(Kill Rock Stars)

Slumber Party's music is drenched in ennui. It comes suffused with that delicious Sunday-afternoon childhood feeling--time lingers, you're in a reverie, nothing else matters except... nothing. Nothing matters. For its third album, Detroit's most torrid all-female rock band may have gained a member (Julie Benjamin, drums--to replace Leigh Sabo, who became the bassist after Marcie Bolen left due to her duties with the Von Bondies), but little else has changed. Thankfully. Drums peal lazily; harmonies drift in and out of focus; girl fans hug one another as the four musicians stride the stage with their three-part harmonies and boots. Phone numbers are scrawled in thick marker; lipstick is smeared on boys' faces... this time round, songs have titles like "Your Friends" (complete with chatter) and "On TV," but they still occupy that almost-mystical middle ground between Galaxie 500, Shop Assistants, and Kendra Smith's Opal. EVERETT TRUE


Radio Blackout



Radio Blackout sounds like the kind of nasty electro-glam-punk-boogie album you'd expect from a kraut who runs a label called Shitkatapult. Berlin's T. Raumschmiere (AKA ex-punk Marco Haas) has a (micro)chip on his shoulder, and his new disc will provoke "Fuck yeahs" from people who feel this electronica thing has become too stoic and cerebral. While Haas' 2002 debut, Anti, plowed a smile-free, minimalist techno groove until it drilled through the dancefloor and into the club's plumbing, Radio Blackout slips into head-bangin'/lead-boot-stompin' mode with rude gusto. But Haas knows it'd be dull to rage 24-7 like a PowerBook-sportin' Gary Glitter, so he includes some eerie, slo-mo-funk interludes that mess with your mind while letting you catch your breath. But most will dig Blackout for wildly wired tracks like "Rabaukendisko," which buzzes and squeals like Add N To (X) possessed by the Locust. It's like electroclash never happened. DAVE SEGAL


Mouthful of Copper



With an average song length of about seven minutes and packed with extended distortion-heavy breakdowns, the new Jerry Joseph and the Jackmormons' live double-album, Mouthful of Copper, is a thrilling, epic collection of rock 'n' roll. The longstanding Portland group has only three members--Joseph himself on lead guitar, Junior Ruppel on bass guitar, and Brad Rosen on drums--but their sound is huge and rich. Joseph has the kind of resonant, gravelly, effortless voice that seems to just pour out by its own accord, and the songwriting here is tight as a drum, yet punched up by the numerous aforementioned rock-outs. Simply put, if grungy classic rock is your thing, it doesn't get any better than this. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS

**** Birthday

*** Payday

** Heyday

* Monday