<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:50:50.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reed's Records</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>40</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-8273258984851749744</id><published>2008-09-18T14:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T10:44:24.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #1</title><content type='html'>&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Switchfoot - "Learning to Breathe"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/29/ac/00d1d250fca017bc0f726010.L.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2000&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Re:Think&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;I Dare You To Move, Learning to Breathe, Playing for Keeps, Love is the Movement, Poparazzi&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "Only the losers win / They've got nothing to prove / They'll leave the world with nothing to lose / You can laugh at the weirdos now / Wait 'til wrongs are right / They'll be the ones with nothing to hide / Cause I've been thinking, thinking / I've got a plan to lose it all"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;It's always difficult to write about what you consider to be great, because you want what you write about it to also be great. You want it to capture the essence of what makes it meaningful to you and inspire others to see your point of view. The fear of not doing justice can be paralyzing, and can make you second-guess yourself to the point where you either can't write well or don't write at all. Saving the best for last sometimes means that there's not as much energy and zest left for it. I hope that will not be the case here. I want to complete this list and move on to other things, and since I've already written a review of this record, I'm tempted to simply post that and let things be. However, I feel I owe you, my readers, more than that - I owe it myself and to my love for this record. So I'm going to try not to second-guess, and let my ideas and feelings regarding Switchfoot's third album flow as readily as I am able.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;If you're a younger person or relatively new to Christian music, you might not be familiar with the first half of Switchfoot's career - although with the convenient early years pack that was released, you don't have much excuse. It was after the release of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Learning to Breathe&lt;/span&gt; that the band's music appeared on the soundtrack for A Walk to Remember, and the rise to stardom began. That's also when they started adding more band members and gained the financial ability to overproduce their records. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Learning to Breathe&lt;/span&gt; is the height of the the indie era, the three-piece phase, whatever you want to call it. Other than the first album, this one sounds probably the most organic. It's a smart rock record with a lot of restraint. You won't hear the distortion being pushed to the max here for cheap power - only on "You Already Take Me There" do we feel the fuzz. Most of the sounds that Jon Foreman lays down are bright acoustics and jangly electrics with light overdrive designed to intermingle with the bass. The interplay between all three band members has never been better, and no song would sound remotely like itself missing one of them. Sometimes it's hard to tell which instrument - bass or guitar - has the melody, so inextricable are the parts. The intros to "Love is the Movement" and "Learning to Breathe" typify the kind subtle writing and sound mixing at work. That delicate balance is one of the things I loved so much about old-school Switchfoot, and it helps set this album apart.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;For those who have been oversaturated with "Dare You To Move" on the pop stations in recent years, it might be hard to imagine how fresh the song was on its first release (incidentally, it was originally called "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; Dare You To Move"). When I put in the CD, I was expecting some kind of funky riff like on "Bomb" or a bouncy rocker like "New Way to Be Human." What I heard&amp;nbsp; instead was a methodical, swelling buildup to what is essentially an alternative power ballad that leads into the acoustic title track. It sets the tone for the album as being one of introspection, not showmanship.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;"I Dare You To Move" begins unceremoniously enough, but with an air of expectation as Jon sings "Welcome to the planet." The clean guitar rings out in constant rhythm, becoming an undercurrent that runs through the song. The band takes time to let it play, to linger on the harmonics and the little keyboard chimes before the second verse. The chorus is pretty and straightforward, Jon's distinctive vocals easily floating into the high notes. When the second verse begins, everything changes. "Welcome to the fallout," he sings with a bit of edge on the end of the last syllable. The rhythm section kicks in along with the distorted guitar for a burst of sound followed by the relative quiet of that clean undercurrent, still steady beneath it all. Long before we hear the lyrics "The tension is here," we know the tension because it's being displayed for us in the dynamic wrestling, as if the song can't decide how it wants to sound. The second chorus is of course louder and more emphatic than the first, and the bridge goes from conflict, to question, to surrender all in a few brief bars, culminating in the falsetto line "Salvation is here." The instruments come crashing back for that final chorus, that crystal clear impassioned plea, which then dissolves into noise before settling into the more calming beginnings of "Learning to Breathe." Its brilliance is in the effective use of simple elements. Many of the other songs on the album are more complex, but few are as powerful. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Another standout is "Love is the Movement," the battle cry of the album. This song has it all - an anthemic chorus, a great classic Foreman metaphor (and a double meaning for the word "movement"), a wailing soulful ensemble, and an epic exultation (going up the octave on "This is a revolution"). The brittle sounds of the verses accent the lyrics about waiting for motion. I can't really begin to explain this song, which is part of what makes it so memorable. All of the things I say about make it sound cliche, when it's anything but. It's one of the best in Switchfoot's catalogue. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;"Poparazzi" gets down and grungy with an unkept garage rock sound in a boisterous track about the meaningless pop songs that get stuck in our heads. This is the father of songs like "Gone" that have so much fun with the subject matter. "Innocence Again" flirts with reggae influences. "Playing for Keeps" poignantly captures the funk and confusion that comes with having to let go of a relationship. I've always loved this song because it has a lot of energy, but it's still profoundly forlorn. This song sounds like resignation feels. It's creepy good. Then there's "The Loser." It's an anthem for all losers, and of course it takes on the Scriptural paradox that we lose our lives in order to save them. Switchfoot has long been interested in such paradoxes. "Living is Simple" audaciously asserts that living is simple because losing is easy - it's just dying. Anyone can do it. "Is this fiction / Or divine comedy / When the last of the last finish first." "Erosion" continues the pondering with yet another destructive metaphor. Erosion be seen as something that eats away at you, but Foreman prefers to equate it with the cleansing&amp;nbsp; force of the Spirit, washing away our impurities. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I feel like in many ways &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Learning to Breathe&lt;/span&gt; is Switchfoot's most mature work. It has at least as much lyrical efficacy as anything they've ever done, with more obviously applicable spiritual themes than some of the latter records. It has the transparency of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Legend of Chin&lt;/span&gt;, the experimental energy of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;New Way To Be Human, &lt;/span&gt;and the cohesion and atmosphere of &lt;i&gt;The Beautiful Letdown&lt;/i&gt; (maybe the most similar record to this) but without all the bombast and fluffy production. It's a track list filled with great songs, played with conviction and honesty, stripped down to their vital elements with nothing added and nothing missing. This was the album that convinced me Switchfoot was going places. I liked &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;New Way to Be Human, &lt;/span&gt;but when I heard &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Learning to Breathe&lt;/span&gt; I was transfixed. And I still get that way after 8 years, which is why this has remained my favorite record. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Take an introductory breathing course with this video for &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8l1KgHI5GxA"&gt;You Already Take Me There&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-8273258984851749744?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/8273258984851749744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=8273258984851749744' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/8273258984851749744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/8273258984851749744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-top-40-albums-1.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #1'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-3971117399898072421</id><published>2008-09-13T11:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T11:36:52.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #2</title><content type='html'>&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mae - "The Everglow"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/618Y3YQSG2L._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2005&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Tooth &amp;amp; Nail&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;The Everglow, Cover Me, Suspension, We're So Far Away/Someone Else's Arms, Painless, The Sun and the Moon... &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "Painted skies / I've seen so many that cannot compare (to) / Your ocean eyes / The pictures you took that cover your room / And it was just like the sun but more like the moon / A light that can reach it all / So now I'm branded for taking the fall"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Everglow&lt;/span&gt; isn't something you listen to - it's something you experience. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Mae's astounding sophomore record is a delight, a sweeping pop rock epic packed with energy and pathos. The breakout indie rock outfit from Norfolk, VA, have cleverly infused the sounds on the compact disc with the liner notes to take the listener on a storybook journey. As you read the lyrics and listen to the music, you can follow along in the water colored mini-book whose simple but vibrant images place the various tracks in the context of a whimsical fantasy, a concept which reinforces the already superb song sequence. The order is perfect, and thanks to the sounds that neatly connect the songs to one another (as well as signal the listener to turn the page in the insert), this is the most cohesive concept album I've heard in years. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;With &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Destination:Beautiful&lt;/span&gt;, Mae showed they were competent musicians who could write catchy indie/emo tunes. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Everglow&lt;/span&gt; ratchets up the sonic qualities and blows the first album completely out of the water. It's louder and bolder but also more tender. Mae's distorted guitars have a soft edge, and the ever-present keys are effective at sustaining the mood - accenting the rock sounds and soaking the ballads. Dave Elkins' soothing vocals easily ride the waves created by the rest of the band, and he is a comforting guide. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;After the brief introduction, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Everglow&lt;/span&gt; opens with "We're So Far Away," a gorgeous piano piece that begins the journey with reflection and longing. It segues with great satisfaction into "Someone Else's Arms," the loudest and most straightforward rock tune that Mae fans have heard up to this point. The juxtaposition of those two songs is a most welcome surprise that fills us with exciting expectations that our journey will be dynamic and unpredictable. Most of the record is not so notable as this initial pairing, but it is filled with little sublime moments. The peppy "Suspension" and transitional "This Is the Countdown" are more subtle, feeding thought-provoking lyrical snippets at measured intervals between singable choruses and driving bridges. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The lyrics on this album are not, for the most part, terribly original or evocative. It's kind of a shame because with some sharper writing the effect might have been a truly transcendent. Also, while I hate to ever complain about being given more for my money, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Everglow&lt;/span&gt; could probably function as well with fewer tracks. "Breakdown," and especially "Mistakes We Knew We Were Making" feel a little like filler material. However, a great director, cinematographer and actors can sometimes create a masterpiece even with a flawed script; and with The Everglow it's all about the presentation. We've heard these emotions and ideas before, but never in this way. The unparalleled craft elevates and insulates the weaknesses so that you don't even notice them except upon some reflection. This is a record full of great moments that also amounts to a whole greater than the parts, which is a pretty impressive achievement.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Consider the underrated "Cover Me." The bridge in this song is wonderful. After a typical soaring exclamation ("Figure this out and to be free tonight") the song collapses down to a single palm-muted guitar riff backed by a tentative piano. The note choices are exquisite. Every one has value, none are wasted. I sucks you in, breathless, listening for what they will do next. As the instruments join and the intensity builds back up again, the same riff is given layers with more complimentary notes in what becomes one of the best songs on the record. You have to hear it to appreciate it.&amp;nbsp; This is followed by the title track, the triumphant climax of our spiritual journey. The keys sparkle over the song like a clear canopy of twinkling stars and you can feel the rapturous satisfaction of decision and victory and rest. Tracks 12-14 are more of the declining action, culminating in "The Sun and The Moon," a devastating swell of sadness and beauty. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;The repeating progression in the extended outro is genius - so simple yet so entrancing. Taking advantage of the circle of relationships between chords in a key, it leads us around and around in inescapable, dreamlike maelstrom. It seems appropriate that song evokes sea-like imagery. You could say that &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;"The Sun and the Moon" is a sister song to "The Ocean," the other true ballad that sits in the middle of the record. It's a fitting denouement to a bittersweet experience. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;If you haven't heard this album, there's no time like the present. If you have, it's easy to tell, because you're shaking your head wondering why this isn't number 1. ;)&amp;nbsp; Relive the magic with this video of &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R9FVLLHrXNI"&gt;Suspension. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-3971117399898072421?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/3971117399898072421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=3971117399898072421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/3971117399898072421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/3971117399898072421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-top-40-albums-2.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #2'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-1675184817506410994</id><published>2008-09-06T12:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T12:26:48.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #3</title><content type='html'>&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Five Iron Frenzy - "Five Iron Frenzy 2: Electric Boogaloo"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51u51Z1bmsL._SL500_AA280_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2001&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Five Minute Walk&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Far Far Away, You Can't Handle This, &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Farsighted, &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Car, Blue Mix, Plan B&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "And Leonard Nemoy / Can't stand up to this / And Captain James T. Kirk / Bows beneath my fists / And I am awesome / Awesome / I am the awesomest"&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;If you look closely, the clues are there. Eight people: not too many bands have eight people. And what's with that title? Electric Boogaloo? Sounds downright silly, and it actually has nothing whatsoever to do with record's theme or content. It's a reference to the movie Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo. Oh, and this isn't the band's second album. It's their 6th. So the evidence is here. But there's not much else that alerts us that this is a Five Iron Frenzy record. Where are the flashy colors? The stylized drawings of robots and creatures? As it turns out, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Electric Boogaloo &lt;/span&gt;is not your older brother's Five Iron. It takes quite a different approach from the experiment that was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;All The Hype Money Can Buy.&lt;/span&gt; With this new album, Reese Roper and the gang have reinvented themselves, riding their third-wave ska onto the beach of modern rock. And the surprising thing? They're all the better for it. Long-time fans may have difficulty accepting the lack of upbeats and quirky horns; but if they can get past their initial expectations, they may find that Five Iron Frenzy has released the finest recording of their career. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;This is a darker, more serious FIF, but that in no way makes it boring or uninteresting. Quite the opposite - the songs on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Boogaloo&lt;/span&gt; are fast-paced and riveting. The guitars rock harder, the drums pound louder, and perhaps most noticeable of all, Reese sings better than ever before or since. Lead vocalist Roper has never sounded better than he does here - we catch him at what is arguably the apex of his career. It's almost hard to believe this is the same mumbling, thin-sounding man from 1996. Here he exhibits a great power and confidence - his highs are startling but they don't waver. His unique presence is &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;compulsively listenable. It fills out the record and drives it forward. Listen to those high notes on "Farsighted," and the shouts and screams on "The Day We Killed" and "Vultures." His lyrics are still solid as well, they just aren't as funny. That is not to say the record is without its humor, of course. "Pre-Ex-Girlfriend," "You Can't Handle This," and "Plan B" and "Vultures" all have their share of silliness. However, standouts like "Spartan" and "Far Far Away" carry a solemn respect for their subject matters. The only place that their earnestness goes a little bit overboard is on "The Day We Killed" - it's just too theatrical. However, when a song like that is the worst one on your album, it says a lot for the other tracks. And here they are all fantastic. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Writing and technical credits are strong across the board. This is the most polished FIF record. Finally the level of production is matching the strength of their songwriting which is as catchy as ever. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;Once again I will alternately caution and encourage readers: this is not a ska record. Even less so than &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The End is Near.&lt;/span&gt; It is modern rock with horns. The only song that really contains any discernable ska element is "Plan B," which, like the rest of the record, sounds stronger and more refined than similar tracks on previous outings. By industry standards, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Boogaloo's &lt;/span&gt;quality&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;stands out from the crowd of mediocre rock albums. Take a close listen to the underrated "Car." How many contemporary Christian music acts have you ever heard perform a song in 5/4 time? I can count them on one hand. Once you realize what they are doing, you gain a whole new respect for the song. Just try and figure out where all the hits are going to land and I imagine you'll be left scratching your head at least once. But here's the kicker - it's not just an experiment, it's a genuinely good song with a singable chorus and some emotional lyrics from Jeff "The Girl" Ortega. &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;With so many memorable songs that run the gamut of FIF's usual subjects - the infectious, satirical "Vultures" takes on consumerism and corporate greed; "The Day We Killed" angrily laments the mistreatment of native Americans; "Blue Mix" exposes the industry with ferocious style - I have to say a word about "Far Far Away." It is one of the first Five Iron songs I remember hearing, and after listening to their entire catalogue it remains one of their very best. The loaded verses swell into an irresistible chorus in a song that should have soared on radio waves for months. "Far Far Away" has the poignancy of old favorites like "Every New Day" in a brisk, savvy, 3 1/2 minute rock song. It sits near the helm of the record but it could easily be a closer to cap off the journey (though "Eulogy" fills that need in bittersweet beauty). &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Five Iron Frenzy may not be known for their maturity, but &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Boogaloo&lt;/span&gt; is a class act - a cohesive, top notch album with a big sound a great songs from beginning to end. As my favorite CD from one of my all-time favorite bands, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Electric Boogaloo&lt;/span&gt; is a shoe-in for spot number 3. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;None of these songs have official videos that I am aware of, so just listen to &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j962_A0fxYU"&gt;Far, Far Away&lt;/a&gt;. It's the awesomest. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-1675184817506410994?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/1675184817506410994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=1675184817506410994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/1675184817506410994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/1675184817506410994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-top-40-albums-3.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #3'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-5635621433756679710</id><published>2008-08-28T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T18:44:38.087-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #4</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;All Star United - "All Star United"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/61h5kQp%2BBmL._SL500_AA280_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1997&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Reunion&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;La La Land, Lullaby, Smash Hit, Torn, Dive, Savior of My Universe&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "I got my prayer cloth collection in a Jesus jar / I got the Holy Ghost ridin' in the back of my car / Sometimes He gives a little tickle, I go "hardee har har" / Ain't it grand when you're living in la la land // My Jesus decal does quite a trick / Right above my dashboard I stick it / A good luck charm / It keeps me from harm / And saves me from speeding tickets"&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;One of my great regrets in life - somewhere in between killing that innocent little bird with a BB gun and wasting 75 cents + 2 1/2 hours of my life watching "The New World" - is that I never got to see All Star United live in concert during their glory days. From what I've heard it was a sight to behold, a crazy show with a lot of energy. It wouldn't be out of character. This debut record is still the band's greatest achievement, a lean 10 songs with nothing poor and nothing wasted. It's a tightly packed and well-groomed album containing the essence of everything that endears All Star to their fans. When they released their premature greatest hits collection after only two records, the lion's share of the material came from their self-titled debut. Of course, predictably, most of my favorite songs weren't their favorites, but I suppose it doesn't matter. That's why I am happy to own the CD so I can listen to their favorites &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; mine.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;All Star United&lt;/span&gt; isn't an ambitious recording. It doesn't have any lofty expectations. It's just one band doing what they do best. It's their uniqueness and purity that makes it all so worthwhile. I've said it before - no one does "happy" as well as All Star United. Happy is hard to pull off without coming across trite and cheesy. People don't take you seriously when you're too happy. It seems fake. Fortunately, All Star United is quite genuine; at least as far as they intend to be. Lead singer and lyricist Ian Eskelin is one of the best satirists in the music business and he comes out of the gate with his tongue in his cheek. "La La Land" lights up with bright distorted guitars and quirky, almost circus-like keyboards bouncing along in the back while the lyrics speak of such things as "marshmallow skies and custardy pies." This sugary language describes in some ways All Star's approach to sarcasm. They are not really confrontational, but if you listen they are calling out the failings of modern Christianity - in this case a feel-good, prosperity Gospel that uses Jesus as a get-out-of-jail-free card. The song is pretty funny, and it has a good rock quotient and smart chord progression as well. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;This trend continues with "Smash Hit," sending up the business of all things contemporary Christian. The truth sometimes gets lost in our attempts to market it, but at the end of the day Jesus doesn't need our promotions or ad campaigns. He's the biggest hit of all, a sensation in His own right, affecting the whole world. That's what you get if you think about the song. If you just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feel&lt;/span&gt; it, you might merely headband to the infectious bridge riff - but that's okay too. "Bright Red Carpet" takes a clandestine approach to a serious subject: fame and wealth on earth don't give you any special credentials in the afterlife. When the band says "Will you be there when they roll out / Bright red carpet / Will I see you by my side," what they mean is, will you be in heaven? Or is your worth found in clothes, popularity, and money? &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I guess happy is less the word for All Star than upbeat. This they are consistently, but I don't want to sell them short. I've already established that their lyrical content takes them much deeper than simple fluffiness, and they also have plenty of sincere sentiments. "Savior of My Universe" is a well-realized worshipful acoustic track. "Torn" expresses the uncertainty that we have all felt when wondering how (or perhaps even if) to proceed in a relationship. "Drive" offers a listening ear to a friend in distress. While pain is touched upon, it is never wallowed in. The band has hope and they are eager to share it. There are plenty of bands that do dark and do it well, but so few have mastered the lava-lamp exuberance that All Star exudes so effortlessly. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;This breakout disc is also the strongest musical outing for All Star United. They are good musicians, and they give their guitars and keys time to play the songs to their conclusions. "Drive" and "Torn" are particularly great in this respect, but even "Lullaby" breaks out in the middle for a little jam. The trebly guitar tones, retro keys and background "woo-hoos" give the record a familiar congenial sensibility that recalls a simpler time. It's one of those discs that is just good clean fun. Listening to it lifts my spirits and reminds me what I love about music. Ladies and gentlemen, the greatest band in the world. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I looked far and wide (but mostly wide) and discovered this video for Bright Red Carpet, apparently made when the band had so little cash that they couldn't even afford to decorate the walls. Pretty straightforward, and hey, you don't even have to navigate away from this page so you might as well play the video. &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;object id="uvp_fop" allowfullscreen="false" height="298" width="468"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://d.yimg.com/cosmos.bcst.yahoo.com/up/fop/embedflv/swf/fop.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="flashVars" value="id=v2138755&amp;amp;enableFullScreen=0&amp;amp;gig_lt=1219973909414&amp;amp;gig_pt=1219973914086&amp;amp;gig_g=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed id="uvp_fop" allowfullscreen="false" src="http://d.yimg.com/cosmos.bcst.yahoo.com/up/fop/embedflv/swf/fop.