I often find the most inaccessible is the most rewarding listen. For Public Image's third album, this ear for the bizarre is never more awake. Drums thump straight from Africa, accordions and violins screech, and Lydon dips into a caterwauling madness all throughout. The insanity begins in song one and doesn't let up.

Lydon starts off the album wailing to little other than dark strong drums and bone scrapes in "Four Enclosed Walls." The mood darkens still with "Track 8"'s quiet, off-beat music, though Lydon manages to bring a childlike boredom/whimsy droll to the party, what with mentions of "Butterball Turkeys" and "pre-menstrual tension." The miniscule guitars are eerily similar to Syd Barrett waking up too early and trying to play his Esquire, except effective.

"Phenagen" is the most Asian flavored of the tracks; it's as if Lydon was watching a Chinese/Korean parade or funeral march. Mentions of ostriches are overshadowed by a "personal Austwitch" and his cries of "Amen Amen." It's a shame that "Flowers of Romance" was the albums only single, though listening to it, you begin to understand why. Though it maintains that tribal/OD'd/ambient mood of the album, it's the most rhythmic and easiest to enjoy/understand. Gypsy violins permeate the "whoomp" of the drums, and an interesting accordion finds its way into the mix, all to positive effect.

"Under the House" finds a borderline between Bauhaus and Adam and the Ants; the Ants' beats mix with the Gothic Godfathers' eeriest moments, plus a deep moan in the background and the whisper of a horror movie soundtrack. The song is the second to follow a pattern of claustrophobia.

The instrumental "Hymie's Him" could easily pass off as background music to a medieval castle siege. Without the rhythmic crush of the drums, the different sound effects and synthesizer weeps would be awfully disjointed. Again, to positive effect.

"Banging the Door" is perhaps the most claustrophobic of Flowers of Romance's songs, although it also mixes with a lethal dose of paranoia and agoraphobia. Lydon's high-pitched sing-song effectively counteracts the background's deep, ambient drone and the seemingly angry drums.

"Go Back" instantly reminds me of Fragile-era Nine Inch Nails: it's drums are near-hip-hop beats, and the guitars screech to the same style. A seemingly bored Lydon rambles about "good day's ahead" and "improvements on the domestic front," clearly a propagandist parody. The only way I can describe "Francis Massacre" is that it's if Lydon and Les Claypool OD'd on crack and ran flailing about New Orleans during Mardi Gras. Clearly the most energetic track.

Lydon must have been running through 'Nawlins' with a radio because the original album ends as the transmission gives out. After that, you are "treated" to a trio of bonus tracks. The instrumental version of "Flowers of Romance" is an interesting addition, because many of the instruments and noises seem to have been amplified, especially that gypsy violin.
You can pass on "Home is Where the Heart is" and "Another." They're only evidence of the sell-out direction Lydon would take with the follow-up album: This Is What You Want...This Is What You Get.

For anyone with a taste for the strange, buy this one. It's probably Lydon's most inspired work in his career.

There are many cases in which this album does well. Unlike the XTC's previous album, White Music, Colin Moulding actually sounds like he's TRYING to write good songs, because he actually does- his contributions tend to be better than Andy's ("Crowded Room" and "I Am the Audience" are all great). Andy also brings in the great tracks "Meccanik Dancing," "Red" and "Are You Receiving Me?" - the latter being one of XTC's best songs, in my opinion. "Super-Tuff" does alright, but regardless I'm glad Barry wasn't allowed more songs on the album.

However, this album fails in many spots. "Battery Brides" starts off well enough, albeit slowly, but then Andy decides to go into his signature "seal-bark" singing. "Beatown" is one of those songs that just keeps going on when the actual SONG is long since over. "Greenhouse" is just boring, and "My Weapon" can't get any symbolism, if there is any, through it's wife-beating overcoat.

Even for a die-hard XTC fan as myself, these downsides may be unappealing to you. Stick to what works, and you'll have a satisfying collection of post-punk hyperactivity.

It's no secret that Elvis Costello is one of the coolest nerds in the music industry, and is an incredibly versatile and intelligent musician and songwriter. His second full-length album, "This Year's Model," not only throws those traits in your face, it stands as the pinnacle of wit, cynicism, catchiness, punkiness and excellence that the business could never have seen coming.

First of all, the songs; each of them is excellent in their own right. The songwriting has all the cleverness Costello's been known for, and he could not have chosen a better backing band than the Attractions. The album's subject matter, (lurking in the comfortably familiar area of girls, break-ups and love gone sour otherwise, the rich and famous, and, as expected models), is brought to new heights with Costello's wit and the Attractions' musical talent, adding the right dose of angery madness to beginning track: "No Action," anti-music industry fat-cat anthem: "Radio, Radio," and unabashed energy and catchiness to the album's best track: "Pump it Up." Drummer Pete Thomas and bassist Bruce Thomas (no relation) are what make the latter. To say nothing about the wackiness in keyboardist Steve Nieve, whose enjoyably irritating organ pierces every song as well as Costello's Fender Jazzmaster does. While most of the songs sound alike, none of them are boring, including the slow and easy "Little Triggers." Every track adds up to a perfect listen to any and every fan of New Wave, Post-Punk, and the clever side of music. Costello's eclecticity has yet to help him build another album as definitively perfect as "This Year's Model." Buy it. Now.