Joi

The duo began in the early '90s with their groundbreaking "Joi Bangla Sound System," followed a couple of years later by the naively brilliant "Desert Storm" single on the Rhythm King label; "One and One Is One" is their full-length debut. You could describe their technique as a sort of sonic infrastructure linking old school with new school—a fresh take on the old rap game—traditional Asian rhythm meets post-'90s dance beats. The album is deftly mixed, sensually knee-buckling and anything but banal. Tracks like "ESY-SHJ" pound four-to-the-floor dance rhythms over strumming sitar chords, delicate keys, and mixing-board intricacies only devoted beat-smiths can get their minds around. Then there's the very sexy "Asian Vibes," filled with earthy female crooning atop wailing live guitars and tablas; or the almost disco-inflected "March On," which combines breakbeats, flute interludes, and synth rises to work on multiple visceral levels. But be warned, this is the stuff of pioneers, which means it's not for the straitlaced or non-experimental at heart. Those who are ready to dip into uncharted waters will dive into this album; and others should prepare for the coming too—soon Talvin may not be music's only Anglo-Asian coverboy. —Anicee Gaddis

Name-checking Americana is popping up on more and more records—everyone's got a song about Elvis or at least a few "Thank you verra much"-es. Or they talk up bourbon or V-8 engines, not to mention the mushmouthed, semi-Southern drawl that has become de rigueur elocution for every East Village rocker. Groop Dogdrill is laden with these references, despite the fact that they're from England (Northern England, no less). "Half Nelson" features a song each for Elvis Presley, Jackie Onassis, and the Rat Pack, as well as one where the chorus consists of screaming, "White trash! White trash!" over and over. Even the band's sound seems, at first, to be pure America too—the good old-fashioned power trio, complete with guy-who-wears-his-bass-around-his-knees, that made the midwest (Big Black, Minutemen, Husker Du) mighty for much of the '80s before heading further west. And they've got that punk-blues thing everyone's up to these days.

But, despite the fact that it's about as far from Britpop as you can run with your ass on fire, Groop Dogdrill is obviously an English band—and not simply because the singer can't quite hide that Mark E. Smith accent. After all, the original model for the way-too-noisy-to-be-just-three-guys unit would be Motorhead; and the album's closer, the zodiac-dropping, groaning 'n' yelping trash anthem, "Silver Boots," has the low-end grind that's distinctive to Lemmy and his crew, punctuated with guitar squalls that screech like a faulty engine rounding that last curve on the speedway. "Salt Peter" rattles and squeals like a punk rocker's D.T.'s, but it also alternates cymbal-backed brooding with guitar maelstrom and agonized falsetto shrieks in the grand heavy metal tradition; there's a lot of metal on this album, and not the foolish rap-flavored kind they manufacture stateside, but the real stuff, the kind they make knives out of. Multiple props to the rhythm section, which encircles every song with a tight, ominous beat, then busts 'em open like hired thugs through a picket line—as on "Gracelands," in which the obsessive sound underlines the King's spluttering fantasies about guns and killing someone and guns and bullets, and guns, and—well, you get the picture. A punk's version of heavy metal and a Brit's take on America, Groop Dogdrill may holler about the filling station on route 66, but they're still selling "petrol." —Lissa Townsend Rodgers

As Sebadoh takes its first steps into its second decade as a band, one would expect the group to keep to the road paved by 1996's "Harmacy"; a quieter, more subtle road that one tends to walk once entering their 30s. That's one of the many surprises that you find once you place "The Sebadoh" on your turntable (or CD changer) and set it in motion. This is a band that suddenly sounds young and full of energy, not ready to tread the middle ground, but still ready to smash its head on the punk rock.

There are two aspects to this record that will suck in the listener's attention. First is the fact that, while "Harmacy" was more of a "Lou Barlow" record, "The Sebadoh" has the feel of a more collective effort. This is strongly underlined by the growth of Jason Loewenstein as a songwriter. Usually he comes across as the color man—ready to take your mind off of Barlow's darker emotions as you make your way through a Sebadoh record—lightening the mood with his punk-ish screaming and insane chord structures. This time out he stands as an equal, not only contributing eight of the 15 songs, but creating such as "Decide" and "Thrive"—two standouts on a record full of strong tunes.

The other notable feature of this record is the change in Barlow's mood. While increasingly somber and introspective of late, he suddenly does an about-face and creates some of this records most rocking moments. Just try to get "Flame" out of your head once you hear it. No way, you're doomed to find it humming along in your head long after you have left the record behind and gone on about your day. "Tree" is also another Barlow standout, with its acoustic strum and vocal harmony, and while "Colorblind" is a little obvious, you just gotta love hearing Lou scream out, "Crackers in their camouflage, heading for the hills!"—Christopher Anderson