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="id=v2138755&amp;amp;enableFullScreen=0&amp;amp;gig_lt=1219973909414&amp;amp;gig_pt=1219973914086&amp;amp;gig_g=1" height="298" width="468"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://urbnmix2.net/video.php?id=571"&gt;All Star United - Bright Red Carpet&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://urbnmix2.net"&gt;urbnmix music video codes&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="visibility: hidden; width: 0px; height: 0px;" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.11NXC/bT*xJmx*PTEyMTk5NzM5MDk*MTQmcHQ9MTIxOTk3MzkxNDA4NiZwPTIxMjEmZD*mbj*mZz*x.gif" border="0" height="0" width="0"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-5635621433756679710?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/5635621433756679710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=5635621433756679710' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/5635621433756679710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/5635621433756679710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-top-40-albums-4.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #4'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-3541132884000829205</id><published>2008-08-26T23:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T23:14:39.249-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #5</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Steven Curtis Chapman - "Signs of Life"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51Y7BE272CL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1996&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Sparrow&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Lord of the Dance, Rubber Meets the Road, Children of the Burning Heart, Only Natural, Signs of Life&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "Come in base I've landed my ship on a planet here in space / This is the one they say is inhabited by the human race / And I'm going out to look around and see what's here / And I'll tell you what I find / Confirmation on the inhabitants, they're running everywhere / Their technology is beyond what I've seen anywhere / But I'm trying to communicate and they don't hear me / Seems like for all I'm finding I can't find the most important thing"&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;As a person who enjoys lists, I've made quite a few of them in my life. Favorite fast food restaurants, best rollercoasters at King's Island, top 100 albums, etc. I gleefully engage in conversation about how one thing stacks up against other, similar things. Maybe it's a little bit of OCD in wanting to see neat, organized lists. Maybe it's the control freak in me trying to control my world by reducing complex questions to simple matters of better and best. Or maybe it's just an attempt to know myself and what I like. I have a favorite food, a favorite color, a favorite animal, a favorite day of the week; but the one list I could never make was that of my favorite songs. I've always found it too daunting a task. Aside from the fact that I will be singing something different every day of the week, there are just so many songs! Millions have been written and I've probably heard tens of thousands of them in my lifetime. Usually, I pass on the question. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;However... if a maniac burst into my house and held one of my family members or my cat at gunpoint and asked me to choose a favorite song (I've heard this kind of thing happens every so often), I have little doubt that my answer would be "Lord of the Dance." The lead track from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Signs of Life,&lt;/span&gt; Steven Curtis Chapman's spectacular follow-up to the hugely popular &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Heaven in the Real World&lt;/span&gt;, "Lord of the Dance" is a consummate recording. I compliment the &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;recording &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;and not just the song&amp;nbsp; because I can hardly imagine it being any more finely tuned than it is. When Steven rerecorded "Lord of the Dance" (as well as "The Walk") live in Abbey Road studio for his &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Greatest Hits &lt;/span&gt;record, it was a fun little experiment. But it wasn't the masterpiece found on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Signs of Life.&lt;/span&gt; This album is somewhat of a departure from the reverb-soaked pop rock of the last album. It adopts more of a down-to-earth folk rock approach. Steven and the band blend crisp, percussive acoustic guitars with wailing electric leads, distinctive Dobros, fiddles, pianos and more into a mix that is musically literate but not lacking in Chapman's radio-friendly charm. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Signs of Life &lt;/span&gt;won a Grammy for best gospel album, and at least four of its songs were nominated for song of the year at the Dove Awards; and it's no accident. From beginning to end, excellence pervades. If you want to hear great musicians jamming out on high quality Christian pop rock songs, this is your album. And "Lord of the Dance" represents the best it has to offer.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;What a song it is. It pains my trying to come up with ways to adequately describe it. The first tones grab your attention, mysterious, suspenseful. The guitars, tuned to open D, slide and bend with mournful anticipation. Underneath, percussion: light, but with purpose. A whine and a slide, and then on either side, far left and right, the acoustic undercurrent begins with a snappy but somewhat dark run down the strings, ending in the low D string ringing warmly in its sound space. The riff goes back and forth, a dancer in its own right, just shuffling, biding its time until it's time for the real choreography. The vocals come in, but no lyrics yet. Just "da dums." The tone is measured, ambiguous. It's clear that something is happening, but we don't yet know how to feel about it. All we know is we want to hear more. The instruments mellow and find their place, keeping the pulsing rhythm as the verse starts, and when Steven sings about his birth on the Tennessee river, we are already there. The feeling of those foggy shores on a humid southern morning with a slightly chilly breeze; the dark green of the foliage on the bank still casting shadows in the newly-risen sun; you can just about feel the flies buzzing around the back of your neck. It's an almost Deliverance-like moment. There are no dueling banjos, but these are modern times. Our musical tour guides are playing Taylors now.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Halfway through the story, the first cymbal sounds, and we begin our journey upriver. The rapids are approaching, and the pensive folk instruments are leading us to a crash-course with rock n roll when we go over the waterfall and into the chorus. At this point, it's useless to identify the parts of the song . They have solidified into a whole so unified, that there is no one playing the song; there simply &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; the song. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Basically, "Lord of the Dance" is as perfect a song as I have ever heard and I love everything about it, even though I don't care for Riverdance or even dancing in general. I've listened to it probably 6 times while writing the last two paragraphs and I'm not sick of it yet. When &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Speechless&lt;/span&gt; came out I listened to "Dive" until I drove it into the ground. I'm not sure I can do that with "Lord of the Dance." But I should talk about the rest of the record. "Signs of Life" is a nice mellow song and has some cool bass in it. "Children of the Burning Heart" has an inspiring melody and it invokes imagery of mountains and fields and wind in your face - of freedom and determination. It also has some great fiddling. "Rubber Meets the Road" has a solo that is straight up crunk as anything in the dirty south. "Only Natural" is a great jam song. "Let Us Pray" and "The Walk" are the really popular, Dove-nominated songs, which means they are good, but as usual, not really the album highlights. Both are excellent in their use of Scripture, however. "Free" concludes the first half of the album with a tender emotional ballad.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;This is one of those albums that I could listen to just about anytime, anywhere. It's Steven Curtis Chapman's finest hour and with a career as distinguished as his, that's saying a lot. It has great energy, style, and is a spectacular batch of songs. Get with the groove and join the dance with the &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RtX9BnEukTc"&gt;Lord of the Dance music video&lt;/a&gt;. Unfortunately, this video cuts off the song before its logical conclusion. The 5 minute 20 second running time of the full track is too much of a strain for radio or music television, so what we got with this abridged, less than 4 minute version that is, of course, inferior to the full version (and is kind of a weird video to boot). Still definitely worth a watch. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-3541132884000829205?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/3541132884000829205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=3541132884000829205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/3541132884000829205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/3541132884000829205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-top-40-albums-5.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #5'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-7754826366329536702</id><published>2008-08-09T10:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T10:36:19.029-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #6</title><content type='html'>&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;dc Talk - "Supernatural"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41AK0CFHM3L._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1998&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Forefront&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Since I Met You, It's Killing Me, Supernatural, Wanna Be Loved, Dive&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "I've never heard a dying soul / Wish that he had taken / More time on his portfolio / I swear, I never heard a momma say / Shoulda never had that baby / As a doctor holds her newborn on display / It's a heavenly prescription / A little bit will go a long, long way / Just put yourself in their position / Don't we all wanna be loved"&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;I've said it before - great bands either embody the best a particular genre has to offer, or fuse genres creating something that either defies labeling, or forces new labels to be created. dc Talk is the latter type: a group so varied that trying to pin down all their influences is about enough to make your head explode. Of course it's made a bit easier by looking at the threesome as individuals, but when they were together Toby, Michael and Kevin were a musical force. I realize I'm committing heresy in the eyes of many by having this record in my top 10, 6 spots higher than the beloved &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus Freak&lt;/span&gt;. That album sits on a fantastic golden pedestal replete with gems, jewels and other shiny things. It's considered untouchable by many hardcore fans. So I'm going to risk mass hysteria by awarding the prom queen tiara to the ugly-duckling younger sister, believing that some of you will be able to see the beauty here the way I do. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Supernatural&lt;/span&gt; is the next natural step in the progression dc Talk has been making since &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nu Thang&lt;/span&gt;. With each record, the rap quotient has diminished a bit, the rock amped up, and the production values improved. In &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus Freak&lt;/span&gt;, the trio took their funk-tinged rap project and transformed it into a full-fledged modern rock/grunge masterpiece. With &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Supernatural&lt;/span&gt;, the raw energy and melodic sensibility of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus Freak&lt;/span&gt; takes on a dense atmosphere, drops the rap altogether, and takes us on a journey into new alternative territory. Frankly, I don't think the detractors who cite overproduction as a flaw have a leg to stand on. The only thing that keeps most artists from sounding as good as they could is money. dc Talk now has the wealth and popularity to do it up right, and they have taken great care in composing what I consider to be their finest record; it's certainly their most intricate. I understand if having too much going on waters down the overall feel so that doesn't hit as hard - that would in fact be detrimental to a rock group. However I don't think that's the case here. "It's Killing Me" and "Supernatural" sound every bit as brutal as anything on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus Freak&lt;/span&gt;, and the ballads like "Consume Me" and "Red Letters" only benefit from the smoother mix. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Supernatural &lt;/span&gt;also serves to emphasize the boys' vocal harmonies, which Michael and Kevin serve up in plentiful style. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The songwriting on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Supernatural &lt;/span&gt;is more balanced than on its predecessor, believe it or not. Toby Mac wrote most of the songs on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus Freak&lt;/span&gt; with the help of studio personalities like Mark Heimermann. That album also featured two covers ("Day By Day" and "In the Light") in its brief 10 song roster. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Supernatural&lt;/span&gt; has a much better mix in the writing department. It has 12 original songs (plus Kevin's poem "There Is A Treason At Sea") and no covers, with all three Talkers weighing in on nearly every song. The result is not eclectic - rather, it is a very cohesive modern alt rock outing. Instead of having many songs of varying styles, the styles are melted down and mixed evenly inside the tracks and then those tracks are flown together in a very natural progression. It's eminently listenable. And with all the odd, edgy, creative material ("My Friend (So Long)," "Fearless," "Dive"), there are moments of high energy and pleasing harmonies ("Wanna Be Loved," "Since I Met You") and the best ballads in dc Talk's catalog ("Consume Me," "Red Letters,"). Also I suppose an X-Files fan such as myself should probably mention the song "The Truth" which borrows a catchphrase from what was at the time a wildly popular television show and proclaims "The truth is out there." The haunting "There Is A Treason At Sea," following the example of "Alas My Love" but in many ways exceeding it, closes out the album on a tasteful low note. The words of Kevin's poem evoke the imagery of the album art (the ship and the dark ocean) and then slip blissfully into the same swelling ambiance from the Intro. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;It's a daunting task to call your album &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Supernatural &lt;/span&gt;and then try to live up to the name, but dc Talk is up to the challenge. If on this list there exists a perfect record, this is most likely it. It's as close as I think I've ever heard. "I see the truth, and I believe."&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8oFbzKdjUOo&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;Consume Me&lt;/a&gt;. I like this video more than the My Friend video, even though they cut the song down, which is annoying. &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-7754826366329536702?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/7754826366329536702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=7754826366329536702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/7754826366329536702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/7754826366329536702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-top-40-albums-6.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #6'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-1035059502148469461</id><published>2008-07-31T13:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T23:15:08.411-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #7</title><content type='html'>&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Luna Halo - "Shimmer"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51B8-oIEkzL._SL500_AA280_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2000&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Sparrow&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Superman, Forgiveness, So Far, Wait For You, Running Away, The Way To Your Heart&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "My skin feels strange / Like there's something underneath / Locked in these chains / How I ache to be free / Dancing shadows / Call me closer but still I'm waiting // Until the sun stands still again / Until the earth reverses / Until my eyes can see the wind / I'll wait for You"&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;One of the truly exquisite recordings on this list, Luna Halo's impressive debut album &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shimmer&lt;/span&gt; is practically bursting with dynamic, creative expression. It moves deliberately, never rushing, always giving its passages room to breath and progress at a natural pace. The songs tend towards the long side, but not unnaturally so. The band simply allows its ideas and motifs to play out properly. In so doing, they make sure that even the quiet sections have enough interest and are leading to or from something. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shimmer&lt;/span&gt; is a densely packed album. Every song is painstakingly assembled with just the right mix. The sound is guitar-laden, but it rarely feels heavy or bracing. In fact, one of the most notable features about &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shimmer&lt;/span&gt; is its atmosphere. Luna Halo made a space for themselves in the industry with their brand of moody alternative rock owing to British bands like Radiohead and Delirious? for inspiration. They even cover a Delirious? song - "Hang On To You." It set them apart from the skin-and-bones bands of the 90's that were still hanging on to vestiges of the grunge movement. I don't have a lot of patience for meticulous sub-genre labeling, but I have no doubt that Luna Halo is post-something. Their guitar work is covered in effects and serves to blend the elements of the songs together rather than stand out in a flashy sort of way. The guitar solos, if you want to call them that, are frequently noisy and chaotic (see: "Running Away" and "The Way to Your Heart"). &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Their approach may not be new to British bands (Luna Halo is from the states) but it hadn't been heard much in Christian music, certainly not with this kind of quality. If they wanted to make a splash with their first record, you can tell they decided to do it by going over every track with a fine-toothed comb and making sure it was perfect. There's not a weak song in the bunch. The opener "Aliens" is probably the least interesting, but it gets by on atmosphere and sets the tone for the record. Luna Halo's sound is radically different from the funky rap-rock of Reality Check, from which several of its members have come. Front man Nathan Barlowe's voice has a spectacular range and a floaty quality that is superbly supported and complimented by &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shimmer&lt;/span&gt;. I can't imagine any other timbre of singer being appropriate. And fortunately, they make use of his talents. The intelligent song structures give rise to a number of superb melodic and harmonious moments. The chorus of "Wait For You," the pre-chorus of "Forgiveness," the bridge of "Way To Your Heart," the ending of "Superman"... all these are gorgeous passages, among the best the record has to offer but by no means the end of its charms. The lyrics are predominantly small and simple but effective. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The new Luna Halo that was released last year is for all purposes a completely new band. It has lost the Christian themes which are prominent throughout this first record, it has abandoned their signature atmosphere in favor of a more straightforward rock, and Nathan's voice has roughened quite a bit in the last 8 years. He's never sounded better than he did on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shimmer&lt;/span&gt;. Beyond that, the songs simply don't compete. There isn't nearly the depth and subtlety found here. When I first listened to Shimmer, I recognized that it was good but wasn't immediately sold. It's not impenetrable at all, but it doesn't have the quick riffs or blazing solos that catch people's attention right off. It does, however, have an enduring quality. If you love one song enough to listen to the rest, each one in turn unveils its secrets until you see the beauty of the whole. Or at least, that's the way it worked with me. I'm still finding new things to love about &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shimmer&lt;/span&gt;. That's why it sits proudly in my top 10. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I have scoured the internet to find &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crsjluKooI4"&gt;this music vid&lt;/a&gt; because it is one of my favorites and it's one of the best songs on the record. I finally found it, albeit in a low quality form. It's been difficult to find. Seemingly, the band or someone involved with their label/marketing has been destroying access to the remnants of the old-era Luna Halo. If you want to watch it, you should do so immediately, because it will probably be pulled from YouTube. I didn't tag it with the band's name or the song title in hopes that it won't be easily searchable and that this will delay its removal. Without further ado... &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crsjluKooI4" target="_new"&gt;Superman&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-1035059502148469461?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/1035059502148469461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=1035059502148469461' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/1035059502148469461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/1035059502148469461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-top-100-albums-7.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #7'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-7986329082593323915</id><published>2008-07-28T21:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T21:34:51.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #8</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Juliana Theory - "Love"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/610YtvBCUbL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2002&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Epic&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Do You Believe Me?, White Days, Jewel to Sparkle, Repeating Repeating, In Conversation, DTM&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "Conversation is amazing when we're free to be things people often won't because they hate themselves / These situations almost daily have a way of making people understand that all of us are one / But isolation and division will be our destruction if we can't communicate / So as I contradict myself, and forget all I've said, I am free"&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;The dark horse of Juliana Theory albums, this one probably upset a lot of fans by varying drastically from the emo-pop formula that they had established. I suppose I've never been much of a purist, as I tend to love the records that veer from a group's established norm. With something of a concept album in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Love&lt;/span&gt;, the emo band goes hard rock, and what a joy it is! Especially since they do it better than most hard rock groups. In my mind there aren't nearly enough rock records like this - lots of guitars big in the mix and singable vocal melodies combine into a tasty concoction. The dingy, thick-sounding electric guitars have a real presence here. They buzz and float and even crash, thanks to some dropped-C tuning on songs like "Congratulations" that make this by far the most aggressive album in The Juliana Theory's canon (which, by the way, is now forever closed thanks to their disbanding after the release of "Deadbeat Sweetheartbeat"). The consistency of the instruments and the value of melody over pure energetic recklessness reminds me quite a bit of some gothic rock groups like HIM. Their signature piano is still present ("Shell of a Man," "The Hardest Things"), and with the big-label mixing power they've established almost a tangible airy-ness, a space in which the music exists. As a guitar player I can more easily focus on the six-strings, but I would be remiss if I did not remark on the work that the rhythm section does. Drums and bass play a huge part in the mood and style of the album, and both have a chance to shine on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Love&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Bret Detar's vocal performances have been steadily improving since the unsteady start on the first record. On &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Love&lt;/span&gt; they sound fantastic. He still has the smoothness he possessed on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Emotion is Dead&lt;/span&gt; but he takes the range and power exhibited there to new levels. They've also found new creative ways to juxtapose his screams against seeming unfitting music - listen to "In Conversation" and you'll understand. The really impressive bit about that song, though, is the way he segues from a note into a scream and back in the same breath. Quite a set of lungs on this man! This shows him building up his endurance to the point where he was able to muster that 30-second gut-buster on the next record's "French Kiss Off."&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;"In Conversation," aside from being a welcome change of pace, is an example of the record's songwriting strengths. The band shows what is probably the greatest complexity and maturity of their discography. Take, for instance, the brilliant "White Days" with its mesmerizing undercurrent, rhythmic lyrical structure and crisp arpgeggiated intro. You can just feel yourself staring, absorbed, at the oncoming road as you drive through the night. The tasteful "Jewel to Sparkle" cleverly presents a subversive melody. "Trance" and "DTM" pick things up in the second half with some continuous rocking out. Neither is as memorable as something like "If I Told You This Was Killing Me..." but in many ways they are better songs. If you want memorable, look no further than the deliriously hooky "Do You Believe Me?" with its fun "woa-oh-oh" background vocals that hearken back to the 80's (Michael W. Smith's "All You're Missin' Is A Heartache" comes to mind). This song has it all. Punchy guitars, a nice buildup, and a satisfying introduction of additional vocal harmonies in the final chorus.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Probably hoping that with their new label they would be reaching new audiences and making first-time fans, TJT decided to re-record one of the best tracks from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Emotion Is Dead&lt;/span&gt; and place it on the album. The updated version of "Into the Dark" is still a good song, and the new presentation was necessary to make it feel like it fits on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Love&lt;/span&gt;. Yet, to me, it doesn't really add anything to the album and I think the first recording is a superior vision. Other tracks that aren't as successful are "The Hardest Things" and the final track, "Everything." "Everything" simply doesn't work on the same level as "You Always Say Goodnight" or even "Constellation." It's not really poor; it just closes the record with a sputter rather than a bang. It's a fitting wrap-up lyrically, but it's not as creative as most of the other tracks. "Trance" is actually a great jam song, but it has potential to be a lot more interesting in the final minute or so and doesn't reach for that. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The Juliana Theory is one of my favorite groups, and in my opinion this is their strongest release.&amp;nbsp; I keep &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Love&lt;/span&gt; close to my heart (*groan*) and close to the top of my list.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I apologize for the video - they didn't have any professional videos from this album as far as I can tell and the concert footage is of characteristically poor quality.&amp;nbsp; So this is &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xWgMRLzVZKA" target="_new"&gt;just the song&lt;/a&gt;, but it's a great song and you should listen to it anyway. &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xWgMRLzVZKA" target="_new"&gt;Do You Believe Me?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-7986329082593323915?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/7986329082593323915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=7986329082593323915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/7986329082593323915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/7986329082593323915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-top-40-albums-8.