Twenty-two tracks in less than thirty-nine minutes kind of says it all. Rancid? How about Rabid? This foam-at-the-mouth outfit is at it again, hell-bent and hard-nosed, ripping through your speakers with their ska-splashed punk revival onslaught. Rancid (not to be confused with their self-titled 1993 debut album) feels as though it has one constant tempo: epileptic fit. The lyrics, meanwhile, range from dissident to incoherent to outright aggro ("You're a rattlesnake/And you're full of shit"). Here and there they display their melodic chops -- especially when they return to the Clash blueprint on "Radio Havana" -- but essentially we're talking one food group. This sameness undercuts the set's appeal a tad, but since it's "gone in thirty-nine minutes," that doesn't stop it from being one of best fuck-you albums of the year. (ADRIAN ZUPP)

Jo Dee Messina Burn (Curb)

For a Boston-bred Yankee, Jo Dee Messina has done well for herself in the world of country music: No. 1 country songs, platinum albums and a double armload of ACM and CMA nominations and awards. To her credit, she's done it all by merit of a big, powerhouse voice and not by bare-midriff, glamour girl posturing. She's got an ear for picking out a catchy song, too; Burn, her third album, may not be quite as immediately infectious as a Shania Twain collection, but she's got more hooks to play with in the first song ("Downtime") alone than Faith Hill had on her entire last album. Throw in lots of singalong-ready choruses full of you-go-girl platitudes like "dare to dream" and "burn for me baby," and Messina's got another half-dozen surefire hits ahead of her to look forward to. But if this is the sound of "new country," I've got some old Belinda Carlisle and Pat Benatar albums country radio program directors would kill for. (RICHARD SKANSE)

Morcheeba Fragments of Freedom (Sire/London)

"I'm through feeling deeply," sings Skye Edwards of Morcheeba coltishly as a disco pulse straight out of 1977 surges behind her. "Let's dive into the shallow end." And so it goes for the rest of Fragments of Freedom: After two gorgeously languid explorations of melancholic soul (1996's Who Can You Trust, 1998's Big Calm), the British trio jumps headfirst into rhythm-centered pop. Morcheeba emerge with a set of resolutely bubbly songs that link vintage funk to disco to hip-hop to slurpy blues. The refrains may be featherweight ("You and me were meant to be"), but the musical touches that surround "Love Is Rare" (particularly Ross Godfrey's arching slide-guitar leads) and the dream-cloud vocals of "World Looking In" are strong enough to carry even the tired clichTs -- rarely has the shallow end sounded so richly appointed. With Fragments of Freedom, Morcheeba have stopped emulating the trippy underworld of Stevie Wonder's Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants and stepped into the blazing daylight of Hotter Than July. (TOM MOON -- RS 846)

Dandy Warhols Thirteen Tales From Urban Bohemia (Capitol)

The tongue-in-cheek, bubblegum-tinged "Not If You Were the Last Junkie on Earth" almost made the Dandy Warhols venerable pop stars, but on its third album, the Portland band returns to its shambolic roots. Opening with an agile psychedelic sweep ("Godless," "Mohammed," "Nietzshe"), it doesn't take long before Thirteen Tales From Urban Bohemia shoots off in a mess of directions, skipping through everything from back-porch western ("Country Leaver"), to anesthetized soul ("Get Off"), to spiky Buzzcocks inspired new-wave ("Shakin'"). On the surface, it may sound like a band at a complete loss of direction, but it's merely business as usual for the Dandy Warhols, who bring it all together with such conviction and prickly humor that it becomes something quite wonderful. (AIDIN VAZIRI)

L.A. Guns Cocked and Re-Loaded (Cleopatra)

When the L.A. Guns released their eponymous debut album in 1988, it hinted at considerable promise. The band's second album, Cocked and Loaded, was a hit, but times have been spotty -- and the lineup ever-changing -- ever since. Now they've gone back to the past: The original cast has reassembled and re-recorded their 1989 sophomore outing -- which is kind of an interesting concept, albeit a little desperate. Still, the re-loaded version has all the kick a rocker could want. But why-oh-why the preposterous dance mix of "Rip and Tear" as a "bonus" track? It's genre cross-dressing at its very worst. Whether this album will re-establish the band in Y2K is highly doubtful, but it is still a strong chunk of hair-metal rock. Tracks like the oozy-sexy "Sleazy Come Easy Go," the one-time MTV staple "Never Enough," and the Top 40 hit "Ballad of Jayne" make it pretty clear why this disc went gold a decade ago. With its Motley Crue style and occasional self-defining moments, this "replay" version should still be rock candy for the eardrums of the latest generation of metal heads. (ZUPP)

