What the hell happened to The Ataris? They started out as an emotional pop-punk band. Albums such as 2000ā€™s End Is Forever were full of energy and found frontman Kris Roe writing a lot of songs about relationships and how his went wrong. The lyrics were sentimental and easy to relate to: I saw myself in every song (yeah, I was an emo kid). Their last album (2003ā€™s So Long, Astoria) was in a similar vein, although it failed to resonate with me as much. Now, four years later, they finally deliver the follow-up, and everything has changed. Aside from Roe, only guitarist John Collura (himself a relatively recent addition) remains from the Astoria lineup. But Roe hasnā€™t simply replaced the rhythm section: heā€™s also added three more members ā€“ including a pianist and full-time cellist ā€“ bringing the total to a mammoth seven. Not surprisingly, the bandā€™s sound has also changed dramatically (after all, you donā€™t need a septet to play straightforward pop-punk). Their new sound is more influenced by British shoe-gazing indie rock than The Descendents ā€“ even Roeā€™s voice is all but unrecognisable. The first time I listened to the album, I had to check no less than three times that Iā€™d actually put the right disc in my CD player.

Not Capable Of Love begins the album on the right note, with a fuzzed out riff, driving drums and a memorable chorus. The passionate New Yearā€™s Day is also catchy, although not as much as the pop hooks of The Cheyenne Line. The prowling bass and hand claps of Connections Are More Dangerous Than Lies make it another winner, but these moments are the exception on the album. More often, the expanded lineup leads to impenetrably dense and morose dirges, as on the almost painfully slow Secret Handshakes or the boring And We All Become Like Smoke. When All Else Fails, It Fails begins with a bit more space but descends into the same wall of noise approach. This shoe-gazing works best on A Soundtrack For This Rainy Morning thanks to its delicate melody. On the other hand, even a lighter approach proves tedious on From The Last, Last Call.

Changes in direction arenā€™t inherently bad, but neither do they automatically indicate musical maturity. Kudos to The Ataris for trying something different, but Welcome The Night doesnā€™t really succeed ā€“ and wouldnā€™t even if divorced from the bandā€™s past.

Owen Heitmann

Alternative rock band Classic Case combine aggressive guitar with melodic passages, dramatic soaring vocals, and occasional flourishes of keyboard, but unfortunately one element missing from their mix is strong songwriting. Devilā€™s Advocate is the most obvious example on this sophomore album of the contrast between restraint and sudden aggression, but even at this extreme the band suffers from a sense of blandness that makes their music too easy to overlook.

The vaguely political Scott Freeā€™s refrain, ā€?Distract everyone and they wonā€™t get to the bottom of thisā€¯, does stick in the mind to some degree, but the post-hardcore Unsteady and shimmering Into A Nightmare are eminently forgettable.

The stripped down title track is almost jazzy and almost background music, and the understated noodling that makes up the bulk of Stalemate (Falling In Love) likewise sees the band falter without big guitars to support them. However, even Vampires, which marries strong riffing with spooky atmospherics that recall Matchbook Romanceā€™s Monsters, proves not to be as interesting as that description suggests.

Characterised by acoustic guitar, and strings arranged by producer Page Hamilton, Living In A Dream is almost a clichĆ©, but itā€™s actually one of the tracks on the album that succeeds most, thanks to being more fully realised than the likes of the abruptly ending Fatal Phrase.

There are a few adequate moments, as outlined above, but the albumā€™s strongest cut is the last track, All Of Us Are In Danger, thanks to its unusual lyrics, explosive riffs and dynamic arrangement. However, itā€™s just not good enough to be worth persevering through the rest of the album for.

Owen Heitmann

Emo-inclined melodic rock quintet Anberlinā€™s third full-length is far from a concept album, yet there remains a strong theme running through the songs, defined by singer Stephen Christian as ā€?man against selfā€¯.

