So, I used to think Living Colour was the greatest rock band my young eyes had ever seen. Their records were perfect. Their musicianship: flawless. Then they broke up. My world was rocked. Well, no. When they broke up, my world was rock-less. Their absence left the door wide open, and oh, look what the crap dragged in: Limp Bizkit, Staind, Creed. Countless radio-friendly, MTV-angsty bands armed to the teeth with distortion pedals and dear-diary lyrics.

I\'m convinced Scott Herren is a real life incarnation of Dr. Frankenstein. I mean, under the pseudonym Prefuse 73, he\'s a DJ,.. a musician. But what he does is nothing short of frightening genius. And although he isn\'t harvesting raw materials from the dead, he\'s still selecting organs and bones from a variety of sources, then mixing and matching as he sees fit. Jarring explosions of urban lyricism crash headlong into utopian landscapes of pure electronic groove. The thunder of drum and bass overcomes, then gives way, for the soothing rays of blunted jazz.

Sometime after Antichrist Superstar, I lost touch with Marilyn Manson. I had been a huge fan, starting with a promo I got of Portrait of an American Family while working at a record store. I can still remember the look on people\'s faces when I tried to describe what Marilyn Manson was. Just a short time later, they were a household name. Antichrist was a disc that lasted almost a whole year in my CD player. But after Mechanical Animals, I lost interest.

So I\'ve been holding onto this CD for a month now, constantly putting off doing a review of it. And that\'s funny, because I\'m usually all about music. I always listen to music when I draw, when I\'m cleaning up my office or apartment, when I\'m driving someplace,.. no matter what I\'m doing, there\'s usually a radio blasting my eardrums six ways to Beltones when I\'m doing it. And maybe that\'s why I couldn\'t bring myself to listen to Kill The Messenger until this morning.

A Mighty Wind doesn’t blow.
Documentary filmmaker Christopher Guest has done it again with his loving look at folk music, A Mighty Wind. Like his previous triumphs, the backstage theatre shenanigans of Waiting For Guffman and the dog show exposé Best In Show, Guest allows the real participants to move the true story along in lieu of inserting himself into the action, like Michael Moore in Bowling for Columbine or Marti DeBergi in This is Spinal Tap.

Sometimes the first song on a disc serves as a sign post; a preview of what\'s to come. Think about the opening sounds from Dark Side of the Moon. The tribal groove of \"Up The Beach\" from Jane\'s Addiction\'s Nothing Shocking. The first song sets the mood; it describes the world you\'re about to experience. Sometimes, though, it\'s a caveat. In the first few minutes of Mind Over Mind by 6gig we are treated to the lyrics, \"Sometimes I don\'t talk because I don\'t want to/Sometimes I just have nothing to say\". And that says it all. 6gig has nothing to say.

Yo, did I ever get lucky this week! I thought I missed seein\' dat Eminem movie based on all the shit he hadda go through to git famous and shit. See, I was in the hospital, feel me? I was all like recovering from this gunshot wound to my penis, \'cause I was all like shovin\' my gat into my waistband all ghetto-style (like Wesley Snipes in New Jack City-- that\'s so dope!) and shit, but guess what, dog? It was still playin\'! I couldn\'t believe it!

There’s a hole in the screen of my office window. You know-- the office by the bathroom? And because it’s warming up, climate-wise, the bugs are alive. They’re alive, I tell you! Sometimes, they fly through the hole in my window’s screen. So I kill them with whatever’s available. That’s why the cover image to this press kit is not accompanying this review-- because I used it to kill the little winged terrorist who invaded my work station nation. Now all I’m left with is a stupid CD. There better be some bells and whistles on this baby. Let’s see,.. nope. What the shit?