As Central European vaudeville of the interbellum years currently enjoys a renaissance among Goths, spanning from successful interpretations like Dresden Dolls to the more pathetic Marilyn Manson, it seemed inevitable that sooner or later an act from the country that spawned some of the most memorable cabaret numbers would jump the bandwagon.

One could argue that Das Ich have spent their entire career grooming themselves for this occasion, their eighth album, which captures not only the highlights of their 17 years in business but also an inkling of the spirit that informed Weimar-era music halls.

Here, the demonic duo veer more towards the kind of entertainment one would expect permeates the waiting room of hell, insolently and effortlessly throwing equal measures of industrial rock, electro pop, symphonic and fairground music into their digital blender. Although there’s little novelty for the seasoned fan, the operatic contribution of Schneewittchen vocalist Marianne Iser is noteworthy, if only for finally realizing the Wagnerian ambitions these Bavarians have long harboured.

PEOPLE IN PLANES
As Far As The Eye Can See
(Wind-Up)
**

Flying is always exciting, mainly because the cardboard food concoctions and the degree of self-amassed body odour are totally unpredictable. However, stale air and chicken grease aside, one of the most interesting parts of an airplane odyssey is meeting that mysterious someone who will accompany you for the entire journey.

Of course, the person that you find snuggled into the seat beside you may be intriguing to talk to at first, but come an hour later, he/she usually just ends up nattering away. Like those captivating-cum-irksome passengers who won’t shut up, People In Planes’ latest record, As Far As The Eye Can See, works in a similar manner.

The album starts off catchy, with "Barracuda" and "For Miles Around" lobbing electrically charged shards of glass at the listener. Following close behind is the single "If You Talk Too Much (My Head Will Explode)," which propels its repetitive lyrics and eccentric vocals into creative musical existence. Past that, though, interest dwindles and gangrenous irritation sets in, and like that annoying seat-neighbour, As Far As The Eye Can See just ends up being another one to elude.

PRESSURE KILL COMMON STYLE
Sad Animal
(Rectangle)
**1/2

With a full length out soon, it’s unclear as to why Calgary’s Pressure Kill Common Style would pop out an EP–especially one so unfocused and uneven–at this time.

Perhaps that’s the point, though. PKCS both thrills and confounds. They sound like a different band every time I see them, sometimes within the same set. They write prodigiously and indiscriminately, mutating faster than a nasty virus. A good PKCS performance is animated by a rare visceral authenticity, while a poor one reads as sloppy, self-absorbed, and dilettantish.

Sad Animal tracks PKCS’s slippery aural causeways as the young band struggles to shape their raw chaotic ideas. There are great moments: the surreal Clinic-ish intensity of "Colony of Surgeons," the retroclash dancefloor fun of "Let’s Lose Track," and the glam-gaze Bowie-ness of "It Could Last." The catch is that they don’t sound like they belong on the same album. Still, PKCS is reaching for something more heroic than your average indie rockers, and this could be the document of tentative first steps of what promises to be a wild journey.

THE NECKERS
Love and Infection
(Independent)
****

Those Neckers must be really busy guys... Aside from playing in Calgary’s most underrated rock and roll band, the handsome foursome are all surgeons on the side–according to their press photo, at least.

When they’re not stitching up hearts, they’re breaking ‘em with perfect three-minute punk-poppers that’ll put some glide in the stride of even the biggest square. If tunes like "Another Girl" and "Steal That Car" start ending up on high school mix tapes, teen pregnancy rates are gonna skyrocket. Listen to "Repeat Last Summer" and you can practically see singer Bill Heatherington doing the chicken, beer in hand, grinning away.

Dripping with Beach Boys backups and some harmonica thrown in for good measure, Love and Infection is the perfect summer soundtrack to convincing that cute neighbour girl to fall in love with you. I suggest blasting it from outside her window on a giant stereo (a la Say Anything), but slipping a copy into her mailbox will suffice.

Colossus
West Oaktown
(Om)
**

What Colossus wants to be is jazzy hip-hop from the golden age–Digable Planets’ Blowout Comb, A Tribe Called Quest’s Low End Theory, and Gang Starr to less of an extent–but what we end up with is a fairly slick, corny mess of pap-jazz fusion. Lyrically, the album dips into the "conscious" emcee’s bag of tricks, rapping about self-awareness, vague cosmic spirituality, and so on.

Colossus also owes an obvious debt to the Roots, through the music and the medium (jazzy hip-hop grooves on live instruments), but at no point does Colossus give the Philly crew even a half-decent run for their money. There are some decent verses throughout ("Like That"), when the raps and the music gel together nicely.

The music is competent–more than competent really–in terms of performance and composition. Does that mean it’s any good? Sadly, no. It is by no means awful, but it certainly doesn’t get the blood pumping or the foot tapping.