The instrumental soundscape of (Debut) sets the ambitious tone for the album, followed by the pummelling opening of Godspeed. Shards of guitar by Joseph Milligan and Nate Strayer then propel that song forward into a memorable chorus, one of many on the album. Adelaide is lighter and more melodic but has another big hook that makes it easy to sing along to.

If itā€™s rock songs youā€™re after, try the crashing half-tempo choruses of the moody Alexithymia, the resounding drums and gritty distorted guitars of A Whisper & A Clamor, the aggressive and sinister Reclusion or the thunderous Dismantle.Repair. The forcefulness of the instruments is in contrast to (and yet complemented by) Christianā€™s soaring and sensitive vocals ā€“ even his occasional scream sounds smooth.

In case the cultivated vocal delivery isnā€™t enough relief from the more intense songs, the album also offers respite in the form of the predominantly acoustic The Unwinding Cable Car and the angelic sounds of Inevitable, which mixes violin and acoustic guitar, as well as a percussive rhythm from a circle of floor toms towards the end.

The song cycle concludes with the nearly nine minute (*Fin), which sprawls from an acoustic beginning into a breathtaking display from the full band before adding a childrenā€™s choir, then ending with a slower coda.

After such a finale, the Special Editionā€™s three bonus songs (including covers of There Is A Light That Never Goes Out by 80s icons The Smiths and The Promise by 80s duds When In Rome) work against the cohesion of the album but are nonetheless valuable. A bonus DVD documenting the making of Cities is also worth watching, unlike many bonus DVDs.

Owen Heitmann

Smoke Or Fire play a brand of hard-edged yet melodic punk that draws comparisons at times with labelmates Strike Anywhere, but by and large they escape the trap of sounding like just another cookie-cutter Fat Wreck clone band.

The Patty Hearst Syndrome is the albumā€™s first single, and justifiably so, as the poppy lead guitar lines by Jeremy Cochran render it compulsive listening. However, thereā€™s more variety on offer here than that, as shown by the mid-tempo Irish Handcuffs, the jittery opening of which leads into a savage confessional portrait of alcohol addiction. Thankfully the mood is then brought back up by Little Bohemia, a fast-paced catchy number that pays tribute to summer nights spent hanging out playing pool and listening to the jukebox. But even here thereā€™s room for introspection, questioning the inertia of such a lifestyle: ā€?I could sit in this spot all day, and see nothing around me changeā€¯.

There are a few songs born of life on the road, most notably Cars, although similar sentiments inform the melody-drenched Iā€™ll Be Gone and the jagged Breadwinner. But thereā€™s plenty of songs listeners who arenā€™t sick of touring with a band can relate to, from the left-wing political statements on addictive opener What Separates Us All to another song about television in the form of Life Imitating Art.

Shine features a lengthy instrumental introduction that goes through both passive and aggressive passages before Joe McMahon starts singing and delivers a strident polemic about class, whereas the title track tumbles over itself with its thunderous opening, and just about every song offers a chorus wielding a very big hook.

This Sinking Ship is an uncomplicated but forceful album that demands your attention with musical muscle and lyrical intelligence.

Owen Heitmann

Melbourne three-piece Blacklevel Embassyā€™s debut full-length is a challenging combination of dense, angular, noisy art-punk and lashings of power-chord driven rock thatā€™s difficult to parse at first ā€“ hell, even deciphering the order of the songs from the confusingly laid out track listing is a challenge!

Despite the quick pace of tracks such as Setup and the blistering Dallas F.B.I., the band donā€™t rely on breakneck tempos for their power, being equally content to slowly grind your face off with precision riffs on Woman, Here Is Your Son, or just lull you into a false sense of complacency with the muted Pa:ri:ah.

The eight-minute-plus Settle Down John begins as a whisper and builds to intense rock of Black Sabbath proportions; other tracks like opener Their Own Stars are equally forceful but usually far more concise.

