There is something odd about McLeod's voice. It's the first thing you notice. By this I mean he's obviously not the average slacker wailing away with an American accent. And, sure enough, his press kit shows that though he was born in Detroit, he moved to Florida, then Germany, then Switzerland. It is that subtle inflection that I refer to, the approach to the words, though English, which is colored just a tad by his global movement. Accents aside, I find McLeod's style much in the mold of Leonard Cohen's (though not as deep or bombastic). That is, he's unafraid to pen political songs, or to go further than the typical teen romance woes of the punk kids. On the title track, for example, he sings, "We kill and die on foreign soil, for rich men fighting over oil." Sure, it's a bit blunt, and perhaps he could have been more creative, but he gets the point immediately across. Ditto for "Talk To Me," which again addresses the current war – and McLeod dedicates the song to George W. Bush. At times, McLeod's vocals, which are spoken more than sung, get a bit tedious, and the music has more of a Euro-rock sound than something out of his birthplace. And he does have a soft side, as on "Hold On," a tender love song. www.cdbaby.com/cd/gregmcleod

It's not until the third track on this disc that Jazz Farm starts to sound jazzy. And it's not jazz in the traditional sense (in case you're thinking standards, a smoky room, a saxophone), but jazz in the sense of improvisation. And what's jazz without improv? Yet given this, the disc definitely leans toward rock (and quite heavily at that), or I guess you could say a rock record that leans toward jazz (albeit lightly). You could call it fusion, and there are elements, as on "Chickens and Bitches," which harken back to fusion's heyday in the late '70s. But also at work here is a sense of humor, evident from the artwork, and from his website, www.scottfarr.com. The humor takes the material away from the more scholarly, technically able and musically trained approach that fusion often sports. This isn't to say Farr can't play – he can. And can rip like a chainsaw if needed, on a Les Paul no less. It's just you get the feeling the guy is a normal, goofy guy, who can play like crazy, and does, without an ego or feeling competitive with other musicians. And for a jazz disc, the songs are surprisingly short and sweet – no extended solos, no endless choruses, everything tightly packed, waiting to fire. A very interesting disc.

On this disc, the award-winning singer songwriter has assembled a baker's dozen of tunes which fall in the country-western arena. Unlike the music by the current cast of stars in the country field, Swinarski's music leans more toward the old days, swinging along the lines of Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys. A number like "Instructions," for starters, has humorous lyrics, and a good swinging feel. On the title track, though, he leans more toward Jimmy Buffet in style and substance. The end result is a disc that, while not innocuous, is easy on the ears, and unthreatening. Swinarski may be a cowboy, or have leanings in that direction, but he's not the fist-swinging bar-fight type, he's the clean-cut one who tips his hat to the school marm. And while some of the tunes get a bit too syrupy for my tastes, when he does swing, as on "It Ain't a Party," you can't help but shake along. On "Learning to Love," a song penned by Swinarski, he paints a picture of the pitfalls of learning what love is all about for a young girl. And it's a real purdy song as they say. At this moment in time, however, I need the up-tempo stuff. I need to swing. But that's my problem. You can check out Swinarski at www.upcellar.com.

Lisa Dames seems to have made a name for herself down south portraying Patsy Cline (no mean feat in itself). Heck, she was one of the few singers sanctioned by Cline's estate to perform as Cline (who knew that went on anyway?). Needless to say, going by paper alone, she should have some sweet pipes, and on the disc, you'll find that, yes, she can sing all right. Unfortunately, the disc's production and song selection work against her, and what should have been a showcase is, to my ears, a bit harsh in spots. Dames opens with "Viva Las Vegas," a tune which should be a rowdy brawl in musicland. But Dames and crew turn it into a rather pedestrian number, lacking fire. On "Getting Closer," there is so much reverb on everything that you feel as if you're floating in a sonic pool. It also interferes with listening to Dames' voice – hard to concentrate on her singing when everything is echoing and awash. She closes the six-song EP with "Shake, Rattle and Roll," once again giving it a sanitizing treatment. You can hear the potential in her voice. That is, you know she can growl, purr, etc., but it's either hard to hear or not there. And that's a shame, because I think she deserves better. Listen for yourself at www.lisadames.com.

