Who would have thought that a truly great song could have come from Scotland? This is easily the heaviest song that I've heard outside of Judas Priest (not a fan of them, but they're alright). This sounds like nuclear war between great white whales and tyrannosaurs. Yes it sounds THAT huge. It starts out kinda hushed, and just before it becomes all heavy and huge, you're sorta on the edge of yer seat, and when it does hit, it does so like a bleedin' bomb. Gets quiet again after a short while, then explodes again. This song is the aural equivalent of being in a war zone, and if this is the case then I wanna live there!!!

After listening to 2004's Satanic Panic In The Attic, I figured that things could only get better for the Atlanta foursomae. After hearing this, though, I realized my mistake. This is not to say that this is a bad album. It's simply not quite what I had expected after SPITA. One problem: three instrumentals, none of which are particularly entertaining. Other problem: all of the tracks sorta all sound similar. Fortunately, when they get it right, they get it right in a big way. Songs like "So Begins Our Alabee," "The Party's Crashing Us," and "Forecast Fascist Future," just about makes up for every "The Repudiated Immortals," and "October Is Eternal." Finally, if they had simply added a few elements that would make each song a little more distinct from one another, then the album as a whole could have been greatly improved.

Deep in the morass of Foreign Affairs, after the radio play "Potter's Field," and just before the strangely jaunty "Barber Shop," lies a spare piano and voice ballad. The story goes like this: girl meets boy, girl gets in boy's car, girl and boy get to talking, guy smashes his car up, girl found still wearing the sunglasses she had on. Fortunately, Tom is more articulate in describing the middle of nowhere feel of the strange hitchhiker, and the loneliness of the open road. Suddenly, when it seems least appropriate, a trumpet blurts in with a final cry of sadness, which trumpets do quite well, and the song ends. This all comes together to form one of the greatest and most beautiful songs of Tom's wild years.

"British Rap?" you may be thinking. "Haw haw haw! that has to be a paradox...or an anachronism...or one of those big words." Weeeelllll, over the past few years, the British rap (or grime) scene has been booming. The Streets (Mike Skinner) has really been at the forefront of the whole thing, and for his second album, he decides to go for the concept album route. Wait, where are you going? C'mon back. There are no tales of medieval conquests, no saving a distant planet, and NO STYX. It's essentially an album of a few days in the life of what the Brits call a geezer. Including perhaps the worst afternoon ever (It Was Supposed To Be So Easy), chatting up one girl, losing another (Could Well Be In and Fit But You Know It, and Get Out of My House and Dry Your Eyes), a drug escapade of sorts (Blinded By The Lights), and a neat wrapping-up of the above (Empty Cans). All the while, "The" carries it all with innovative samples, catchy as hell choruses, and a great sense of what some would call "flow." All in all, one of the greatest rap releases of the year by one of the most innovative rappers of his generation. Keep an eye on 'im. He's gonna be huge.

Having listened to this repeatedly on Rhapsody, I had a pretty good idea of what I had in store. But after a while, I've come to think of it as the band's greatest album, critics be damned. While Wire Greyhounds and Skin Parade start it out well enough, the real fantasticness starts at Christian Animation Torch Carriers, it sounds epic and simply has a truly cinematic feel, as does Storm Vibrations (at nearly 5 minutes, a symphony by Bob's standards and worth every second) Car Language (the epitome of a stifling summer's day stuck in traffic,) and to a lesser extent, Wings Of Thorn. Songs like Back To The Lake (really should have been a hit), Everywhere With Helicopter (the celebrity anthem that wasn't), Cheyenne (very much has the feel of the park of the same name), Skin Parade, and Eureka Signs are simply near-brilliant rock songs. Even the shorter songs (Wire Greyhounds, The Ids Are Alright, The Weeping Bogeyman, and anything else not listed above) show glimmers of wonderfulness. As you may know, this was only given two and a half stars by AMG. Well, in my opinion, they were uber-wrong. This baby simply needs another chance. Give it that chance and you will be VERY pleasantly surprised