Lukali
Slow Life
This long-running Tampa trio's latest showcases a comprehensive knowledge of a decade's worth of indie rock. It also renders those Guided By Voices comparisons obsolete — though the impression Pavement made on these three guys is apparent. All of them write and sing, a fact that lends Slow Life an eclectic, occasionally disjointed feel; the mostly strong material, however, outweighs the incongruity. There is some noodly, meandering filler (most obviously "Simple Movement"), but dynamic opener "Everything I Own," the fuzz-toned "Fall Guy," and the powerful "Nokomis" are top-notch. Plus, the unimpeachable "Shaking Metal Wires" might be the best pop song put out by a local band since The Semis' "Asian Girls." (www.lukali.net) 
1/2
Ken Spivey
Time Can Be So Cruel
Spivey mixes a clichéd but pretty cool proto-rock/rockabilly vibe with lo-fi drum-machine beats and self-consciously clever lyrics. The result is novel enough, and a tune like "Sexy Hairdresser" would sound just fine in the middle of one of WMNF's afternoon drive-time programs. That said, with the exception of the quasi-poignant title track, there's really not enough substance here to satisfy; it doesn't take long for the shtick to wear thin. The bare-bones production and basically nonexistent arrangements are a big handicap here — Spivey's driving-blues foundation and entertaining lyrics would go further with a more adventurous instrumental vehicle. As it stands, Time Can Be So Cruel seems a little too dashed-off to inspire much of a reaction. Bet he kills in the bars, though. (kspivey@tampabay.rr.com) 1/2
My Friend Scott
Fallen
Here're a few guys — notably of two separate generations — who got together, began jamming and two years later produced a debut album. There are no pretenses of rock stardom here, just some Midwestern-sounding white guys playing pleasantly hummable but otherwise unremarkable tunes. Scott (Serbin, who I'm sure has friends) sings and plays guitars. His daddy plays bass. The other two guys do that guitar-and-drums thing. The songs, somewhat jammy and reminiscent of the more mainstream work of Dave Matthews, put the acoustic guitar front-and-center. Scott's vocals have a classic Beach Boys sound, and sound especially good, considering the band's live-in-studio approach to recording. They play out often (at mostly covers-heavy bars in Sarasota such as Gilligan's and the Five O'Clock Club), so next time you see them, ask if they'll play one of their own. (www.myfriendscott.com)
—Mark Sanders
Hollowpoint
Dust & Blood
Solid, workhorse hard rock that pays more than passing homage to the genre's past. While the tones are contemporary and metallic, the songs and overall vibe are far more Southern-fried Rainbow than Nickelback. And these guys have got it down cold; that slow, even double-kick beat on "The March" is a thing of beauty, as are the guitar solo and accompanying bass line in "Whiskeyman." There are a few missteps here — most notably the turgid pseudo-ballad "Forever Insane" and ill-advised rhythmic diversion of "Mexico" — and the whole effort evinces an unmistakably dated feel, utterly without the camp or irony that might attract the record-buying (read: younger) masses. But those who yearn for a competently executed return to fat, overdriven blues riffs, chugging rhythms and extended solos will find that Hollowpoint ably fills the bill. (www.hollowpointband.us)
Rahim Samad
Resurrection
These are NOT club jams, thank God and Tampa MC and producer Rahim Samad. Samad employs laidback grooves, old-school flows and street-life lyrics to create a hard but mellow sound, like G-funk without the P-funk-style cascading synth melodies. He gets vocal help from some peers (Super D, Akil, and Briz contribute a verse or two), but the highlight here is Samad himself. The beats are rolling, minimal and engaging, and his easy-but-ready voice — a clean, gut-driven delivery that lies somewhere between Dr. Dre and Biggie — is what really draws the listener in. Resurrection isn't terribly original, but in comparison to the flashy, insubstantial chant-along bullshit of most Dirty South crews, it sounds fresh all over again. (www.vaultclassic.com)
Sid Krupkin
Suspended in Time
