**** Hailie
***
Debbie
** Kim
* Ken

THE BLACK KEYS
The Big Come Up
(Alive)
***
I hate the White Stripes. For real. When they were first hyped, I was promised "hella negro," but all I got was honky college "indie" shit, and hateful glances when I called 'em out as such. Well, this band, the Black Keys, is closer to the ideal I expected from the WS hype. Right, the BKs are a two-piece that swings the "no-fi/garage," but don't slurrve it up with saccharine "indie" nods. Rather, they're straightforward white kids in a lazy groovin' "blue" mood... much like Kimbrough/Burnside's thumpin'. Their take on the Beatles' "She Said She Said" is a bit outta place, tho'. Anyway, their chops are solid enough that they don't bother gettin' as riffy or frantic as other contemporary blues/garage bands, which, for me, is a nice change from the typical stomp. And the guy don't scream, he actually sings... soulfully, like he's got husk in his huckle buck. And I thought the good 'uns were gone. MIKE NIPPER

EMINEM
The Eminem Show
(Aftermath Records)
***
"Guess who's back, back again?/Shady's back, tell a friend/Guess who's back, guess who's back, guess who's back/Guess who's back?" For those of us who love and defend Eminem based on his dense, witty writing and verbal dexterity, these opening couplets, from the rap artiste's first single since the unequivocal triumph of The Marshall Mathers LP, were alarming. Was Marshall Mathers--miraculous in its ability to start fires, pour on the gasoline, then tame the blaze through sheer smarts and artistry--as good as it was ever gonna get for this two-trick pony? My initial verdict: Yeah. But so what? This is damn good pop music, and if The Eminem Show settles for convention and repetition where previous records insisted on explosions, the loss is nearly compensated by so much more of what made us love him in the first place: brains, balls, vision, and plain old funny-as-shitness. (Still, not even that "bald-headed fag" Moby is dumb or lazy enough to rhyme "me" with "me" 17 times in one song.) DAVID SCHMADER

SILENT LAMBS PROJECT
Street Talkin... Survival
(66 Degree Recording)
****
For once, I can praise a local hiphop CD without apologies or hesitation. Silent Lambs Project's Street Talkin... Survial is beyond good and bad--it operates on another order, one which transcends basic hiphop criticism. All I can do is evoke a few of the pleasures I have derived from this CD, pleasures that are not limited to the field of hiphop (drum programs, samples, scratches, raps) but derived from so many sources and points of light. What Street Talkin... Survival, the band's second CD, has is what Mobb Deep's Hell on Earth, or Burning Spear's Marcus Garvey/Garvey's Ghost, had: a clear concept that runs through, and organizes, each track. Street Talkin... Survival is based on one idea, or better yet one mood, that is reconsidered and reconfigured beautifully nine times. "Traffik," Publik Eye," "Strange Exchange"--damn! Nothing on this CD fails! The entire set is brilliant. At last, Seattle hiphop has its Modest Mouse. CHARLES MUDEDE

THE WALKABOUTS
Ended Up a Stranger
(Innerstate Records)
****
God bless Innerstate Records for releasing the new Walkabouts album stateside. This Seattle band has been around forever and is popular and beloved in Europe, but they remain a cult band in America. Ended Up a Stranger shows the band venturing further into the sweeping sound of their last couple of albums. The opener, "Lazarus Heart," has a taut pulse, with martial drums and sinewy strings offering the perfect setting for Carla Torgerson's voice. She sings with the cracked grace of Emmylou Harris, imbuing the songs with a luminous, aching fragility. "You said you wanted to see what I looked like on the inside/Draw a hangman on a napkin," she sings with just enough restraint to make the words punch and bring a sickly smile to your face. Stranger is an adult album full of bristling one-liners and weary determination. The band's expanded musical palette shows them wedding their folk leanings to cosmic country and chamber-folk to create an seamless hybrid. "There's splendor in the cracks," Torgerson sings on "Fallen Down Moon," summing up the rough-hewn majesty of the Walkabouts' music. NATE LIPPENS