic-book horror rock can exist sans loops and samples up the wazoo. If that's your cup of gore, lap this up. (JOHNNY ANGEL)

Cash Brothers How Was Tomorrow? (Rounder)

Toronto natives Andrew and Peter Cash -- no relation to the Man in Black -- began writing and singing together a little more than a decade ago. Picking up where Andrew had left off on his brace of late-Eighties solo albums, the siblings have settled into a mellow, rootsy groove on this, their third album together. Marrying Peter's down-home songwriting with Andrew's penchant for punk rawness, the Brothers emerge with a style that's a little bit country, a little rock & roll and more than a little bit pop. Their songs stand solidly alongside those of Wilco and Whiskeytown, especially "Nebraska" (an homage to Bruce Springsteen's acoustic masterpiece), "Guitar Strings and Foolish Things" and "Nerve." The duo does go around the pop bend a bit on the Oasis-like "Dream Awake," but it's hard to believe this duo could ever duplicate the acrimony of those pugilistic Gallaghers. No, for the Cash Brothers, harmony rules. (MARIE ELSIE ST. LÉGER)

(April 17, 2001)