Zodiac Mindwarp & The Love Reaction, "Rock Savage" (Abstract Sounds)
Medium-speed sleaze-metal so full of its double-Y self it can’t help but succeed. AWOL from his writing/cartooning/psychiatric- ward-squatting pursuits, Zode brags on and on about booze, motorcycles and stealing your girlfriend in his best Sisters of Mercy-schooling drawl, under which his high-rent garage Mossad plays variations on AC/DC riffs and howls like meth-shnockered werewolves (prettily, too, in “Northern Boy”) – all systems nominal in other words. A sorely needed respite from rock’s ongoing, seemingly incurable identity crisis. Order at Amazon.com

Mezklah, "Spider Monkey" (Escuchalo Records)
Band-in-a-box electro hawking Greg Hernandez’ guitar and Angel Garcia’s Spanish rapping over drum ‘n bass, urban-jungle cumbia and related beats. Emotive, raw and fun, the record is pure ’64 Impala cruise with one quick duck into the phone booth at the title track for a costume-change into English-speaking nu-grunge pundits firing Hendrix wah-pedal at anything that moves. Order at CD Baby

Mascara, “Spell” (Mr. Fibuli’s Records)
Insolent barrage of Nick Cave dolt-core, felony theft of Queen and a 3 Stooges sense of doom riffing – trademark Boston scenesterism that flips a pre-emptive screw-you to the big record labels before they get a chance to sneer an ironic “this isn’t indie enough, man.” Keeping with Paradise Club tradition, there are a few minutes that rival the excitement of a potato-baking race, a clever psy-op to weed out the posers. Order at CD Baby

Subthunk, “You Should’ve Been Here Yesterday” (Ureneely Recordings)
The next generation’s Quentin Tarantino would cartwheel for joy at the thought of a band like this – crunchy, woozy, compressed beat-box techno with a tilted-room 60s side, sung by Lisa Moore as if she were mocking Dido sprawled on a couch laying down her lines between swiffs off a five-dollar jug of zinfandel. The fact that it’s soundtrack-ready hasn’t been lost on LA bloodsuckers – previous material has been used as background hipness in peer-pressure soaps Boston Legal and Six Feet Under. Order at CD Baby

Audrey Horne, "No Hay Banda" (Candlelight Records) Thrill to the spectacle of Audrey Horne making a quick snack out of Disturbed and using emo as a toothpick. Tightly constructed, very heavy non-conformist nu-metal unafraid to go out on the thinnest of limbs carrying an armload of cats, even going so far as to repaint David Lee Roth as a jilted townie homeboy in “Candystore.” Order at Tower Records

Chiasm, “Relapse” (COP International Records)
A fair-to-middling techno sole-proprietorship, Chiasm spotlights Michigan’s Emileigh Rohn, posed on her album cover as an anarchinatrix in paramilitary Gap gear, poorly accessorized with a non-threatening doe-eyed stare. She’s leveling a pistol at you in the photo, which, it would stand to reason, is fair warning that the listener is about to expose his or her ears to a tall glass of buzz-and-boom kick-butt. Kickoff track “Embryonic,” however, skulks around packing naught but a load of stock goth tuneage and Chuck E Cheese death fixation, after which it lays down with its paws up expecting a vigorous belly rub for performing those rudimentary tricks. The big picture isn’t altogether awful, though, and indeed much of it – the sexy trance of “Rewind” most of all – would fit the bill when the deejay is of an orgying mind. What’s not great are Rohn’s tiresome flails at KMFDM-hardass sentiments; although she’d love to terrorize the countryside, her strengths lie in cream-puff technopop. In the next life maybe. Order at Amazon.com

Alif Tree, "French Cuisine" (Compost Records)
French soundtrack go-to-guy Tree flogs his espresso-beatnik jazz manga with static spitballs and synth-knob-diddling that parallels a school bully pulling the wings off butterflies. Ravings include the Sylvia Plath-esque piano/bolero-guitar duel “Belle” and an unwieldy 60s sci-fi philharmonic loop straight out of Fantastic Voyage drowning in scratchy bust-a-beats in “Enough.” Order at CD Universe

Arms of Kismet, “Cutting Room Rug” (Wampus Records)
Too-good-for-MTV dollop of Tom Petty cowpoke, Flaming Lips spunk and a Grateful Dead fetish for choo-choos (“Outbound Train” and “Clover,” a Jackass-age guided tour of the enchanted Rosedale Clapton yammered about in “Crossroads”). Mark Doyon’s mod-Dylan posturing combined with some shock guitar not witnessed since Blue Oyster Cult and a pervasive rock-opera theme leave this with not much to dislike. This label is making very few mistakes. Order at CD Baby

Narcotic Lollipop, "Rodent" (Bipolar Audio)
Two-person operation reviving Lili Taylor’s spittle-flecked “Joe Lies” concept from Say Anything, ie cataclysmic roots indie in which Strats and snare drums are flogged by a flea-bitten alpha wench looking to out-Exene Exene. The masterful production comes off like a beat box recording played over a 1962 Bell rotary telephone relayed through a toaster - or the first New York Dolls album, take your pick. Only departure from all the angel-dusted colic is “Messy Men” and its blobby guitar evoking Nirvana’s “Come As You Are.” Fight the power, missy. Order at Bipolar Audio

Stromkern, “Light It Up” (WTii Records)
Although it isn’t anomalous to catch strong whiffs of metal wafting out of today’s kraut-techno, urbania was a resource woefully underemployed prior to the hip-hoppish ranting dotting this follow-up to last year’s widely applauded EP. Fleshed out nicely with plenty-enough daredevil risks, a haunting piano layer reminiscent of the main theme to Road to Perdition (“Forgiven”) can be found among assorted other goth and low-BPM accoutrements. Order at Tower Records

Grimfist, "10 Steps to Hell" (Candlelight Records)
Propagandized as a more middle of the road type metal operation, Grimfist's sound would be identical to Metallica's "Ride the Lightning" were it not for the gravel-gargling black metal expulsions of singer "Frediablo" (nudge). After subtracting one or two points for old-hatness like that, the residuum's good enough to recommend over and above much of what was blapped into 2005’s death metal pot. The most striking (and original) innard is the pneumatic drill riff that steers "Breed Apart," and the Alice n Chains-bamboozling "Separation of My Soul" isn't a bad spiff either. Order at Amazon.com

Girls on Film, "Danceteria" (Nativesun Records)
Or Soccer Moms Gone Wild. Had Alicia Bridges fronted Flock of Seagulls the excretions might have sounded like those of this quartet of Tallahassee babes, dressed as Simple Minds video extras in day-glo business-minis and Aquanet. Some salvageable retro-80s treadmilling and an aww-how-cute attempt at refurbishing same with novo-techno notwithstanding, the lack of guitar leaves the structures flopping around bonelessly. Order at Tower Records

Bolt Thrower, “Those Once Loyal” (Metal Blade Records)
The Metal Blade beat goes on: angry-bees-nest thrash metal from England fortified with tightly controlled earthquakes of double bass drumming and Karl Willetts’ low-register Nephilim-like growling. All of this sounds familiar, of course, but for the unsinkable and ever-growing fan base that derives pleasure from the new breed of calc and thrash, these guys probably sound as different from everyone else as Cliff Richard from Sevendust. At any rate, Bolt Thrower’s level of energy isn’t ruined by unlistenable learners-permit jazz-prog nonsense, as is found all too often within the indie-metal genre (“calc-metal” bands being the worst offenders, of course). Also greatly reduced is the Iron Maiden factor, meaning there aren’t a lot of self-important zillion-layer guitar solos (although what soloing is offered is quite good, up to and including the woofer-busting runs by bassist Jo Bench). This isn’t to infer that the record is dumbed down, but simply what one would normally expect from a not-inept band attempting a scholarly fusion of classic DIY punk and Sabbath-era metal. Order from Metal Blade Records

Ramona Silver, "Intermission" (Tootsie Music)
Freshly showered neo-post-punk mating Liz Phair with servile Katrina and the Waves AOR-philandering, all written very nicely (Billboard says so) but a tad overly dependent on art-gimp vegan-jazz guitar progressions meant to cover up weak bridges and fait unaccompli choruses (few and far between on this 6-songer but nevertheless demonstrative of a batting average that won’t give Sheryl Crow nightmares). Order at CD BABY

Eric is always seeking undiscovered and indie bands for review. Email ericsaeger@mindspring.com.