Dub Side of the Moon
(Easy Star)
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Pink Floyd has been picked on by bluegrass acts, whipped and gagged by industrial fetishists, bludgeoned with bland beats by anonymous electro-artists, elevated to high-brow status by several symphonies and dragged into the dust by metal moshers. Reggae and Floyd would seem to synchronize like Dark Side of the Moon and Wizard of Oz, but previous attempts to merge the genres appealed only to extremely addled audiences. Dub Side of the Moon fares better, featuring a cast that comes much closer to "all-star" status in its genre than the Pink plagiarists that have dubiously staked that claim in the past. Vocalists such as Frankie Paul, Sluggy Ranks, and Dr. Israel rastify the tunes without losing their psychedelic appeal, and the instrumentalists convert Floyd's monster basslines into slow-bouncing riddims. Finally, one of these cover comps got it right--now please, leave this band alone. ANDREW MILLER

Days of Delay
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There are a few songs off Days of Delay that resonate, like the beautiful "Put Your Back to the Sun," in which whispering vocals traipse delicately over a single plucking guitar. But listening to songs like "Put" is similar to smoking Nat Sherman cigarettes. The first one's great; the second one's nice; the third one's fine; and by the fourth one, you're saturated. From then on, it all starts tasting the same. On every track in Days, the guys behind Pseudosix, croon and whisper with precious, pain-addled delicacy. The sum of the parts makes for perfectly inoffensive background music, but as an album to actually listen to, it's about as exciting as a wheat field. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS Pseudo Six play(s)(ed) Disjecta on Wed April 23.

Pure Tone Audiotonomy Vol. 1
(Eardrums for Eyelids)
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A great local compilation stuffed to its brim with turntablism, experimental techno, Latin and African rhythms, throngs of bass, lush production, and bent hiphop beats with warped emceeing. Similar in aesthetic to Mush Records' grand vision of avant and free hiphop, Pure Tone Audiotonomy represents for Portland's straddling-the-edge cadre of noisy, experimental beats informed by out electronics. DJ Void, Chango, DJ Copy, Under the Slumber, SicBay, and Shitman, find new ways to melt boundaries, and subtleties abound. On Spicerack's excellent low-key instrumental "The Curves," the perpetual crackle of a spinning record overlays a melody of classical violins, rhythmically complimenting a shivering bass line. The simply awesome electro of Brokaw's "Cookies" is wrapped in a funny, pseudo dancehall-style rhymes; he magically switches up the cadence mid-song, and ends in a dogpile of watery rhythms. While PTA is mostly downtempo, there's a lot of kick to it--and its rampant creativity might even surprise you. JULIANNE SHEPHERD

* * * * Bubble Gum Cigarettes
* * * Bubble Jugs
* * Bubble Tape
* Blow Pops