***
In my head, I can hear it. I hear the songs, and I hear the sound the way it's supposed to be. In my head. And I keep waiting for it to happen. Since that first K single, I've been waiting. The Gossip's sound, from the lustful longings of their inception to their gospel revolution of late, is strangled by its self-imposed definition: rudimentary everything. While the upward trajectory of their songcraft becomes more evident with each release, the "sound" remains just an audio mirror of their live performance. But I've been waiting for Movement, the band's second full-length, since they began premiering its songs over the last year. Waiting because there was something in those songs, some indefinable air, something that made the band somehow even more present than before. I could distinctly hear the way that they were supposed to sound on record--the full, thick reverb that finally captures the depth of Beth Ditto's increasingly rich vocals, the bludgeoning, treble-heavy layers to support the strength of Nathan Howdeshell's mind-numbingly brilliant guitar work, the crisp clarity of Kathy Mendonca's backbone rhythm--I can hear it so clearly in my head. Movement is not the sound in my head. Movement is like the last Gossip record, but with better songs. And while they certainly can't be faulted for that (the songs are really, really good), I can't help but yearn for the day that they make the album that I know they have in them. The one I have in me. ZAC PENNINGTON

The Gossip play Sun June 22 at the Crocodile (doors at 8 pm, 18+, bar w/ID, $8) with Pretty Girls Make Graves, Anna Oxygen, and Growing.

SNAFU

Time Capsule

(Under the Needle Records)

****
Made up of 11 tracks, local rapper/producer Snafu's Time Capsule is one of the best hiphop releases this year. (I place it at number two, just below Lifesavas' Spirit in Stone, which is out on July 1, and above Defari's Odds and Evens.) There is no fat on Time Capsule, no wasted time, exhausted ideas, or lapses into boredom; the entire work is economical, each track carefully crafted. The world described by Snafu is deeply internal, often dark, but also funny--as is the case with the extraordinary fourth track, "Good As It Gets," which cleverly fucks with the bass line from Cameo's "Word Up," while Snafu encourages Bill Gates, George Bush, and Rush Limbaugh to get loose and "clap to this." Produced by Pale Soul, Andy B, Pegee13, and Snafu (all of whom are in top form), Time Capsule limits the guest appearances to singer Toni Hill (on two tracks) and three members of Oldominion (on one track). The focus on Snafu--his music and flow, his political and personal concerns, his Weltanschauung--gives the CD a clear architecture. With Time Capsule, we don't enter a city--as is the case with Oldominion's rapper-packed One--but one location, one building whose faulty foundation and irregularly spaced and shaped rooms form the mind of the man who simply goes by the name of Snafu. CHARLES MUDEDE

GRANDADDY

Sumday

(V2)

***
Grandaddy's first full-length, Under the Western Freeway, was such a jewel of a record, just about as perfect as compressed digital could be, that it's no wonder they playfully titled their second effort The Software Slump. It was a ridiculous mount the band needed to vault, at least for us rabid fans, in order to match their debut. That The Software Slump failed to achieve such a vault, however, had little to do with a lack of talent or ideas. No, the real fault in their sophomore effort--for those of us who simply adored Under the Western Freeway, anyway--was the album's sheer girth. Where the first record was a tight bundle of dirty pop, The Software Slump was a cumbersome, meandering record that, sadly, was filled with little more than silly--and worse, more than once pretentious--songs.

But now comes Sumday, and though not a true return to form, it at least hints at that same spell Under the Western Freeway first cast at the time of its quiet release. Consisting of 12 packed songs (only two of which clock in at over five minutes), it showcases Jason Lytle and his cronies at their most comfortable, crafting simple, pretty tunes sprinkled with whatever samples they could get their hands on. It is, once again, a Grandaddy LP worth listening to rigorously, perhaps even obsessively. BRADLEY STEINBACHER

BLACK LIPS

Black Lips!

(Bomp)

***
Whoa!! Could... it... BE? Like, are these LIPS a return to ye olde FUCKED UP garage rock which indeed SOUNDS like it is FROM the garage? Hmmmmm, well, the Black Lips ain't fists up/devil's horns "rock" or "art-punk" and there aren't any traces of well-intended, yet completely off the mark, faux "soul" here. In fact, I'd reckon the BL to have a lockdown on kinda Gibson Brother-ish "FUCK YOU HIPPY" slop style, with one or two bits soundin' like those New York Dolls Actress demos. Uh, so yeah, GARAGE rock just like the golden days of... uh, '92! Which ain't to say the Lips are sportin' more of that same old same OLD, but it's nice after the last few years of pop's not so entertaining flirtation with "garage" (why didn't MUDHONEY get "rediscovered"!?) to hear anyone returning to former garage rock (ahem) "values." MIKE NIPPER