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #8'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-6739594531985935235</id><published>2008-06-28T15:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T15:29:16.106-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #9</title><content type='html'>&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Skillet - "Invincible"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/513-Wqy-b5L._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2000&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Ardent/Forefront&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;The Fire Breathes, Best Kept Secret, Invincible, You're Powerful, You're In My Brain, I Trust You&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "You know you just can't kill a man when he's dead / You know the spirit survives / You can't stop the advance of the Kingdom to com / You know the truth is alive (invincible)"&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Electro-industrial rock. That's what singer/bassist John Cooper of Skillet called their musical style circa-2000 when&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Invincible &lt;/span&gt;was released. As I've been saying in my previous reviews of Skillet records, the band perfects a style once every other record. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hey You, I Love Your Soul &lt;/span&gt;was a transitional effort, veering wildly from the raw grunge rock of their debut into a completely new territory dominated by electronic effects. With &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Invincible &lt;/span&gt;Skillet found their niche, a sublime combination of hard rock and electronica that is about as perfectly balanced as I can imagine it. The unorthodox praise band rocks harder and more confidently than ever before, blending distorted electric guitars and real drums with electronic percussion and all manner of computerized synth sounds, beeps, bloops, and swells. They also incorporate more traditional keyboard tones on some of the softer tracks. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The record opens dramatically with one of the ripest, most satisfying synthetic sounds I've ever heard. Immediately, they have my attention. I figure any song that sounds that sweet in the first 5 seconds is going to be great all the way through, and I'm not let down by "Best Kept Secret," one of Skillet's all time best tracks. It sets the tone for the album and for the rock tracks that are to follow. Seeped in style, a little bad-boy-esque - its grinding, somewhat fuzzy compressed guitar sounds punching in time with the danceable electronic beat that offers a lot of bass response. Cooper's voice also seems to have found its way by this time. In the first record he sounded hoarse all the time, and in the second the mix was simply too quiet. Here he gets a more prominent&amp;nbsp; presence in the songs and commands a smoother sound than at any other point in his career. This lends itself nicely to the airy spaces often left in the songs between all the keys, yet still retains enough attack to drive the heavier tracks. This is the most refined Skillet prior to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Comatose&lt;/span&gt;. Yet, unlike the latest release, it has a focused lyrical approach in addition to a coherent and unique style. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;You'll probably notice as you listen that most songs are written in second person. "You" is the most common noun of address. Why? Because &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Invincible&lt;/span&gt; is at its core a praise and worship album. Easily half the record is vertical, sung to or at least about God. "You're the best kept secret." "You take my rights away." "You're powerful." "I Trust You." "You're in My Brain." "You're the One that I need, the One who makes me complete," etc. That's six songs directed to the Father in Heaven, not counting the tender and beautiful "Angels Fall Down" which appears as a hidden track. In 2000 this seemed more difficult for people to grasp than it does today. I mean, these guys wore crazy hairstyles and funky clothing and played strange rock music. It just so happens they found their own unique way of expressing their faith and emotions, and I for one am glad they did. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;This is another one of those albums that is sometimes hard for me to explain. What is the appeal? Either you like the style or you don't, I think. I love it, and nobody else sounds like this. Even Skillet doesn't sound like this, except on this record. "The Fire Breathes" gets me so pumped up. "Rest" is calm and chill. The only one that I think doesn't work as well as it should is "Each Other," a bit of a stock ballad. After Audio Adrenaline's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Some Kind of Zombie, &lt;/span&gt;Skillet (and namely &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Invincible&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;) was one of the first heavy bands that I started listening to. This record to me was a gateway to a world of great alternative music, and it stands as a benchmark today. "It lives inside of me / burning, burning, burning." &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;One of my favorite music videos is the one for &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bw2tTli7woc" target="_new"&gt;Best Kept Secret&lt;/a&gt;. I love how it looks like they are wearing wrapping paper! And near the bridge ("let it out..."), the imagery seems influenced by the X-Files movie. ;)&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-6739594531985935235?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/6739594531985935235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=6739594531985935235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/6739594531985935235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/6739594531985935235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-top-40-albums-9.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #9'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-4975033086907080362</id><published>2008-06-19T19:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-19T19:12:40.085-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #10</title><content type='html'>&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#10&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Five Iron Frenzy - "The End Is Near/Here"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41G0WPKYZFL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2003&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Five Minute Walk&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Wizard Needs Food, Badly; On Distant Shores; Cannonball; See The Flames Begin to Crawl; At Least I'm Not Like All Those Other Old Guys&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "The crowds recoil, demand our survival / Fists in the air, mouths caked with saliva / But you are the ones, the spark that was spawned / Who picks up the pieces and passes it on"&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;I'll go ahead and say it right out - this is an emotional record for me. I purchased it at Liberty University following a Five Iron concert that I had just attended as part of the Winners Never Quit Tour, also featuring Bleach and Holland. This final tour for the world's most famous underground ska band, and so while it was exciting to be there and hear them before they disbanded, it also provided a certain air of somber realization. The songs took on a weight in light of future events, because we knew this was the last time we would hear them in this way and see the band in this formation. We treasured the moment and danced and sang and screamed for all we were worth. It was a night to remember. Then I bought the album, having never heard any of its songs except for the few they had played that night. On the back was a field marked "The last time I saw Five Iron Frenzy was..." and the merch people stamped it with the date and place. So I held my record and said my goodbyes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Five Iron Frenzy, more than most bands, were aware ahead of time of their intended demise. So, rather than piddle out and have people wonder endlessly about their fate (*coughDCTALKcough*), the group composed not one but two records to end their career in a blazing fireball. The first was the controversially titled &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cheeses of Nazareth&lt;/span&gt; shorted to simply &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cheeses...&lt;/span&gt; for the bookshelves, a joke record made solely for hardcore fans giving them rampant silliness as only FIF can. It also featured several old demos, a B-side from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Boogaloo&lt;/span&gt; and an entirely different song to the tune of "Ugly Day." It wasn't a good album by any stretch, but it was for us and we loved it. The second was their final full-length studio release, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The End is Near, &lt;/span&gt;which IS a good album - even a great one.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 10px 0px 0pt 10pt; float: right;" src="http://lyrics.crossmap.com/images/artists/84.jpg"&gt;At this point in their career, the band had all but perfected their hard rock with horns sound. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;I keep saying rock because this is not a ska album in any discernible sense. It is rock with horns. Five Iron's ska era ended with the uncertain footing of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;All The Hype&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Money Can Buy, &lt;/span&gt;giving rise to the unbelievably solid &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Five Iron Frenzy 2: Electric Boogaloo.&lt;/span&gt; That record featured a much more mature sound and more serious lyrics, as well as Reese's best vocals to date. The End is Near continues that trend, creating a seemingly effortless string of catchy and hard-hitting rock songs. The only hints of ska guitar are found on "See the Flames Begin to Crawl" and "Wizard Needs Food, Badly;" the only punk rhythms are found on "That's How the Story Ends" which is more reminiscent in the chorus of their older songs like "Milestone." Fittingly, much of the record deals with different aspects of the group's dissolution. You can almost separate the tracks into those that are stand-a-lone songs and those that compose the connected arc leading us to the conclusion. The message of album rests on the songs "So Far, So Bad," "It Was Beautiful," "See The Flames Begin to Crawl," "That's How the Story Ends," and "On Distant Shores." &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The one caveat is that the group can't totally resist the temptation to be a little melodramatic and at times whiny. "Anchors Away" is a little funny in perhaps unintended ways as it takes its message about media and consumerism a bit too seriously. Fortunately, the rest of the record keeps the sense of humor that the band is known for. "So Far, So Bad" might seem a little bratty, but you can't deny its truth. "Don't worry what this song would say / You'll never hear it anyway // They won't play this song on the radio / So far, so bad, that's how it goes." "Wizard Needs Food, Badly" is probably one of Reese's most classic lyrics. The "it's funny because it's true" factor is ratcheted up high, and it ought to become an anthem for men everywhere, as well as helping the women in their lives to understand them a little better. The crux of the song is a plea to the women we admire so very much that, yes, we love you, but... *little kid eyes* can't you see that the wizard needs food? I'm certain John Eldredge would approve.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Then there's "At Least I'm Not Like All Those Other Old Guys," which is in a class by itself. It's unlike anything else I've ever heard. With a chord progression so odd it's incredible that it works so well, the song is Reese's protest against being old (he was 29 at the time). It's short and sweet, and the crisscrossing harmony in the chorus is fantastic. I'm still trying to figure it out. We all like sandwiches, right???&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;"American Kryptonite" might be the most extreme song FIF has ever released. Five Iron are no strangers to theatrical faux-metal, and here the object of their overenthusiastic derision is western consumerism. Reese sounds like his vocal chords are literally being filed down to nothing as he repeatedly screams during the bridge. "Farewell to Arms" is a call to peace, but it also calls out those who let their hate lead and rage against the church, decrying it while nursing their own belligerence. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;When they aren't commenting on society, they take to burning bridges. "See the Flames Being to Crawl" is literally about destroying their musical equipment as they go up in metaphorical flames. Never devoid of the hope that they have always been about, the song notes that the flame passes to the rest of us to carry on now that their ministry as FIF has run its course. However, there is not much consolation in the bittersweet "That's How the Story Ends." Darkly amusing, this is the season finale in which the group ties up all the loose ends they've amassed in their joke songs over the years. I won't spoil it, but allow me to say that some of the songs referenced are "Where is Micah," "Blue Comb '78," "Kitty Doggy," "Kingdom of the Dinosaurs," "Combat Chuck," "The Untimely Death of Brad," and perhaps most astonishingly, the answer to the mystery of "These Are Not My Pants." One can debate whether it was wise to provide an ending to all of this and shut fans up, but it is kind of nice to have a reference, and apparently this is what they wanted to do. Hearing the song is something akin to seeing a loved one in a coffin - it beings to sink in that they are really not coming back. Fortunately it isn't that serious and so there are plenty of crooked smiles to be had along the way. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Whatever your thoughts or feelings on the rest of it, there can be little doubt that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The End is Near&lt;/span&gt; concludes on the right note. In fact, I can hardly imagine a better way to end the record than the stirring "On Distant Shores." Like "Every New Day" before it, words fail me to truly capture the essence of this song or the emotions that it invokes. Many bands go their entire careers and never write anything half this good. Five Iron Frenzy was able to make magic multiple times, here crafting a song that, really, is every bit as good as "Every New Day." An epic closer of the highest calibre, "On Distant Shores" begins almost lightly with a picking guitar and horn accents, and an extremely melodic, hopeful chorus. The chord choices throughout the song are perfect - if a supercomputer were equipped with extensive knowledge of music theory it seems impossible that it could have come up with anything more starkly fitting or compelling. The song then evolves from its two-verse, two-chorus structure, quieting and darkening as the bridge approaches and the vocals begin soft. Soon, though, they will build in strength and intensity, somewhat like in "Every New Day" but at much more even pace, allowing ample time to set the mood and slowly stir it. When the height of musical intensity and the emotional delivery from Roper nears its peak, the tension is sustained until finally it's time to explode. With the words "I finally believed / That you still loved me" he reaches into his highest registers and his voice breaks in a heartfelt scream, and the song collapses into a rousing reprise of "Every New Day," the familiar climactic ending. As I said, I can't imagine how the band could have gone out any better than this. It's a breathtaking, exhausting, satisfying conclusion to a wonderful record and a radically distinctive career.&amp;nbsp; R.I.P. Five Iron. You live forever in my heart and in my MP3 player.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 0pt 0pt; float: left;" src="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/B0001XAM18.01.MZZZZZZZ.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The End is Here&lt;/span&gt; is a two-disc collection that was released later. The second disc contains live recordings from the final tour, and I would have bought this one if it had existed at the time. It's more supplemental material for anyone who can't get enough of the band. For those who actually attended the concert, it's a great way to relive the nostalgia. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Jump on this video I found for &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Rp9XvD5kXg" target="_new"&gt;"Wizard Needs Food, Badly,"&lt;/a&gt; apparently made by the same animators who do E-surance. It has nothing to do with the song but it's a lot of fun and the style pretty much lines up with FIF's weird artwork over the years. If you haven't heard the song, listen to it now!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-4975033086907080362?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/4975033086907080362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=4975033086907080362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/4975033086907080362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/4975033086907080362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-top-40-albums-10.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #10'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-5407927320986680027</id><published>2008-06-17T23:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T23:42:21.927-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #11</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#11&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Switchfoot - "The Beautiful Letdown"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/61WHE4ES9KL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2003&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Columbia / Red Ink&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Meant to Live, Ammunition, Dare You To Move, This Is Your Life, Redemption, Gone &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "Gone like Frank Sinatra / Like Elvis and his mom / Like Al Pacino's cash / Nothing lasts in this life / My highschool dreams are gone / My childhood sweets are gone / Life is a day that doesn't last for long"&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Whenever your favorite band releases a new record, it's always an event. It's like going to a carnival, only instead of funnel cakes, grease and body odor, it smells that crisp, slightly musty new CD smell. And instead of spinning around in circles until you hurl, the compact disc does all the spinning for you (unless you happen to have a swivel chair and enjoy abusing it) and you just kick back and take in some new tunes. Switchfoot's fourth studio record was an event. It was their first on a major mainstream label, so fans got to hear how they might sound with an additional band member and a lot of digital polishing. The truth is I've always thought of Switchfoot as a fairly earthy garage-ish group with a good bit of raw energy, so while &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Letdown &lt;/span&gt;is anything but hard to listen to, it doesn't do rock enthusiasts any favors by taking the edge off. In fact that could have easily been the end of their appeal - but fortunately Switchfoot has always been a poppy band with ample time spent in quiet reflection through their popular ballads, so the sense of atmosphere here allows those moments to thicken. Even more fortunately, they are still writing great songs, and it's hard to kill a great song. If you're interested in killing great songs, watch "Across the Universe" and you'll find plenty of examples. However, this isn't about that.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Speaking of the atmosphere, the whole record is drenched in it. The addition of keyboardist Jerome Fontamillis to the SF lineup (he had previously been seen playing live with them) provided them more opportunities for noise - beeps and bloops, swirls and swells, the kind of thing that seems to help add sonic depth to existing song structures. Jon Foreman's versatile and recognizable vocal has never sounded better, clearer, or stronger. He starts off in "Meant to Live" making some aggressive expressions we've never heard from him before, assimilating them effortlessly into his sound. With this new-found confidence, he goes on to add some similar punctuation to their re-recording of "Dare You To Move" from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Learning to Breathe.&lt;/span&gt; Understanding that they were reaching a lot of new listeners with their expanded influence, they wanted to make sure one of their best songs received airplay - understandable. I think some of the new embellishments actually helped the song, though it's difficult to change something so well-loved without messing some things up as well. I'm also not sure that having it appear at number 5 on the disc works the way it should.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;What does work is the bombastic opener, "Meant to Live." Easily the heaviest Switchfoot song up to that point, "Meant to Live" is a rollicking, soaring radio rocker with plenty of distorted electric guitar. The main riff has probably at some point been stuck in the heads of everyone who has heard it. I know a lot of people must be tired of it by now - that's one of the drawbacks of receiving a lot of radio play - but not me. I still love the song every time I hear it. Lyrically it brings the theme of the album into focus. Nearly every song in some way will touch on the ideas of dissatisfaction with life, the pitfalls and transience of the culture, and the search for something greater, for purpose and meaning. The band continues to rock with "Ammunition," an explosive expose' on our self-destructive nature. Chad's Butler's drumming takes center stage during the intro, featuring some odd timing that seems disorienting until it slowly builds into a discernible pattern. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I never feel like Switchfoot is doing something just to do it. They are not overindulgent and their work is always heartfelt. In some ways they resemble U2 in their ability to take simple progressions and make something special out of them. "On Fire" is perhaps the song most reminiscent of their classic ballads. It's a fantastic slow and tender moment, maybe the quietest point on the album. Between this extreme and the opposing rock tracks exists every shade of intensity. "This is Your Life" and "More Than Fine" bubble along at an even pace, both demonstrating the band's ability to add interest where lesser groups would probably deliver un-memorable stock songs. "More Than Fine" has an unpredictable verse melody that catches your attention immediately, and "This Is Your Life's" oddly haunting synths embody the space between fear and regret. Then there are the songs with a more robust pace. "Redemption" may be the oddball on the record with nothing else that really corresponds to it in terms of sound. It uses clear, clean instrumentation but keeps a brisk gait and boasts one of the better choruses on the album. "Adding to the Noise" and "Gone" are the bouncy, fun songs similar in style to something like "Company Car" from the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;New Way to Be Human&lt;/span&gt; record. "Gone" is perhaps most notable for its lyrics rather than its radio-groomed groove, an upbeat reminder that our life, like today, is fleeting and our earthly wealth has no lasting importance. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Perhaps the heart of the record, appropriately, is the title track. "The Beautiful Letdown" is the first song I heard from this record, played live by the band before its release. It it is a simple song full of jangly instrumentation that speaks of being a sojourner in a land unfit. The hopscotch lyrical meter sometimes feels like it's running to catch up, emphasizing the feeling of being out of place. The term "Beautiful Letdown" is a classic Jon Foreman expression. Switchfoot has made a habit of exploring the paradoxes of faith, and this is another approach at that theme. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;As Christians we may not belong to this world, but this album belongs in your collection - and up high on my list. The main video for Meant to Live is pretty cool, but you've all seen it and the sync for most of them is off. I think this is cooler with the concert footage. &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=54WGYWyPU0I"&gt;Check it out. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;And - stay tuned for the final 10!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-5407927320986680027?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/5407927320986680027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=5407927320986680027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/5407927320986680027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/5407927320986680027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-top-40-albums-11.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #11'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-6272627563265155801</id><published>2008-06-14T22:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T22:22:36.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #12</title><content type='html'>&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#12&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;dc Talk - "Jesus Freak"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41XZQ8DM7WL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1995&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Forefront&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;So Help Me God, &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Mind's Eye, Day By Day, Colored People, Jesus Freak, Like It Love It Need It&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "Saw a man in the desert with naps on his head /&amp;nbsp; The sand that he walked was also his bed / The words that he spoke made the people assume / There wasn't too much left in the upper room / With skins on his back and hair on his face / They thought he was crazed by the locusts he ate / The Pharisees tripped when they heard him speak / 'Til the king took the head of this Jesus Freak"&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;If this were a list of the most famous, lucrative, or influential Christian rock records, you'd see this one in the top 10. There simply isn't any question that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus Freak &lt;/span&gt;has embedded itself in firmly in the Christian youth culture whose battle cry its anthems have become. The title track itself has been covered by local bands nearly as much as all of Relient K's catalog combined, which is saying something. I imagine that many people have heard dc Talk's breakout smash hit so many times that its passages have become simple buzzwords more than a musical experience. For me, these tunes are familiar like my church sanctuary or the back seat of the family minivan. They've been with me since early adolescence. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Familiarity can breed contempt, or at very least boredom and shelf-setting. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;What I think many former youth-group kids may fail to recognize is how good the record really is. Like the fragrance of your own home, it's something you aren't always aware of until you've been away from it for a while and are able to take it in anew. Not simply a shoe-in based on its pedigree, an examination of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus Freak&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;reveals to me that it has earned its keep. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;One of the things I find most astonishing about this album is that it actually only contains about 8 original songs. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;"Day By Day"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; is a cover, and "In the Light" is a reworked Charlie Peacock tune. "Mrs. Morgan" surely doesn't count as an actual song, nor does the silly "Jesus Freak Reprise." I suppose you could count the hidden poem "Alas My Love," bringing us to 9. With dc Talk it is apparently quality over quantity, and it seems that each song is almost something larger than life. It has to be in order for the album to be so cohesive and full. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;So what makes &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus Freak&lt;/span&gt; so great? For one thing, it represents a giant leap forward in the development of dc Talk. Their previous release, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Free At Last&lt;/span&gt; was still primarily a hip-hop record, even though it began to add more rock guitar riffs on songs like "Luv is a Verb." With &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus Freak&lt;/span&gt;, the influences of the early '90's grunge movement are evident. The packaging has taken on the dirty, urban monochrome preferred by rock groups of the time rather than the more expressive colorful displays that often accompany rap projects, signaling a change of form. Indeed, Toby MacKeehan's rapping takes a more minor role while the hooks and guitars become more prominent. The tendency would have been to follow a trend, losing the original appeal of their work and drawing the ire of fans and critics alike with an inferior imitation of a popular sound. That &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus Freak&lt;/span&gt; subverts this gaping trap is a testimony to its success. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;dc Talk is one of those rare groups who can simply not be categorized. They almost entirely defy genre grouping, and this landmark album shows their sound at its most diverse. Rock, pop, alternative, grunge, rap, funk.. it's all here in some form. Combining the influences of Toby, Michael and Kevin has always been a strong point for the group. Surprising due to its diminished rap focus is that Toby co-wrote most of the songs on the record. These songs are fantastic in their musical deftness. Melodic, moving, well-paced and well-sequenced, the song chain on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus Freak&lt;/span&gt; doesn't harbor any weak links. There is no evidence of rushing or filler material. Each and every measure has been carefully, lovingly crafted and tweaked. It absolutely reeks of quality, in some ways an ethereal quality that I can't quite explain. Consider the blistering rap breakdown in "Like It, Love It, Need It," the infectious pre-chorus of "So Help Me God," the dense tapestry of acoustic instruments and harmonies on "Between You and Me." These songs have special moments that invite revisiting. It's raw enough not to sound totally overproduced, but it's clear a lot of work has gone into the making. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The remarkable perfection of these original recordings is accented by recent projects such as &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Freaked!&lt;/span&gt;, a compilation featuring covers of every song on the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus Freak&lt;/span&gt; record by various Gotee and Mono Vs. Stereo recording artists. Several of them are quite likable, but they can't seem to reach the balance and depth of the originals; what's more, the songs that I enjoy the most are almost always the ones that have changed the least. Of course it isn't really sporting for these young bands to have to compete with the vocal powerhouses of Michael Tait and Kevin Max. Both of these men have stunning vocal range and expression, and their styles mesh extremely well together. The other thing that these homages demonstrate is the resilience of these same songs. They are so well-written that inasumch as their primary melodies and structures remain intact, they pretty much always sound good. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The only song on the album that I just plain don't like is "What If I Stumble." I have never much cared for the song, and I think it has to do with the instrumentation as well as the mostly low-key presentation. Add to this that it's too overplayed on Christian radio stations (along with "In the Light," a great song that I can hardly listen to anymore due to overexposure) and it becomes a section of the disc that I'm prone to skip. I thought perhaps it would be better without the French-sounding instruments, but a brief listen to Sarah Kelly's cover sent me running back to the dc Talk version in a hurry. I do appreciate the humility that the song offers.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus Freak &lt;/span&gt;is so well known and liked that it doesn't need me to bat on its behalf.&amp;nbsp; I consider it dc Talk's question album. Listen to all the questions in the lyrics. "What will people think? What will people do?" "What if I stumble? What if I fall?" "What have we become?" &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Supernatural &lt;/span&gt;in some ways has more answers, as well as completing the transition from rap to alternative rock. I consider both records absolute necessities, dc Talk's zenith before they dropped sharply into murky limbo. Will they ever return? Who knows. In the mean time I can still savor this classic, as well as Kevin Max's occasional release. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;dc Talk was always up for combating racism, and &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9c24_lw_24" target="_new"&gt;Colored People&lt;/a&gt; made the message loud and clear. &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9c24_lw_24" target="_new"&gt;This video&lt;/a&gt; captures the feel of the album in my opinion. Good memories. &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-6272627563265155801?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/6272627563265155801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=6272627563265155801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/6272627563265155801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/6272627563265155801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-top-40-albums-12.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #12'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-8543943997525936777</id><published>2008-06-14T18:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T18:49:38.861-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #13</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#13&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Five Iron Frenzy - "Our Newest Album Ever"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41E4642DCEL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1997&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; 5 Minute Walk&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Every New Day, Handbook for the Sellout, Fistful of Sand, Most Likely to Succeed, Oh Canada, Superpowers&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "Under the sands of the mighty Sahara goes / Our hero bold in search of gold / A casket for a dying world / Our hero stands, wealth in hand / The prize for his endeavor / The masses cheer to hide their fear / That no man lives forever" &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Ah, Five Iron Frenzy. I suspect that there are those out there who think that the gang from Colorado is just a bunch of silly goons without any real talent or foundation. After all, they present a rather playful image of themselves as ska bands are known to do. It took me a while to begin seeing the value in them myself. One of the first Five Iron songs I ever heard was "Where is Micah" from this record, playing on the radio station that my friend's church used to operate. It was an odd song, and I wasn't sure about the quality or purpose of the whole thing. It didn't exactly convert me into a die-hard fan of the group. It took me being reintroduced to them during the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Boogaloo &lt;/span&gt;era and then getting into their older songs through the live album &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Proof That the Youth are Revolting &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;before I was ready to come back and give &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Our Newest Album Ever&lt;/span&gt;, the newest no longer, a second sporting chance. Indeed, the live record sums up much of the best of Five Iron's early career, and the amount of material that comes from this record is telling. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Our Newest Album Ever&lt;/span&gt;'s track list reads like a catalogue of the band's greatest hits. It's easily the strongest outing from the first (more ska) half of their run, and gives all the other records some solid competition as well. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yet what surprised me most was that the actual product is not simply a collection of songs from an unusual bunch of punks and band geeks finding their place. It's actually a cohesive, moving piece of work, the trademark humor serving as a jarring contrast to the profound themes that it also confronts. The record is almost split half and half between silliness and poignancy, and that split sometimes occurs down the middle of songs. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;It takes eight people to comprise the wondrous wonders of Five Iron Frenzy, but let's take a moment to look at the ones that stand out the most. The voice of the band, one Mr. Michael Reese Roper, does much to distinguish Five Iron Frenzy from a host of cheap imitators. His vocal delivery here is much improved from the first record. It sounds much smoother and meshes nicely with the sound that the band is establishing. His greatest addition, though, is surely his lyrics. Playful, sarcastic, poetic, blunt, angry, worshipful... it's a staggering mix that delivers many moments of poignancy throughout the album. Matched with perfect musical touches thanks to a melodic writing team including trombonist Dennis Culp and then-guitarist Scott Kerr, Roper's lyrics pierce to the heart of various issues in ways that I can't really describe. I don't know if anyone feels the way I do about this record. It kind of makes me feel at a loss to explain myself. It's a lot of fun. It's a peppy, energetic sing a long. But as I'm bobbing my head, I end up feeling deep emotions. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;"Handbook for the Sellout," one of the band's best and most famous songs, starts out the record. It's a rousing opening, giving you Five Iron's trademark sound. Two overdriven (but not grungy) guitars panned left and right playing harmonizing power chords, a brass section peppering melodies on top, punk-ish drums and bright chords on the upbeat during the verses. Palm-muting in the bridge, a swelling prechorus and a very catchy four-line, four-chord chorus. The enduring song is about the politics of record labels and band popularity, pointing fingers at the ridiculous game that goes on in the industry and governs popularity, what you can and cannot sing about, and whether a band is perceived as original or as sellouts. "Where is Micah" is an in-joke about the band's guitar player Micah Ortega disappearing and being left behind at shows. Then comes "Superowers," a zany depiction of the band themselves as having powers gained from smelly bus rides and no practice. "Five minutes left to write this one / la, la la, la la, la la la." &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Then comes one of my favorite songs in the FIF canon, "Fistful of Sand." This darker turn about the worthlessness of worldly treasures in the face of man's mortality marks the first of several sublime passages on the record. There's something in the lines "Where cities stood, soon deserts found / Now sink beneath the swelling ground" and "The masses cheer to hide their fear / That no man lives forever" that gives pause. Even as these lines lead us, toe-tapping, from the verse into the chorus, they hit on very real anxieties that have plagued not just individuals but entire empires since the earliest times. A similar instance appears near the end of the album in the song "Most Likely To Succeed." "And as you go / Call to mind the things you've come to know / Be sure to wave goodbye / On the day you die / To all that you wanted / You're leaving behind." It's chilling words for those whose last hope is in their accomplishments on earth. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;In the meantime, Five Iron writes about lost family heirlooms ("Blue Comb '78"), the treatment of Native Americans ("Banner Year"), the treatment of nerds in grade school ("Suckerpunch") and, of course, Canadians ("Oh, Canada"). Then, at the end of it all, comes perhaps the band's best song, the one both they and their fans seem to esteem above the others. That song is "Every New Day." One of the all-time great ending songs, "Every New Day" is a catchy little praise song in its first half - but then the bridge kicks in and Reese begins speaking his lines, slowly raising his voice until he nearly shouts (on the live album, he screams the last part). The finale is beautiful, affirming, and transcendent. It gives me chills just about every time I hear it. It's a perfect finish to an amazing record. This album has to be heard to be believed, though I'm not sure what it takes to be understood. Maybe just a willing heart. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;My newest link ever! Dance on over to this rad video for &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pYVDZf_yACc" target="_new"&gt;Handbook for the Sellout&lt;/a&gt; with some classic FIF concert footage. Oh, and the scenes at the beginning and end are from the movie King Kong vs. Godzilla. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-8543943997525936777?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/8543943997525936777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=8543943997525936777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/8543943997525936777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/8543943997525936777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-top-40-albums-13.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #13'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-2058089431702345414</id><published>2008-06-14T18:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T18:48:26.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #14</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#14&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Anberlin - "Never Take Friendship Personal"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/413J357XNKL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2005&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Tooth &amp;amp; Nail&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;The Feel Good Drag; Stationary, Stationery; Paperthin Hymn; The Runaways; Aubrey, Start the Revolution, Dance, Dance, Christa Paffgen&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "Remind your parents we're tomorrow / Lead with morals and we'll follow / When they wake up they'll see / That youth fades and glory days deceive / What are you waiting for, let's move on this / Time is of essence like your kiss / So say you're in / With cards down and guns drawn this is it // If this isn't love / This is the closest I've ever been" &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Anberlin is one of my favorite bands, so it seems only fitting that one of their records should get near the top. Originally this was a placeholder in my top 10 but I simply couldn't justify leaving it there. They are in my top 10 bands but no single record of theirs is really that calibre. In fact, they are all very much alike with a few alterations. Most great bands pioneer their own sound, a savvy synthesis of their influences. That's what makes them notable, makes them last. Others define their genres so completely that they become inextricable from them. Anberlin is a genre band. They have a certain sound that they pretty much keep to, but no one else can do that sound the way they can. And I happen to really like that sound, so color me a fan. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;As far as choosing a defining record, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cities &lt;/span&gt;is really growing on me as their mature effort, and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Blueprints &lt;/span&gt;has the wonderful "Readyfuels." Straddled in between is the boisterous sophomore effort, the awkwardly titled &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Never Take Friendship Personal&lt;/span&gt;. The name of the game here is catchy pop-punk tunes. That's really it. If you liked the Anberlin from their first record, this is mostly more of the same - it's just more infectious, upbeat and a bit more varied. It it maybe has a bit more midrange, which I like because it brings out the guitars. The winning ingredients - a distinctive male vocal with impossible range; an energetic, driving brand of emo-flavored rock; a sharp, cynical attitude that coats the lyrics and melodies in a danceable melancholy. There are some exultant tunes that glory in close friendship, like "Time and Confusion" and "Aubrey, Start the Revolution." There are some really dark, angry songs like "Never Take Friendship Personal" and "The Feel Good Drag." There are the radio-ready riffsters "Paperthin Hymn" and "The Runaways;" the pop pieces "Stationary, Stationery," and "A Day Late;" and the long progressive closer "Dance, Dance, Christa Paffgen." Then there's the soft song, "Symphony of Blase" that no one really cares about, and the sarcastically named instrumental "A Heavy Hearted Work of Staggering Genius." &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Anberlin excels at big hooks that get you singing along, and so the songs that amplify this trait tend to be the strongest. One of the better moments is the decidedly dark "The Feel Good Drag." Like "Readyfuels" on the previous album, the lead guitarist gets one song to show off his chops, and this is the one. His solos are always fitting, tasteful and fun. Add to that some nice root movement during the bridge and a strong hook and you have yourself a hot rock single. "Paperthin Hymn" and "Runaways" play with some elements previously untapped. The former is a more reserved sounding track with a prominent riff and poetic lyrics, and the latter features some nice guitar work and even a bass solo. Maybe the biggest departure from the established norm is the final track, a 7 minute undertaking that would become the model for the likes of "*Fin" on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cities&lt;/span&gt;. There are not that many songs this long that I can enjoy listening to all the way through. "Dance, Dance, Christa Paffgen" admirably keeps my attention. It displays a well-defined sense of atmosphere and one of catchiest choruses on the record. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Shortly after &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Never Take Friendship Personal&lt;/span&gt; was released, I had ripped it from my brother and listened to it quite a few times on my MP3 player. Later on, I went to Family Christian Stores to look for some new music. I looked through quite a few options that I had hoped to get, but ended up buying my own copy of this album. It was just that much better than anything else I was contemplating. I felt no regrets about that decision, and it hasn't much worn out its welcome. In the case of this review, you should take it personal. My bias towards this album is not very objective. In fact, I readily acknowledge that by critical standards it's not nearly as good as many records that it sits above in placement. However, this is my list; and the style is one I wish I could find more of. Plus several songs on the record came at a good time in my life to kind of bring out my thoughts and feelings better than I myself could. These have become entwined with certain relationships such that corresponding emotions often arise with their playing. If I have a complaint, it's that it's too short. I play these CD's for myself as I'm writing the reviews, and it's rare that one ends before I'm through typing. This one just finished, so I'll stop too.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;"Don't need no drugs / You're my chemical / Now I'm dependent / Swear I'm clinical."&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2exE-td4F3k" target="_new"&gt;Get your Anberlin fix with this video for "Paperthin Hymn."&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-2058089431702345414?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/2058089431702345414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=2058089431702345414' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/2058089431702345414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/2058089431702345414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-top-40-albums-14.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #14'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-7029646109202089480</id><published>2008-05-30T13:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T13:03:54.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #15</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#15&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Blindside - "Silence"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41HH05Y591L._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2002&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Elektra / Wea&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Time Will Change Your Heart, She Shut Your Eyes, Sleepwalking, Pitiful, Thought Like Flames&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "Caught a glimpse of Your eye / Everything freezes / I'm in an old photograph / I'm back from the start / Caught a glimpse of Your eye / Everything freezes I'm / I'm ready to give You my heart" &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Third "hard" album in a row, huh? Perhaps Blindside can actually be called hardcore. After all, if their previous release &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A Thought Crushed My Mind &lt;/span&gt;wasn't hardcore, it's hard to imagine what is. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Silence &lt;/span&gt;is smoothed out a bit, and watered down a bit, in terms of sheer heaviness. What this accomplishes is to make the music more accessible and listenable. I'm sure purists were probably upset, but I was thrilled; because this is a record I not only enjoy, but praise among my favorite albums. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I received &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Silence&lt;/span&gt; as a gift after showing interest entirely on the strength of the popular single "Pitiful." I wasn't overly thrilled when I first popped it into my CD player. After all, the first track "Caught a Glimpse" sounds kind of like the stereotypical hard rock record, starting out kind of quietly with a down-tuned but clean guitar intro before bursting into distortion, cymbals and screaming. Yet somewhere in that I noticed a few things that stuck out to me. This wasn't just mindless noise. I think at some point I recognized a chromatic riff that was nicely juxtaposed with the melody in a way that I hadn't expected. The band was using cleverly placed passing notes to create pockets of tension before moving on. That and the choruses were melodic. That was enough for me to know I should stick it out.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Turns out Blindside is an exceptionally gifted group, and this record shows it. First of all, they are basically a three-piece band with a singer. Their music is neither banally simple nor achingly complex, by virtue of the fact that there is only one guitarist who must work with the rhythm section to hold down the bottom while throwing in lead licks and accents where appropriate. The production and the performance work hand in hand here to give us something that has energy and weight but also has enough space within it that it doesn't feel small or muddy. The second asset is just as important. I'm of the opinion that if a band is going to have an extra member just to do vocals, he'd better be dynamite. Christian Lindskog (yeah, that's right, they are from Sweden) is possibly the most remarkable vocalist I have heard doing this style of music. His range, versatility, purity and aggression is simply astounding. He has the enviable ability of being able to launch into a harsh hardcore scream, segue into a beautiful, crystal clear singing note, and back again, all in the same breath. His strength and style is a huge selling point. If not for him, I don't think Blindside would even receive much notice. And that would be a shame, because the writing is what sells this album for me.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Blindside actually got me interested in music again after I had been going through something of a dry spell. I simply hadn't heard anything new in months that made me sit up and take notice. Nothing was surprising, fresh, captivating. Then I gave &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Silence&lt;/span&gt; a listen, and I was shocked to find not just one but several songs that were striking and invigorating. The one that got my attention is "She Shut Your Eyes." The chord choices in the chorus of this song contrasted against the melody are just perfect. It's dynamic and exciting. Then as I listened I found more favorites - in the fierce, break-neck "Time Will Change Your Heart," the somewhat strange "Thought Like Flames" and the pounding, emotional "Sleepwalking." &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;As it turns out, there's not a poor song out of 13. Some like "You Can Hide It" and "Midnight" don't stand out, but given the high caliber of the rest of the recording, that's not surprising. Probably on a more average rock record, those songs would be among the better tracks. Almost every time I listen, I find a new reason to love Silence. It's an album that engages from the outset and ages with grace. Definitely required listening for hard rock enthusiasts.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Start rocking with this video of &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvSxBPw-e68" target="_new"&gt;"Sleepwalking."&lt;/a&gt; "Pitiful" is a cooler video, so you might want to check that out too, but I think I prefer this song. Plus it's not as well known. &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-7029646109202089480?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/7029646109202089480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=7029646109202089480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/7029646109202089480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/7029646109202089480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-top-40-albums-15.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #15'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-742090945505776275</id><published>2008-05-30T13:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T13:02:49.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #16</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#16&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thousand Foot Krutch - "Phenomenon"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41GRPM1B86L._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2003&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Tooth &amp;amp; Nail&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Last Words, Faith Love &amp;amp; Happiness, Bounce, Break the Silence, Quicken, Step to Me&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "We come rushing through your stereo system / Into your ear canal like the alignments of the solar system / Have you forgotten about the days / When we just wanted to rock 'cause we like it that way? / And, no more hate, no more lies, no more politics / Seen the fakes who cry over copied riffs / This is the day that we rise and we conquer it / Raise your mics to the sky like apocalypse" &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;This is going to be a tough review to write. Not because I don't love &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Phenomenon&lt;/span&gt;. I do. It's just that I'm not sure exactly why. It might not have a reasonable explanation. It might be a guilty pleasure. I may have to do some soul-searching to discover its appeal. The first time I heard the record was actually in school. One of my classmates had brought it into the classroom as was playing it, somewhat softly, on the CD player while we worked. While they had received permission to do this, I'm not sure Mrs. Lewis knew exactly what she was acquiescing to. Maybe, in true rock tradition, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Phenomenon &lt;/span&gt;is associated to me with rebellion. A harmless brand, maybe, but whatever. I don't even know what the other students thought about it, but I enjoyed it. I had heard of Thousand Foot Krutch and, before that day, I thought they were an obnoxious, low-quality rap-core outfit - not the kind of thing I cared to be associated with. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that the record was instead a hard-hitting collection of melodic and rhythmic, riff-driven tracks that had more in common with Linkin Park than with Korn. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Phenomenon&lt;/span&gt; is dark enough musically to warrant the&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; Linkin' Park comparison, but it is an incomplete assessment. TFK is not emo by any stretch of the imagination. While Park's lyrics tend to be introverted and pessimistic, with their floating keys and drawn out chords suggesting kind of a musical head-hanging, Thousand Foot Krutch is all about having a good time. It's a kind of bad-boy rock maybe, but it is infused with the energy of their rap roots. The result is a sublime middle ground that has the harsh vocals, melodic riffs, and down-tuned guitars of nu-metal as well as the emphasis on beat and a lyrical style that owes much to hip-hop sensibility - without anyone actually rapping. That, I believe, is the true achievement of this record. It hits upon a perfect recipe. Thousand Foot Krutch has found their voice. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Speaking of voice, frontman Trevor McNevan has never sounded this good in his career before or since. He's a powerhouse. He does absolutely everything on this record. He screams on "Bounce"and "New Design," and He spits out convoluted lines like an MC on "Quicken"&amp;nbsp; and "Ordinary." He sings as sweetly as he can muster on "This is A Call." The style of this record fits him like a wet suit. Best of all, he shows a kind of grungy toughness that is missing on the later releases. He also plays guitar, and he's always solid without ever showing off. There's no crazy leads like on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Art of Breaking&lt;/span&gt;, but honestly no loss comes to the material. It isn't flashy - it doesn't need to be. That's another impressive part of the package. Thousand Foot Krutch was a three piece at this point, and everything on the album can be played by one guitar, one bass, and a drummer. The bassist doesn't get to shine as much as you might think, but he's very important and is often left to hold up the verses when the guitar drops out. The drummer actually gets to have quite a bit of fun. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Phenomenon &lt;/span&gt;throws us some tricky rhythms, not the least of which is "Quicken." I have basically no understanding of what is going on during the first verse of that song. It seems like the vocals and the drums don't match up - I can't find the beats where the measures divide. Yet it somehow stays together successfully and makes for a very interesting experience. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;As for the lyrics, sometimes I get an idea of what the songs are talking about. Other times I'm really not sure at all. It's my feeling that the boys were more concerned that their lyrics sounded good with the flow of the song than in being very clear. It's party music, mostly, so meaning is almost incidental. It's optional. At least they manage to include some evocative phrases such as on the fitting introduction and title track. "Don't let these spiders crawl up beside us / They want to bite us, inject the virus / Raise up your lighters, praise to the Righteous / Need You to guide us / Get prepared to go." Most of the time the lyrics seem to be chosen to compliment and maximize the hits and hooks, which is really all they need to do on a record like this. I think it works more often than not. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;One more thing I want to address. From the first song to the last, this record is highly cohesive. Some might call it repetitive. I prefer to think of it as consistent. These are the only 12 songs in the world that have this particular sound, and "This Is A Call" doesn't really count, so that leaves us with just 11. They are like nothing else that I have ever heard. And not a single song is bad. Some are stronger than others, but they all have redeeming sections. Sometimes I'll be listening through, and at the start I will think "oh, this song isn't that great" but then I'll hear a portion of it later on that I forgot when there, and my opinion of it brightens. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;In the words of Dr. Ellie Sattler, "You can't think through this one - you have to feel it." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Phenomenon&lt;/span&gt; is not a cerebral experience. It's a visceral one. It plays to those parts of your body that like to swagger, bob, and rock. All of these tracks beg to be played loud and live with a crowd that can actually throw up their rawkfists in appreciation. It's far and away Thousand Foot Krutch's best album, and it has moshed and slam-danced its way to #16 on my list. Not bad for a bunch of Canucks. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Fun fact: Drummer Steve Augustine looks kind of like David Schwimmer.&lt;br&gt;Fun fact 2: The album cover reminds me of Eternal Darkness for some reason. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Alright, I'm taking a risk here. The only music video that came out of this record, to my knowledge, is for "Rawkfist." Not only is this one of the worst songs on the album, but the video is terribly bland and lame. No crowd, heck, no one even throws up a rawkfist. It's not a good representation of how great the record is. So the video I'm linking you to is just a song that plays while they show the album cover. &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cjSRLqCULrI&amp;amp;feature=related" target="_new"&gt;The song is "Last Words."&lt;/a&gt; It's hard to pick a song from this album but since you know how much I like anti-suicide songs it seemed like the obvious choice. &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cjSRLqCULrI&amp;amp;feature=related" target="_new"&gt;Enjoy.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-742090945505776275?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/742090945505776275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=742090945505776275' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/742090945505776275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/742090945505776275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-top-40-albums-16.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #16'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-4315380747041959606</id><published>2008-05-16T10:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T10:16:14.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #17</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#17&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Skillet - "Collide"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/618TAFXAGML._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2004&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Lava&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Imperfection, Forsaken, Cycle Down, Savior, Under My Skin, Energy&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "You're a silent rage / You're a hurricane / You are everything I cannot see and can't explain / You're an enigma / Wrapped in a mystery / Everywhere I got I can't escape Your energy" &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;I've been informed that this record is not "hardcore." It's not really anything-core. But it is "hard." It's hard rock. Yet as an adjective and not as a genre term, you might say that it is hardcore because it rocks so hard. As you can see I don't much care what you call it, as long as you can come to grips with the idea - and that idea is a bone-shaking, earth-moving juggernaut. With&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Collide, &lt;/span&gt;Skillet has in some way come full circle while always moving forward. Their first record was a grungy affair, changing radically on the second to an overwhelmingly electronic sound. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Invincible &lt;/span&gt;blended the techno and rock in almost equal parts, and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alien Youth&lt;/span&gt; scaled the loops and synths back to accommodate a up-front, guitar-driven hard rock. Enter &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Collide. &lt;/span&gt;The techno sounds that defined the middle of Skillet's career have almost entirely disappeared, and we're left with a severe disposition blending a bit of the grungy sensibility from their debut with a heaping helping of the heaviest down-tuned guitars and pounding drums the band has ever used. It's raw almost to the point of being abrasive. Cooper's vocals compliment that angle - they've never been so harsh and he's never screamed so much. In place of the electronic sounds, Skillet has introduced a much more organic accompaniment. On songs like "Savior" and "Under My Skin" you'll note strangely appropriate use of acoustic guitars, and a string section has been added on anthems like "Collide." This has been done quite a bit in the last few years but in 2004 I wasn't used to hearing it, and it seemed like a very creative way to approach the genre. As it happens, the strings are extremely effective. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I'll admit it took me some time to warm up to the new format. 12 tracks of crashing intensity can be a bit much, especially if you're not a veteran of this kind of music. The drop-C guitars, the immense bass response, the frequent screaming - it's enough to rattle the brain a little. So why does it work so well? Precisely because Skillet's extreme lyrical imagery and style has been practically begging for this kind of bold treatment. After hearing this, it's almost hard to picture them any other way (although I wish John had kept the hair from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Invincible&lt;/span&gt;). &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Of course, all of this noise could easily be just a clanging cymbal. The second reason that Collide is successful is that the songs are consistently melodically strong with the heavy riffs to match. "Cycle Down" is one of my favorite songs on the record. While it might not be a standout for most people, I find that the song - the bridge especially - is very catchy and singable. That appeals to me (it's a good ending song as well). A hard rocker's true joy may well be the middle section including "My Obsession" and "Fingernails." These songs (along with "Energy" and "Forsaken" as bookends) are unrelenting, even dark, rockers that pound incessantly. I actually feel that "Obsession" and "Fingernails" is the weakest section, and that the one following is among the best. "Imperfection" is my personal favorite tune from the record and I consider it one of the best songs of Skillet's career. For one thing, it starts off slowly and builds into a wonderfully melodic chorus that contrasts the lyrics with the rhythm and has some very pleasing chord progressions. Moreover, it allows the talented Ben Kasica to show of his guitar chops a little with the only solo on the album.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;This is just a powerful recording in which Skillet finds (another) niche that they can well command. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alien Youth&lt;/span&gt; was more of a growing, experimenting period. With &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Collide&lt;/span&gt; the experiments have paid off, and they have produced a splintering, remorseless, in-your-face brand of rock that takes no prisoners without sacrificing lyrical integrity or songwriting savvy. It's one of the purest rock albums on this list and an exemplary offering from one of my all time favorite groups. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Collide with Skillet's popular single "Savior." &lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=7uvgk7CAjL0" target="_new"&gt;Watch the video!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-4315380747041959606?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/4315380747041959606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=4315380747041959606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/4315380747041959606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/4315380747041959606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-top-40-albums-17.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #17'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-3800765863670665565</id><published>2008-05-14T13:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T13:51:42.321-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #18</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#18&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Relient K - "MmHmm"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51AAVH385ZL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2004&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Capitol&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;More Than Useless; Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet?; Maintain Consciousness, Who I Am Hates Who I've Been, Be My Escape, The Only Thing Worse Than Beating a Dead Horse is Betting on One&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "Make your decision and don't you dare think twice / Go with your instincts along with some bad advice / This didn't turn out the way I thought it would at all / You blame me, but some of this is still your fault / I tried to move you but you just wouldn't budge / I tried to hold your hand but you'd rather hold your grudge / I think you know what I'm getting at / You said goodbye and I just don't want you regretting that" &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;When I saw that I had placed this record so high on my list I thought I must be crazy. Relient K? Really? I mean, yeah, they were great when I was a sophomore in high school, but it's somewhat less amusing now. I know what good music is and chances are they don't fit the bill a lot of time. Then I started skimming down the track list and trying to pick out my favorites, and you know what? I had a tough time of it. Practically every song on this album is great. Add to that the fact that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mmhmm&lt;/span&gt; is tightly produced and sounds a good bit heavier than the almost overly poppy &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Two Lefts&lt;/span&gt;, and you have what is arguably Relient K's most impressive release. It still has the palm muted guitars and the recognizable pop punk drumming, but it's only punk-influenced. This is actually a pop rock album featuring plenty of piano and breakdowns along with its double time snares and crisp power chords. It still lacks the raw attack of the first record, but it benefits finely tuned bass response that lets us hear all the pieces of the musical whole. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Unlike the previous album, it isn't "funny," per se. There's no "Mood Rings" or "College Kids" here. That doesn't mean that it's without the trademark Matt Theissen wit, though. The lyrics are as punchy as the music, contributing as much to the flow of the record as any other ingredient. The lyric sample I referenced is a good example. It's full of quips, quirks and quotables. There is an emphasis on relationships, so expect a lot of the songs to address that theme from one angle or another. Some are happy ("High of 75"), some bittersweet ("My Girl's Ex Boyfriend") and some downright angry ("Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet?"). The latter song is one of Relient K's more unique efforts. What is otherwise one of the heaviest songs in their repertoire features a banjo, plucking away during the interludes. It also has Theissen basically screaming the chorus - it's something to behold for RK fans who have never heard them quite this way before.&amp;nbsp; Then some are simply sad (the somber "Let It All Out").&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Aside from personal relationships, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;MmHmm &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;also examines our relationships to God and to society, and our worth in the overall plan. This can be seen in "I So Hate Consequences," "Who I Am Hates Who I've Been," "More Than Useless," and "Maintain Consciousness." It's not all deep contemplations, though. There's still plenty of spontaneous fun to be had and some explosive musical ideas. The frenzied "The Only Thing Worse Than Beating a Dead Horse is Betting on One" is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it political tirade clocking in at just 1minute 13 seconds - and an album highlight as well. Compare also the energy of "Maintain Consciousness" with its blazing guitar licks during the breakdown. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I have only one significant complaint against &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;MmHmm&lt;/span&gt;, and it's an unusual one. I actually think the album is too long. Normally I'm never against putting more songs on a record - might as well give the listeners more for their money. However, in this case, I feel the record has a perfect ending point at the close of "This Week the Trend." At the very end of the song, the lyric "stuck watching our lives blow up" is slowed down, and with every syllable it seems to gain momentum as more voices ad to the harmony. These high strains return to tonic and the guitar simply plays the same chord over and over until the song cuts out. In my mind, this would have been the way to end it. It's memorable, forceful, and appropriate. Instead, we then get what seems kind of a lackluster filler song "Life After Death and Taxes" and then the sprawling, unfocussed and overlong "When I Go Down," which admittedly does have some find moments. Neither of these songs is really poor, but they seem to drag out what could have been a very succinct statement. All this said, I'm sure most fans appreciate the additional material. Relient K records have traditionally had an above average song count and its tough to fault that.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;I'm trying to come up with specific examples of why this is the finest pop punk album to come down the pike since forever, but all I can really recommend is that you listen. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;The bizarre humor has been toned down, but almost everything else that fans love about Relient K has been amped up. Should you get this album? My verdict is, most assuredly. Absolutely. Yeah-huh. Mmhmm.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-3800765863670665565?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/3800765863670665565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=3800765863670665565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/3800765863670665565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/3800765863670665565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-top-40-albums-18.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #18'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-5226613817791121130</id><published>2008-05-13T16:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T16:33:00.964-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #19</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#19&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Switchfoot - "New Way to Be Human"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/418T7QRVWVL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1999&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Re: Think&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;New Way to Be Human, Something More, Let That Be Enough, Incomplete, Sooner or Later, Company Car&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "I'm the king of things I've always despised / I'm the gingerbread man who got eaten alive / I'm half baked / I'm fake / But hey, I've got hotels on Park Place and Boardwalk / And two hundred bucks / I pass Go, but oh, life's taken its toll / Have I won Monopoly to forfeit my soul?" &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;It's the red one with the fingerprint. After hearing Switchfoot's breakout single Chem 6A on a sampler, I was interested enough to invest in the trio's sophomore effort, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;New Way to Be Human&lt;/span&gt;. In 1999, I was still just getting into alternative rock, and I didn't know what to make of Switchfoot. They could bright and poppy, and at the same time heavy and grungy. Their genre oddities surprised me, and at first that was off-putting. Of course, the more I listened, the strangeness became endearing. It was a refreshing break from the utterly predictable adult contemporary that I had listened to most of my life. If you're thinking that what I just said doesn't describe Switchfoot, either the only thing you've heard the radio remix of "Dare You To Move" or you haven't been paying enough attention. In actuality, the best quality of their latest &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh, Gravity&lt;/span&gt; is that in some ways it returns to the form&amp;nbsp; of this record, throwing unexpected dynamic or rhythm changes into songs, contrasting styles, etc.&amp;nbsp; It's not experimental music, but it is not static either. Oh, and it has horns. Who expected horns on an alt rock record, one that isn't remotely ska? Not me.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Take "Sooner or Later" for instance. It's a quiet, almost plodding song with strings and a strange processed trumpet sound in the background that explodes suddenly in the bridge with distorted guitars and a satisfying melodic switch. For 45 seconds or so, it's a rock song. Then, we're back where we were before like nothing much had happened. Just ripples in the pond remind us of the upset. Then there's "Incomplete," an energetic rocker that harkens back to "Chem 6A" by using a repetitive guitar riff as the basis for most of the song. A lot of Switchfoot favorites hail from this release like "Something More (Augustine's Confession)" and the now-popular "Only Hope." "Only Hope" became a hit after it was featured in the movie A Walk to Remember. Had this not happened, I predict that Switchfoot would never have played the song again. It simply is not a standout in any way. If I were to pick a ballad from this record, it would most certainly be "Let That Be Enough." This song's grassroots humility and simple guitar melody, combined with Jon's personal lyrics, make it one of the band's enduring soft tracks. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The best moment, however, is the title track and opener "New Way to Be Human." To this day, it easily remains one of Switchfoot's greatest songs. It's heavy, catchy, and lyrically smart. In some ways it represents the height of what their early years had to offer. The single guitar note and drum loop at the beginning stops and we hear three small bell chimes. We know we're in for something special. The drums resume, joined by a twangy, out of focus guitar and some voices whistling. It's odd - but oddly likeable. Full chords ring out as the pre-chorus slows, letting us float for a moment in empty space - then like a lurching car the song accelerates into the chorus, dominated by the syncopated bursts of overdriven guitar and Jon Foreman's stratospheric melody. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;It's a little overplayed to me now, because I've listened so many times. Yet that doesn't keep me from remembering the goodness that is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;New Way to Be Human&lt;/span&gt; as a breakthrough album from my favorite band filled with fantastic songs. &lt;br&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-5226613817791121130?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/5226613817791121130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=5226613817791121130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/5226613817791121130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/5226613817791121130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-top-40-albums-19.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #19'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-725670091890721309</id><published>2008-05-13T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T15:58:20.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #20</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#20&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Newsboys- "Take Me To Your Leader"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41BMQCH046L._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1996&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Sparrow&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;God Is Not A Secret, Breakfast, Lost the Plot, Cup O' Tea, Take Me To Your Leader, It's All Who You Know&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "Justin is adjustin' to the odor from Theodore's evergreen incense / But aroma therapy don't make him any younger than Oliver's all liver supplements / His late mate Merrilee merrily said immortality can't be bought in a jar / This just in, Justin's had enough of cure-alls, gonna quiz the neighbor kid with the fish on his car" &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;Surprised to see this here? I am too, a little. I didn't think I liked Newsboys that much. However, this is a record of which I have fond memories and which - here's the kicker - has lost none of its potency today. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Long about 1997 I was 11 years old, and some of my friends were becoming teenagers. They started getting into heavier music than the Michael W. Smith-ish pop stuff I was hearing at home. One of the first really heavy songs I heard was "Some Kind of Zombie" by Audio Adrenaline, which was by all accounts a lot of noise. Awesome noise, but not the kind of thing on which parents and kids tend to agree. Now my parents were cool, and as long as I was listening to Christian bands with positive lyrics we were mostly good, but that didn't keep me from feeling a little edgy when courting music that was also edgy. I never really knew when the straws would break the proverbial camel's back and they'd decide that that noisy rock was corrupting me, and sending both me and the camel spiraling through the eye of the needle in a hand basket... or something. I had borrowed &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Take Me to Your Leader&lt;/span&gt; from the same rebel friend that unleashed "Zombie" on my young brain, and I remember playing it really quietly when my parents weren't home. I laugh about it now, because it's pretty funny how nervous I was about it. Listen to the opening track, "God is Not A Secret." Hear those grungy guitars? EDGY. And don't even get me started on "Lost the Plot" whose jarring chord choices, raspy vocals and wailing background licks made its message rather indigestible to the average home school mom.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Since that day I've learned to play it loud and proud. 12 years later this is still Newsboys' best album and one of the gems of the 90's. The song that defines the band's sound for me (and many), Breakfast, is perhaps their most well-known song next to "Shine." How many people will never look at Captain Crunch the same way again? But don't stop there, because there's a wealth of music on this record that transcends the pulpy "Breakfast." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Leader&lt;/span&gt; stands out among other Newsboys albums in several related ways. The first is that it is undeniably their heaviest effort. Remember I was talking about 'edgy?' Here it is. "God is Not A Secret," "Breathe," "Cup O' Tea," and "Lost the Plot" are all intense rock tracks thick with cymbal peals and cranked up guitar amps. You won't find this on most of the rest of the 'boys' discography. The second is that the rock is used to excellent effect. There are not one but &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;two&lt;/span&gt; songs that tend to give me chills when I hear them, and that is a combination of the powerful lyrics and perfectly matched musical and vocal passages forming a poignant whole.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;One of these songs is the uncompromising opener "God is Not a Secret" with its raw, raging attack and the cutting bridge lines: "And would I wash my hands again / Would I deny my Savior when / He hung inside the public square / Did not my silence put Him there." It's sung with such energy that it brings both sonic satisfaction and instant conviction. This is the reason it bothered me so much when, on their greatest hits compilation, Newsboys recorded a new version of this song with Toby Mac guest rapping. That version, disrupting the delicate balance of perfection, excluded this arresting bridge, opting instead for the banal lines "Faith ain't easy to understand / When a bird in the bush is worth two in the hand / The truth ain't nothing to taste and hide / You gotta get up, put up, get off your backside." Thankfully, the original has been preserved for me to treasure - and treasure it I do. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;"Lost the Plot" slowly builds to the screamed lines "Are you still listenin'? / Cause we're obviously not / We've forgotten our first love / We have lost the plot / And are You still callin'? / You forgave, we forgot / We're such experts at stallin' / That we lost the plot." It's a hauntingly honest reflection. I don't have time to talk about all the great moments on this record. It marks John James' last appearance with the band. Steve Taylor's lyrical influence is strongly felt. Many of the songs on this album are lyrically strong. The bouncy and quirky, the brash and untidy, the tender and soft - all of this is found across this spectacular&amp;nbsp; alien soundscape. It's a place I don't mind being transported for 45 minutes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Flight training: &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KSJUeb3fZEE" target="_new"&gt;Watch the "Take Me To Your Leader" music video!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-725670091890721309?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/725670091890721309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=725670091890721309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/725670091890721309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/725670091890721309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-top-40-albums-20.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #20'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-9193276339890186770</id><published>2008-05-13T15:55:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T15:56:08.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #21</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#21&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Steven Curtis Chapman- "Speechless"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://lyrics.christiansunite.com/images/albums/album_5.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1999&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Sparrow&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Dive, Speechless, I Do Believe, The Change, Whatever, What I&amp;nbsp;Really Want to Say&amp;nbsp;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "The long awaited rains have fallen hard upon the thirsty ground / And carved their way to where the wild and rushing river can be found / And like rains I have been carried here to where the river flows / My heart is racing and my knees are week as I walk to the edge / I know there is no turning back once my feet have left the ledge / And in the rush I hear a voice / That's telling me it's time to take a leap of faith / So here I go" &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;Steven Curtis Chapman ruled Christian music in the 90's. The span from 1990 (&lt;em&gt;For the Sake of the &lt;/em&gt;Call) to 1999 (&lt;em&gt;Speechless&lt;/em&gt;) encapsulates nearly all of his best work, the possible exception&amp;nbsp;beings 1989's &lt;em&gt;More To This Life.&lt;/em&gt; While artists like Michael W. Smith and Jars of Clay pulled something of a crossover act, Steven remained&amp;nbsp;mostly in the CCM mainstream, primarily as a result of his undiluted lyrics. Of course, he has talent coming out of his ears and could easily have been successful in any pop, rock or even country outlet, as evidenced by the fact that he is the recipient of several Grammy Awards. His superior musical craftsmanship stood him head and shoulders above the average band or solo artist, and he quickly became something of a Christian music golden boy, winning more Dove Awards than any other artist in the GMA's history. &lt;em&gt;Heaven in the Real World &lt;/em&gt;went Platinum; &lt;em&gt;Signs of LIfe&lt;/em&gt; went Gold. On the heels of all this success came his last (and, in my opinion, last great) album, &lt;em&gt;Speechless&lt;/em&gt;. And that's the way it left us.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Moving away from the folksy leanings of the last record and into more pop rock territory, Speechless featured prominent use of strings. They filled the spaces of the ballads of course, but also accented the punchy rock tracks. It's one of the more trademark sounds of the record, which is also seamlessly produced, allowing for a wonderful mix of the percussive acoustic guitars with the keys. distorted electrics and string arrangements. At the time, this was Steven's heaviest offering. "I Do Believe" surprised some listeners with a guitar riff reminiscent of Aerosmith. Jam out songs like "Whatever" and "The Change" were destined to become favorites. "Whatever" proved that even amongst all the production, Steven never lost the hands-on sound of a group performing, something he carried over from the recent Abbey Road recordings on his &lt;em&gt;Greatest Hits&lt;/em&gt; record.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;It was the rock songs that initially impressed me, predictably. However much of the beauty here is found in the quiet moments, and there are a lot of them. "Invitation," "Great Expectations," and "With Hope" are all fairly subdued meditations. In fact, the last four tracks are ballads all put together. Only a few people can get away with this, and SCC is one of them. These songs are low-key, but they&amp;nbsp;deal&amp;nbsp;tenderly with subjects that deserve to be approached in this manner. "With Hope," a song grieving over the death of a young child, and&amp;nbsp;can you imagine&amp;nbsp;a song called "Be Still and Know" as a noise rock&amp;nbsp;tune?