Ferrara offers up a highly polished disc of hook-filled pop songs that are just aggressive enough to raise your hackles a bit, and yet not harsh enough to upset your parents. The polishing here is more a reference to well crafted, because despite the excellent production, my guess is that Ferrara has a good idea of how the songs should sound before going into the studio. Sure, her press touts that she recorded "Christmas Time (Is Near) at the tender age of 5, and had a band in the studio by the time she was 18. But perhaps more telling are credentials such as her coordinating of the New Jersey Songwriters in the Round, and being a member of ASCAP, the National Academy of Popular Music, and a voting member of the Recording Academy. Sure, there are slackers out there who just sign up for anything for the benefit of their resumes, but given the quality of the songs on this disc, it's fair to say that Ferrara is no glory hound, but rather a gifted singer/songwriter. In fact, as you listen, there's a sense that you're getting overloaded from the denseness of the material. Not to say the songs are heavy, but they are put together so well, mistakes don't happen, there are no glitches, and each song is like a punch to the head, in a good way of course. Check out www.debferrara.com for more information and music.

There is not much in the way of information on the liner. A visit to the website finds much of the same. The press does list the members of the band, but still, there's a sense of anonymity hanging about me. Perhaps a conspiracy. Yeah, that's it, these guys don't want anyone to know anything. I am fine with that. You should be too. For what emerges from the speakers as the disc plays is nothing short of aural ambrosia. The first time I listened, it was as if I had been familiar with the music for some time, as if I had known these songs. And it's that immediate accessibility that is the most interesting aspect of the band. When you listen, and you will listen, the music envelopes you, you run movies in your head, you reflect, things happen. The strings are lush and beautiful, the guitar work likewise; the songs ebb and flow as one big unit as well as individually. My guess is you won't hear this on the radio, unless some college DJ dials it in, and you won't hear it on any mainstream station. But that's okay, since I think this is best listened to in its totality on a home system. Much in the way that Radiohead's "OK Computer" was an ethereal sort of mood-inducing disc, BUH's "Fake" digs deep into your soul. The surreal beauty of the tracks here easily place this disc as best of the year. www.blowuphollywood.com

Another trip in the wayback machine. About a year ago, CI released "Original Sin," and it was refreshing back then to hear their music against the recent stuff. Now they have put out another disc, 13 tunes which maintain the new-wave feel yet manage to sound current. Suffice it to say that CI is solidly entrenched in the British new-wave sound, a sound at once identifiable, as in, "man, these guys gotta be English." And perhaps that comes from employing more synthesizers than guitars, or what sounds like more programming than playing. Whatever the case, you know where they're from when you hear it. While the opener, "Strawberries" has a happy-go-lucky feel to it, the following track, "Escape," has a dark, almost industrial vibe to it. And as the song plays on, it sounds almost like a slow motion version of Madonna's "Like a Virgin." Overall, you get a wondrous stylish romp through various musical fields set over a backdrop of new wave, and that's not a bad thing at all. Check out the groovy website at www.cowboysinternational.com.

Muller used to have life easy, well, relatively, working at Morgan Stanley, making good money, until the music bug sunk its jaws into him. Bye-bye suits, hello subway gigs. Or something like that. And on this disc he demonstrates a deft touch on the piano keys, and some decent songwriting as well. Oh sure, when "Iceberg" started playing, I thought he was doing a cover of "Desperado," but for the most part the songs are, well, nice. This isn't head-banging music, rather, more laid-back piano lounge than a mosh-pit affair, and lyrically there's nothing deeply political, no funeral dirges. Well, some of the music is somber, such as "The Ghost or the Fear," but a number like "Firefly," a blues number, is surprisingly upbeat (no "woke up this morning" intro). The only knock I would raise is Muller's voice, which is on the high side, and not forceful. Think more along the lines of early Cat Stevens than, say, Bruce Springsteen. He also has a tendency to waver a bit on notes (or my CD player is screwed up), giving the impression that he is searching for the note instead of employing vibrato. Now, if you can get by the vocals, and you like rock on the lighter side, then "More Than This" should find its way into your collection. www.petemuller.com

Reading the inspiration for this disc reveals Mark's fondness for the Beatles, and throughout the songs you can hear the influence, or the guidance, as it were, of that band. While you can't paint the songs as mere knockoffs of the fab four, you can see how Mark has taken what he has come to know and melded it with his own creative juices. The result is a wonderfully melodic disc, with tunes that at times are dark and foreboding. Melancholy but not necessarily depressing, all built with intelligent and insightful lyrics. Mark's voice is often double-tracked, and is similar in timbre to John Lennon's – not to say he's got a nasal whine, but, well, give him a listen and you'll see what I mean. Mark doesn't have problems generating a hook either, and given the intricacy of his song construction, eschewing the basic 1-4-5 for something more ambitious, the songs here represent quite an achievement. The song "Beer and Nyquil" literally jumps out of the speakers, sounding a bit different than its predecessors, with a guitar intro that gives away to a fuzzy bass, and a loose, disjointed feeling. On the closer, "Messiah Complex," though the lyrics read a bit like Jim Carroll's "People Who Died," the music has a hallucinogenic feel, a real '60s kaleidoscope. Superb effort. www.stevenmarkmusic.com

Blues rock from Italy may not sound as plausible as, say, pizza or linguine, but after listening to Lauroja's disc, I have to say I am pleasantly surprised. It is always interesting to see rock and roll from a foreign perspective, and when it's good stuff, so much the better. Lauroja plays a mean guitar, and his style, essentially blues rock, but with elements of classic rock and a dose of Brit glam, comes across as fresh as a pie out of the oven. You can hear the influences, like Stevie Ray Vaughn, Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, Billy Gibbons, but they're not overt, and you won't be sitting there listening to the disc and saying, "oy, another guy who thinks he is Stevie Ray Vaughn." Part of it has to do with the songs – not the tired, depressing blues rock that fat white guys love to mope over and drink beer to while pretending they have a life, but rather engaging, up-tempo stuff that makes you want to get up and dance. Though Lauroja has been playing guitar since he was a kid, and performing with bands all along, this is the first time he has stepped forward to be the frontman, belting out the vocals. Oh, and he made the switch at 40. Call it a mid-life crisis if you want, but the change seems to have done him good. www.mauriziolauroja.com

If this band had been signed to some big label, chances are they'd sound a lot like everything else out there now, the lovesick pining vocals, crunching guitars that have impeccable timing, drums and bass that throb. But they didn't get signed to a big label, as far as I know, and so this is a rough, jagged jaunt through indie-rock territory. Yeah, it's raw, and sounds downright sloppy in some places, and there are times when you think of some geeky high-school band just getting a feel for their instruments. To overcompensate, perhaps, this band has tons of energy, and it's that reckless enthusiasm that propels each song, a kind of blind urgency you only get with teenage testosterone. There's a lot going on in the songs, guitar work that relies on light chords as well as distorted, slashing chords, vocals that weave with a certain abandon, rhythms that shift and collide. By the end, you're exhausted, although I'm sure the band is a bit more tired. The disc does show, however, that there is life outside of ProTools, in which rawness and energy surpass polish and false emotions – and that creativity in music is a deep pool indeed. www.thisisexploding.com

The duo of Graham Hartke (vocals, guitars) and Joe DeAngelus (drums) makes up the band, another in a series of duo outfits. Their offering here has a distinct, NYC garage-band sound, a straight-ahead, no-frills rock that appeals on a gut level. Often the vocals clip, or sound as if they are being recorded through a harmonica mic – they're not shouted or screamed so much as there is a fuzzy edge to them. As for influences and sounds, there is a funky, rhythmic tone to many of the songs, but at the heart of it all is blues rock. Old-timers might make comparisons to Led Zeppelin, or Richie Blackmore's bands, even Ronnie Montrose – bands that came and went long before this recording. The boys even include a 37-second acoustic foray called "Secret Tambourine Explosion #3," which could easily have resided on an early Led Zeppelin album. Tall Days are successful in generating a sound that used to be the norm for heavy rock and roll, a sound that today has been relegated to classic-rock stations overplaying the same cuts again and again. Perhaps, in rebelling against the sounds they heard on radio, the band sought a harsher, louder, angrier response, much the way Page, Plant, Bonham, and Jones did. Rock on, I say, and keep up the good work. www.talldays.com

Dang it all, figures the last review I do, I have trouble with the website (www.thegallerycircle.com). The good news, however, is that Marcel, whose music is inspired by Prince and MeShell N'degeocello is the funky antidote you need from all that horrid junk you may have been ingesting lately. You know it, come on, admit it. There's just too much top 40, nostalgic hits, glamour girls singing, the whole nine yards, for the world at large. And while his production and or arranging may not be as intense or involved as Prince's music, there is nonetheless an ample dose of funk, something that is in short supply lately. The title track is perhaps the most infectious, moving quickly out of the gate, and getting your funky feet to the floor. Yeah, maybe his vocals sound like Prince, and if he says his music is inspired by Prince, should we be surprised? Nah, I say, just get the groove on. And, overall, though there are more songs on the slower, romantic side, there is enough funk here to tide you over until his next disc comes out.