****
It can't be said any better than Chris Cutler's assertion in the liner notes: "Maximum information; minimum redundancy." The Homosexuals' music is unquestionably more engaging, approachable, and refreshing than any of their more revered contemporaries'. Their viciousness is bound up with such vitality that the coldness of Gang of Four seems a ludicrous and unsuccessful posture, while their slightly ornamented, tumbling sounds turn the tautness of Wire into empty, unimaginative monotony. "Holy Grail" is meaningless these days, but this CD simultaneously justifies and invalidates the entire post-punk revival--five years ago it wouldn't have been possible to attempt such a reissue and yet those same five years haven't unearthed or produced anything remotely resembling the Homosexuals. ETHAN SWAN

DAMAGEPLAN

New Found Power

(Elektra Records)

**
Pantera once described themselves as "the Rolling Stones of heavy metal," a vision ruined by their unexpected breakup last year. Brothers Vinnie Paul (drums) and Dimebag Darrell (guitar) had only one choice--find another snarling, baldheaded singer and keep at it. The title of Damageplan's debut album, New Found Power, must seem like a joke to everyone involved; the formula is stunningly familiar: speed, crunch, groove, doom. But something like five million kids will turn 14 this year, and at least two-thirds of them will need to tell their parents to "fuck off." If Damageplan offers a way to do that, they've done more for those kids than any guidance counselor or health teacher ever did. ETHAN SWAN

DANI SICILIANO

Likes...

(!K7)

***1/2
Dani Siciliano reconciles the intent of jazz standards with the ephemera of glitch--gingerly, as both are slippery. A torchy chanteuse in the realest sense, Siciliano pins Likes... together with rhythms straight from the curio shoppe (percussion comes from cigarette lighters, accordions, typewriters, clarinets--handclaps!) and plants hands in lots of pies. Her jumanji includes, but is not limited to, subtle tango (the Siciliano/Matthew Herbert in-the-round "All the Above"), exotica/lounge (a gamey cover of Nirvana's "Come as You Are" is re-imagined as tiki fave or safari anthem), crackled pop ("Walk the Line"), and smoky torch w/orchestra pit (say, is that an oboe on "Remember to Forget?"). "Canes and Trains" and "One String" are rhythmic petit fours, elegant and sweet as candy, while "Extra Ordinary" burns slow to a pique, ending in Siciliano's chorus pleas of "Why won't I change/Is this ordinary?" Likes... is an album about subtle fantasy, revision, and reinvention like a Cindy Sherman facial--the songs share a palette, but each has its own path, and your first impression is hardly the right one. JULIANNE SHEPHERD

VAN HUNT

Van Hunt

(Capitol Records)

*** 1/2
Lovers of smooth R&B should definitely not pass up the debut CD from Van Hunt; he's the real deal. Not for club bangin' or bumping in the whip, Hunt is all about "midnight soul," evoking the vocal timbres of Curtis Mayfield and Marvin Gaye, sweetly singing the praises and foibles of love. Obviously influenced by the soul masters, Hunt has nevertheless developed his own style, adding thoroughly modern production to the mix, and heavy-duty lyricism. Every cut on this disc hits the mark, making it impossible to immediately choose a favorite--but if you download a taste, choose "Down Here in Hell (with You)," "Dust," and the indie-funkified "Hold My Hand." All I know is that if Norah Jones can become famous, you'll crap your pants over Van Hunt. WM. STEVEN HUMPHREY

IDIOT PILOT

Strange We Should Meet Here

(Clickpop)

***
Idiot Pilot likes Radiohead. Of course, since I don't personally know the two Bellingham 18-year-olds who are Idiot Pilot, I can't say that as fact, but I venture it's a safe guess. I also think it's safe to say that while it is apparent these boys like their Radiohead, and while they certainly do nod to them (the echoes are uncanny, at times, which is probably due to the fact that singer Michael Harris has a strong and beautiful voice much like Mr. Yorke's), they really can't decide which record they like best. So they take little pieces of everything. But they don't leave it at that. No sir, that'd be copying. So instead they weave those familiar sounds into new and unfamiliar patterns, creating layers of blips and blops, and whooshes and whoas.... Sometimes the layers get a little muddy, but sometimes it makes a lot of sense. But then maybe they see the inevitable Radiohead comparisons coming, and maybe it pisses them off just a little bit because as you're getting swept through a beautiful, colorful, computerized atmosphere (created by a guitar, a laptop, and two singing boys), they start to yell--scream, actually. But even though they're screaming, you're still thinking everything's okay because the guitar won't let you think otherwise. And you're really happy it all exists, and you quickly become convinced that it shouldn't ever stop. MEGAN SELING