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Even as I defend his choices I will admit that this tests my patience much of the time. If there is a flaw in Speechless, that would be the one that prevents it from ranking in the top 20. Still it is&amp;nbsp;a fantastic album, a standout production from a luminary. It's certainly a recording I would recommend to just about anyone.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-9193276339890186770?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/9193276339890186770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=9193276339890186770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/9193276339890186770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/9193276339890186770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-top-40-albums-21.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #21'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-8941592496685732014</id><published>2008-05-13T15:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T15:55:30.684-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #22</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#22&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ace Troubleshooter- "The Madness of the Crowds"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41MDC1PKBML._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2002&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Label:&lt;/span&gt; Tooth &amp;amp; Nail&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;The Madness of the Crowds, Age of Gold, 2:00 Your Time, But For Grace, Numinous, Amanda&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "Silent as the grave / Covering deeds, covering man / Eyes that pierce and blaze / Wounded hands stretching out to save"&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;I think from here on out I'm just going to say "I love this album" and skip the elaborate descriptions.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Ha! You only wish you were that lucky. Ace Troubleshooter is my favorite pop punk band (yes, more than Relient K). Of course, only their first record was really punk all the way through. &lt;em&gt;Madness&lt;/em&gt; contains certain elements of that, but it's rightly more pop rock. "Amanda" recalls their older style most - punchy powerchords and pounding drums being the meat and potatoes, though Ace here manages to throw in unexpected melodic twists with some satisfying harmonies which is certainly the case here. It's really the melodies that make this album stand out. "2:00 Your Time" might be similarly unremarkable if it weren't for that pitch-perfect blend of guitars with just the right amount of distortion and a simple but elegant melody. The opener and title track is the heaviest, most driving song and the one that will appeal most to punk fans. The rest of the record actually might lose them a little. Songs like "Have it All" and "Numinous" are much slower, bigger-sounding rock ballads that defy the genre but add some real depth and texture to the record. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;The fun and variety of this album makes it stand out as Ace's best and most memorable. "But For Grace" might be&amp;nbsp;one of the&amp;nbsp;best songs of their career with its&amp;nbsp;almost haunting, feedback-laden buildup, the pounding insistence of the rhythm section, the tension created by the distorted bends, and the overlapping chorus with its powerful word picture. I feel this style of song paved the way for some of the better tracks on &lt;em&gt;It's Never Enough&lt;/em&gt;, such as My Defense. Another unusual song for them is the happy "Age of Gold" which features what is perhaps the first and only Ace guitar solo (admittedly played by one of the members' brothers). The record carries themes of ecstatic young love and the desire for freedom and adventure. "Age of Gold," "2:00 Your Time," "Let's Go Away" and others depict different aspects of this. I almost can't describe what exactly is so likeable about The Madness of the Crowds, but it has staying power with me. Maybe it just feels good, like an old couch that you sink into. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Edit: It would not surprise me to find out that the final song, "Your Reach" was written at the last moment because they needed a way to end the record. It feels a little rushed, without as much quality as most of the others.&amp;nbsp; HOWEVER, I just listened to the whole record and I would have no problem starting it again from the beginning. It's that good. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-8941592496685732014?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/8941592496685732014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=8941592496685732014' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/8941592496685732014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/8941592496685732014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-top-40-albums-22.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #22'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-5779974154463738591</id><published>2008-05-13T15:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T15:54:55.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #23</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#23&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Classic Crime - "Albatross"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51E7TEQ7G4L._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2006&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Tooth &amp;amp; Nail&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;The Coldest Heart, The Fight, Flight of Kings, The Bitter Uprising, All The Memories&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "I can't stop moving cause I'll feel dead / Give me a second and I'll turn it into a year that you won't forget / We'll make them read our stories / Yeah we'll make them eat their words / We'll make their lives seem boring for what it's worth"&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;There are few things I like more than rock music with a pulse, and The Classic Crime pumps with the best of them. Landing somewhere in between Anberlin, Number One Gun, Forever Changed and Fall Out Boy (though only in the vocals for the latter) with hints of scream-o and heavier styles pulling at the edges, The Classic Crime is a lively new band that makes me excited as I listen. The vocalist has great range, clarity and power. His style blends perfectly with the crisp guitars and melodic songwriting. It's emotional without being angsty, tender without being juvenile, and appropriately celebratory without being corny. The sometimes simple progressions never seem too simple - the rap of the drums and the skillful lead guitar passages urge the songs on to something greater. The verses are filled with energetic riffs and the bridges take sometimes dynamic and pleasing turns. It's one thing to crank out a modern rock album, but it's something entirely different to make each sing uniquely entertaining so that the record never really falters. Each time a new song begins, I think "ooh, I like this one." Even the songs I didn't initially like are growing on me. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;There are harder rock songs like "Blisters and Coffee" and "The Poet" that will please heavier rock fans, and youthful, punkish romps in "All the Memories" and "I Know the Feeling." The best songs, though, are the ones that defy easy categorization. "The Coldest Heart" begins with a bouncy, almost ska-like guitar sound and maintains its kinetic energy into the chorus. The catchy hook is a high point of the album, and the song ends in a raspy shout. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Albatross &lt;/span&gt;can be edgy but it is rarely dark. Most of the songs are hopeful, or at least come across that way.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;More than many recent records, this one has some thought-provoking lyrics; or at very least, interesting ones. Looking for a lyric sample often lets me know how much of the artist's lyrics have staying power. It was hard for me to pick one moment from a record full of intriguing turns of phrase. Even the cryptic lyrics that I couldn't explain coherently to you if I tried manage to somehow resonate with me and feel true, like they are saying something about my experience though it may not be the way I would have said it. That's not a very good explanation, but I think it gives you some insight into the way I view this CD. It's always something I can put on and enjoy, and that is worth volumes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-5779974154463738591?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/5779974154463738591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=5779974154463738591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/5779974154463738591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/5779974154463738591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-top-40-albums-23.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #23'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-3134429811503120317</id><published>2008-03-13T17:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-13T17:48:42.358-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #24</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#24&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;House of Heroes - "Say No More"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41c3zRqpHyL._AA280_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2006&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Mono vs Stereo&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Make A Face Like You Mean It (Vampires), Buckets for Bullet Wounds, Fast Enough&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;, Pulling Back the Skin&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "Wake the dead / Serial sleepers slay with words unsaid / Sleep with the light on / And keep the loneliness away / I feel the darkness anyway / And I, I wish for the dawn / Rise up, O Sons of God"&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;As with most music, hearing is believing. More than usual, though, I'm finding it difficult to give House of Heroes a fitting description. They are rock, yes, but inside that I have trouble narrowing their style. It's a little bit Brit rock, a little bit indie, a little bit progressive - or something. Trying to label it doesn't do it justice at all. I received the album for Christmas having never heard the band, only to find out that they are a sensation. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;House of Heroes embodies a lot of the things I really admire about music. For one thing, they are three-piece. This to me harkens back to the early days of Switchfoot. Three piece rock bands impress me if they are good, because each band member carries such responsibility. In this case, every member is greatly talented and their synergy is inspired. Unlike so many bands that simply throw power chords and stock lyrics together and call it a day, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Say No More&lt;/span&gt; shows us a group trying hard to make art with integrity. Their songs have complex arrangements, relying on the guitar and bass to pick up each other's slack in a brave balancing act; yet they are always melodic. The newer version of the record contains two new songs not included on the original release, "The Invisible Hook" and "You Are the Judas of Your Cheerleading Squad." The latter is one of the more amazing songs in my recent memory. It's a real trip, with its changing time signatures and numerous, divergent elements. It's kind of a counterpoint to more straightforward rockers like "Mercedes Baby" which have their own charms. Vocalist Tim Skipper is also a courageous lead vocalist, and his specialized timbre fits the group's style perfectly. He has a lot of power, range and subtlety and he puts it to work here. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Beyond that, I love their lyrics. I didn't realize how much even until I began trying to find a lyric sample for this review and couldn't really encapsulate them. That's not to say they don't have good quotable lines you can pull out, but they mean less out of context. The band's writing is passionate and very well though-out. They make me stop and think. Astoundingly, House of Heroes basically does everything well. They have boiled their music down to its essence - they give us an almost raw experience of art that feels very pure and honest. The live performance is great as well. I saw them at Ichthus a year or two ago and they were among my favorite shows.&amp;nbsp; For all their creative ability and experimental songwriting, they're pretty danged catchy, too. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Give this band a chance if you can stomach something different from the watered down mush on the radio.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-3134429811503120317?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/3134429811503120317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=3134429811503120317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/3134429811503120317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/3134429811503120317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-top-40-albums-24.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #24'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-5057438947643763615</id><published>2008-02-29T15:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T15:44:52.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #25</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#25&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Audio Adrenaline - "Hits Parade"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51fTtIuIdhL._AA280_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2001&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Forefront&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Will Not Fade, Some Kind of Zombie, I'm Not the King, We're A Band, Never Gonna Be As Big As Jesus&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "So I sing / Sing a song / From this mountaintop I'm on / See it clear / See it true / There could never be another One like You"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;I kind of broke my own rules here by including a greatest hits record. Generally I wanted to pinpoint particular releases that I felt especially worthy, but with Audio Adrenaline I have to make an exception. The inclusion of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hits Parade&lt;/span&gt; began back when I chose it as one of my "desert island discs" and it never really left the list. Perhaps it is ranked a bit too highly, but what I want to make redundantly clear is that this is Audio Adrenaline's best record. "But Dan," you say, "that's not really fair. Shouldn't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;every &lt;/span&gt;artist's greatest hits be their best album? How can these other releases go up against that?" I understand, but it's not exactly the case. I would say that many times a hits album doesn't flow as well as it could, and it often sounds fragmented as it contains sounds from across a changing career. More than that, fan favorites are likely to be left off. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;On the other hand, I feel that Audio Adrenaline, while becoming undeniably successful and a fixture of the Christian music scene, never quite rose to the heights of superstars like dc Talk and Newsboys. While this could be attributed to a number of things, what sticks out to me is that they never made one really stellar album. They have good songs ("Big House" is one of the biggest Christian hits of the 90's) and good records (the likes of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Underdog &lt;/span&gt;and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lift &lt;/span&gt;were well reviewed and received), but not one truly great record. They were always a bit hit and miss. So it only makes sense that the hits should be assembled and become that for which the band will be remembered. Enter &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hits Parade.&lt;/span&gt; Now you can get all the really great or at least really popular songs from the band (more or less) in one convenient location, plus two new songs. Basically the cream of the crop from the era before Mark Stuart's vocal chords called it quits. More than most hits collections, this one really captures the spirit of the group and so if there is only one Audio Adrenaline album to own, this is it. Read the track listing - I think it speaks for itself.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The starting lineup is impressive. The new song "Will Not Fade" is a great riff-heavy anthem-rocker that makes a fine addition and gives the record a fresh start. Within the first few tracks, we have some of the stronger songs from three of the strongest albums - "I'm Not the King" from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bloom&lt;/span&gt;, "Mighty Good Leader" from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Underdog&lt;/span&gt;, and "Some Kind of Zombie" from guess where. Things never slow down for long. "Big House" and "We're A Band" from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Don't Censor Me&lt;/span&gt; are tucked right in the middle, and "Chevette" and "Underdog" keep it loud in the second half. It's a quality express tour of Audio A's best moments. The only real dud is "Hands and Feet" which I never thought was musically strong, but it's fairly popular at shows so I guess it makes sense to include it. "Rest Easy" is nothing to write home about either, but it makes a good soothing ending to an otherwise boisterous collection. One of the few "best of" outings that legitimately showcases what the group has to offer, Audio Adrenaline's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hits Parade &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;gives a fan everything they need and very little they don't, squeezing it into the top 25 slots on my list.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-5057438947643763615?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/5057438947643763615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=5057438947643763615' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/5057438947643763615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/5057438947643763615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-top-40-albums-25.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #25'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-1857289539087263989</id><published>2008-02-18T15:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T15:44:54.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #26</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#26&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Foo Fighters - "The Colour and the Shape"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/82/4b/1afd808a8da0e2d005cf4110._AA240_.L.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1997&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Roswell/Capitol&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Everlong, Monkey Wrench, My Hero, Wind Up, Hey Johnny Park&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "Too alarming now to talk about / Take your pictures down and shake it out / Truth or consequence, say it aloud / Use that evidence, race it around / There goes my hero / Watch him as he goes / There goes my hero / He's ordinary"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;This is modern rock.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I'm kind of a casual fan of most of their stuff, but with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Colour and the Shape, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Foo Fighters hit one out of the park. Their sophomore release, this will forever be the album by which future Foo Fighters releases are judged. Hopefully, it will be their best remembered as well. With hits like the emotional anthem "My Hero," haunting "Everlong" and punkish, energetic "Monkey Wrench," it probably features more great songs than any other single release. The defining characteristic, the one that makes me love it so much, is the unapologetically BIG sound. It's a roaring wave. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Color and The Shape&lt;/span&gt; sounds like it was played on 100 watt Marshall Tube stacks through Gibson Les Pauls while Dave Grohl bangs on the drums as hard as he possibly can. It's an enviable sonic assault that I can only wish more bands could achieve. Greater still, it's LOUD but not necessarily NOISY. The band is nearly always melodic and comes up with some really great riffs carrying the same crashing sound as everything else. Frontman Dave Grohl was the drummer for Nirvana, but this is very much a guitar record. No solos - there is still plenty of grunge influence hanging around - but soulful rhythms and nasty distorted goodness. Then there's Grohl's vocal. One of the grittiest voices in popular music, but oddly smooth in some of the more melodic passages and able to hit some really nice high notes. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;The likes of "Enough Space" and "My Poor Brain" feature some straightforward screams, while "See You" and "Up In Arms" are poppy little ditties that are held in rock territory by Grohl's strong approach. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;His powerful performances help lift the record out of the reach of any clawing mediocrity. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;And there is some mediocrity clawing. The lyrics are really of very little importance most of the time. A few are poor, most are just enigmatic. In fact, they're at their best when you can't understand exactly what is being said. There are some interesting lines here and there and that's mostly the best you get. What we have here is a case of exceptional music completely overwhelming hit-and-miss lyrics. "Everlong" is one of the best rock songs of the 90's, and there's plenty more goodness surrounding it. For a modern rock aficionado, this is pretty much a must-hear. To me it is probably the greatest pure rock record on my top 100 list. Musically it hits very close to what I think is the ideal for the genre. That makes it a luminary. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-1857289539087263989?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/1857289539087263989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=1857289539087263989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/1857289539087263989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/1857289539087263989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-top-40-albums-26.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #26'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-8953653271572480601</id><published>2008-02-17T18:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T18:55:27.806-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #27</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#27&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Anberlin - "Blueprints For the Black Market"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41HJGRZ04TL._AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2003&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Tooth &amp;amp; Nail&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Readyfuels, Cold War Transmissions, Glass to the Arson, We Dreamt in Heist, Naive Orleans&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample:&lt;/span&gt; "This is a black market reformation / How does it feel to be under the gun / Last ones pull the trigger here on the run / You can hide the money, I'll mark an X / I'm above the law and you're the order / You make everything make sense // And I know Mexico is south of here / Beautiful this time of year / So let's jump the border while the coast is clear / Salvation waits at ocean shore / We won't have to lie no more / Don't you worry baby / I'll be right here"&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;In 2003, I had had just about enough of slow rock. All the Creed clones on the market had left me high and dry. Bands like Kutless had the distortion of rock and the beat is heavy but plodding. It's the musical equivalent of an elephant walking through a park. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;No more of this "quiet verses loaded with chorus effect while a guy puts too much vibrato in his voice and tries to sound emotional then turns on the distortion for the chorus" stuff. That formula has its place but I was sick of it. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;I needed something with some pep to grab my interest. That's where Anberlin came in. One day I heard "Readyfuels" on Radio U and I said to myself "now here is some good rock I can get into." Well, I don't know if I said those words exactly, but the edgy guitar tone, tight rhythm section, brisk pace and talented solo had my attention. It was rock with a beat! Remember when rock songs rocked from the beginning and kept rocking right through to the end? I do. And Anberlin helped me remember. Bless them.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;As it turns out, "Readyfuels" quickly became one of my favorite songs of the decade. It's the best song on Anberlin's debut record, but it's by no means the only one worth listening to. It helps of course that Stephen Christian has a recognizable (not to mention very high) vocal and the band's music is fully of infectious melodies backed by well-plotted riffage. It's a little bit emo, a little bit punk, and a little bit rock and roll. Anberlin quickly became one of my favorite bands - not because of a varied style, but quite the opposite. They have basically one sound that I really like and they are the only ones who have it. This record hit at a very good time for me as well. I was a a senior in high school - a volatile time, and one in which I was predisposed for emotional, relationship-focused rock to be appealing. Songs like "Autobahn" and "Naive Orleans" carry a sense of longing that makes me pause and take notice. Then there are those songs that are just a lot fun. The staccato passages of "The Undeveloped Story" and "We Dreamt in Heist" provide memorable sing-a-long moments. In addition, the sometimes cryptic lyrics make for some interesting listening. I won't pretend to know exactly what all of them mean, though some are more overt than others. It's obvious "Foreign Language" is about the different ways men and women communicate, but the intriguing metaphors in the likes of "We Dreamt in Heist" may be off-putting to some. I actually prefer them. I have my own ideas of what certain lines can mean, and not having a spoon-fed explanation allows me to focus on the emotional resonance of individual phrases and movements. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Probably the album's weakest track is the cover of The Cure's "Love Song." I'm not sure why Anberlin seems to be obsessed with covering 80's tunes, but they certainly assimilate this song seamlessly into the track list. It doesn't stick out as a cover. This record is a little darker musically than its successor, but it manages to be a lot of fun as well. It has several good guitar solos and I'd like to see the band expand on this more in the future. I think they still have a lot of untapped potential.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-8953653271572480601?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/8953653271572480601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=8953653271572480601' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/8953653271572480601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/8953653271572480601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-top-40-albums-27.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #27'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-7870698644307935835</id><published>2008-02-17T18:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T18:54:09.690-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #28</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#28&lt;br&gt;Switchfoot - "The Legend of Chin"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41RQC71KJNL._AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1997&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Re:Think&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Chem6A, Underwater, Bomb, Home, Edge of My Seat&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample: &lt;/span&gt;"With blankness staring back at me / Screaming from the pages / I feel the fear of apathy / Gripping me, pushing me on / Top of everything / In a corner with a view / I turn off the fluorescent tubes // This is the bomb that I've been waiting for, living for / You've finally lit the fuse that's in my head"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;Switchfoot's debut captures the essence of the band at its most honest - not necessarily lyrically, but musically. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Legend of Chin&lt;/span&gt; is the product of three guys from San Diego who really like to surf and play music. Jon Foreman, the singer/songwriter with the guitar; Tim, his bassist brother; and the elder Chad Butler on drums. For those who started with the band in the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Beautiful Letdown&lt;/span&gt; era may be interested to know how they got their start. I was not impressed with this record the first time I listened to it, but slowly it grew on me as I realized what I was listening to. While Switchfoot has been wildly successful with their somewhat atmospheric, stadium alt rock, their roots are here in a surf-punk concoction that could only come from the West Coast.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;One thing fans will recognize, something that band has not really gotten away from, is the quality and tenderness of their ballads. Songs like "Home" are just pure, passionate and poetic. Just acoustic guitar and a good melody (and in some cases a good string arrangement). "Home" is actually one of Switchfoot's better ballads. The songs like "Only Hope" that eventually made them famous owe to the likes of "Home," "You," and "Don't Be There" from this initial outing. The reason I like this record so much is because the songwriting is so transparent, so close to the listener. It feels more like they are sharing it with you in their basement or garage rather than showering you from the distance of brightly lit and unapproachable stage. The three-piece set-up impresses me because every instrument has to take up exactly the right amount of space. Each has to support the others while shining in its own way. This requires precise and creative arrangements to be done well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;Nothing is overproduced - there are no sweeping synths, and there are not 10,000 guitar tracks layered over one another. The distortion is fuzzy rather than compressed to heck and back. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;Tim's bass lines are part of the melody - take out anything and the tracks falter. Yet it doesn't sound like everyone is trying really hard - it sounds kind of laid back, actually. &lt;br&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;The album starts out with the odd but addictive "Bomb," one of the stranger songs of Switchfoot's career but it's a fitting opener, showcasing the color and necessity of Tim's bass as well as Foreman's singing style and characteristic lyrics. Then comes "Chem6A," perhaps the first single of their career. It's a fantastic rock groove with a memorable, bouncy verse riff about the complacency and laziness of American youth. "Underwater" completes the opening trinity, this one featuring a jazzy piano interlude and building to an exciting, saturated conclusion. These three songs should honestly be all you need to see the quality of old school Switchfoot. But they continue with the upbeat "Edge of My Seat" and the gorgeous "Home." For some reason "You" was picked for the Walk to Remember soundtrack, but while it's a fine song, I don't think it's one of the standouts from this record or even from the second half. The second half honors probably go to "Life, Love, and Why," a song that the band had to recently re-learn for their shows based on fan requests. &lt;br&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;The band clearly progressed throughout their career, but there will always be a simple charm to this disc. If you like the group at all, you owe it to yourself to give this a listen. It's even easier now that you can get all three of the first three Switchfoot records (Legend of Chin, New Way to Be Human, and Learning to Breathe) in one reasonably priced collection. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-7870698644307935835?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/7870698644307935835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=7870698644307935835' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/7870698644307935835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/7870698644307935835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-top-40-albums-28.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #28'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-2989480074743965713</id><published>2008-02-17T18:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T18:53:12.399-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #29</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#29&lt;br&gt;Kevin Max - "The Imposter"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/519v35jAhcL._AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2005&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Northern&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Jumpstart Your Electric Heart!, Sanctuary, Confessional Booth, The Imposter, The Royal Path of Life, Your Beautiful Mind&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample: &lt;/span&gt;"If angels were men well then they couldn't fly / If birds had souls they would forever glide / If people would love then more of us would be alive / Oh my my, oh my / If you were me you wouldn't sleep at night // I take back everything I said / That ever caused you pain or stress / I take it back just like that / I take it back just like that"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;For those of you who perhaps enjoy Kevin Max's lyrics or vocals but found his first record a bit hard to get into, you are in luck. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Imposter&lt;/span&gt; is not only Kevin's best effort to date, but the best thing to come out of any of the dc Talk solo projects. There's no denying that Max is a talent. His voice is versatile, expressive and powerful. If there is one modern artist I would think could rival the likes of Freddy Mercury, it would be K-Max. This record is a fantastic vehicle for him to prove and refine his singing. Take "Sanctuary" for instance - Kevin matches the guitar for a long, crystal clear high note. Even though his vibrato is part of his style, he proves that he isn't dependent on it. Indeed, those who were annoyed by it will find it much less pronounced on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Imposter. &lt;br&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;In addition, while the eclectic mix on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Stereotype Be&lt;/span&gt; was interesting, it alienated some fans who simply weren't prepared for it. This release is much more grounded in modern pop and rock. The sitars and elaborate string arrangements have been traded in for a standard five piece rock band. At least, most of the songs on the record sound like they could be played that way. Even Kevin's voice is given a drier recording without as much reverb. The result is a more organic approach that feels very honest. Not that the songwriting has gone downhill - the riffs and melodies here are much more infectious than anything Max has done before, so there is a lot for listeners to grab onto. And, never one to pigeonholed, just because this is a pop album doesn't mean it is monotonous. "Confessional Booth," the stripped down rocker that starts the record, even features a scream by Kevin. "The Imposter" is almost a dance pop number, its major progression complimented by plenty of synths. "Your Beautiful Mind" is a transparent ballad asking some difficult questions. "Platform" is a subdued, almost jazzy affair, and "The Royal Path of Life" is a little bit blues rock. Only a piano plays beneath Max's voice on "When He Returns,"&amp;nbsp; and old-styled church tune. All of these different influences and yet the songs all seem to belong to the same project.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Once again I think it should be clear from this album that Max has not abandoned his faith. Normally I wouldn't even bring that up, but as he is known as kind of the wild child of dc Talk and some have questioned his position in the past I feel compelled to mention it. It's not always obvious from the lyrics where he stands, but faith in God is clearly important. Several songs including "Platform" and "Your Beautiful Mind" reveal honest and difficult questions but an ultimate faith that God is real and good. It may concern some that "When He Returns" is a Dylan cover, but taken on their own the lyrics are anything but ambiguous. There are certainly introverted moments, but as a whole the record is quite uplifting. Also, make sure you stick around for the hidden track. It's one of the more enjoyable rock tracks on the disc. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-2989480074743965713?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/2989480074743965713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=2989480074743965713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/2989480074743965713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/2989480074743965713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-top-40-albums-29.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #29'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-6641040714681040347</id><published>2008-02-06T16:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T16:08:01.519-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #30</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#30&lt;br&gt;Sixpence None the Richer - "Divine Discontent"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41WP9Z8A50L._AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2002&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Word&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Melody of You, Tonight, Paralyzed, Breathe Your Name, Don't Dream It's Over&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample: &lt;/span&gt;"So I'm waiting by a phone / For the blessed ring / Like a holy grail / For a fisher king / Time is ticking down / Like a metronome / Rhythm for my brain / And its ceaseless scares / I never seem to play them to the beat I hear / Though my heart beat is a beat / That beats so near"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;For some who know me well, this entry might come as a surprise, especially so far up the list. In truth, it debuted in the top 20 but I knocked it down a few places. This demotion comes in no part from a lack of quality on this disc, only that it's one of the quietest records on my list - second only, perhaps, to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;More to This Life&lt;/span&gt; - and I tend to prefer rock. It's one of the few pure pop albums that you'll find here and there's a danged good reason for that. This is quite simply the best pop album I have ever heard.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;When "Kiss Me" became a hit, I was no fan of Sixpence the Richer. They wouldn't even have been on my musical radar. However, I saw them after Five Iron Frenzy at Agape Music Festival in Greenville, Illinois and heard the record during the trip. I was not excited about it, but I wasn't annoyed either, and I heard some things that I liked. Many if not most albums in this genre I find dreadfully boring, but &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Divine Discontent&lt;/span&gt; is a really different ballgame. There are several ingredients that make it stand head and shoulders above the rest. The first is Leigh Nash's effortless voice. Unique, soothing and soft but with enough strength and style to give utterance to the range of emotions found on the record. It seems excessive praise to call it angelic, but I can nearly imagine that her tender strains float like billowy clouds through 12 tracks of colorful skies. It's mesmerizing. Yet even this remarkable talent is not enough to keep me interested. What sets &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Divine Discontent &lt;/span&gt;apart from other pop outings and even other Sixpence albums is the pitch-perfect songwriting. The melodies! Every single song has a fantastic, memorable melody. There's an arty, alternative leaning in Sixpence's approach and it blends seamlessly into their other influences. Matt Slocum and co. lend their carefully mixed guitars, pianos and strings to Nash's sweet soprano lines, filling the speakers with intelligent note placements. From the tentative finger picking of "Melody of You," to the rapping drums and electric lead licks of "Paralyzed," there's always something interesting happening and it's never overdone. It's always just right. It's baby bear's porridge. &lt;br&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;Then there's the lyrics. Some are better than others, but like everything else the band does, these are thoughtful, usually poetic, and always heartfelt. Consider as an example this verse from "Melody of You": "You're a painting with symbols deep / Symphony / Soft as it shifts from dark beneath / A poem that flows, caressing my skin / In all of these things you reside and I / Want to flow from the pen, bow and brush / With paper and string, and canvas tight / With ink in the air, to dust your light / From morning to the black of night." The record is full of honest reflections. It's something that you sit and absorb - or it absorbs you. There are no poor tracks. From the radio-friendly "Breathe Your Name," to the longing of "A Million Parachutes," &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Divine Discontent &lt;/span&gt;unfolds like a lover's letter. It's a sunset on the beach, a box of memories, a philosophy, a prayer, a dark chocolate. It's a work of art &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; a sensation of popular music. Now how often do you get to say that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-6641040714681040347?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/6641040714681040347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=6641040714681040347' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/6641040714681040347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/6641040714681040347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-top-40-albums-30.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #30'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-9021588902077305479</id><published>2008-01-19T10:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-19T10:50:45.951-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #31</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#31&lt;br&gt;Michael W. Smith - "The Big Picture"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51Cf5C3SfNL._AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1986&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Reunion&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Pursuit of the Dream, Lamu, Wired For Sound, Old Enough to Know, The Last Letter, You're Alright&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample: &lt;/span&gt;"Comin' on like a tidal wave that washes through the brain / A state of mind / No dispute when the noise is made and so it lets the blind / Lead the blind / Lured by charisma / To be swayed to believe // Word of mouth is the counselor / There is no need for proof / In a world that's wired for sound / The tongue becomes a mighty sword / That battles the truth / In a world that's wired for sound"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;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face="arial"&gt;Reaching back to the year of my birth, I've pulled out this unusual album by Michael W. Smith. Probably to some it's been forgotten, lost in the annals of history, overshadowed by more mature releases like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Live the Life&lt;/span&gt; or Dove winners like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Go West Young Man&lt;/span&gt;. I remember when I first heard this album I wasn't expecting much. It was older and so I somehow thought that it would be softer and quieter, although I had already been disappointed by Smith's more recent (at the time) &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'll Lead You Home&lt;/span&gt;. When I put this on I surprised at the sonic assault. A swelling wave of sound gave rise to pulsing synths and drum loops, followed soon by Chris Rodriguez' wailing guitar licks. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;"Lamu" and "Wired for Sound" assured me I was listening to no fluffy, generic 80's album - and no fluffy, generic Smith album either. These two songs alone carry enough worth to recommend this disc for a listen. To me, they are superior at least on the level of musical robustness, to the more popular songs like "Rocketown" and "Old Enough to Know." These were the two offerings that made Smith's first hits record in 1992. It's not really surprising that "Old Enough" made the cut. This really is a good song and because it's not over the top like some others on the record, it doesn't sound as dated. "Rocketown," however, is more quirky than anything. Sure, it's a good song, and in some ways it's the moral center of the record. I suspect its popularity is due to radio attention it received at the time of its release, though my initial inquiry into the matter was inconclusive). Radio people are notorious for shying away from great songs if they are ambitious and instead picking merely good ones that fit their format. But enough of that.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I consider &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Big Picture&lt;/span&gt; is Smith's first great album. One of the things that makes this album special is that it marks the first pairing of Michael W. Smith with long-time collaborated Wayne Kirkpatrick. Kirkpatrick is a prolific and truly gifted lyricist, and the music benefits from his input. The songs strive with the youth of the nation. There is a zest for life even while dealing with some difficult issues like suicide, bad relationships, the erosion of truth, and more. Smith encourages the kids to follow God, chase their dreams, and make the most of their life. Of course the music is growing, too, and we see here a more aggressive, creative, and diverse grouping of songs than appeared on his previous two releases. One need only listen to "You're Alright," a raw rocker driven by the pounding snare and growling guitar that boasts the record's longest guitar solo in the outro. One of my favorites is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Last Letter&lt;/span&gt; - which is, you guessed it, an anti-suicide song. "Voices" as the ballad is kind of a weak spot, and "Goin' Through the Motions" is a little silly, but it's loud and fun. When I listen to it I can't help but think it's pretty awesome. It's the "Help You Find Your Way" of this record. Leave it to Michael W. to take such a cliche title and turn it into something great. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Smitty fans should look back and check this out if they don't own it or haven't listened to it in a while. 80's fans should find it an interesting period piece. Christian music aficionados will hopefully recognize its significance and who knows - maybe they'll even find themselves tapping their toes. &lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-9021588902077305479?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/9021588902077305479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=9021588902077305479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/9021588902077305479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/9021588902077305479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-top-40-albums-31.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #31'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-6299556190353865103</id><published>2008-01-13T14:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T21:40:37.582-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #32</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#32&lt;br&gt;The Juliana Theory - "Deadbeat Sweetheartbeat"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/31PC6B5B85L._AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2005&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Abacus&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Shotgun Serenade, This Is A Lovesong... For the Loveless, French Kiss-Off, 10,000 Questions&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample: &lt;/span&gt;"What good is dreaming when I can't even sleep here / What good is lying down with no one to hold / What good is letting go when something won't let me / What good is saying goodbye / Now that you're gone"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font face="Verdana" size="5"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&l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an&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;The Juliana Theory's final repose is in some ways their finest. Singular in purpose, this is break-up record - no bones about it. Now...never in my few years of life have I had a particularly painful breakup. More than most people, perhaps, my heart is relatively unscarred from the battery of difficult relationships. So it's not so much that I personally identify with the sentiments as expressed, at least not any more than I might identify with a movie character in far less plausible circumstances; and maybe I am actually able to enjoy them more because they don't dredge up painful memories for me to dwell on. Yet, there is something pure here, an unbridled emotion that is equal parts anger and anguish, resignation and stubborn defiance - and I can't help but admire it if for no other reason than its audacious abandon. I'm sure it's a catharsis for me as well. I feel not my own emotions, but those of the unseen speaker. I feel the sense of loss in moments of quiet parting, and I coast on the energy of the angry tirades. There are some really great angry tirades on this record, too. To feel these things so clearly shows a remarkable fusion of music and lyrics. If I were just to read the lyrics, maybe I would write them off as angsty drivel, an angry teenager spouting off. But that's not what I find when I listen to this album. All the elements are so dependent on one other, each augmenting the other, so that the whole is far greater than the parts. If this is emo, then you got me. I love emo.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;At very least I love the Juliana Theory's expression of it. I've been following the band for a while, and each record has a unique style. Following the garage shoe-gazing of the first, the prog-pop of the second, and the heavy rock of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Love&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Deadbeat Sweetheartbeat&lt;/span&gt; is just good rock music. It's the first album in a while that does not feel overproduced. It's very upfront, and this adds to the urgency of it. It puts you close to the music. Brett Detar's voice is better than ever, the drumming is better than ever. The guitar work is at is most defined. Every note has a clear place in the mix and a sense of purpose. Not one to do a lot of soloing, there is even a great lead part in "Shotgun Serenade" that reminds me of the Toxic Seahorse stage in Mega Man X3. &amp;lt;_&amp;lt; Moving on...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The track list is a pretty even mix of fast-paced rockers and more subdued, numbers. As is often the case, the rock songs are the standouts, and even the bands admits that they are the pillars of the record lyrically as well as musically. The way "Lovesong..." builds is enjoyable, and the two halves of the chorus compliment each other well. I especially like the extra harmony thrown in at the end to seal the deal. "Shotgun Serenade" is probably the signature track, and it features not only the best rock on the record but also the most scathing lyrics. The stinging line "You're not my favorite mistake / You're just a simple regret" is equivalent to a sonic punch in the gut. Of course there's no denying the emotional toll that it all takes, even on "forget you" songs like "This Valentine Ain't No Saint" with sardonic sentiments like "At least I got away with your money / And all you got was my heart." The final track, "French Kiss-Off," is the most manic song on the record, perhaps mimicking the behavior a girl who has turned to cocaine abuse with blink-and-miss-it metaphor. The track ends with a resurgence of the main riffs and an incredible, wrenching scream by Brett Detar that lasts for a solid 30 seconds. There's some relief from that exhausting display with a long semi-hidden track with a beautiful guitar part and one of the most melodic choruses on the album. It's actually a highlight of the CD and not to be missed. The Juliana Theory went out with a bang on this release which has quickly come to be numbered among my favorites.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font face="Verdana" size="5"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-6299556190353865103?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/6299556190353865103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=6299556190353865103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/6299556190353865103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/6299556190353865103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/01/32-juliana-theory-deadbeat.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #32'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-6249869479546588934</id><published>2008-01-12T11:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-12T11:38:46.446-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #33</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#33&lt;br&gt;Seven Day Jesus - "Seven Day Jesus"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41REAQPM2JL._AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1998&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Forefront&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Who I Am, I Will Find You, Always Comes Around, Butterfly, Down With the Ship&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample: &lt;/span&gt;"You stay up all night long / And you wrestle with yourself / And it only leaves you tired / Then you see the mess you've made / Trying to trade the things you know / What you believe, for this control / It's too bad your will don't roll / Because you're standing in the way"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font class="txt_1"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;I gotta say, I missed the boat on this one back in 1998. I had heard "Always Comes Around" on a sampler (one of the best samplers ever, btw) and I liked it, but I wasn't sure I liked it enough to risk a whole CD from people I didn't know anything else about. So I just sort of forgot about them. It wasn't until two years ago when I started rooming with my current roommate Russell Shipp that I was reintroduced to this group that apparently only made two albums, and at that point I learned just why this disc is respected by Christian music fans. There are a few gems of 90's Christian rock that represent the best of what that period and genre had to offer; and make no mistake - this is one of them.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;It's not so much that it's terribly unique. If you listen carefully, you might discern similarities to contemporaries like All Star United, Skypark, Smalltown Poets, Switchfoot, Third Day, Big Tent Revival, and more. What sets this disc apart is simply that it's so well done. For one thing, Brian McSweeney is a vocal powerhouse. The album spans a variety of territory and he shows that he is more than able to carry each style. He croons, whispers, belts, and even screams just a little, surprising for a pop-rock outing like this. It's all super. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;Probably more important, there is an exquisite sense of melody that runs through the disc. Seven Day Jesus is rarely if ever flashy. Everything they do is very grounded and well-integrated, but the chord progressions and melodies simply stand out as being way above average. You know those CD's that you pick up, and you like something about them, but you just don't ever listen to them. Why? Cause there's an elusive spark missing, and I think most of the time this speaks of poor songwriting and boring melodies. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Seven Day Jesus&lt;/span&gt; has no gimmicks - just great writing and musicianship. It does help that, despite the definite 90's time frame, there is a bit of a retro feel to some of the songs. Like Skypark, they have a guitar tone that is not always used and it really works for them. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I'm always one to define great songs by great moments, and this is a disc full of moments. Perhaps my favorite few seconds on the disc is during the rocker "Who I Am." The energy builds into the bridge where the vocal elevates from a note into a raspy scream, and the music hits and cuts out for a second, leaving just the scream plowing through the vacant airspace and then resumes with equal zest for another chorus. It always leaves a smile on my face. Another is the bridge of "I Will Find You." Between musical pickup and the reciprocal lyrics which for some reason I find entertaining - "I'm not going to think about it / I'll forgive if you forget / Think about it, I'm not going to / We can get around this mess again" - the progression then fights with the sustained vocal note in a few seconds of magnificent tension, before breaking into harmony and a twangy guitar solo. These are perhaps the best but they are certainly not the only highlights. The "record album" beginning of "Down with the Ship," the mature rock sound of "Always Comes Around," the joyful pop passages of "Butterfly," it could go on and on. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;This is a record that's easy on the ears and good for the soul. &lt;br&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-6249869479546588934?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/6249869479546588934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=6249869479546588934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/6249869479546588934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/6249869479546588934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-top-40-albums-33.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #33'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-8524910501096513859</id><published>2008-01-08T20:35:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-08T20:35:51.574-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #34</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#34&lt;br&gt;Sanctus Real - "Say It Loud"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41540SPA3GL._AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2002&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Sparrow&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Inspiration, Say It Loud, Audience of One, Captain's Chair, The Way I Feel&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample: &lt;/span&gt;"Twenty hour drive through the Rocky Mountains / Won't be stoppin' now cause you know we're rockin' / Tell me, what has happened / The stereo's stuck with the jukebox jammin' now // Stop wishing it were backwards, it is now or never / Stop wasting all the time we could have spent together / Wishing you would come back here / Times were better last year"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;Sanctus Real's breakout album is easily their best, and it's no wonder. Prior to this debut on Sparrow records, the Buckeye quartet had released several independent records. The most recent, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nothing to Lose, &lt;/span&gt;contained earlier versions of many tunes that eventually appeared on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Say It Loud&lt;/span&gt;. Thus, the band had worked for years writing these songs and honing them on the road. The result is a tight and focused collection of high-energy rock tunes. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;It's almost a perfect record. The lead singer/guitarist Matt Hammitt's vocals are smooth and effortless, instantly elevating their music over dozens of similar groups. Although the two guitar, bass and drum setup has been done to death since the 1960's, so many bands are trying to get noticed with some sort of gimmick; Sanctus Real simply cranks up their amps and sings at the top of their lungs, and by jove, it works. Mark Graalman's drums serve as a wonderful backdrop. Listen closely on songs like "Inspiration," and you'll hear his tireless high-hat work. I love a drummer with good high-hat play. Chris Rohman works closely with Matt on writing duties and also on guitar. The two weave their parts together beautifully for accentuated rhythm or even dueling harmonic leads. It's just positive rock music done extremely well. The band's ability is confirmed by the fact that they also sound great live - much like the recording as well. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;"Sink or Swim" is a fine appetizer, a warm-up track if you will. It almost seems that the CD officially begins with the dramatic entrance of "Captain's Chair," the first stadium rocker that showcases the band's signature sound and leads directly into their big single and title track "Say It Loud." Both of these two songs are album highlights, and they fit so well together you almost can't have one without the other. "Hey Wait" is one of two really proper ballads. Hammitt soars on its melodies. Then it's back to the rock with "Inspiration" and "Audience of One," the latter being perhaps the most aggressive track. I simply love the guitar sounds on this record. I don't know how they get them but they please me to no fixed end. Even Sanctus themselves have never quite recreated them, although "Alone" from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fight the Tide&lt;/span&gt; comes very close. The final third is not quite as memorable, but "Nothing to Hide" and "Won't Walk Away" continue the rousing sounds that the group has established. "After Today" finishes out with its slowly building passages. Sanctus Real was clearly young when they wrote most of these songs, and "After Today" puts the cap on the theme of changes that occur early in life and apprehension about the future.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;So why did I say that it is almost a perfect record? Mostly because the lyrics, while usually fitting to the music, don't show a lot of originality or depth. The song titles are some of the most boring I've ever seen. I mean, we are talking about a CD that has a song called "I Love You." That's right. "I Love You." Like there haven't been 160,484,237 songs already called "I Love You." The good thing is that during the listen this really doesn't distract. It's a well-produced, punchy, fun CD that's great for singing with your friends while you drive along with the top down. &lt;br&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-8524910501096513859?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/8524910501096513859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=8524910501096513859' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/8524910501096513859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/8524910501096513859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-top-40-albums-34.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #34'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-1767176594388844374</id><published>2008-01-07T23:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T23:27:04.412-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #35</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#35&lt;br&gt;The O.C. Supertones - "Loud and Clear"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/33/68/c041124128a03fbf68dfa010.L.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2000&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; BEC&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Jury Duty, Spend It With You, Wilderness, Escape From Reason, Return of the Revolution&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample: &lt;/span&gt;"We try to be emotional but here is our mistake / As a church we lack repentance / And we lack true affection / Not only in our minds, but our hearts need correction / And man that's true religion / Resignation and contrition / To love each other so much that we'd die before division"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;Harsh words once again mixed with energetic party music. Like Martin Luther or John Edwards, both of whom get their names dropped in "Return of the Revolution," Matt Morginsky is something of a voice crying in the wilderness. He's the Steve Camp or the Keith Green of his generation. "Return of the Revolution," which, according to the liner notes, could have been a sprawling 9-minute epic had all its verses been included, is basically a sermon to the modern church calling for repentance. Many of the high-ranking albums on this list can be called more mature than earlier efforts by the same band or artist. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Loud and Clear&lt;/span&gt; is no exception. We saw nuggets of this kind of preaching in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Strike Back, &lt;/span&gt;but likes of "Revolution" and "Escape From Reason" really pack a wallop. Backing up the lyrical fire is a tighter, heavier musical version of the Supertones. Example: The opener "Escape From Reason." When I first heard this on the radio, I had no idea it was the Supertones. It's aggressive rap-core unlike almost anything that the band has done previously. The guitars have never sounded better and the song writing remains strong. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Loud and Clear &lt;/span&gt;should command the kind of respect that ska albums often don't. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Guest appearances by the likes of Grits and Toby Mac are interesting, but what really sets &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Loud and Clear &lt;/span&gt;above the other Supertones albums is consistently strong songwriting. "Wilderness" and "Jury Duty" should instant greatest hits contenders. I don't particularly care for some of the more reggae tracks like "My Father's World" and "Lift Me Up," but there are plenty of straight up rock tracks to make up for it. The forthright "Pandora's Box" leads into a string of upbeat guitar-driven songs like "Another Show" and "20/20." While &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Chase the Sun &lt;/span&gt;seemed to retreat a lot of the same territory as &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Strike Back&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Loud and Clear &lt;/span&gt;feels fresh, with its own distinct sound and direction. It's professionally assembled. Ironically, only "Forward to the Future" really recalls the O.C. sounds of yesteryear. Perhaps the most underrated track is the finale, "Spend it With You." It's long been one of my favorites. It may not be as challenging or deep as some of the earlier powerhouses, but I feel it has an understated poignancy belied by the laid-back pacing in the verses. The driving final verse and ending chorus is sonically pleasing but there is somehow a tinge of sadness or incompleteness tugging at the corners that I believe is intentional. Maybe not everyone would pick up on this, but that is the complicated emotion with which the song leaves me. My only complaint is that it fades out far too quickly at the end. They should have left the jam going for a while.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;All in all this is the Supertones' strongest release, and looking back on the career they've had, that's saying something. R.I.P. O.C.&lt;br&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-1767176594388844374?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/1767176594388844374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=1767176594388844374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/1767176594388844374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/1767176594388844374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-top-40-albums-35.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #35'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-9465460246354384</id><published>2008-01-04T16:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-12T19:51:27.142-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 albums - #36</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#36&lt;br&gt;SONICFLOOd - "Sonicflood"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.melodic.net/img/sonicflood.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1999&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Gotee&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Carried Away, My Refuge, Holy One, I Want to Know You, I Have Come to Worship&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample: &lt;/span&gt;"You are the wisdom of the ages / You are the one who stays the same / The power in the wind / The sun left by the rain / How could I begin to make it / If all I had was me / Just take me as I am Lord / And sweep me out to sea"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;This is one of only two CDs on this entire 100 albums list that fall expressly into the "worship" category, and the only one in the top 40. That alone should tell you something about the enduring quality of this disc. I'm not one to listen to worship music for entertainment - and let's face it, usually it's not very entertaining. Of course, worship by its very nature is about God and not about me, so I have no conceptual problem with that. I'll sing the songs in church, but when I want to kick back and chill, on goes something a little more versatile. These days we live in something of a worship revival, and more and more talented musicians are infusing the genre their own flavors. We have more at our fingertips in every genre than ever before. In 1999, this was not necessarily so. In fact, many people were taken aback by Sonicflood's, if you'll pardon the expression, ballsy rock worship effort. Our local Christian station wouldn't play my requests because they didn't fit the format. Fortunately I had some great youth leaders at the time who gave us kids something worthwhile to listen to. The lyrics say holy, worthy, I want to know you. The vocals tenderly cry out for God. BUT! The drums kick and pound, the bass thumps, the guitars grind and roar. This is rock music meets worship in a way so passionate and pure that not only had I never heard anything like it up to that point, I've never heard anything like it since.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;In these glorious days, Jeff Deyo was the frontman for the group. His strong and distinctive presence helps move the songs forward. It's tender enough for the soft moments like "I Need You" and edgy enough to carry the almost-screams of songs like "My Refuge." Of course he wasn't the only class musician in the group. Keyboardist Jason Halbert had been on tour with dc Talk, and the rest of the group were no slackers either. The group hits the speakers guns blazing with "I Have to Come to Worship," a modern rock blitz that knocked most listeners of the time off their feet. Despite poppy vocal expressions on the likes "Holy One," and the cover of "I Want to Know You," these songs still rocked hard, the former particular featuring some grating distortion in the background. Speaking of "I Want to Know You," when was the first time you heard that song? Do you seem to recall there being "bop boddop bop bop ba's" in it? Sonicflood's rendition is practically the definitive version of the song. Like Hendrix's "All Along the Watchtower" or GnR's "Knocking on Heaven's Door," Sonicflood didn't write a lot of the songs on the album, but for a generation, they defined them. Not content to merely play three major chords and a minor one, Sonicflood chose their chord voicings carefully, threw in some surprise progressions and creative harmonies, and generally added a unique alternative flare to these tunes. They move between bright acoustic segments, dark string arrangements and bursts of energy with ease. This unmistakable devotion to excellence makes the CD stand out over countless covers of these same songs. Kevin Max even appears as a guest vocal on "Something About That Name." Yes, between Kevin and Sonicflood, even a Gaither song becomes listenable. To this day, this record contains the only versions of "Holiness," "I Can Sing of Your Love Forever," and "Open the Eyes of My Heart" that I consider canon. Silly, you say? Eh, maybe. But they are really great versions. If you don't believe me I beg you to hear them. Chances are you've been getting by on some fairly lackluster substitutes. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;AND... speaking of lackluster substitutes, I give you every album released under the Sonicflood name after &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;SonicPraise. &lt;/span&gt;Deyo and all but one of the original members left the project. Only bassist Rick Heil remained, gathering a new group and assuming lead duties. However, the magic was long gone. Since 2001, Sonicflood has put out several records and had a few radio singles, but they've never done anything really memorable. Their voice ceased to be distinct and blended with all the other CCM radio clones. I don't know if they are still around. I don't care. I do know, however, that this first record remains a milestone achievement, a great listen, filled with uplifting and striking arrangements that reminds me of a good time in my life. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Jeff Deyo went out to release a few solo records which maintain more of the trademark Sonicflood feel than the subsequent albums by the titular band. In that way, his &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Saturate &lt;/span&gt;is the unofficial sequel.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-9465460246354384?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/9465460246354384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=9465460246354384' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/9465460246354384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/9465460246354384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-top-40-albums-36.html' title='My Top 40 albums - #36'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-6660916063430695968</id><published>2008-01-02T18:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T19:32:58.052-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #37</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#37&lt;br&gt;Skillet - "Comatose"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51SZH6D9ZPL._AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 2006&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Atlantic&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Whispers In the Dark, The Last Night, Falling Into Black, Comatose, Rebirthing&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample: &lt;/span&gt;"You come to me with scars on your wrist / You tell me this will be the last night feeling like this / I just came to say goodbye / I don't want you to see me cry / I'm fine / But I know it's a lie // This is the last night you'll spend alone / Look me in the eyes so I know you know / I'm everything you want me to be"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;I got excited about &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Comatose &lt;/span&gt;when I saw Skillet live at Ichthus festival a year or two ago. Along with standards like "Savior" and "You're Powerful," Skillet played two new songs from their upcoming release. "Rebirthing" was a cool song, but the "The Last Night" was a song that really made an impact on me. Normally when you hear a new song in concert, you don't really get much from it. You might like it, but with sound issues and everything, sometimes you don't really get a good feel for how it will sound on the record. "The Last Night" was different. John introduced it and explained that the song, a duet between he and his wife Korey, was a conversation between a girl and God. ("I sing the part of God, because I'm awesome," he quipped.) It was an emotional though ultimately uplifting song. It nearly brought tears to my eyes right there in the crowd - I got chills. Very unusual. Yes, this new Skillet record was going to be something special.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Ever changing and ever the same, each Skillet album is always something different. Their sound evolves with every release, but John Cooper's vocals and lyrical style is the center around which these stylistic variations revolve. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Comatose &lt;/span&gt;finds the band moving from the gritty hard rock of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Collide &lt;/span&gt;to a smoother, more compressed radio rock. This could have easily been disastrous, and almost was. Songs like "Yours to Hold" seems just a little too radio eager - a bit overproduced and sappy, but it's nothing compared to "Those Nights," which comes much closer to pop-punk than anything that should appear on a Skillet record. Tracks like this could derail the effort, which becomes hit and miss. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Fortunately, the hits hit big. The rock songs are some of the finest Skillet has done. With fantastic bass-heavy guitar riffs, added piano and synth, and catchy melodies, these songs carry a smooth but deadly force. "Rebirthing," the anthem that starts the album, gives us a good taste of what we can expect. Followed by the "Those Nights," it's an unforgettable one-two punch. Both songs pack a lot of power and energy as well as emotion. The latter sounds like it has kind of a minor verse but manages to sound almost happy and soaring on the chorus without losing any of its punch. This style goes a long way to explaining the success of the album. A similar formula is followed on "Whispers," perhaps the best song on the album. "Falling Into Black" recalls the sounds of Evanescence or Nightwish. It's high time Christian music had something approximating those sounds, and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Comatose &lt;/span&gt;should be somewhat satisfying for fans of that goth-rock angle. The title track is another highlight, accented by striking strings and prominent harmony. One of the virtues of this disc is that the band finally let Ben Kasica show off his chops. He flirted with his potential in "Imperfection" on the last record, but here his blinding solos on songs like "Rebirthing," "Whispers in the Dark," and "Better Than Drugs" are the icing on a particularly delicious cake. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;"Better Than Drugs" is a classic Skillet lyric, always flirting with metaphors that seem dangerous. However, if there is one downfall to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Comatose &lt;/span&gt;it is the lyrics. They just don't seem inspired like in previous outings. It's hard to pick out any really interesting phrases. The music is enough to carry it, but sincerity doesn't completely make up for the lack or originality. "Say Goodbye" is almost embarrassing in this area, and it's not the only one with problems. "Looking for Angels" adds some interest. "All the faces are filled with so much anger / Losing our dignity and hope from fear of danger / After all the wars / After settling the scores / At the break of dawn will we be deaf to the answers." But it's&amp;nbsp; too late to really redeem the rest. So while it's not Skillet's best record, it's still very good and certainly fans will find plenty to be happy about. Hopefully they also gain some new listeners with their new and accessible sound. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-6660916063430695968?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/6660916063430695968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=6660916063430695968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/6660916063430695968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/6660916063430695968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-top-100-albums-37.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #37'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-2277120756866207507</id><published>2007-12-30T12:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T12:07:32.603-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #38</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#38&lt;br&gt;Geoff Moore and the Distance - "Threads"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/5165HPBZTWL._AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1997&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Forefront&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Scattering, The In Betweens, I'm Free, Declaration, Running to You, No Need to Explain, Desperate Men&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;s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size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample: &lt;/span&gt;"You don't wanna push a desperate man / Ain't not tellin' what he might do / You don't wanna corner a passionate heart / It may run right over top of you / Passionate desperation / Is a volatile combination // We are desperate men / Rebels and fools who've been rescued / We are desperate men / Desperate for the good news "&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;The final album from Christian music's most under appreciated rock band is easily their best. Putting off the synths and chorus effects that had stayed with their previous efforts far too long past the 80's, Geoff and the boys (including a few new additions) have surfaced with a much more mature sound that was hinted at with the two new tracks on their &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Greatest Hits &lt;/span&gt;project a year earlier. Less pop and more grunge, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Threads &lt;/span&gt;benefits from gritty guitars and breathy, passionate vocal performances from the always solid Moore. Roscoe Meek's licks are missed a bit, replaced by newcomer Joel McCreight's whines and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;squeals, but this record's in-your-face blast is appropriately real and down-to-earth. It is surprisingly heavy for a Distance record, easily the loudest they've ever done, and that's definitely a good thing. At times in the past it seemed like GMD dressed like a rock band but sang like a pop group (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A Friend Like You, &lt;/span&gt;I'm looking at you). Now we've got a real rock sound tearing at the edges of our speakers, and what a beautiful thing it is. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Progression is everywhere. Sure, the lead off track is a cover of "I'm Free," but I guarantee you've never heard it like this before. GMD's "I'm Free" is a searing, grinding guitar attack that pauses just briefly for another fun The Who reference. All the uptempo songs have gone up a notch. "Desperate Men," "Running to You" and "Scattering" all roar with an intensity never before heard from this group, and it draws from Moore some of his best vocals to date. Interestingly, it is the ballads that benefit most from this new sound. The soft rock songs plod with a contemplative beauty. "Only A Fool," "No Need to Explain" and the title track provide some of the album's best moments and messages. The record closes with "The Letter," a tender plea to hold on to life from someone who intends to commit suicide. I almost always like songs like this and "The Letter" is no exception. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;It's certainly atypical for Geoff Moore and the Distance, but as I said, I consider it their strongest effort and I would recommend that 90's rock fans specifically take a listen. The rougher edge does nothing to diminish the always clear lyrics. Indeed, his passion for Christ and for today's youth comes through loud and clear amidst the noise. At very least, I've thoroughly enjoyed revisiting &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Threads &lt;/span&gt;as I write this review.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-2277120756866207507?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/2277120756866207507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=2277120756866207507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/2277120756866207507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/2277120756866207507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-top-40-albums-38.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #38'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-1741209497901578541</id><published>2007-12-29T11:22:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T19:32:40.577-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #39</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#39&lt;br&gt;Steven Curtis Chapman - "Heaven in the Real World"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41B1HKSBE7L._AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1994&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Sparrow&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Treasure of You, Facts are Facts, Dancing with the Dinosaur, Burn the Ships, The Mountain, Heaven in the Real World&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample: &lt;/span&gt;"As sure as there's a law of gravity / That says what goes up must come down / This is the ultimate reality / That God is, God loves, and God can be found"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;It's worthless to lyric-sample Steven Curtis Chapman. Very rarely does one line stand out as being particularly brilliant, but everything he does is grounded. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;This was perhaps the first album that I really listened to and loved. Up to this point, I just listened to whatever my mom played in the car or around the house. I knew who Steve Green was, and Amy Grant, and then I remember my mom playing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Great Adventure&lt;/span&gt; a lot. Then when &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Heaven in the Real World&lt;/span&gt; came out, I actually started remembering and singing the songs. I liked "King of the Jungle" a lot. So nostalgia has a bit to do with the high placement of this record, but I feel it has enough inherent worth to maintain it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br&gt;Heaven in the Real World&lt;/span&gt; is the follow-up to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Great Adventure&lt;/span&gt;. If that record put Steven on the map, Heaven in the Real World established him as a force to be reckoned with, a high-roller in the world of Contemporary Christian Music, if you will. But there's no luck about it. Steven's success isn't in the dice - it's in his fantastic music. Chapman is a class guitarist and songwriter, and on this effort he combines his musical influences seamlessly into a colorful, rousing song list. Lyrically and musically, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Heaven&lt;/span&gt; is an uplifting album full of positive pop-rock anthems. It would be far too politically correct to call it socially conscious, but in a way it is also accurate. The title track addresses the despair and decay in the world, but doesn't hesitate to celebrate God's remedy. "Dancing with the Dinosaur" calls us to stand on the truth of God's Word that is often deemed outdated (or extinct) in our modern world. "Facts or Facts,"&amp;nbsp; probably the finest rock tune on the album, also deals with this theme, though it is more concerned with simply laying out the trues we know about life and God. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The energy of jam tunes like "Treasure of You" (is he trying to rap again?) gives way to a number of tender ballads that Steven fans should expect. Among them "Still Listening," "Heartbeat of Heaven," and the especially quiet "Miracle of Mercy."&amp;nbsp; "Remember Your Chains" is a sober admonition to recall the bondage we were once in to sin, and rejoice in our freedom in Christ. To me the standout is "The Mountain," a soothing guitar piece that boils over to a rock bridge before descending again. Affirming and encouraging, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Heaven in the Real World&lt;/span&gt; is perhaps Steven's most purely fun record. Yet it's not style over substance, it's only that the former carries the latter. One of the milestone records of the 90's, and one that is essential for the CCM aficionado. Facts are facts. &lt;br&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/44258280104552154-1741209497901578541?l=reedsrecords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/feeds/1741209497901578541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=44258280104552154&amp;postID=1741209497901578541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/1741209497901578541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/44258280104552154/posts/default/1741209497901578541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reedsrecords.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-top-100-albums-39.html' title='My Top 40 Albums - #39'/><author><name>Daniel Stidham</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44258280104552154.post-4784568993782620221</id><published>2007-12-28T21:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-28T21:35:41.995-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top 40 Albums - #40</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#40&lt;br&gt;Hokus Pick - "Snappy"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/4a/c0/609053a09da0660587526110._AA240_.L.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Year:&lt;/span&gt; 1997&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Label:&lt;/span&gt; Freedom&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Favorite songs: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;I'm So Happy, We Are the People, Sliver, &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;True Believer, &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Naturally&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lyric sample: &lt;/span&gt;"Liar, liar, pants on fire / Though I'm flawed, I aspire / To be God, the entire / Thought is odd, but I'm a die hard / And when my selfishness retreats / I like the guy I sometimes meet / He must be shy, he waved goodbye / Before I offered him my seat // It comes so naturally to me / My selfish personality / It must be something in my genes / It comes so naturally to me"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt
