by Martin Popoff
Chroma Key - Dead Air For Radios
(Fight Evil)
Quite the year for Dream Theater keyboardists, no? Jordan Rudess has a new Liquid Tension
Experiment album, Derek Sherinian is about to deliver his Planet X solo album, and Kevin Moore has
this Chroma Key thing. To be fair, Mooreās display came out last year. But you may not have heard
about it because itās quite indie and obscure, Moore tapping LA solo dude Jason Anderson and
Fateās Warningās Mark Zonder and Joey Vera for an album of trip-hoppy prog rock with subtle but
busy drums and a stand-offishness (due mostly to Mooreās sleepy vocals) that recalls Wire.
Reinforcing an overall concentric Floydishness is Mooreās use of spoken interview segments, which
further delve the record into dream terrain. An odd, quiet, sombre curio for prog metal
completists and fans of exploratory electro-art alike. www.chromakey.com.
Rating 7
Plastique - Empire Of The Black Suns
(TMC)
Total crap from a great label, Plastique sound like a garage band of 13-year-olds, mailing in
sparse, under-produced alt.rock songs that sound like wimpy Helmet demos with no hooks,
out-of-tune vocals and laugh-out-loud nods to hip-hop shoehorned into these horrid tracks with the
greatest of ankle pain. Barely angry, barely alive, wholly without talent and shoe-gazed like weak
Halifax grunge, this is 26 minutes of demo ineptitude that should have been tossed twirling into
the labelās reject basket without a split second of consideration. Unbelievable.
Rating 0
Michael Harris - Distorted Views
(IMF '99)
Whereas most press hype on these instrumental shredfests would want to steer your thoughts towards
the concept of songs, it carries no truck on Harrisā third majestic sounding board, Harris causing
so much sensual sensation with all his different tones and styles that you forget all that stuff
about hooks and just float with the scenery. This record is what Ritchie Blackmore, Dave Mustaine
and Steve Morse might come up with if they were highly charged with the spirit of competition,
Harris finding Mustaineās metal precision, Ritchieās pioneered goth and his blues, and Morseās
playful everyman-ishness. Swirling around the display is a virtual rampage of great drumming,
topped with a light spread of keyboard textures, providing enjoyable instruction to all camps of
budding virtuosos. Still, itās one of those records. You know whether you want and/or should study
it, and you know if it lacks usefulness in your life. POB 863 Lewisville, TX 75067 or
www.IMFrecords.com.
Rating 7
James Murphy - Feeding The Machine
(Shrapnel)
Along with all his studio work, Testament and a newly-minted Disincarnate, Virginia axeman James
Murphy has found time to craft a second fine solo spread. Comprising five accessible instrumentals
and five even thicker, well-managed vocal tracks, Feeding The Machine (to be productively confused
with Damn The Machine but not Rage Against The Machine, Machine Head, or Mundaneās Feeding On A
Lower Spine) alternately thumps and glides with the force of huge, stone-carved riffs,
Lizzy-via-Yngwie double leads and an over-riding feeling of tradition that marries nicely the heft
of major label thrash (remember?) and the heroes James must have looked up to when he was a
younger noisenik. Thereās a new-agey fluidity to this thing, James almost pouring out these
tracks, most rolling in waves at fairly slow, hypnotic speeds with slight keyboard over-rides.
What results is an extremely hi-fidelity, high precision metal steamroller that leaves the prog
for the corner touches, letting the songs breath, best being Visitors which contains an almost
magical melody, over which Artension guy John West provides the albumās most operatic and as a
result, most appropriate vocal. POB P, Novato, CA 94948 or JMconverge@aol.com.
Rating 8