Over its ten tracks, Baroc runs through a lot of extremes, confounds expectations and deliberately alienates listeners seeking a straightforward, undemanding listen ā€“ and thatā€™s half its charm. For the last word, donā€™t take the atypically accessible and refined final song Closing Comment at face value: just look to the title of the pained, ominous fifth track: So, We May Very Well Have Built This City On Rock nā€™ Roll But Now Itā€™s Turning Around To Bite You On The Ass. Damn right.

Owen Heitmann

After Bayside lost their drummer John ā€?Beatzā€¯ Holohan in a 2005 road accident that also left bassist Nick Ghanbarian with a broken back, guitarists Anthony Raneri (also the lead vocalist) and Jack Oā€™Shea indicated that the band would carry on as a going concern by recording and releasing the Acoustic studio-EP-and-live-DVD set (including the song Winter, a tribute to Holohanā€™s memory). The Walking Wounded is the next step, with a recovered Ghanbarian returned to the fold and dynamite new drummer Chris Guglielmo completing the lineup for a full-blown new album.

Despite the tragedy the band has gone through (and the album title), The Walking Wounded is not the miserable affair one might reasonably expect. Of course, the band have always been purveyors of gloomy, sombre rock in the vein of Alkaline Trio, and Raneriā€™s voice is still generally mournful, but this set of songs is surprisingly optimistic. Not all the time: Theyā€™re NOT Horses, Theyā€™re Unicorns alone demonstrates that the band can still do loveless and forsaken, but the likes of I And I (ā€?I and I, weā€™re taking control of our lives / Everythingā€™s alrightā€¯), uplifting Weezer-like Landing Feet First and the almost chirpy single Duality give the album a positive feel overall.

Although maybe not what was expected, existing fans could not fail to be pleased with this offering, and songs such as the muscular title track ā€“ which boasts an invigorating riff, killer solo and guest vocals from I Am The Avalancheā€™s Vinny Caruana (as well as an odd but welcome detour which briefly sees the song become a tuba-embellished waltz) ā€“ and Choice Hops And Bottled Self Esteem all but guarantee that this album will win the group scores of new followers.

Owen Heitmann

Released a few months prior to Lies For The Liars, The Usedā€™s third studio album, Berth proves ā€“ if nothing else ā€“ that the emo-rock outfit are good at creating plenty of product from relatively sparse musical output. This is their second CD/DVD stopgap release (together with 2003ā€™s rarities collection Maybe Memories) after only two proper albums, which is a ratio few bands would dare aspire to.

The CD alone certainly doesnā€™t make for a worthwhile purchase, featuring a mere nine live tracks (the majority drawn from second album In Love And Death) that, while energetic, are for the most part very close replications of the studio recordings (with the exception of the uncredited interpolation of Refusedā€™s New Noise into final encore Maybe Memories), to the extent of including the strings and samples of some songs via DAT tape. The fade ins/outs between several tracks also ruin the feel of a live concert.

The DVD, on the other hand, is a strong selling point. Divided into three sections, it begins with Berth, a documentary looking at the band on tour and in the studio which reveals frontman Bert McCracken to be less an emo tragic and more like a long-haired and skinny Jack Black, and bandmates Quinn Allman and Jeph Howard to be equally boisterous. Itā€™s more compelling than many such docos available on DVD without extras. But this one also comes with the bandā€™s complete live Vancouver concert of September 25, 2005, filed under Rock. This is the same gig documented on the audio CD, and it becomes clear that the fades were made to remove stage banter and pauses between songs, which is understandable, although Iā€™d prefer less obvious edits. Two songs from the set (and the intro featuring Street Drum Corps) also failed to make it to the CD. And like Berth, Rock fails to credit former drummer Branden Steineckert, who departed in 2006.
Finally, Junk contains three music videos and a patchy Q&A session that suits the section title.

One for hardcore fans, but the 2Ā½ hour DVD ensures theyā€™ll get their moneyā€™s worth.

Owen Heitmann