**1/2
The "links" section of Part Chimp's website contains portals to Melt Banana and AC/DC, which only seems odd if you haven't given the UK-based band's debut a fair spin. These four fellows are shouldering so many disparate influences (everything from the scattershot distortion of early Unwound to the raw-throated scorch of latter-day Stooges) it's no wonder Chart Pimp sounds a bit unfocused. Nevertheless, this shit-storm of warped, paint-peeling guitars and plodding, pointed percussion has some incredibly strong moments, most notably the joyous, melodic marathon of the opening track and "Cover Me," the closest thing resembling a single and a fine example of why every bass player worth his or her salt should own an old tube amp (and likely part of the reason they've ended up on bills with Mogwai and Turbonegro). The monotonous shuddering and shouting on "Li'l Bummberboy"--an ill-advised, mutant cover of the Christmas carol--weighs down the second half of the record and they close the nine-song collection with a reprise of the opening track, choices which leave the listener wondering why they didn't edit for potency and leave this as an EP. HANNAH LEVIN

DJ ZEPH

Sunset Scavenger

(Wide Hive Records)

***
It wouldn't surprise me if DJ Zeph smoked the pot, or took Xanax, or at the very least drank Kava Kava tea while he was crafting this record. His album of downtempo-ed DJ tracks is smart, a slow, atmospheric melding of beats, vocals, piano, and twinkly sounds, but it isn't anything I could imagine people getting sweaty to--unless you mean in the sack. Even the songs featuring the Coup's Boots and the fantastically smooth Lyrics Born feel like they'd go better with a couch and a martini than the dance floor; on Lyrics' song "Hands Up," Zeph splices the emceeing with trippy, old-timey female singing that takes the edge off the intense verbal assault. "Underscore" matches beats with what sounds like cellos and violins to a mellifluous, and romantic, effect. Even though the disc occasionally induces space-outs, there's something beautiful about mellow sounds that let you hear yourself think. KATIE SHIMER

SKINNY PUPPY

The Greater Wrong of the Right

(SPV)

****
The new studio album from Vancouver, BC's industrial music progenitors has been anticipated ever since singer Nivek Ogre and keyboardist/ composer cEvin Key reunited for a single show in Dresden, Germany, during the summer of 2000. But fans expecting the same dark, preternatural techno as the band's 1988 opus, VIVIsect VI, might feel a little disoriented. Instead of his usually incomprehensible growl, Ogre actually sings his politically charged lyrics in a higher register. And Key's electronics explore some progressive house elements on the mysterious "Ghostman" and the retro-electro track "Past Present." The result is a cleaner, more structured sound that is as close to pop as Skinny Puppy's ever come. But that's not to say they've lost their aggression. Pat Sprawl, the guitarist from the band's 1995 epilogue, The Process, injects some furious riffs into "I'mmortal" and "Pro-Test." If anything, it's the ominous and discordant ambience that's missing. In any case, Skinny Puppy's nostalgia-free resurrection sounds infinitely more compelling than the legions of gothic-industrial imitators that have multiplied in the years since their dissolution. DAVID SLATTON

Skinny Puppy plays Sat June 12 at the Showbox, 8 pm, $25 adv (sold out).

DELAYS

Faded Seaside Glamour

(Rough Trade)

****
The kind of layered, harmony-filled pop that gives you the shivers? That's what you can expect from Delays--a boy singer who sounds almost like a girl, in the tradition of '60s sunshine pop--and a giddiness that calls to mind the brightness of Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, the La's, and Belly, as well as the Polyphonic Spree and even bits of the Delgados, British Sea Power (without the angst), and the New Pornographers. Simply put, if you can place a band that touches upon such disparate references, Delays' Faded Seaside Glamour is rolling with happiness, whether the lyrics reflect the sentiment or not. It's infectious and sing-along strong, and glamorous, indeed. I may say I love a lot of pop albums, but this meets the flat-on-the-back, headphones on, staring-at-the-sun standard. KATHLEEN WILSON

WAYNE McGHIE & THE SOUNDS OF JOY

Wayne McGhie & the Sounds of Joy

(Light in the Attic)

***
Hailed as "the holy grail of Toronto funk" by elite crate-diggers like Sharpshooters, Pete Rock, and Buck 65, this 1970 album by Jamaican-Canadian Wayne McGhie is solid, but please: The funk here's meager compared to many other albums any funkologist can instantly reel off. The liner notes delineate McGhie's interesting saga: The former Studio One musician went AWOL in the late '70s, and Seattle-based Light in the Attic went to absurd lengths to find him and reissue this lost LP in deluxe style. And it does boast a few devastatingly sample-worthy cuts--"Dirty Funk," "Fire (She Need Water)," "Cool It." But the disc leans heavily on sentimental ballads (all soulfully executed and embellished with horns, harpsichord, flute, and organs) that highlight McGhie's peanut-butter-smooth vocals. However, there's something odd about a ragtag bunch of white boys (Steam) cutting a funkier version of "Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye" than these Caribbean soul brothers. DAVE SEGAL