Adelaide-based melodic rock outfit In Fictionā€™s second EP begins with a killer crunchy riff courtesy of When The Cameraā€™s Off that makes for a very memorable opening; as the song progresses, the more melody-driven side of the band is revealed as well. In particular, singer Brad Gilbertsonā€™s smooth vocals ensure that In Fictionā€™s sound has maximum appeal.

In comparison, the title track is faster-paced but less muscular, although it still has its punchy moments, while If Youā€™re Up Late begins a bit more meditatively before hitting an expansive, yearning chorus thatā€™s sure to stick in your head.

The five-piece then rock out again arrestingly with Silhouette before fifth and final track Awake Without You acts as a chance for the band to stretch themselves and show the diversity that theyā€™re capable of. Itā€™s almost predictable for bands to do this with the last track, but the song still impresses: itā€™s a shimmering ballad that builds and broods for seven minutes (including the false ending), emphasising the range of this band and lowering you gently back down to earth.

Owen Heitmann

In 2005, under the moniker City And Colour, Dallas Green (guitarist/co-vocalist for post-hardcore unit Alexisonfire) released his debut solo album Sometimes, showcasing his softer side. The album had two really good cuts ā€“ Save Your Scissors and Cominā€™ Home ā€“ and eight others best described as Dashboard Confessional-lite.

The release Live captures a complete City And Colour set from March 2006. In acknowledgement of Greenā€™s strongest material, the CD also includes bonus alternate versions of the two above-mentioned tracks recorded in June that year.
Given that thereā€™s not a lot of difference between City And Colour in the studio and performing live (both are basically just Dallas Greenā€™s voice and his guitar, although his cousin Nick Osczypko does join him on keys on a few songs, and snare drum on Save Your Scissors) and that Green only has one album of material to draw on, I guess the biggest selling point for this release is the inclusion of three previously unreleased songs: short set opener Forgive Me, tortured Confessions (the strongest new cut) and Sensible Heart ā€“ plus a piano-based cover of Alexisonfireā€™s Happiness By The Kilowatt.

Thereā€™s also an accompanying DVD of video footage of the same gig notable primarily for the between song banter (and guitar tuning) excised from the audio CD, and for the ability to see Dallasā€™ expressive eyebrows. The DVD bonus features are a few tracks filmed at Malkin Bowl on an unspecified date that are more creatively shot but have quieter vocals, bootleg-quality footage of Dallas joining Ron Sexsmith and his band at Halifax Club for Sexsmithā€™s song Wastinā€™ Time, and a weird segment involving Green wandering through a shopping centre while playing guitar solos through a portable amp.

Owen Heitmann

Formed by twins Nathan (vocals) and Matthew (bass) Leone together with Mateo Camargo (guitar) and Dan Torelli (drums), Chicago quartet Madina Lake play pop-punk, although itā€™s pop-punk with a heavy enough edge to be released on Roadrunner Records and praised by Kerrang magazine. The untitled atmospheric instrumental that kicks off this debut is a bit misleading ā€“ the album is better represented by radio-ready choruses such as those of Adalia and House Of Cards, or the punchy but sort of formulaic One Last Kiss.

The slightly gothic flavour of the songs and lyrics draw loose comparisons with later AFI, as do the programmed embellishments by Camargo, and the polished production by Mark Trombino works very well on the likes of Now Or Never, with its huge MOR chorus.

While the Leones kick-started the bandā€™s career using money won by appearing on US ā€?realityā€¯ TV show Fear Factor, the album nevertheless attacks the culture of celebrity, with lines like, ā€?Take my hand, letā€™s get famousā€¯ (from Stars).

Ultimately, the fact that the twins were hospitalised as a result of challenges faced on Fear Factor is more notable than anything on this album, but that doesnā€™t mean itā€™s not enjoyable ā€“ although the most memorable cut is the last track, the infectious True Love.

Owen Heitmann

Big D And The Kids Tableā€™s third album opens with Steady Riot, a heartfelt tribute to the bandā€™s local Boston scene. As much fun as it is, itā€™s not much different to most third-wave ska punk, such as the group have offered on past full-lengths. But if you expect the entire album to follow in similar vein, youā€™re in for a surprise, as the band have developed more sides than most third-wave bands.

The infectious Noise Complaint has a nutty nutty sound and is practically a novelty track, sounding just like what itā€™s about: an out of control party, Shining On is a laid-back sunny day anthem, and Hell On Earth opens with acoustic guitar before punking out majorly then ending acoustically again.

But the biggest departure from the norm is a sizeable dub influence, which is evident to various degrees on tracks including the bass-heavy Snakebite, the title track (which also owes a debt to late 70s UK two-tone), the hypnotic Relocate The Beat, and the reverb-drenched seven-and-a-half minute album closer She Knows Her Way.

That said, more than half the album is energetic ska designed to get you skanking: the top-notch Souped-Up Vinyl bitches about a dead end job, Try Out Your Voice opens like the Bosstones and is just as catchy, the vibrant Raw Revolution tells a potted history of the band, and Fly Away is a happy sugar-high blast that clocks in under two minutes.

A couple of tracks ā€“ Try Out Your Voice and Hell On Earth ā€“ address political topics, but although their heartā€™s in the right place, the lyrics are actually a bit inconclusive. I much prefer the slice of life stories singer Dave McWane offers that appear to be about real people, such as Breaking The Bottle, a supportive account of a friendā€™s battle with alcoholism.

While the album is at its catchiest when sticking to the expected ska-punk formula, itā€™s the diversions that make it truly memorable. Strictly great.

Owen Heitmann

Seattle straightedge hardcore band Champion called it a day in 2006, having released one album, two EPs and a split CD since forming in 1999. They secured a final addition to their discography, however, by recording their last live performance (a show in their hometown) to be released as this CD/DVD package.

While most live albums are only for existing fans, this album is particularly so, given that it confuses newcomers by not including a proper tracklisting, but rather a photo of a setlist using abbreviations (such as PK for Promises Kept) instead of the full song titles.

Said fans will lap this up, though, as the band are in fine form ā€“ the breakneck guitars are meaty and the drums pummelling. However, frontman Jim Heskethā€™s vocals are often lost as heā€™s swamped by the crowd, or kicked in the eye, or breathless from the energetic performance required of a hardcore show.

This latter aspect is only a concern when listening to the audio CD ā€“ when watching the DVD of the show (which, oddly enough, includes a few live cuts that arenā€™t on the CD, as well as featuring interviews with band and audience members, plus early footage), these lapses are easily excusable as the cameras put you right in the thick of the action, with stage dives, sweaty hardcore kids, and a guy dressed in a cardboard robot costume.

One caveat is that, while I do admire some aspects of the straightedge lifestyle, when the CD runs for only just over half an hour, devoting several minutes to preaching (to the converted) on multiple occasions about the evils of alcohol amounts to a significant percentage of the stage time lost ā€“ not to mention that it detracts from repeated listening to a fairly impressive gig.

That aside, this release stands as a good monument to the band.

Owen Heitmann

This is not a particularly good album. I say that not because I still somehow resent Good Charlotteā€™s shift from their self-proclaimed punk beginnings to mainstream dance-rock (after all, my favourite GC song is the unashamedly commercial I Just Wanna Live, from their ambitious last album The Chronicles Of Life And Death). I say it because by all rights Good Morning Revival should have been an album of instantly catchy pop, and on first listen only the repetitive chorus of All Black was at all memorable.

Still, something kept me coming back, and Iā€™ve grown to like the pacey rocker that is The River (a collaboration with members of Avenged Sevenfold), the jaunty horn section on Broken Hearts Parade, and even the angular, initially alienating electro sounds of the completely uncharacteristic single Keep Your Hands Off My Girl. Lowering the bar a bit further, even Break Apart Her Heart and the shimmery Dance Floor Anthem have a certain appeal ā€“ they might be mindless pap, but at least you can dance to them.

But no amount of repeated listens could make me come around to weak cuts like the dire Beautiful Place, Coldplay-lite piano-heavy Where Would We Be Now, or the indulgent introductory title track. And is there actually anyone who can still take vocalist Joel Madden seriously when he attacks ā€?plastic peopleā€¯ on Misery, following he and guitarist brother Benjiā€™s enthusiastic embracement of the celebrity lifestyle?

These shortcomings make Good Morning Revival Good Charlotteā€™s weakest album yet and pose serious questions about the groupā€™s continued ability to produce entertaining records.

Owen Heitmann

I admit to flinching a little when I realised that this album was released on MySpace Records, but a quick check of the group photo on the rear cover reassured me somewhat: it wasnā€™t taken in a mirror, no one in the photo was holding the camera themselves, and there wasnā€™t a lopsided fringe in sight. That said, the guitar/keyboard/bass/drums four-piece do have a poppy, energetic dance-rock style sure to appeal to A Place For Friendsā€™ narcissistic market ā€“ but also plenty of others besides.

The bandā€™s trump card is Nate Henryā€™s soaring, entrancing voice, which acts as the clincher on songs like For The Longest Time, which swells with harmonies, or the bombastic Give Up!, with its skittering rhythm and hip-shaking guitar. The chirpily happy The Best In Me is a compelling highlight, with the focus shifting from a bright keyboard riff to choppy strings to its dancefloor beat. But itā€™s not all so effervescent ā€“ Home is less urgent, Alley Cat is delicate and wistful, and the piano-driven The Simple Life is gentle, if a little saccharine. Still, Never Ready To Leave is explosive, the staccato Alive feels like classic pop, and Middle Of The Night has a sweetly bitter chorus, with Henry trading vocals with guitarist Dan Koch, while self-pity never sound quite so jubilant as on The Only Song.

Despite the MySpace connection, Sherwood do actually have some substance ā€“ but when the surface is as pretty as it is on this Lou Giordano-produced album, it almost doesnā€™t matter.

Owen Heitmann