The Frumpies Frumpies Forever (Kill Rock Stars)

The Frumpies are an alt-rock supergroup of sorts, featuring Bratmobile's Molly Neuman along with Tobi Vail, Kathi Wilcox and Billy Karren from Bikini Kill. This four-track release flies straight from the garage to your home, the title track in particular sporting gritty riffage that would do the Kinks proud. But there's also an air of melancholy wistfulness in Vail and Wilcox's vocals, with both "We Don't Wanna Go Home" and the title track looking back at more carefree days gone by ("Our friends were the world then"). Rounding out the set is the band's cover of the Rolling Stones' "Tell Me," recast as girl-group doo wop. (Another Stones reference crops up in the line "You're not waiting on a friend" in "Turn Off the Faucet.") It all adds up to an offering that's sweet, sad and straight to the point. (GILLIAN G. GAAR)

Various Artists Right in the Nuts: A Tribute to Aerosmith (Small Stone)

It's an idea so brilliant that could only be inspired by a bong hit: stoner rock bands paying tribute to a band of stoners who rocked. But while such ideas never sound as good when the smokeable oregano runs out, this album (and the idea behind it) manages to stay standing long after the bong is empty. Such Sabbath- and Mot÷rhead-loving bands as Scissorfight, Men of Porn and Puny Human do world-class jobs of making the classic 'Smith tunes "Lick and a Promise," "Lightning Strikes" and "Rock in a Hard Place (Cheshire Cat)" sound like originals, while the contributions from Nova Driver ("Seasons of Wither") and Fireball Ministry (Movin Out") will have you seeking out their albums. In fact, the only negative thing you could say about Nuts is that the bands Altamont and Honky need new singers. Or maybe they just need new bongs. (PAUL SEMEL)

Da Lata Songs From the Tin (Palm Pictures)

It's no secret that Brazilian music is a major fetish for dance producers worldwide, with everyone from Washington D.C.'s Thievery Corporation to Tokyo's Towa Tei mixing the shimmery rhythms and vibrant melodies into their own sound with variable results. British duo Patrick Forge and Christian Franck, however, take it a step further with Da Lata. They employ Brazilian vocalist Liliana Chachian and Portuguese percussionist Oli Albergaria Savill and set out to create what turns out to be not only one of the most faithful but satisfying homages to classic bossa nova and baio forms. Songs From the Tin is a grand album, built primarily around warm, organic instrumentation but kept current with a selection of samples and beats that only enhance the majesty and delirium. Da Lata will be the envy of their contemporaries for years to come. (VAZIRI)

Chris LeDoux Cowboy (Capitol)

With a regular-guy twang in his deep delivery and story-songs about "ridin' broncs into battle," hitmaker Chris LeDoux is one of the few country singers who can actually live up to the song title "I'm Country." A former rodeo cowboy who still lives on a ranch in Kaycee, Wyo., LeDoux has built a cult following just under the megastar radar of Shania Twain and Garth Brooks. Cowboy, a collection of re-recorded songs from the early part of his thirty-three-album career, is typically pleasant and folksy, whether he's reminiscing about driving his young family across the country in "Our First Year," pontificating about pop music's liberal-conservative fault line in "Hippies in Calgary" or speeding up the rock & roll in "Ten Seconds in the Saddle." It's always risky when veteran artists revisit earlier material -- inevitably, they can't recapture their youthful drive in the studio -- but LeDoux pulls it off with humor and a gentle spirit. (STEVE KNOPPER)

King Biscuit No Style (Astralwerks)

If this is what they call art rock, then King Biscuit certainly is the new standard to measure all others by. Taking a break from his duties as head honcho for Edinburgh's acclaimed Beta Band, Steve Mason steps out on his own for this gorgeous EP of lo-fi Beatlesy come-down tunes. It's much lonelier than anything the Beta's have ever done, set against a backdrop of drum-and-bass, melodic, sonic experimentation and simple balladry. It is as if Mason neatly compiled and wrapped up the best bits from the current state of British music. At times it's as quirky as Badly Drawn Boy, as desperate as Shack, as cerebral as Echoboy, as goofy as Gomez and as completely screwed up as DJ/producer David Holmes. New music for a new century. (JOLIE LASH)

The Embrooks Our New Day (Bomp/Voxx)

If there's going to be yet another mod revival in England, this British trio should certainly be in the vanguard. The Embrooks obviously worship at the feet of the U.K. hard mod pop bands whose wildness hinted slightly at psychedelia, but who favored concise songs driven by crunching power chords. Their slashing, slightly distorted guitars, energetic vocal harmonies and splashing drums can't help but recall the early Who, as well as more arcane acts from that era such as the Creation, the Birds (Ron Wood's first band) and the Eyes. Does it mean that they're as good as those old Who, or even Creation, records? No, it doesn't; it's too blatantly derivative for that. Still, of the many records that have tried to replicate 1966 rock; this is one of the few that actually sounds like it could have been an authentic 1966 recording. (RICHIE UNTERBERGER)

Ominous Seapods The Super Man Curse (Hydrophonics Records/Palm Pictures)

If Southern rock is the foundation of The Super Man Curse, the new offering from New York's Ominous Seapods, then funk and psychedelia are the support beams. For this laudable eleven-song affair, the quintet -- long a fixture on the jam/groove scene -- is steered by dual songwriters Dana Monteith and Todd Pasternack. The steamy, organ-mashed "Too Much Fire on the Brain" is awinner, blending Jayhawks' rootsy-sensibility with Allman's guitar style. Other notables include the uplifting feel of "Tornado Rain," the contagious "Good to Be Alive (For a Change)" and the melodic, alt-country vibe of "Imaginary Money." "Bong Hits and Porn," a fatuous riff-a-thon, should appeal to the 'Pods frat house audience, but the atypical "Thought About It," a jazzy, acoustic shuffle is the real money shot here. (JOHN D. LUERSSEN)

Various Artists Ain't That America: The Bluegrass Tribute to John Cougar Mellencamp (CMH)
Various Artists Pickin' On the Rolling Stones: A Tribute (CMH)

Country and bluegrass artists tuning up to other music for inspiration is understandable -- how many Stanley Brothers and Bill Monroe standards can they keep reprising? Then again . . . . Ain't That America, an instrumental bluegrass tribute to the artist formerly known as Cougar, is fair game: Mellencamp's post-Scarecrow catalog is ripe for the pickin'. "Paper andFire," with its prominent fiddle and the folksy "Small Town" are just fine, but "R.O.C.K. in the USA" is best left to the rockers (it's best left, period).

On the Stones tribute, the mandolin-fronted "Paint It Black" sounds like a bouzouki, giving the song a previously unrecognized "Zorba The Greek" quality; the incredibly fast five-string banjo picking recalls the frenetic ending of a traditional Greek dance. "As Tears Go By" is so dervish-like, it sounds like it's going to spin right out of the disc player! Yet, no complaints with the country-fried "Wild Horses," arranged as it was meant to be heard. A couple more along those lines wouldn't have hurt, like the Stones' finest down home moment, "Far Away Eyes," and just about anything from Exile. They could've bumped up the collection by a few notches on the hitchin' post. (DENISE SULLIVAN)

The Glands The Glands (Capricorn)

Much of the advance word about this lo-fi Athens, Ga., quartet suggested a sound akin to Guided By Voices. But unlike offerings from the most prominent of the lo-fi heroes, there are actually melodies to be enjoyed on this debut. Lots of 'em. If any comparisons need be drawn, the Glands, led by Athens artiste and musician Ross Shapiro, are more like an American entry in the well-crafted post-Beatle pop savvy vein of Teenage Fanclub. And like TF, the Glands don't really wear their individual influences on their sleeves, but rather give them a spin through the Kitchen-Aid mixer, resulting in their own tasty confections. The infectious "Swim" may well be the catchiest tune of this year with a perfect little piano vamp and Phishy harmony. At fifty minutes, the experimentation and sonic diversity get a little long in the tooth, but at its best, The Glands reminds me of why I used to enjoy indie rock -- before it was slayed by self-awareness. (ANDREW DANSBY)

Chicane Behind the Sun (C2)

You've got to hand it to Chicane, a.k.a. Nick Bracegirlde. He accomplished the near impossible -- making a Bryan Adams vocal sound cool. The result of a working friendship that developed when Canada's favorite son called upon him to remix Adam's "Cloud Number No. 9", Chicane's "Don't Give Up" is a soaring trance escapade. But the merits of the record aren't based on Adams' vocal alone. Instead, Behind the Sun relies on the back of its peaceful romp through some delicate electronica which includes the honeyed "Autumn Tactics," with tender vocals from Justine Suissa. Singling himself out as the breezy answer to Paul Van Dyk, Chicane churns out intelligent, digestible trance music that finds itself existing as easily inside the club world as it does the realm of pop. (LASH)

Bosson One In a Million (Capitol)

Sweden, it seems, serves as the creative core for just about every teen-pop star that matters at the moment, so it makes perfect sense to go directly to the source when looking for the next likely TRL competitor. Enter twenty-six year old Staffan Olsson, a one-man boy-band who trades under the name Bosson and turns out a set of faithfully uptempo songs, heavy on impenetrable harmonies and light on substance. Despite the singer's relatively wintry age, One in a Million is full of the willfully naive, emotionally hollow songs that have become the trademark of Fla.-based Mickey Mouse Club alumni. How does a grown man expect anyone to take him seriously if he goes around singing, "I dream I'm kissing you/But girl, your picture never kisses back"? (VAZIRI)

Swayzak Himawari (Medicine)

If you didn't know better, you might think Swayzak are either fronted by or named in honor of a certain dirty dancer. But that association quickly dissipates when you listen to the this, the second album from this British duo, who create the kind of odd-keyboard textured, poundingly rhythmic future funk you always hear in cyberpunk sci-fi movies when the hero walks through a club, looking for the woman he'll eventually fall in love with. The best moments come during the tunes "Japan Air" and "Doobie," on which they replace the keyboard beats for electro pulses that sound like they've simply sped up the pace of a chill out tune. It's these kinds of tunes that dominate, but don't overwhelm, this album, which also includes more aggressive future funk tunes ("Pineapple Spongecake") and true chill breaks ("Illegal"). (SEMEL)

Various Artists A Different Prelude: A Contemporary Collection (Decca/Universal Classics)

The second in a series, A Different Prelude features new interpretations of classical-music favorites by various New Age and smooth jazz stars. Mozart was the first target; this time, preludes of such beloved composers as Chopin, Gershwin and Rachmaninoff get the treatment. Trumpeter Chris Botti constructs a surprisingly effective smoky, film-noir setting for Gershwin's "Prelude No. 2," guitarist Steve Erquiaga's solo performance of Rachmaninoff's complex "Prelude in C# minor" is impressively complex, and pianist Tim Story is appropriately reverent in his performance of Erik Satie's "Heroic Gate of Heaven." But unlike Aria and Aria II, collections that gave opera a disco treatment well suited to the diva milieu, A Different Prelude seems more indulgence than bold exploration, and tribute gives way to cloying sentiment. Former Missing Persons bassist Patrick O'Hearn adds a witless worldbeat flavor to Bach's "Cello Suite No. 1"; producer Dawn Atkinson gives Chopin's "Prelude No. 20 in C minor" an angelic vocal treatment that belittles the nineteenth century pianist's genius. Not even Wagner deserves the saccharine reading "Tristan and Isolde" gets from duo ValGardena. (MARIE ELSIE ST. L+GER)

Miles Davis On the Corner (Columbia Legacy)
Miles Davis Get Up With It (Columbia Legacy)
Miles Davis Big Fun (Columbia Legacy)

It would be real easy to blame Miles Davis for the likes of such wishy-washy jazz fusion types as Kenny G or Dave Koz. After all, that crap can all be traced back to the days when Miles, bored with acoustic instruments, mixed his blues-based jazz with the funk-rock of Santana, Jimi Hendrix and Sly and the Family Stone. But while those who followed missed the point and ruined things for the rest of us, the original inspiration remains some of the most interesting music of the trumpet's career. Of these three albums -- all of which have been digitally remastered, with Big Fun having the added plus of two bonus tracks -- On the Corner is decidedly the funkiest, employing Latin rhythms and Hendrix-like guitars for a sound akin to Miles joining Santana onstage at the Fillmore. Just as impressive, the double-disc sets Fun and Get Up present a mellower Miles not unlike the spacey epics of Pangaea or Dark Magus. (SEMEL)

(August 1, 2000)