Whip It On

(Orchard)

****It's been a while since I've been blindsided by a band I knew nothing about--but the Raveonettes don't need a hype machine behind them to knock you off your feet and steal your heart. While everyone's going gaga for the latest Swedish rock act, this two-piece combo from Denmark has delivered a left-field winner that combines the revved-up glam/trashiness of the Cramps with the dispassionate distortion of the Jesus and Mary Chain. Soon-to-be-hits such as "Attack of the Ghost Riders," "My Tornado," and "Beat City" make the wrong side of the tracks look like the right place to be, while "Veronica Fever" perfectly embodies the band's self-described "sultry, sexy sound." The only drawback is that at eight songs, Whip It On is over before you know it. Somehow, I know the Raveonettes meant to leave us all begging for more.... BARBARA MITCHELL

ZEIGENBOCK KOPF

I.D.M.

(KimoSciotic Records)

****Zeigenbock Kopf, the newest project from Pink & Brown's John Dwyer (going under some sort of fake German pseudonym) combines dirty leather chaps and toilet stall sex-style lyrics with minimal techno that sounds like the speakers have all been blown out and the fuses are busy frying. With throbbing industrial beats hitting repeat behind them, the band delivers their kinky, Krauty, man-on-man demands while showing who holds the key to the handcuffs with orders like, "Show me the difference between your ass and mouth" ("Ass & Mouth") and, "Fetch me my whip/you're not sorry/I know sorry when I see it" ("I Know Sorry When I See It"). While there's plenty of tongue in cheek on this 11-song EP (and tongue in other places as well, as I.D.M. stands for "I Dig Men"), the cold, oppressively fuzzy music complements the blunt demands well, as this new, arty side project creates a dance-floor soundtrack for ass smacking, hair pulling, and midnight men's-room encounters. (www.kimosciotic.com) JENNIFER MAERZ

MELLOWDRONE

A Demonstration of Intellectual Property

(ARTISTdirect)

**This six-song EP is meant to introduce the one-man band Mellowdrone. The songs, written by Jonathan Bates, carry out his visions on stacks of drum samples, electronic beats, and noise that make it hard to believe the claim that this disc was recorded in his bedroom. Whether Bates is ready for the comparison or not, he'll probably find himself likened to Joseph Arthur, but he lacks that artist's depth of character, as it is most likely Bates who Bates is mining most of the time. Perhaps he should step out of his own way sometime. "Fashionably Uninvited," a sweet-sounding but nasty rant against mass-produced entertainment, sounds as old as the hills these days when it comes to freshness in theme: "Excuse me if my rant gets too long/Is it going to get in the way of this pretty song?" Feh. As Mellowdrone advertises, the songs and layered melodies are slow-paced and dreamy, but with all of Bates' insightless whining, well, the kid just doesn't seem that likable to be compelling. Maybe I'm being too harsh on a new talent, and I do I get the idea that Mellowdrone is an act best experienced live. Until then.... KATHLEEN WILSON

PLASTIC MASTERY

In the Fall of Unearthly Angels

(Magic Marker)

****Caveat: The following record review presupposes that we are all in universal agreement that Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane over the Sea is the most cohesively significant album recorded in the last five years.

Now that we have that out of the way....

Instead of the masturbatory prose of rock critique, I offer a few subtle directives: Put down this paper, posthaste. Exit your dreary apartment. Buy this record. Now.

Okay, you back? I was right, huh? And why the fuck haven't you heard of this band already? It's like they've distilled the rapturous Southern fervor of Jeff Mangum, compounded it with the zeal of latter-day Superchunk, and poured the whole aromatic swill into a shallow pool of incisive despair... or something. It's been a very long time since I've been so completely broadsided by an indie rock record... but you know that by now already. And I bet now you're saying, "Shit, man, I gonna have to listen to that chump from The Stranger more often." ZAC PENNINGTON