Every town has its eccentrics. The guy who swats at the nonexistent flies circling his head. The old dude with matted dreadlocks wearing winter coats in 90-degree heat. Sarasota has them, too — it's just that some don't come out as much. Count Sarasota native Sid Krupkin among them. His debut CD, Suspended in Time, is a muscular, cocksure classic rock piece, replete with all the catchy bookishness that Warren Zevon ever put to tape. For more than a decade, this former English teacher's been organizing a sort of real-life School of Rock for high school students, while at the same time performing as a parody act (Willie Nelson, Elvis, Sinatra) in Buffalo, N.Y., nightclubs. This album exhibits all the same confidence and showmanship of Ol' Blue Eyes, though Suspended in Time bears no resemblance to the Vegas-style stage show Krupkin's obviously fond of. Combining witty lyrics and bluesy, organic melodies (akin to later-era Clapton), Krupkin sounds like an underdog — a rock star-in-waiting who never made it past the minors. Nevertheless, the quality's there, honed by years of rocking with young 'uns and changing in and out of big white jumpsuits. 1/2
—Mark Sanders
Sebos
The Sage
I really enjoyed the last thing I got from Sebos (aka Spring Hill's David Patterson), whose milieu can't really be captured in words — although "a disturbing and invigorating amalgam of grind, doom, Goth, Americana, and acid-drenched Texas redneck" will work for our purposes. This latest effort, a five-track EP, dwells a little too obsessively on menacing synth-metal atmosphere and indecipherable, glass-shattering vocal shrieks (check out the unrecognizable cover of Tori Amos' "The Waitress") to completely win me over, but Sebos is again challenging, original and worthwhile. Highlights: the scary/inventive intro to "Lesson One, Volume 20," the yowling survivor-type mantra "Standing on the Backs of Dead Men," and the brief, nutjob-at-the-pianny closer "(I Almost Survived) Last Call at Frenchy's." Anybody who might be interested in a project capable of sounding simultaneously like Melvins, Today is the Day, retarded Primus, and Butthole Surfers would do well to seek Sebos out. (sebosmusic@hotmail.com) 1/2
Maybe Jane
The Red Couch
In addition to describing the music as several things it obviously isn't, the bio accompanying this seven-track disc of disposable pornographic electro-rock hints that Maybe Jane's principals might be European. But the packaging, contact info, and quality of the music itself all imply that this project was put together on a home computer somewhere around here by people whose familiarity with electronica begins and ends with suspecting it might still be big over there. Maybe Jane's oeuvre consists of exactly three elements: tired club rhythms; the occasional tired guitar riff; and a woman's voice saying things like "you want me to put my little finger up your asshole while you're driving?" and "you know how good it feels to rub your balls up against velvet?" That's it — 54 minutes of canned loops and unintentionally hilarious dirty talk. I feel sorry for the S&M-lite Cinemax feature that some of this will inevitably end up soundtracking. (www.maybejane.com) 1/2-Planet
The Human Condition
Camera One
Hey man — nice package. The Human Condition specializes in acoustic guitar-laced Adult Alternative that skews more toward introspective singer-songwriter fare than overtly infectious pop stuff or quasi-jammy singalongs. The instrumental performances are faultless; the songwriting is competent, and occasionally better than that, as in "This Light" and "Days That Come." While the overall experience definitely passes muster, it seems like the band never quite achieves the degree of compelling expression that would make them standouts within their genre — too many of the tunes slide by without gaining purchase in the head or heart. It's good as is, but a little more dynamic, hook-minded writing (and perhaps a more adventurous mix) would go a long way. (www.human-condition.com)
Cold Joon
Time to Go
The latest EP from funky World Beat music collective/African dance troupe Cold Joon may feature an overtly political topicality, but the tunes contain the same upbeat, polyrhythmic, multicultural five-minute-party vibe that makes the ensemble's records almost as much fun as the live show. You don't need to force yourself to dig Cold Joon's tunes as some misguided attempt at poser-worldliness (Ian, the Tim Robbins character from the film version of Hi Fidelity, springs vividly to mind); they contain more than enough pop melody and irresistible groove to inspire appreciation from fans of any style. The irrepressible energy of "Soukous in Texas" makes for a standout track, but everything here elicits a smile and bad white-guy ass-shakeage. I'd give it four planets out of pure enjoyment, but I've gotta take one away, because I feel more than a little cheated — half of these six tunes appeared on a previous release. (www.coldjoon.com)
scott.harrell@weeklyplanet.com
This article appears in Sep 29 – Oct 5, 2004.