The Sunshine Fix
Age of the Sun
As a rule, neo-psychedelic side projects by today's indie rockers either come off as lab experiments or tongue-in-cheek takes on the trippy sounds of yore. Not so with Bill Doss. The co-founder of Olivia Tremor Control is serious about his psychedelic pop but not so much that he can't have fun with it.
Age of the Sun is an unabashed, no-apologies turn at '60s head music, replete with fuzzy guitars, swirling sonics, copious echo, shiny hooks, peppy rhythms, lushly layered singing, artful dissonance and extended instrumental sections. While he's clearly gorged on the Beatles, Byrds, Love and the like, Doss seems to have an intuitive feel for the genre, and thus Age of the Sun comes off as decidedly genuine. Despite moments of over-indulgence — what would a psychedelic project be without them? — the 16-track disc holds together extremely well. Athens-based Doss and his sidefolk first emphasize songs and vocals, then liberally spread on the decorative elements.
After delivering 40 minutes of mostly sublime music, Doss surrenders to a silly conceit: The album-closing "Le-Roi Soleil" is a multitrack vocal loop that streams a single note for 20 and one half minutes. Forty minutes was plenty, thanks. (Emperor Norton, www.emperornorton.com)
—Eric Snider 
The Sleeping Flies
You Are Superior
The one-sheet says their version of dance music "is more about bringing back the energy and soul that got lost somewhere in the machinery." Soul, yes; energy, no — You Are Superior sounds like something Primal Scream's Bobby Gillespie might've listened to while coming off of a weeks-long meth binge. Druggy and drowsy, The Sleeping Flies (charter members of global dancepunk collective Ultra Wide Band) mix synthetic sounds with a feel for hypnotic groove and a tinkering, no-rules indie-scene aesthetic. Lots of underground acts are doing it these days, augmenting their instruments with (or forsaking them completely for) an exploration of dance music's more organic leanings; unfortunately, most of it is generic, bad or too weird for the ear. What saves this disc, however, is an innate knack for the kind of British soul-vibe that permeated Manchester's '90s club scene. It'll suck you in — right before it puts you to sleep. (Kindercore/Electronic Watusi Boogaloo, www.kindercore.com)
—Scott Harrell
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Tommy Guerrero
Junk Collector
The former pro skateboarder and hardcore punk fiend goes it alone on this 5-song EP, a collection of lo-fi, low-key quasi-acid-jazz tunes. Guerrero plays guitars, bass, percussion and an array of analog keyboards, weaving them together into a relaxed, pulsatingly funky flow that sounds familiar yet not tethered to genre. Guerrero's drum mixes are especially impressive, kinetic yet never bombastic. Think of this stuff as a more organic, less busy version of DJ Shadow. Nothing all that earth shattering goes on during Junk Collector's 24 minutes, but the disc is consistently seductive throughout. (Mowax, www.mowax.com)
—Eric Snider 
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Various Artists
The Reggae Box: The Routes of Jamaican Music
There's little question that The Reggae Box is a vital chronicle of the development of Jamaican music from the early '60s to present. But if, like me, you're very particular about the reggae subgenres that you tend to like or dislike, you could be in for an uneven listening experience. More to the point: I don't care for much digital reggae and dancehall. The Reggae Box is stuffed with it; these less-song-oriented styles make up a good portion of discs 3 and 4. Fans of Shabba Ranks, Tenor Saw, Super Cat, Capleton and others of the ilk will likely be pleased with the generous representation found here. Conversely, I'm an ardent fan of '70s roots and dub stuff — reggae's golden era. On that count, I get relatively short shrift. Disc 2 offers a fair sampling of greats and lesser-knowns, from Bob Marley ("Trenchtown Rock," "Roots, Rock, Reggae") to Junior Murvin's heavenly "Police and Thieves." As for pre-reggae, Disc 1 serves appetizers of ska and rock steady. The collection generally does an expert job of including the essential song from each artist, be it Toots & the Maytals' "54-46 Was My Number" or Third World's "1865 (96 Degrees in the Shade)." The Reggae Box will be a valuable addition to anyone's CD cache, but I don't expect to spin discs 3 and 4 too often. (Universal)
—Eric Snider <
Willie Nelson
The Great Divide
The Great Divide offers listeners a solid glimpse of Willie Nelson's many sides. On songs such as "Maria (Shut Up and Kiss Me)," written by Matchbox 20 front man Rob Thomas, Nelson proves that even when encased in 3-foot-thick wall of sound he can still shine through with the same force as he does on the sparsely produced, self-penned, title track. On "Time After Time," Nelson gives the Cyndi Lauper gem the same tender treatment that propelled his reading of the Elvis Presley standard "Always on My Mind" to the top of the charts 20 years ago. Nelson's star-studded — everyone from Bonnie Rait to Kid Rock offer vocal harmonies — debut for Lost Highway is a far cry from outlaw masterpieces of yesteryear like Red Headed Stranger and Shotgun Willie; and it bears little resemblance to the Bing Crosby-inspired Stardust that notched multiplatinum sales in the late '70s. But, shit, what the hell's wrong with a country boy making a smart pop album for the new millennium? (Lost Highway)
—Wade Tatangelo <
This article appears in Feb 13-19, 2002.