It's sayin' a LOT... but Radio Birdman may arguably be the BEST fucking punk ROCK band... ever. RB took the "coolest" from alla them now considered punk's "godfathers," and combined them bits perfectly, while STILL retaining an HONEST fucking "band" identity! How many other bands, from ANY time, could testify to THAT?? And they made it sound like it came easy. DAMN... they have the most varied and clever songs, the writing is as sinister and angry as it is FUN ("Steve and Danno"... C'MON!!), and the arrangements, the unified LAYERED playing of the band, is flat-out stunning... you get all the sounds as they add up, which is always more than just "punk noise," not that THAT don't have a place. Anyhoo... have I gushed enough? There you go... this is grade "A" reissue action... the track listing, sound, and packaging are flawless... nice! MIKE NIPPER

Françoiz Breut
Ving à Trente Mille Jours
(Bella Union)
****

On the outside, I may be hard as stone--sturdy, solid, damn near impenetrable--but inside, in my heart, there is a little butterfly (I have named her "Jessica") who flutters with the rages of passion. She feeds on love, as well as the occasional raisin, and nothing brings out the love inside her like pretty music. Okay, this is a crock, but my admiration for Françoiz Breut, quite possibly the best thing to come out of France since Le Car (if Le Car did, in fact, come out of France), is not. Vingt à Trente Mille Jours, which is Breut's second record, hits me square in that gooey spot I rarely enjoy making public. Equal parts yé-yé, techno, and absurd easy listening, Vingt à Trente... is one of the most beautiful concoctions to cross my stereo in years. Listen to it and let your little butterfly flutter. BRADLEY STEINBACHER

Pram Somniloquy
(Merge)
***

This is a record of ghosts and playfulness, wispy theremins, and trumpets collecting like snowflakes around singer Rosie Cuckston's voice. Consisting of four new tracks and five remixes by the likes of Sir Real, Andy Votel, and Plone, Pram constantly amazes with their ability to cross-reference pop with experimentalism, and loads of keyboards with samples of noise. Maybe it's a British thing. Cuckston sings through gothicky lullabies, while lo-fidelity melodies tick grandly like clocks and Christmas bells. The only point where Pram goes wrong on this album is on "Monkey Puzzle"--the one song on which they try to sound traditionally pop with organs and a '60s spy theme. It's very well done, but sounds mediocre wedged in between so many other excellent and thoughtful recordings. If you need a very neat record to score your Super 8 film, this is it. JULIANNE SHEPHERD